The moment the Devil's Gate opened, the entire cemetery shifted. The iron lines that formed the devil's trap gave a sharp metallic crack, then snapped, one after another, like something had just forced its way through every boundary at once.
The air changed with it—heat, pressure, and something rotten pouring out of the crypt as dark shapes began forcing their way up from inside.
Dean stared at it, jaw tightening as black smoke surged out in violent bursts. "What the hell is that thing?" he shouted, stepping back but keeping the shotgun raised.
Bobby didn't take his eyes off it. "That's not a thing," he said, voice hard. "That's the Devil's Gate."
Sam's focus shifted immediately to the mechanism, to the Colt locked into place, to the way the door had opened. He already understood what it meant.
Henry didn't wait for explanations. He moved straight toward the crypt, fast and direct. "Then we shut it," he said, closing the distance, knowing every second mattered.
He reached the edge of the crypt.
And stopped.
Dean caught it instantly. "Henry, what are you doing?" he called out, already moving forward a step.
Sam felt it next, something wrong, something off in the way Henry just froze.
Henry's hand slackened.
The katana slipped from his grip and struck the ground.
Azazel stood in front of him, like he had always been there.
His hand was already driven through Henry's stomach.
Dean's voice broke out, sharp and immediate. "Henry!"
Azazel's hand sank in without resistance, deliberate and steady. He twisted it slightly, and Henry's body jolted from the force, blood spilling as the blow landed.
"Surprised?" he said, tone almost conversational, like he was addressing all of them at once.
He lifted Henry off the ground with one arm, holding him there just long enough for them to see it, before throwing him aside. Henry's body slammed hard into a grave, stone cracking under the force before he hit the ground.
He glanced in his direction for a moment. "That one had potential," he said. "Shame."
Dean didn't wait for another word. He fired.
The gunshot echoed across the cemetery, but Azazel was already gone before the bullet reached him.
Dean turned on instinct.
Azazel appeared behind him and drove a punch straight into his face, the impact snapping his head sideways and sending him stumbling across the ground.
"Dean," Azazel said, almost amused, stepping forward at an easy pace. "Still holding onto all that anger."
Dean pushed himself back up, wiping blood from his mouth, eyes locked on him without backing down.
"Is it about your dad?" Azazel continued, voice steady, deliberate. "The deal he made for you?" His head tilted slightly, eyes locked on Dean. "Or is it about your mother?"
Bobby moved, but Azazel didn't even look at him. A slight flick of his finger.
Bobby was lifted off his feet and thrown hard across the cemetery, his body slamming into a tree with a heavy crack before dropping to the ground.
Azazel let out a small breath, almost amused. "Adults shouldn't interrupt," he said, glancing briefly in Bobby's direction before turning back. "I've got some time. Might as well spend it on the two of you."
Sam reacted first.
He fired.
The bullet never reached.
It stopped mid-air, inches from Azazel's face, hanging there like it had hit something invisible.
He looked at it for a second, unimpressed. "Sammy," he said, almost casually, "you know that doesn't work on me."
The bullet dropped.
Dean came in from the side, iron rod in hand, swinging hard toward Azazel's head.
Azazel shifted just enough, the strike missing clean, and in the same motion he grabbed Dean by the jacket and threw him sideways. Dean hit the ground hard, rolling once before trying to push himself back up.
Sam had already started the exorcism, voice fast, controlled despite the pressure.
Azazel's eyes snapped to him.
The words didn't get far.
A sharp motion of his hand—
Sam's voice cut off as he was yanked forward and slammed into Dean, both of them hitting the ground together.
Azazel stepped closer, unhurried, watching them try to recover.
"You boys keep trying the same tricks," Azazel said, his tone flat, like he'd already seen this play out too many times. "And it keeps getting you nowhere."
Dean forced himself up onto one knee, breathing rough, but his glare didn't drop.
Azazel stepped closer, looking between the two of them. "Your dad couldn't kill me," he said. "What makes you think you can?"
He moved before either of them could react.
In an instant, he was beside Sam, grabbing him and lifting him clean off the ground before throwing him hard across the dirt. At the same time, his leg came around and slammed into Dean's side while he was still on one knee, the impact sharp enough to crack bone and send Dean crashing sideways.
Sam hit the ground and rolled, struggling to get air back into his lungs, while Dean clenched his teeth, trying to push through the pain.
Azazel let out a low laugh, watching them. "Heh… I'm enjoying this," he said. "I wonder how your dad down in Hell would feel if he saw this."
Before either of them could get back up,
A gravestone ripped free from the ground and slammed into Azazel from the side, hitting him hard enough to knock him off balance and force him back a step.
Dean and Sam both snapped their heads toward where it came from.
Henry stood there.
His hair flickered with a faint blue glow, strands shifting like energy was running through them. Thin, glowing lines traced across his face and down his neck, pulsing faintly, and his eyes burned the same cold blue.
"That hurts," he said, voice low and sharp. "You demon son of a bitch."
*****
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