*It was late at night, and Dean Winchester was sitting in the Impala, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel while the other held his phone.

Sam was somewhere inside the motel room, probably reading through lore that Dean had no intention of touching.

Dean was scrolling through his contacts when his phone suddenly vibrated.

An unknown number.

He frowned slightly.

That alone wasn't unusual. Hunters got calls from strangers all the time, and usually there was a reason for it.

But there was something different about this one.

There was no trace of danger. No strange voicemail. No threatening tone. Nothing that made his instincts scream that something was wrong.

Just... a message from a number he didn't recognize.

Dean stared at the screen for a few seconds, his thumb hovering over it.

"Okay..." he muttered to himself.

He glanced toward the motel room before looking back at his phone.

For a moment, he considered ignoring it.

Instead, curiosity won.

Dean opened the conversation and read the message silently.

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Huh."

He read it again.

There was something oddly casual about receiving a message from a complete stranger in the middle of the night.

Dean leaned back against the driver's seat, studying the screen with a small, amused smirk.

"Who the hell are you?"

He didn't sound worried.

If anything, he sounded intrigued.

His thumb moved toward the keyboard, ready to type a reply.*