The wind roared across the churchyard.
The spiral of black clouds continued to grow overhead, swallowing the afternoon sky.
Dean, Ben, and Malach stood frozen, staring upward.
Whatever was moving above the clouds...
It wasn't trying to hide anymore.
Then—
It vanished.
Just like that.
The clouds slowly began to disperse.
The unnatural pressure in the air disappeared.
Silence returned.
Ben was the first to speak.
"...Please tell me I'm not the only one who saw that."
Dean holstered the Colt.
"You weren't."
Malach remained motionless.
His silver eyes never left the sky.
For the first time since they had met him...
He looked uncertain.
Back inside the church, the damage was extensive.
The altar had been torn apart by the chains that erupted from beneath it.
Ancient stones were scattered across the floor.
Dean crouched near the massive hole.
Something caught his attention.
Half-buried beneath the rubble...
A rusted iron ring.
He pulled it free.
Attached to it was a thick, broken chain.
Unlike any metal he had ever seen.
It was cold.
Unnaturally cold.
Ben looked over his shoulder.
"That was holding the gate shut?"
Malach nodded.
"One of seven."
Dean frowned.
"Seven?"
Malach looked directly at him.
"The First Gate was never protected by a single lock."
He paused.
"It was sealed by seven celestial chains."
Dean looked down at the broken link in his hand.
"And one just snapped."
Malach's silence was answer enough.
The three of them walked back toward the Impala.
The rain had stopped.
A thick fog rolled across the empty road instead.
Dean opened the trunk.
Inside, neatly arranged as always, were weapons, salt rounds, iron knives, holy water...
Everything a hunter needed.
Ben smiled.
"You know..."
He picked up an iron machete.
"...the trunk is starting to look exactly like Bobby's."
Dean smirked.
"I'd take that as a compliment."
Before anyone could say another word—
Dean's phone rang.
He frowned.
Almost nobody had that number.
The screen displayed:
UNKNOWN CALLER
Ben looked at it.
"You gonna answer?"
Dean hesitated.
Then pressed the green button.
"Hello?"
Static.
For several seconds.
Then—
A familiar voice.
Old.
Gruff.
Calm.
"Dean."
Dean's eyes widened.
Ben immediately noticed.
"Who is it?"
Dean ignored him.
His attention was fixed entirely on the phone.
The voice continued.
"Listen carefully."
Dean swallowed.
It couldn't be.
"...Bobby?"
Silence.
Then a tired chuckle.
"About time you recognized me, kid."
Dean stood completely still.
Ben stared at him in disbelief.
Malach slowly turned.
Even he seemed surprised.
Dean spoke quietly.
"You're dead."
Bobby's voice answered almost immediately.
"Last time I checked... yeah."
Dean almost laughed.
Almost.
"Then how are you calling me?"
A long pause.
When Bobby spoke again...
His voice had become serious.
"Because somebody's been opening doors that should've stayed closed."
Dean's expression hardened.
Bobby continued.
"And if the dead can make phone calls..."
More static.
The signal weakened.
"...then Heaven's got bigger problems than you think."
Dean stepped away from the others.
"Bobby, where are you?"
Only static answered.
Then—
One final sentence.
"Find the bunker."
The call ended.
Dean slowly lowered the phone.
Ben walked over immediately.
"What did he say?"
Dean looked toward the Impala.
Then at Sam's letter in his pocket.
Finally, he looked back at Ben.
A slow smile appeared on his face.
The kind of smile that always meant one thing.
Another road trip.
"Looks like we're going to the Men of Letters bunker."
Malach's expression changed instantly.
For the first time...
He looked genuinely worried.
"No..."
Dean looked at him.
"What?"
Malach took a slow breath.
His silver eyes reflected something close to fear.
"If Bobby sent you there..."
He paused.
"...then someone else already knows where it is."
In the distance...
Hidden beyond the fog...
A pair of headlights slowly turned on.
Watching the Impala.
Not moving.
Just waiting.