"How the heck did Meg become a ghost?" Dean asked.
It didn't make any sense to him. Meg had died more than a year ago. She hadn't died here, and ghosts usually haunted the place where they died unless they were bound to their remains or some personal object.
Dean was certain there wasn't a single part of Meg's body anywhere near Bobby's salvage yard.
Sam frowned. "I don't know, Dean."
Before either of them could think it through, both Winchester brothers suddenly looked past Henry.
"Henry... behind you," Sam warned.
Henry turned around. More than a dozen ghosts stood several yards behind him.
He blinked. "Wow... who the heck are you guys?"
One of the spirits pointed at him angrily. "You're the one who caused the bus accident!"
Another stepped forward. "You didn't even try to save us!"
"You only cared about chasing that demon!"
Henry stared at them for a moment before recognition crossed his face. "Oh." He remembered them — the passengers who died in the bus crash after the Demon of Wrath drove it out of control.
He looked at them without the slightest guilt. "Yeah, because how the fuck was I supposed to save you? The bus was already crashing, and I was busy dealing with the demon that caused it." He pointed the iron rod at them.
"And don't stand there acting like I'm the reason you're dead. You people were the ones who gave in to the demon's influence. If you're looking for somebody to haunt, go find the damn demon."
The ghosts shrieked together and charged. Henry met them head-on. The iron rod swept through the first spirit and it burst apart into white smoke.
He turned with the momentum and struck another across the chest — gone. A third lunged from the side. He stepped into the attack and drove the rod straight through it.
Another dissolved into smoke. The rest kept rushing him one after another, but every swing destroyed another spirit before it could get close.
Dean watched with complete disbelief as the last ghost disappeared. "Okay... what the hell is going on?" He looked around. "Is there some kind of ghost orgy happening? Since when do ghosts start showing up in broad daylight?"
"Dean, I think something strange is going on." Sam replayed the fight in his mind. "Did you notice their arms? Every ghost had the same symbol. Every single one of them. There's definitely something wrong here."
Dean thought back and slowly nodded. "Yeah... now that you mention it, they all did."
Inside the house, Bobby was already pinned against the wall by two child ghosts, both staring at him with accusing eyes.
"Why didn't you save us from the monster, Bobby?" one of the children asked, her voice trembling with anger and sadness.
"You just let us die," the other whispered, tightening his grip on Bobby's jacket.
Dean burst through the front door with the shotgun raised. His eyes immediately found Bobby pinned against the wall. "Hey, brats!" He brought the barrel up.
"Why don't you leave the grumpy old man alone?"
Both ghosts turned toward him, hands still holding Bobby in place. Dean didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger.
The salt round blasted across the room, striking both ghosts square in the chest. They cried out as their forms erupted into white smoke. The pressure holding Bobby vanished instantly.
Bobby dropped back onto his feet, coughing as he straightened.
Dean lowered the shotgun slightly. "You okay, Bobby?"
He adjusted his jacket and nodded. "I've been better."
Dean glanced around, checking for more spirits. "Looks like those were the last of them."
Outside, Sam and Henry stepped through the front door just as the last traces of white smoke faded from the room.
Sam tore a blank page from one of Bobby's old notebooks lying on the porch and quickly sketched the strange symbol he'd noticed on every ghost's forearm. He handed it to Bobby.
"Have you ever seen this symbol before?"
Bobby stared at it for several moments, his eyes narrowing as it stirred an old memory. "I think I have. Pretty sure I've seen it in one of my books."
Before he could say anything else, the air turned ice cold again. A sharp wind swept through the room, carrying an unnatural silence with it.
Bobby's expression hardened instantly. "I think we oughta change locations." He pointed toward the house. "Dean, Sam, grab the books. Henry, grab the shotguns."
Nobody questioned him. Within moments they hurried inside, Bobby leading them down to the basement.
He stopped in front of a massive steel door secured by several thick deadbolts, unlocked each one, pulled it open, and motioned everyone inside before locking it behind them.
Dean looked around in surprise. The concrete floor was covered with overlapping devil's traps painted in thick black lines.
Walls lined with salted iron. A large ventilation fan fitted behind a heavy iron grate etched with more protective symbols. Folding beds occupied one corner, the whole room looking like a bunker built to withstand a supernatural siege.
Dean turned toward him. "Bobby... you built a ghost panic room?"
Bobby shrugged without the slightest embarrassment. "I had a free weekend."
Henry looked around with an approving nod. "I've got to admit, it's a pretty nice safe room." It reminded him of certain rooms back at his own place.
Sam patted him lightly on the shoulder. "You're not helping."
"Yeah, I figured."
Ignoring them, Bobby sat down and opened the book. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for, then laid it open on the table and pointed to a hand-drawn symbol.
Dean leaned in. "That's it." Identical to the mark Sam had drawn.
Bobby nodded. "This is the Mark of Witness."
"Witness to what?"
Bobby kept his eyes on the page. "The Apocalypse."
*****
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