Summary: While investigating a series of disappearances in a small Appalachian town, Sam and Dean Winchester stumble upon an ancient spirit known as the Hollow Man. But when an unexpected face from their past reappears, the case becomes personal—forcing the brothers to confront their own ghosts as well as the ones haunting the town.
The Impala’s headlights cut through the mist curling around the twisting road leading into the forgotten town of Briar Hollow. It was the kind of place that didn’t make it onto maps, buried deep within the Appalachian wilderness. Dean drummed his fingers on the wheel, casting a glance at Sam, who was scanning his laptop screen.
“So, what are we dealing with?” Dean asked. “Ghosts? Witches? Angry Appalachian hillbilly gods?”
Sam didn’t look up. “Locals say people go missing after hearing whispers in the woods. No bodies, no signs of struggle. Just… gone.”
Dean huffed. “Great. So, another game of ‘what fresh Hell is this?’”
“Sounds like it,” Sam muttered, closing his laptop as the Impala rolled into town.
Briar Hollow looked like it hadn’t changed in a hundred years. Rusted streetlamps flickered dimly over cracked sidewalks, and a weathered ‘Motel’ sign buzzed with failing neon. The brothers checked in under their usual aliases—this time as agents Page and Plant—and got to work.
Their first stop was the local bar, a creaky old dive called The Hollow Oak. The bartender, an older man with a grizzled beard, barely looked up from polishing glasses.
“Let me guess,” he muttered. “You boys are here ‘bout them disappearances.”
Dean slid a twenty across the counter. “We like a good ghost story.”
The bartender sighed, taking the money. “Ain’t a story. It’s real. The Hollow Man gets ‘em.”
Sam frowned. “The Hollow Man?”
The bartender leaned in. “Legend goes way back. Some say he was a man cursed to roam the woods, looking for lost souls. He whispers, calls out in voices you know. If you answer, you’re his.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Great. Another creepy bedtime story come to life.”
Sam ignored him. “Has anyone survived hearing the whispers?”
The bartender hesitated before nodding toward a woman at the end of the bar. She was nursing a whiskey, her dark hair streaked with silver despite her youthful face.
Dean froze. His grip on the glass tightened.
“No way,” he breathed.
The woman turned, and piercing green eyes locked onto his.
“Hello, boys,” she said, her voice rich with familiarity.
Sam’s jaw clenched. “Bela?”
Bela Talbot smirked. “It’s been a while.”
Bela, supposedly dead after her run-in with Hellhounds, was very much alive. And, apparently, she knew more about the Hollow Man than she was letting on.
“I barely made it out,” she admitted, swirling the whiskey in her glass. “He doesn’t just call to you. He shows you things—things you regret, things you want to fix.”
Sam’s face darkened. “How do you fight it?”
Bela hesitated before pulling something from her coat pocket—a small, weathered talisman etched with runes.
“Wards against his influence,” she said. “But they won’t last long. If you’re hearing him, it means he’s already marked you.”
Dean swore under his breath. “Fantastic. Another monster with a ‘personal touch.’”
That night, the brothers and Bela ventured into the forest. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became—charged, electric. And then, the whispers began.
Dean flinched as he heard their father’s voice. “Dean… you let me down.”
Sam stiffened as Jess’s soft voice called out. “Sam… why didn’t you save me?”
Bela clenched her fists. “Ignore them,” she hissed. “He’s trying to get inside your head.”
But then, a familiar voice made them all freeze.
“Mom?” Dean whispered.
The sound of rustling leaves turned into a deafening roar. A shadowy figure stepped forward, its hollow eyes reflecting their own fears back at them. The Hollow Man loomed, tendrils of darkness slithering toward them.
Bela threw her talisman to the ground. The runes flared bright, pushing the darkness back. “Now!” she shouted.
Dean and Sam raised their shotguns, salt rounds blasting into the entity. It recoiled, howling as the sigils etched into the bullets burned through it. But it wasn’t enough.
“Burn the body!” Sam shouted, tossing a match onto the remains of a rotting corpse nearby—the origin of the spirit’s curse.
The Hollow Man let out a final, unearthly scream as flames consumed him. Then, silence. The forest returned to normal.
Bela exhaled, dusting herself off. “Well. That was fun.”
Dean shot her a glare. “Still don’t trust you.”
Bela smirked. “Good. That’s smart.”
Sam sighed, rubbing his temples. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they left, the whisper of a voice echoed in the trees.
A warning.
They had won this time—but some ghosts never truly rest.
End.