The foundry erupted into chaos.
Burned creatures rushed through the darkness as sparks rained from the ceiling above.
Dean slammed a silver round onto the metal workbench near the furnace.
Ben fired behind him.
BOOM
One of the creatures collapsed in a pile of ash.
Another immediately took its place.
"Dean!"
Ben pumped the shotgun again.
"Anytime you wanna explain how we're making magic bullets during a monster apocalypse would be GREAT!"
Dean ignored the panic in his voice.
His eyes scanned Bobby's notes spread across the workbench.
Old instructions.
Half-burned symbols.
Fragments of ritual text.
And one final sentence circled heavily in red ink.
The final ingredient must come from the bloodline itself.
Dean froze.
Ben noticed immediately.
"…What?"
Dean read the line again slowly.
Then quietly:
"You gotta be kidding me."
The blacksmith roared somewhere behind the creatures.
The massive furnace glowed brighter.
The monsters became faster.
More aggressive.
Almost desperate.
Ben fired another shell.
CLICK
Empty.
"Dean!"
Dean grabbed a small blade from the table.
Ben's eyes widened instantly.
"Oh no."
Dean looked at him.
"Bobby says the bullets need Winchester blood."
Ben blinked.
Then pointed at him.
"Of course they do. Why wouldn't they?"
A creature lunged over the workbench.
Dean shot it point-blank with the Colt.
BANG
Orange light exploded across the room.
The creature disintegrated instantly.
The Colt clicked empty.
No bullets left.
Dean exhaled slowly.
"…That's bad."
The blacksmith stepped closer through the smoke.
Massive.
Burning.
Its molten eyes fixed on Dean.
"The weapon dies tonight."
Dean ignored it.
He sliced his palm with the blade.
Blood dripped onto the silver round.
The bullet immediately began to glow faintly red.
Ben stared.
"Okay that is both awesome and deeply concerning."
Dean grabbed one of Bobby's engraved sigils and pressed it against the bullet casing.
The symbol ignited.
Burning itself into the silver.
The furnace roared violently.
The blacksmith suddenly stopped moving.
Watching.
Almost nervous.
Dean noticed.
Then smiled.
"Oh…"
He held up the glowing bullet.
"…you recognize this."
The blacksmith roared in rage.
Every creature in the foundry charged at once.
Ben grabbed a metal pipe from the floor.
"Dean, little busy here!"
Dean opened the Colt's cylinder.
Loaded the bullet.
CLICK
The sound echoed through the foundry.
The blacksmith stopped.
For the first time—
It looked afraid.
Dean slowly raised the Colt.
The blacksmith's voice lowered into something almost human.
"That bullet was never meant to exist again."
Dean smirked faintly.
"Funny."
He cocked the hammer.
"Neither were we."
The blacksmith charged.
The entire foundry shook beneath its weight.
Ben shouted:
"DEAN!"
Time slowed.
The furnace burned behind them like hell itself.
The Colt gleamed in Dean's hand.
And somewhere in the back of his mind—
He heard his father's voice.
Stories about hunters.
About family.
About never backing down.
Dean pulled the trigger.
BANG
The bullet tore through the darkness like a streak of burning light.
It struck the blacksmith directly in the chest.
Everything went silent.
The glowing symbol on the creature's chest cracked instantly.
Light exploded from inside its body.
The blacksmith staggered backward.
Roaring in agony.
Then—
Its body shattered into burning ash.
A shockwave burst through the foundry.
Every remaining creature screamed.
And disintegrated with it.
Silence.
Only the sound of the furnace remained.
Ben stared at the drifting ash.
Then slowly looked at Dean.
"…Please tell me we can leave now."
Dean lowered the Colt slowly.
Smoke curled from the barrel.
Then suddenly—
The furnace behind them changed.
The flames turned dark red.
And deep inside the fire…
Something moved.
Bigger than the blacksmith.
Older.
A low voice echoed from within the flames.
"Winchester…"
Dean's expression darkened instantly.
Because whatever had just spoken…
Was not a monster.
And it knew his name.