Minseo moved quickly once the sun dipped below the horizon, the moon casting its cold light over the quiet streets. She didn't have time to waste—not if she wanted to finish this.

The Wax Museum loomed ahead, its empty windows reflecting the pale glow of her headlights. Climbing out of her car, she tightened her jacket around her and made her way inside, a single matchbook tucked into her pocket. She was ready to burn whatever needed burning, end this hunt clean and fast.

But the moment she stepped into the dimly lit building, she froze. Voices echoed through the stillness, low and unmistakably familiar.

Her jaw clenched as her eyes narrowed on the figures standing in the middle of the display. It was them—the guys from earlier. They were already there, flames licking up the edges of the belongings she'd come to destroy.

Minseo stayed in the shadows, watching with a growing annoyance. Her fists curled at her sides, tension buzzing under her skin. With every crackle of the fire, it became clear—this wasn't her hunt anymore.

She shook her head and slipped back out the way she'd come, her footsteps silent on the cold floor.

By the time she reached her motel room, her frustration was a full-blown storm. She shoved the door open, letting it slam shut behind her, and dropped her bag onto the sagging bed. A sharp groan escaped her lips as she raked a hand through her hair, the knot in her chest tightening.

She'd needed this hunt—needed the distraction. Something, anything to pull her thoughts away from her Abigail.

Minseo paced the small room, her boots scuffing against the faded carpet. Her thoughts raced, tangled in frustration. She'd come here to finish the job, to take down whatever twisted thing was haunting this town—and yet, those two men, had beaten her to it.

Minseo exhaled slowly, her breath steadying as she tried to piece it all together. Something was off. Her instincts screamed it—hunts were never this easy. A simple ghost wouldn't explain the patterns, the chaos. She must have missed something. This wasn't just a restless spirit. It was something much worse.

She crossed the room, pulling open the worn cover of her journal—a collection of notes, sketches, and theories she'd built over the years. The pages were smudged and creased, each entry a lesson from the past or whispers she'd heard from other hunters. Flipping through the sections, her fingers paused on one labeled "Pagan Gods."

Her mind flashed back to the wax museum. Something about the figures' choice of victims stuck with her. The way they targeted their greatest admirers—it mirrored stories she'd read about ancient gods, drawing power from the devotion of their followers.

Her gaze landed on a hastily scrawled note about the Leshi: a Slavic forest spirit, often venerated as a protector or destroyer depending on its mood. It could take human form, charm its victims, or even kill them for trespassing into its domain. A single word at the bottom of the page caught her eye: iron.

Minseo pressed her lips into a tight line, her resolve hardening. If it was a Leshi, she knew what she had to do. She grabbed her bag and carefully slid an iron knife inside. From her research, iron could injure the creature—but to kill it, she'd need to take its head.

Determination settled over her like armor as she started her car. The drive to the museum was a blur, her focus sharp and singular.

The building loomed ahead, silent and foreboding under the moonlight. Parking a safe distance away, she killed the engine and approached on foot, her breath fogging in the chill night air. Picking the lock was second nature by now. She slipped inside, the faint creak of the door breaking the oppressive silence.

The air was heavy and still, thick with the unsettling sensation of being watched. Minseo tightened her grip on the bag's strap, her senses on high alert.

She moved cautiously through the dim corridors, her footsteps muffled on the polished floor. Passing through the historical exhibit, she entered the pop culture wing, where wax figures of actors and singers stood frozen under the faint glow of emergency lights.

A sudden clatter broke the silence. Her body whipped around, every muscle tensing as her eyes scanned the darkness. The sound had come from deeper inside.

She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. Something was here, and it was watching her.

Minseo's focus was razor-sharp as she moved through the museum, her knife at the ready. The air felt heavier now, the shadows deeper. She took slow, deliberate steps toward the next exhibit, her ears straining for any sound.

A faint creak behind her made her whirl around, her knife raised. She collided with something solid. Someone.

The shock of the impact sent her stumbling back a step, but the iron grip on her arm kept her upright.

"Whoa there," a familiar voice said, low and steady.

Minseo's eyes shot up to meet the guy from earlier . His expression was equal parts wary and amused, his green eyes scanning her quickly before flicking to the knife in her hand.

"You planning on using that, or are we just playing dress-up?" he asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

Minseo jerked her arm free, glaring up at him. "What are you doing here?"

Dean tilted his head, his smirk never wavering. "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

Before she could respond, a second figure stepped out of the shadows. A taller and more composed, gave her a once-over. His tone was cautious but firm. "We could ask the same about the knife. Care to explain?"

Minseo's grip on the weapon tightened as she took a step back, her eyes darting between them. "I don't owe you an explanation."

Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading slightly. "Fair enough. But you might wanna reconsider, seeing as we're all here for the same reason."

Her eyes narrowed. "The same reason?"

Sam stepped forward, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "A girl was taken earlier today. Her friends said she was dragged off by someone who looked like Paris Hilton."

Minseo blinked, thrown off by the bizarre statement. "You're joking."

"Wish we were," Dean said, his tone grim. "But trust us, it's not as simple as it sounds. If you've done your research, you know this thing isn't human."

Her jaw clenched as she weighed her options. She didn't trust them, not fully. But if they were here for the same creature, they might have information she didn't.

Sam took her silence as an opportunity. "If we're right, this thing is a Leshi—a pagan god that feeds on devotion and uses its victims to fuel its power. If you're here to stop it too, we might as well work together."

Minseo hesitated, her instincts screaming against teaming up with strangers. But she couldn't ignore the truth in their words—or the way the tension in the air had thickened.

"Fine," she said finally, lowering her knife but keeping it ready. "But stay out of my way."

Dean's smirk returned, though his eyes remained sharp. "Deal."

Minseo led the way, her steps light but purposeful, the weight of the situation pressing down on her chest. Ahead, her sharp eyes spotted a teenage girl tied to a fake tree, her head slumped forward, limbs limp like a discarded doll. 

She froze for a moment, her instincts screaming to approach cautiously, but Sam pushed past her, rushing to the girl. Minseo followed closely, her fingers brushing against the iron knife at her side. 

Sam gently untied the ropes and lowered the girl to the floor, his movements careful as if she might shatter. 

"Is she alive?" Dean's voice cut through the tense silence, low and urgent. 

Sam leaned in, checking her pulse. His shoulders relaxed just slightly. "Barely." 

Minseo exhaled, the relief short-lived. 

Before anyone could move, the air shifted. A force yanked Dean's axe clean out of his hand, sending it clattering to the ground several feet away. Minseo's knife followed, ripped from her grip so fast it left her palm stinging. 

"What the—" Dean started, but his words died on his lips. 

Standing before them, illuminated by the dim glow of a fake spotlight, was Paris Hilton. Or rather, what looked like her. 

The Leshi smiled, her expression unnervingly serene. "Well, this is cozy. Three little hunters in my exhibit. How... poetic." 

Minseo's jaw tightened. She took a step back, her eyes darting to her knife lying uselessly on the ground. Her mind raced, weighing their options, but the Leshi's presence was suffocating, her power palpable. 

Dean's hand twitched toward his waistband, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Great. Just what I needed—Paris Hilton quoting poetry." 

"Careful," the Leshi said, her smile widening. "You might hurt my feelings." 

Minseo's grip tightened on the hilt of her knife as the Leshi—disguised as Paris Hilton—took a leisurely step forward, her smile unnerving and too perfect.

"Oh, look at this," the Leshi drawled, her voice dripping with amusement as her eyes scanned the trio. "Two brothers and..." She paused, tilting her head at Minseo like she was some amusing insect. "A stray. How quaint."

Dean scoffed, already edging toward where his axe had clattered to the ground. "You know, for a cheap knockoff, you sure like to hear yourself talk."

The Leshi's smile widened, her perfect teeth glinting in the flickering museum lights. "I've been listening for centuries, sweetheart. And trust me, your voices are the least interesting ones I've heard."

Minseo caught the faintest flick of Sam's eyes toward the axe. A silent signal. She shifted slightly, adjusting her stance to draw the Leshi's attention. "So what's the plan here?" Minseo cut in, her voice sharp. "Lure in your fans and make them part of your creepy wax collection?"

The Leshi's smile faltered for the briefest second, and Minseo pressed on, her tone mocking. "I mean, you must be pretty desperate to dig up your fifteen minutes of fame again."

Dean chuckled, stepping closer to the Leshi while keeping her focus on Minseo. "She's got a point. Bet it's been hard staying relevant these days, huh?"

The Leshi's expression darkened, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "You little insects think you can mock me?" she hissed, her voice losing its human tone, becoming something ancient and guttural.

Sam chose that moment to move. With practiced precision, he lunged for the axe, his hand closing around its handle just as the Leshi whipped around.

"Not so fast!" she snarled, her arm lashing out like a whip. Minseo barely had time to react before Dean shoved her aside, taking the brunt of the attack. He staggered but didn't fall.

Minseo scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering as she grabbed her knife. She wasn't about to let these guys handle this alone—if only to prove she wasn't a liability.

"Sam, now!" Dean yelled, tossing the axe toward his brother.

