The Impala sat off to the side of the road, engine off, the air around it heavy with smoke that still lingered from what used to be the Roadhouse.
Now it was nothing but blackened wood and collapsed beams.
Dean stood in the middle of it, boots crunching over ash and debris as he moved through what was left, eyes scanning like he could still find something that made sense out of this.
Bobby worked a few steps away, quieter but no less focused, pushing aside burned fragments, checking anything that looked like it might've survived.
Dean stopped.
Something caught his eye.
He crouched, brushing away ash with his hand until metal glinted through. When he pulled it free, the shape became clear—Ash's watch, still strapped to what was left of an arm.
Dean stared at it for a second too long.
"Great," he muttered, voice low and rough. "Our one guy who could've tracked Sam down… went up with the place."
He stood and kicked a loose piece of debris out of his way, frustration bleeding through. "How the hell are we supposed to find him now?"
Bobby straightened slowly, looking over what remained of the structure before answering. "Demons don't torch a place like this unless there's a reason," he said, voice steady but grim. "Ash must've found something. Something they didn't want getting out."
Dean exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. "Yeah, well, whatever it was—it's gone now."
Before Bobby could respond, Dean staggered.
It hit fast.
He grabbed the edge of a broken beam, breathing uneven as his vision blurred. A sharp pulse of pain cut through his head, forcing his eyes shut for a second—
—and then it wasn't the Roadhouse anymore.
A bell.
Massive. Old.
An oak tree carved into its surface.
The image flickered.
Sam.
Then nothing.
Dean snapped back, catching himself before he hit the ground.
"Dean?" Bobby stepped closer, watching him carefully. "You alright?"
Dean steadied himself, shaking it off as he straightened. "Yeah… yeah, I'm good," he said, though his expression said otherwise. He looked up at Bobby, focus locking in. "I saw something."
Bobby didn't interrupt.
"Sam," Dean continued, breathing more evenly now. "There was this place… big bell, old-looking, had a tree carved into it. An oak."
Bobby's expression shifted immediately. "Cold Oak," he said. "There's a town—Cold Oak, South Dakota. Old church out there fits that description."
Dean didn't hesitate. "Then that's where he is."
The sound of an engine cut through the moment.
Both of them turned.
A car rolled up along the roadside and came to a stop a short distance away. The door opened, and Henry stepped out, taking in the scene in one slow sweep—the burned remains, the ash, the silence.
"It seems things are already a mess," he said, walking closer, eyes lingering briefly on what was left of the Roadhouse.
Dean looked at him, tension still sitting heavy in his posture.
"Yeah," he said. "And it's about to get worse."
The Impala cut through the highway, engine steady as Dean kept the speed up, one hand loose on the wheel while his eyes stayed locked on the road ahead. Bobby sat beside him, arms folded, thinking through everything they'd just seen, while Henry leaned back in the rear seat.
The silence didn't last long.
Dean glanced at the mirror, one brow lifting slightly. "So," he said, tone casual but edged, "how was the vacation, Henry?"
Henry shifted the katana on his lap, pulling it halfway out just to check the blade before sliding it back in with a quiet click. "Not well," he said. "Vacation turned into a mess."
Bobby turned his head a little. "What kind of mess?"
Henry exhaled once, then answered without dressing it up. "Big one. Whole place turned into monsters versus humans. Some kind of fog rolled in—wasn't natural—and after that, things started coming out of it."
Dean's grip on the wheel tightened just slightly. "Things?"
"Yeah," Henry continued, calm but direct. "Not ghosts, not demons. Something else. Like they came from another dimension or something. The fog covered the entire town, and anyone caught in it…" he paused briefly, then finished, "…didn't last long. I was stuck there for two days."
Bobby frowned. "Two days?"
Henry nodded. "Tentacles coming out of nowhere, flying things—big ones—some the size of cars. And bigger stuff moving in the mist you couldn't even fully see."
Dean let out a short breath, shaking his head once. "You're telling me you took a break… and ended up in that?"
Henry didn't answer that.
Bobby exchanged a look with Dean, both of them clearly trying to process it.
"What the hell kind of mess did you walk into…" Bobby muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
"So how is Madison?" Dean asked, eyes fixed on the road.
Henry leaned back slightly. "She was in it too. Pretty shaken. I just got back yesterday, saw your message, and came."
Dean gave a small nod, silent for a moment as the engine hummed and the road stretched ahead. Then he exhaled and spoke again, tone more grounded this time.
"Yeah… well," he said, glancing briefly at the mirror, "thanks for coming."
*****
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