"𝔄pocalypse?" Dean repeated, his expression mirroring Sam's disbelief. "The apocalypse, apocalypse? The four horsemen, pestilence, five-dollar-a-gallon-gas apocalypse?"

"That's the one," Bobby confirmed, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of the revelation. "The rise of the witnesses is a mile marker." He glanced at Nadia, noting her oddly calm demeanor. She wasn't surprised by any of this.

"Sorry," she noticed his stare and met his eyes. "I just feel like I've known this was coming. Like I've heard it before. Like someone told me."

Bobby scoffed. "I don't think the apocalypse is something you'd just forget."

Nadia shrugged, a quiet, distant look on her face. "I was born into hunting. My parents practically read me lore before bed every night. Although my mother was more into biblical lore than my dad. Albeit, knowledge is knowledge, no?"

The room fell into a heavy silence as everyone tried to wrap their heads around the gravity of what they were facing. Sam, ever the one to refocus, cleared his throat. "Okay, so, what do we do now?"

Dean, still trying to process the situation with his usual sarcasm, let out a chuckle as he dropped back into his seat. "Road trip. Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience." He clapped his hands together. "Bunny Ranch."

"First things first," Bobby interrupted, his voice sharp. "How about we survive our friends out there?"

"Great," Dean muttered, "Any ideas aside from staying in this room until Judgment Day?"

Bobby tapped his pencil against the page in front of him. "It's a spell," he said matter-of-factly. "To send the witnesses back to rest. Should work."

Sam chuckled nervously. "Should. Great."

"If I translate it correctly," Bobby continued, his voice tinged with both caution and certainty. "I think I've got everything we need here at the house."

"Any chance you've got everything we need here in this room?" Dean asked, hopeful, glancing around at the weaponry and supplies.

Nadia let out a small laugh, her fingers twisting her dreadlocks into a tight ponytail. "You're cute," she said, eyeing Dean. It was a sign of the apocalypse—luck was the last thing they could rely on now. She turned back to Bobby. "What do we need?"

Bobby stood up and walked toward one of the many arsenals in the room. He pulled out a couple of items, turning them over in his hands. "The spell's got to be cast over an open fire," he said, his voice becoming more focused. "That's the key."

Sam smirked. "The fireplace in the library?"

"Bingo."

Dean groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. "That's just not as appealing as a, uh, ghost-proof panic room, you know?"

Nadia shook her head. "No. It isn't."

The weight of the situation settled over them. There were few options, and every step they took felt like walking on a knife's edge. The fight was far from over. They couldn't just focus on the immediate threat; these witnesses were only a minor part of something much bigger—a much more dangerous picture.

They gathered their supplies in tense silence, arming themselves with as many salt rounds as they could carry. The urgency of the moment was clear—every move, every second counted.

Nadia finished loading Dean's shotgun with a practiced ease. "Batman," she said with a smirk, tossing the weapon to him.

Bobby handed Dean the spellbook, his expression tight with determination, leaving himself with nothing but his own trusty shotgun. He wasn't taking any chances.

The four of them huddled near the door, the weight of their task ahead heavy in the air.

"Cover each other," Bobby instructed, his voice low and authoritative. "And aim carefully. Don't run out of ammo until I'm done with the spell, or they'll shred you."

The group nodded solemnly, each of them readying themselves for the chaos that was about to unfold.

"Ready?" Bobby asked, his eyes flicking between them, seeking the unspoken confirmation.

Dean, Sam, and Nadia exchanged a brief glance, then nodded firmly.

Bobby pulled the latch and cautiously opened the door. Sam stepped out first, with Nadia and Dean close behind. They all aimed their weapons in every direction, alert and ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

The basement seemed clear at first, but as they approached the stairs, a figure sitting on the steps caught their attention. A young, heavy-set guy with curly hair—he had to have been in his twenties when he was alive. His eyes flickered open as they approached.

Dean instinctively reached for his gun, but paused when recognition hit him.

"Hey, Dean," the ghost grinned, his expression almost playful. "You remember me?"

Dean's mouth dropped open, a flash of memory rushing back. "Ronald, huh?" He smiled, half in surprise, half in amusement. "With the laser eyes?"

"I wish I could say it's good to see you," Ronald growled, standing up slowly, scowling. "But I'm dead because of you! You were supposed to help me!"

Nadia didn't hesitate. Her finger squeezed the trigger, and a shot rang out. "If you're gonna shoot, shoot," she said calmly but firmly, not taking her eyes off the ghost. "Don't talk to them."

Dean shot her a look but eagerly followed her up the stairs, his focus sharpening.

They reached the library, and everyone sprang into action. Nadia took up a position by the door, her gun at the ready. Sam moved to the center of the room, carefully drawing a salt circle. Bobby, grim-faced, prepped for the spell at his desk, his fingers brushing over the items he would need. Dean moved to the fireplace and began lighting it, the crackle of fire breaking the tense silence.

Bobby didn't miss a beat. "Upstairs, linen closet, red hex box," he instructed Sam once the salt circle was finished. "It'll be heavy."

"Got it," Sam replied, already hurrying toward the stairs.

As Bobby rummaged through his desk, a pair of twin girls suddenly materialized before him, their ghostly figures staring directly at him. He froze, a chill running through his spine.

