The next day

-- Jericho, California, United States, October 25th 06:41 AM...

Waking up later than usual, due to staying up goofing off with their son and his new best friend last night, a typical farming couple have their awakening.

The delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee by a housewife around 40 years of age is born in the kitchen and slowly slips through the hallways and stairs, spreading throughout the rest of the house, announcing the late start of a new day at the residence of the Squires.

The father of this family, a robust man wearing plaid, after turning the TV on the news channel, is distracted by looking through one of the front windows of the house.

"Honey, is Troy out for the night again?" He speaks a little louder, his deep voice travels into the kitchen and shakes his head with some disappointment.

He was proud that since the car accident his son had changed, more conscious, but apparently it was just a short phase.

"No, Dear, he and his girlfriend are still upstairs, and they probably won't be waking up anytime soon..." The woman laughs, remembering that she and her husband were equally 'energetic' in their youth.

Hearing that her son is still in the room, the man's eyes widen with a certain thought.

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"TROOY!"

With his name being shouted, the naked young man jumps out of the bed he shares with his girlfriend, who wakes up equally scared.

"Father?!" Thinking there was an emergency going on, he picks up his jeans from the floor. Amy, the girlfriend with the completely messed up hair, sits on the bed holding the blanket up to her chest. "Troy, what's going on?"

"I don't know yet, but stay here. I'll see." He responds by finishing putting his shirt on.

"TROY! COME HERE!" The father roars a second time, anger in his tone. The son can only swallow his saliva, and leave the room as soon as possible.

Running towards where the father's voice would be coming from, the young adult finds the half-open side door, where his friend Jason should be sleeping. Thinking about what could have happened between his friend and his father, Troy opens the door and walks in unceremoniously.

Entering, he only sees his father standing with his arms crossed in front of a slightly unmade bed, as if someone had been lying on it for a short time, with a serious expression on his face. "Dad, what's going on? Where's Jason?"

Realizing his son's confusion, the already very experienced farmer shakes his head in discontent. "You brought a rogue into the house, son, that's what happened."

"A rogue?" Having just woken up from such a night, the hangover combines with drowsiness to make Troy's thinking more lethargic. "Who are you talking about?"

The middle-aged farmer snorts. "Who else would it be? Jason, that kid pulled a fast one on you and stole your car."

"What? No, what are you saying Jason wouldn't steal my car!" Troy responds, still slow, but denying his father. He met Jason a short time ago, but the other risked his life for him. From his point of view Jason is certainly a good person.

"Do you really think so? So where are your car keys?" The farmer asks.

"Where? Of course they are…" Troy reaches into the pocket he always kept his keys in, not finding them there. "They are…" He repeated, starting to check the rest of his pants pockets, still finding nothing.

"Are they?..." The father raises an eyebrow questioningly, pressing.

"I... I must have left it in my room, hold on dad." Signaling him to calm down, Troy quickly leaves the guest room and runs towards his own.

'That, that, I must have dropped it last night.' He is convinced, trying the cold in the spine brought on by the hypothesis presented by his father.

Troy arrives in the room and immediately starts rummaging through it. He lifts the rug, searches under the bed and under the closet, to no avail.

'He, Jason really stole from me?' With the keys not located and his friend gone, there were no other options left...

"Troy, did you buy a new cell phone? And what model is that?" The girlfriend catches his attention. She asks with a smartphone in her hands, but with a screen more than twice the size and less than half the thickness of the few similar devices that existed at that time.

"That, where did you find it?" Troy immediately recognized it as Jason's cell phone. He remembers asking about it and his friend saying it's a kind of experimental model that's still exclusively sold in his home country.

"It's not yours?" The girl asks with his reaction and takes one more look at the front and back of the device before continuing. "It was over there by the lampshade." The index finger pointing at the dresser next to Troy's bed.

"No, I'm sure that's Jason's…" Glancing in the direction he pointed, Troy can see a small piece of paper below the lampshade, one he doesn't remember putting there.

"Oh, you have to ask where he got it. That model looks super cool." The girl responds by giving her a few more glances.

"Yes, I'll do that..." Troy responds on automatic, going towards the dresser, raising the lamp a little and taking the paper, which was next to some money notes.

It looks like a letter written in pen. Jason's handwriting is certainly some of the worst he's ever seen, made even worse by the various odd drawings he's made between the words in an attempt to 'break the tension'... Anyway, it took Troy a few minutes to decipher the ' hieroglyphs'.

"... I'm going to stop a death at Stanford, I'm leaving twenty thousand dollars as a down payment on the car loan, and I'm also leaving my cell phone, my only reminder of home, as a guarantee that I'll return." Troy reads the last part of Jason's note aloud, which makes him laugh.

"I knew that friend of yours had a few screws loose." The girlfriend says, leaving the blanket aside and slowly getting out of bed, heading towards Troy.

