A hunt gone wrong.
"Okay, Sam. What son of a bitch are we gonna hunt tonight?" exclaimed Dean, cocking his shotgun, filled with rock salt.
"Well, its actually-"
Suddenly a gigantic explosion sent the two Winchester brothers flying across the room.
"Sam? SAM?! WHERE ARE YOU? Are you okay? SAM??"
"Dean…I'm okay… I-" Sam was cut off-literally-by the demon they were supposed to be hunting.
The demon was a 9ft, brown scaled, finned, spirit of the sea with claws like sharks teeth and spikes like razors. Its teeth were the equivalent of 100 freshly sharpened knives-which had just ripped Sam's head from his neck.
In pure shock, Dean lay there, staring at his headless brother's body, still flailing around.
The creature turned its attention to Dean- and lunged forwards.
"Shit." Dean muttered.