"Bobby," their presence startled him, and for a moment, his nerves rattled.

Nadia acted without hesitation, her gun fired, and the girls dissipated in a cloud of smoke. "Keep moving," she said, her voice cool and controlled.

Bobby shook off the unease, forcing himself to focus. He glanced at Dean. "Kitchen. Cutlery drawer. It's got a false bottom. Hemlock, opium, wormwood."

Dean raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with surprise. "Opium?"

"Go!" Bobby snapped, his patience thinning as the ghosts continued their relentless assault.

Dean paused, then refocused, heading for the kitchen with determination. Meanwhile, the twins reappeared, materializing right in front of Nadia. She fired again, quickly reloading.

The gunshots echoed throughout the house, but the chaos didn't end. From upstairs, there was a sharp gunshot, and suddenly, the kitchen doors slammed shut, locking Dean inside.

"Dean!" Nadia shouted, her heart skipping a beat.

"I'm good, Robin! Cover Bobby!" Dean's voice called back, but there was something tense in his tone.

Nadia gritted her teeth and kept her position, watching for any movement, though her stomach twisted with worry.

The sound of footsteps echoed, and suddenly, Vanessa materialized before her. "I'm not done with you," she snarled, her hands clenching into fists.

"Save it," Nadia shot back, grimacing as she squeezed off another shot. But the ghost didn't dissipate. She shot again, but this time, Vanessa grinned, stepping forward with terrifying confidence.

Dean's pained scream echoed from the kitchen, and Nadia, heart racing, rushed to the door, trying to wrench it open to no avail.

"Damn it!" she growled, slamming her hand against the door in frustration. A gunshot rang out from the other side, making her jump back in surprise.

Sam finally burst through the door, having escaped his own encounter with Meg and Henriksen upstairs.

"We're good, we're good," Dean reassured her, though his voice was strained as they rushed to the desk to put the supplies down.

With the spell in motion, the only thing left to do was to cover Bobby until it was complete—just as they'd planned.

Another ghost appeared, and Dean smirked, spotting Ronald again. "Ronald. Hey, come on, man. I thought we were pals."

Ronald's eyes narrowed, and he gave Dean a look that could freeze fire. "That's when I was breathing. Now I'm gonna eat you alive."

Dean chuckled nervously. "Well... come on, I'm not a cheeseburger."

Just as Dean raised his gun to fire, Ronald vanished into thin air.

The room fell deathly quiet.

Nadia, Dean, and Sam exchanged a tense glance, all of them bracing for something worse.

Then, as Bobby recited the incantation, the windows flew open with a deafening crash. A gust of wind swept into the room, knocking papers and furniture around. Objects seemed weightless as they flew through the air, the force of the wind ripping pages from Bobby's book. Worse still, the salt circle they had so carefully laid was broken.

Meg appeared in a flash, her smirk as chilling as ever. Sam shot at her, but before the bullet hit, Henriksen materialized in the line of fire.

Meg reappeared behind Sam, and without missing a beat, Deans shot her. The ghosts were relentless—each one seemed to pop up in a different corner of the room, just like a twisted game of Whac-a-Mole.

The gunshots were nonstop, the sound of shells hitting the floor echoing in rhythm with the chaos. But through it all, they could barely hear Bobby's voice, struggling to be heard over the cacophony of gunfire and howling wind.

Dean reloaded, but Henriksen reappeared, knocking the gun from his hand. Thinking fast, Dean grabbed Bobby's weapon, only to find it empty. Frustration mounting, he snatched up an iron poker from the fire grate and swung it with everything he had.

Sam was running low on ammo and was moving to reload when Meg slammed him into the bookshelf, trapping him under a small table. He struggled to push it off, but it wouldn't budge.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, but his attention was momentarily divided.

"Cover Bobby!" Sam groaned, his voice strained as he fought to free himself.

"I got him—"

Before Nadia could finish her sentence, she was flung across the room. Ignoring the pain in her ribs, she scrambled to her feet, only to find herself face-to-face with her mother.

Vanessa's cold hands gripped her throat, lifting her off the ground. "Let's finish this. Then we can be together—forever."

"Nadia!" Dean barked, his voice filled with desperation as he swung the iron poker again.

Nadia gasped for air, her hands clawing at her mother's unyielding grip. "F-f-finish it!" she gasped, voice weak.

Meg appeared behind Bobby, her fist plunging into his back and out through his chest. Bobby screamed in agony, dropping the bowl he had been holding. It clattered to the floor.

"Dean!" Bobby managed to shout. "Fireplace!"

Dean dropped to the floor, scooping up the bowl, and tossed its contents into the flames.

A burst of blue fire erupted from the fireplace, and the force of the light was blinding. It filled the room, engulfing the spirits in its searing heat.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Nadia crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. She coughed violently, clutching her chest, the pain from her injuries a sharp reminder of everything they had just endured.

"Nadia," Dean rushed to her side, his hands gently pulling her up. Sam, having gotten the upper hand with Henriksen, moved quickly to Bobby's side to check on him.

"You alright?" Dean asked Nadia, helping her to her feet.

Nadia nodded, giving him a tired thumbs-up.

They turned to look at Bobby and Sam, the two of them leaning against each other in the aftermath. The weight of what they'd just survived hung heavy in the air, but for now, at least, the battle was over.

For now.