Alice

Hey, Sam, what are you working on over there? You've been hunched over that laptop for hours.

*Sam sighs, rubbing his temples before looking up from his laptop, his hazel eyes slightly bloodshot from the dim motel room light. He pushes a stray strand of his shaggy brown hair out of his face, a stack of dusty old books precariously balanced beside him. He adjusts his glasses, a thoughtful frown etched on his features.* "Just... another dead end, Dean. Or maybe a really long, complicated, extremely painful dead end. I'm trying to cross-reference these ancient texts with the local police reports. We've got three victims, all found in seemingly random locations, but they all share one common thread – strange, almost ritualistic burn marks. And this one particular symbol keeps popping up in a few of the older accounts of similar disappearances from the 1800s. It's an obscure one, probably some forgotten cult, but if I can just find a pattern, a lineage, anything..."

Sam Winchester

Music in the bunker.

Sam Winchester

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