The Leshi turned just as the axe sailed through the air, her form shimmering like a mirage. But Sam was ready.

He caught the axe mid-spin and charged forward, his movements swift and precise. The Leshi snarled, lunging to meet him, her hands curling into claws. But Sam ducked under her swing, pivoting sharply to bring the blade up in a clean arc.

The axe struck true, slicing through her neck in one fluid motion. The Leshi's head hit the ground with a dull thud, her body crumpling moments later.

For a heartbeat, silence filled the museum, the oppressive chill in the air lifting as the Leshi's form disintegrated into ash.

Minseo let out a shaky breath, her knife still clutched tightly in her hand. "Well," she muttered, her voice edged with dry humor. "That was subtle."

Dean shot her a look, wiping a smear of blood off his jacket. "Yeah, you're welcome."

Sam lowered the axe, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. "It's done."

Minseo trailed after the two men toward the exit, her boots scuffing softly against the floor.

The taller one glanced back at her with a faint, almost shy smile. "We didn't really introduce ourselves back there. I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean."

Dean gave her a quick nod, his expression unreadable but not unfriendly.

Minseo paused, their names sinking in. They didn't ring a bell, but there was something about the way they carried themselves—like they were used to this, to the chaos and danger. Professionals.

When their eyes landed on her, expectant but patient, she hesitated before speaking. "Minseo," she finally said, her voice steady despite the hint of reluctance. "Minseo Yoon."

Her name lingered in the air for a moment, her guarded tone not going unnoticed by either of the brothers.

"Nice to meet you, Minseo," Sam offered, his voice warm but careful, as though sensing she wasn't the type to open up easily.

Dean gave a quick smirk, adjusting his jacket. "Well, Minseo Yoon, looks like you can handle yourself out there."

She didn't respond, just gave a curt nod as they stepped into the cool night air.

The cool night air hit Minseo as they stepped outside, the remnants of the battle still hanging in the silence. She didn't look back at the museum.

Dean's voice broke the quiet. "Well, that was a mess. At least it's over." He shot her a quick, casual glance, his tone light but with a hint of something underneath. "Not bad, though. I'll give you that."

Minseo didn't acknowledge the compliment, her eyes already focused on the parking lot. She wasn't necessarily looking to talk to the pair.

Sam, keeping pace with his brother, turned to her. "You sure you're alright?" His voice was softer, like he was genuinely asking, but Minseo didn't see the point in answering with anything more than a curt nod.

"I'm fine," she muttered, the words almost automatic.

Dean raised an eyebrow, studying her for a second before looking away. "Yeah, okay. Well, just, you know, don't go looking for trouble. This whole thing wasn't exactly a walk in the park."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Minseo replied flatly, her tone colder than before.

Sam shot a glance at his brother, then back to her. "Stay safe out here. We're heading out, but—"

"I'll be fine." She cut him off, not needing the lecture. Her car was in sight, and that was all that mattered now.

Dean smirked, a half-hearted attempt at a joke. "Alright, well, if you ever decide to join the not-waiting-for-the-apocalypse club, you know where to find us."

Minseo didn't respond. She wasn't interested in their offer. Without a word, she turned and walked toward her car, not sparing them a second glance.

As she drove back, the events of the night played on repeat in her mind. The hunt had gone smoothly enough, and she felt a small sense of satisfaction. She flicked on the radio, letting the upbeat pop music fill the car. For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to relax, tapping her fingers on the wheel in time with the beat as she made her way home

Minseo barely paused when she got back to her apartment. A quick shower and a change into clean clothes were all she allowed herself before grabbing her bag and heading out again. Her body ached in that dull, familiar way after a hunt, but she ignored it. There was no time to linger—not with Ellen waiting.

On the way, she stopped at a donut shop, picking up a box of assorted pastries. The smell of sugar and fried dough filled her car as she drove to Ellen's, her mind still circling the events of the night.

By the time she knocked on the door, the sky was a soft gray, hinting at the coming morning. Ellen answered with her usual no-nonsense smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"Well, you don't look dead," she said, stepping aside to let Minseo in. "Guess the hunt went all right."

Minseo set the box of donuts on the counter and slid onto one of the kitchen stools. "It wasn't too bad," she said, her tone clipped. "Turned out to be a Leshi." She hesitated, then added with a faint scowl, "Ran into two hunters, though. Annoying as hell."

Ellen chuckled as she moved to the coffee pot, pouring two mugs of black coffee. "Hunters? They give you a hard time?"

"Just nosy," Minseo muttered, taking the offered mug and wrapping her hands around its warmth.

At that moment, Jo entered the kitchen, already dressed and looking like she was itching for a hunt. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the donuts.

