"Contact Bobby," Sam said decisively, pulling out his phone. "And all of Dad's old friends. Ellen, Madame Harvelle, everyone we know. We have to find a way to summon the white-eyed demons, or at least find any information about them!"
The black antelope car sped along the silent road through the night, carrying the three of them back to their temporary residence.
The atmosphere inside the car was heavy and urgent. Sam and Dean had already seized every second, constantly making calls, sending messages, and working their contacts, trying to dig out a sliver of hope from demon-hunting lore and buried memories.
Wu Heng remained silently seated in the back, his gaze fixed on the deep darkness beyond the window. No one knew what he was thinking. The shifting light and shadow outside made his profile seem even more inscrutable.
Inside their temporary rented base, the air felt as stagnant as lead.
The glow of the laptop screen fell across Sam's furrowed brow as he hung up on yet another fruitless call with Bobby Singer.
Dean irritably slammed the beer bottle in his hand onto the wooden table, producing a harsh crash.
"Damn it, nothing works!" he growled, raking his fingers through his short hair. "Bobby went through all his books, Ellen asked every one of her informants, and even those freaks hiding in the corners of the internet said they'd never heard of any way to summon Lucifer's personal guard."
"Either that, or we need some fucked-up thing like Cain's bones or Judas coins!"
Compared to Sam, Dean had spent more time with their father. Beneath his playboy exterior, he was actually far more sensitive when it came to family.
Sam closed the laptop, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and anxiety.
"Either the method's been lost, or the requirements