"Yeah... Now I'm sure of that too." They share a short kiss, during which she rests her hands on the young man's chest.

"What are you going to do? We can call the police." She suggests with her face still close to his, almost whispering.

Troy shakes his head. "Let's just wait." He then tucks the paper away in her back pocket, leaving it for later to read an 'extra content' that Jason wrote on the back there, so he knows the basics of how to protect himself in the event of supernatural apparitions.

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-- Stanford, California, United States, October 30th (Halloween) 9:48 AM...

Sounds of keys being pressed over and over again and high speed fills the room. All windows and blinds drawn, the only light illuminating this motel room is that being given off by a computer monitor... White and tubey, yeah, it's still 2005 after all.

On the slightly curved screen of not very high resolution, two rustic web windows are open and in them multiple codes in different programming languages are scrolling up and down.

In front of the screen, with huge dark circles under his tired brown eyes, there is a tanned young man with curly hair, with only the lower part of his body dressed. Illuminated by the low light of the monitor are his perfect chest and arms, each muscle at its peak volume for maximum power and speed, the kind of physique most train their whole lives to just get close to. In the abdomen there are five puncture wounds that have almost completely healed, giving the boy a wild look. And covering the entire right side of the chest is the black design of a pentagram within a circle of flames, a newly tattooed protection against possession.

Yes, this is my humble description of myself at the current time.

"Just one more line and... Bingo! Here it is!"

I snap the fingers of my right hand in celebration, glancing at the results of my last few hours of hard work on the screen:

Undergraduate student: Samuel Campbell Winchester

Date of birth: 05/02/1983

Course: Law

...

...

...

Address: XXX XXXX XXXXX XXXXXXX

Sam Winchester's full page of information, including address, painstakingly extracted directly from the Stanford University database.

A few days ago I didn't have any programming knowledge, but now here I am invading databases.

'in a way, I hit the jackpot...'

I speak in thought, but contradictorily my cheerful expression fading into dismay. I starting to mull things over, just like I've done a few times on the breaks I've had the last few days.

Leaving the everyday life of an ordinary person and transmigrating to a known fictional universe with a trickster super ability is something I've dreamed of since I was a kid, but now that I'm here... As exciting as it is, most of my thought At all times revolve around my loved ones that I don't even know if I'll ever see again and the extreme danger that lurks in every corner of this world.

Call me a crybaby or anything like that, but I'm not some orphan from a tragic past, ex-combatant in the armed forces, or some grandiose figure from another world. Sometimes I make a brave speech, but like a normal guy, the pressure gets to me and the adrenaline stops flowing. Honestly, I've barely slept since I got here.

'Who exactly am I saying all this to?'

*Beeps* *Beeps* Before I have a chance to delve a little deeper into the bad side of things, the electronic alarm clock next to the bed messy with a few things on top, starts going off. Directing my gaze to him I see it say ten o'clock at night.

"Okay... The time has come." I swallow hard, wondering if this is the right course of action to take. There's still time to change...

'No, if it goes wrong it's because it was doomed to fail from the beginning.' I reinforce my will, then move my tired body to rise from the chair and head towards the bed.

My gaze drops to the set of clothes I have there:

Breastplate, pants, gloves, knee pads, elbow pads, biker shin pads, and a pair of military boots, all of the best quality I could find.

I take a few minutes putting the ensemble on and then end up slathering some hair gel, my beloved sunglasses and a long leather trench coat with a red interior.

"Boom! And so I become Blade for this Halloween night!" I comment aloud, trying to get back into a good mood to forget the nervousness.

Reasonable protection, sunglasses to hide the dark circles under my eyes, a character that matches my skin tone and a lot of style. The perfect costume for tonight.

Leaving the bathroom, I open both hands at my sides and two Taurus pistols come out from under the bed, each flying straight to one of my palms. Result of the telekinesis practice I've been doing on sleepless nights.

"Dude, that's too cool."

I unlock the bedroom door also with the power of my mind and leave, going down the stairs and out the back exit of a mid-town hotel. 'My car', a dark red Volkswagen I had borrowed from my good friend Troy, was left parked in the nearest spot and already turned in the exit direction, in case the previous hack took longer than expected, delaying the schedule.

I slam the door open as I get in, shift a little in the driver's seat, taking a good look at the back of the car just to confirm there's nothing out of place, or any unwanted guests with malicious intent in there. A little paranoid, but in this world anything is possible.

"Okay, all in perfect condition."

I turn around again, fastening my seat belt and both hands on the steering wheel. I watch the cars pass on the street in front of the parking lot, nervousness building inside me again.

'Calm down, everything will be fine.'

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and step on the accelerator.

Tonight I'm driving into the main focus of attention of the most powerful entity in this universe, I'm heading towards Sam Winchester.