"Minseo! You're back. And in one piece, too," Jo said, crossing the room in a few quick strides. Her grin widened as she opened the box. "And you brought donuts. Have I mentioned you're my favorite person ever?"

Jo didn't wait for an answer before grabbing a chocolate donut and taking a big bite, crumbs scattering onto the counter.

Minseo allowed herself a faint smile at the blonde's enthusiasm before rolling her eyes.

Jo leaned against the counter, chewing noisily on her donut. "So, a Leshi, huh? Haven't heard of one of those in a while. What happened? Did it try to charm you with its fake Paris Hilton smile?"

Minseo smirked, a rare flicker of amusement breaking through her guarded expression. "It did try. Didn't work." She sipped her coffee, glancing at Jo. "Pretty sure it hated me more than I hated it by the end."

Jo snorted, grabbing another donut. "That's impressive. You've got a real talent for pissing people off, you know that?"

Ellen, who had been leaning against the sink with her own coffee, raised an eyebrow. "I'm more interested in these 'annoying hunters' you mentioned. You didn't start a fight, did you?"

Minseo shook her head, though her lips pressed into a tight line. "No. They just got in the way. Kept asking questions like they owned the place."

"Hunters can be territorial," Ellen said, her tone measured. "But sometimes they're just trying to help. Maybe they thought you looked—"

"Like I needed help?" Minseo cut in, her voice sharper than she intended. She sighed, setting her coffee down. "I don't. I handled it."

Jo looked between them, her grin softening. "We know you can handle yourself, Min. You're a badass. But, come on, you've gotta admit, it's kind of funny picturing those two guys annoying you to death."

For a moment, Minseo hesitated, her walls firmly in place. But then she let out a soft, almost reluctant chuckle. "It was a little funny. They were like a bad buddy cop duo. One of them even had an axe."

Jo grinned triumphantly. "See? Now I wish I'd been there. Sounds like a good show."

Minseo glanced at her, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "Next time, I'll call you. Maybe you can be their referee."

Ellen watched the exchange with a knowing smile but didn't say anything. Minseo's guard was always up with strangers, but here, in Ellen's kitchen, surrounded by familiar faces, a sliver of warmth crept through.

Ellen glanced at Minseo, her sharp eyes scanning her face. "You look like hell, kid. Why don't you crash here for a while? You've got that 'I didn't sleep' look."

Minseo shook her head almost immediately. "I'm fine. I've got stuff to do today. Besides, I don't—"

Ellen didn't budge, crossing her arms. "Minseo." Her tone was calm but firm, the kind that left no room for argument. 

Minseo hesitated, glancing toward the door as if weighing her options. "I really don't need—" 

Jo cut in, leaning her elbows on the counter with a grin. "You better listen to her. Trust me, you don't want to make her mad. She's scary when she's right." 

Ellen shot Jo a look that said I heard that, but her smirk betrayed her amusement. 

Minseo sighed, the resistance draining from her shoulders. "Fine. But only because I don't feel like arguing." 

Jo winked at her. "Good choice. I call dibs on the last donut, though." 

Minseo rolled her eyes but didn't hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. She grabbed her coffee and headed toward the living room, muttering just loud enough for them to hear, "You're both impossible." 

Ellen watched her go, her expression softening. "Yeah, but you keep coming back, don't you?" 

Jo chuckled, grabbing another donut. "That's because she loves us. She'd never admit it, but she does." 

Minseo's voice floated back from the living room, dry and deadpan. "I can hear you." 

Jo grinned wider, popping the rest of her donut into her mouth.

Minseo stretched out on the couch, throwing an arm over her eyes to block the morning sunlight streaming through the window. It wasn't her bed, but it was quieter than her apartment, and Ellen's couch somehow managed to be more comfortable than it looked.

For a moment, her thoughts drifted back to the hunt, to Sam and Dean, to the Leshi. She shook her head. It didn't matter. She'd gotten the job done, and that was what counted.

The faint hum of voices—Ellen and Jo in the kitchen—filtered through the air. Minseo's lips quirked into the smallest of smiles. She'd never say it out loud, but there was something about this place that made the weight she always carried feel a little lighter.

With a soft sigh, she let herself sink into the cushions and closed her eyes. Just for a little while.

AUTHORS NOTE
i absolutely loved writing minseo being soft with ellen and jo i absolutely adore their relationship. i'm honestly debating the whole ordeal that happens in episode 10 with ellen and jo. since that will hurt to write so I'm thinking if I should even write it or if I should change it. i'm still thinking about it but if any of you have any input i would love to hear it.

other than that i don't really have anything else to share hopefully y'all liked this chapter have a good day/night!!