Sam didn't rush it when he explained, but there was weight behind every word now that the pattern made sense.
"Every victim we checked had a kid in the house," he said, looking between Dean and Henry. "Same setup every time, same kind of death, and the mothers all had that mark on the back of their neck."
Dean frowned, arms crossing as he leaned back slightly. "Alright, so what are we looking at?" he asked.
"Changelings," Sam said. "They can mimic children perfectly. They get in through the kid's window, take the real one, and they always leave a small bloodstain on the sill. After that, they replace them."
Henry nodded once, already connecting it. Sam continued, more focused now. "They don't just hide there. They feed off the mother. That's what the mark is. They drain her slowly, and after a few weeks… she's gone."
Dean's expression hardened. "And the kids?"
"They're still alive," Sam replied. "They keep them somewhere underground. If we move fast, we might still get them back."
There was a brief pause before Dean asked the only thing that mattered. "How do we kill them?"
Sam didn't hesitate. "Fire."
That was enough for Dean.
***
Dean drove straight to Lisa's house and walked up to the front door, knocking firmly.
A moment later, the door opened.
Lisa stood there.
And just behind her,
Ben.
Dean's eyes went to the kid immediately.
Too quiet.
Watching him.
"Hey," Dean said, trying to keep his tone normal. "We need to talk."
Lisa didn't move aside. Her posture stayed firm, like she was blocking the way without making it obvious. "Now's not a good time," she said.
Dean's gaze flicked past her again to Ben, who hadn't looked away once.
"Mom," Ben said, voice flat, unnatural in its calm, "tell him to go away."
Lisa didn't hesitate.
"You heard him," she said, her tone cold as she met Dean's eyes.
Dean didn't respond right away.
He just stood there, looking between her and the kid, the answer already clear in his head.
Dean didn't say anything until they were back in the Impala.
He shut the door, hands tightening briefly on the wheel before starting the engine. Sam watched him, already reading the answer off his face. "That wasn't Ben," he said.
"No," Dean replied, pulling the car into motion. "And that stain on the window… I've seen that before."
Henry leaned forward slightly from the back seat. "You know where they took the kids?" he asked.
Dean nodded once, eyes fixed on the road. "There's a place nearby. Vacant house, under renovation. No one around, no reason for anyone to check it. If I'm right, that's where they're keeping them."
Sam didn't hesitate. "Then we go now."
They pulled up a few minutes later.
The house sat quiet, half-finished, dark from the outside.
Dean killed the engine, stepping out with purpose. Sam followed immediately.
Henry looked at the place, then at them. "You two go in and get the kids," he said. "I'll stay out here and keep watch. If anything tries to run, it's not getting past me."
Dean gave a short nod.
Sam checked his grip on the weapon once, then both of them moved toward the house and went inside.
Henry stayed outside, leaning casually near the entrance, but his attention never left the street. In his hand, he held a glass bottle filled with gasoline. If he remembers correctly, the mother changeling would come looking sooner or later.
She wouldn't ignore this.
Ten minutes passed.
Then footsteps.
An adult woman approached from the street, dressed like she belonged there—confident, composed. The neighborhood realtor. She slowed when she saw Henry standing there.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone polite but edged.
Henry didn't react immediately. He slipped the bottle slightly behind his coat, keeping his posture relaxed. "Just looking around," he said. "Thinking about buying a place in this neighborhood. Wanted to see if anything's available."
She didn't buy it.
"This isn't the time for that," she said, stepping a little closer. "This is private property. You should come back tomorrow."
Henry smiled.
"Yeah," he said, voice calm, "private property."
There was a brief pause.
Then his tone shifted, just slightly colder. "You wouldn't mind if I buried you here then."
Before she could react, Henry moved. The bottle came out fast, smashing open as gasoline splashed on her. In the same motion, he pulled out a lighter, thumb flicking it alive.
"Bye-bye, mother," he said.
She reacted instantly.
Her foot snapped out, kicking his hand hard enough to send the lighter flying from his grip before he could drop it.
It hit the ground, flame dying out.
Her expression changed.
Not human anymore.
"Hunters," she said, the word sharp, almost amused.
Henry didn't answer with words.
He stepped in and drove a punch straight into her face.
The impact landed clean.
The changeling recovered fast, snapping her leg up in a sharp kick aimed at Henry's ribs, but he caught it mid-motion, his grip locking around her ankle before the strike could land.
He twisted and used the momentum against her, throwing her hard across the yard. Her body slammed into the side of the house with a heavy crack, the wall taking the impact as she dropped slightly, still trying to recover.
Henry didn't give her time.
"Yeah," Henry said, voice steady, "changelings might be strong…"
He picked up the lighter, the flame catching this time, steady in his hand.
"…but I deal with demons on a daily basis."
He threw it.
The flame hit the gasoline-soaked ground and surged instantly, fire rushing forward and climbing up her body in a violent burst.
"AAGHHHH—! AHHHHH!" the changeling screamed, the sound raw and tearing as the flames took hold, her form twisting as the illusion broke apart under the heat.
Henry didn't move, watching as the flames consumed her, making sure she didn't get back up.
He waited until there was nothing left moving.
[Monster Eliminated gained 5 Supernatural Points]
*****
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