Rain hammered the windshield as the Impala tore down the highway.
The Colt rested on the dashboard between Dean and Ben.
Even sitting still, the revolver felt important.
Heavy.
Like history.
Ben glanced at it again.
"You know, most people inherit money from their family."
Dean kept driving.
"And?"
Ben pointed at the Colt.
"You inherited cursed demon guns and haunted muscle cars."
Dean smirked slightly.
"Jealous?"
Ben looked out the window.
"Concerned."
Lightning flashed across the sky.
Ahead of them, an enormous industrial structure slowly emerged from the darkness.
Rust-covered towers.
Broken smokestacks.
Collapsed metal walkways.
The abandoned foundry.
Dean slowed the car.
The headlights swept across a faded sign near the entrance.
ASHFORD FOUNDRY — CLOSED SINCE 1978
Ben frowned.
"This place looks safe."
Dean parked the Impala near the gate.
The engine rumbled softly before shutting off.
Silence immediately filled the night.
Too silent.
Dean grabbed the Colt.
Ben loaded fresh shells into the shotgun.
"You think Bobby came here?"
Dean checked the revolver's cylinder.
"If he believed the original bullets were forged here… yeah."
They stepped out into the cold rain.
The foundry loomed above them like the skeleton of something dead.
Or sleeping.
Ben looked up at the massive building.
"You ever notice how evil places are always gigantic?"
Dean started toward the entrance.
"Compensation issue."
Ben snorted despite himself.
The front doors of the foundry hung partially open.
Inside—
Darkness.
The smell of rust and burned metal filled the air.
Their footsteps echoed loudly as they moved deeper inside.
Old machinery surrounded them.
Conveyor belts.
Broken chains.
Ancient furnaces.
Dean swept his flashlight across the room.
Then stopped.
Symbols.
Painted across the walls.
Fresh.
Black sigils covering the metal pillars.
Ben whispered:
"Those weren't here in 1978."
Dean's expression darkened.
"No."
He stepped closer to one of the symbols.
Then immediately recognized it.
A summoning sigil.
Ben saw his face change.
"What?"
Dean looked around slowly.
"We're not alone."
A low metallic sound echoed somewhere above them.
CLANG.
Ben raised the shotgun instantly.
The sound came again.
Closer this time.
CLANG.
Dean pointed his flashlight upward.
For a second—
Nothing.
Then a figure moved across the catwalks high above them.
Fast.
Almost impossible to follow.
Ben whispered:
"Please tell me that's just another shadow monster."
Dean's voice was quiet.
"No."
The figure stopped at the edge of the catwalk.
Watching them.
Tall.
Human-shaped.
But wrong.
Its body looked stitched together from ash and burned flesh.
And in the center of its chest—
A glowing symbol pulsed like molten metal.
Ben stared in horror.
"…What the hell is that?"
The creature smiled.
Its jaw cracked unnaturally as it spoke.
"The first failed attempt."
Dean's grip tightened on the Colt.
The creature slowly climbed onto the railing above them.
"Before the Colt could kill monsters…"
Its glowing eyes locked onto the revolver in Dean's hand.
"…it created them."
The lights inside the foundry suddenly flickered on.
One by one.
Revealing dozens of shapes standing motionless throughout the darkness.
Watching.
Burned creatures.
Waiting.
Ben slowly looked around.
Then at Dean.
"…Tell me you brought enough bullets."
Dean glanced at the Colt.
One round left.
Then back at the creatures surrounding them.
His expression hardened.
"Not even close."
The first creature smiled wider.
Then jumped from the catwalk.
And the entire foundry woke up with it.