ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: "How is that possible?"
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"WHISKEY NOW, IF YOU DON'T MIND."

Ellen slid the shot glass, formerly holding holy water, across the table to Bobby. Venus watched her, a small, worried smile playing on her lips. She then cleared her throat softly. "Ellen, what happened? How'd you get out?"

"I wasn't supposed to," the older woman explained morbidly, "I was supposed to be in there with everybody else. But we ran out of pretzels of all things. It was just dumb luck."

Bobby filled the shot glass with his favorite whiskey and sent it gliding back across the table to Ellen. She caught it with a slight tremble in her hands, then tossed back the amber-brown liquid in one swift motion. Setting the glass down with a heavy sigh, she continued, "Anyway, that's when Ash called, panic in his voice. He told me to look in the safe. Then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky-high and everybody was dead," her voice cracked, "I couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes."

"Sorry, Ellen," Sam said from behind Venus' chair, face wrought with sympathy.

"A lot of good people died in there," Ellen went on, her tone bitter, "And I got to live...lucky me," she scoffed dryly.

Venus frowned. She knew from experience, there was nothing she could say to take away that guilt. "We're here for you, Ellen, always," she told her sincerely.

Ellen sent her a sad smile from across the table, nodding in silent thanks.

"You mentioned a safe?" Bobby piped up after a few seconds.

"A hidden safe we keep in the basement."

"Demons get what was in it?"

"No," Ellen said, pausing and reaching into her coat. She pulled out a folded-up map and placed it on the table.

Venus and Dean, sitting the closest, leaned in to examine the detailed paper. 

"Wyoming?" Dean looked up expectantly, "What does that mean?"

The hunters spent the next two hours combing through Bobby's various lore and history books.

Until Arturo emerged from the study, a look of disbelief on his face. "I don't believe it," he said, stepping into the living room and capturing everyone's attention.

"What, you got something?" Sam asked, stepping away from the book he was poring over.

Arturo placed the book he was holding onto Bobby's table, waiting for Venus and Ellen to gather on his right while the men took his left. "Yeah, it looks like the X's mark abandoned frontier churches—all mid-19th century and all built by Samuel Colt."

Dean raised a brow, his interest piqued. "The demon-killing, gun-making, Samuel Colt?"

"There's more," Arturo took a deep breath, pulling out a Sharpie from his pocket, "He built private railway lines connecting each church," he tossed the cap aside and pressed the marker to the paper, "And it turns out, it lines up like this."

By the time Arturo finished drawing, each hunter's eyes widened in instant recognition.

"Tell me that's not what I think it is," Dean muttered.

"It's a Devil's trap," Sam confirmed, "A hundred-square-mile Devil's trap."

Venus scoffed, leaning over the map with a look of admiration. "It's freaking brilliant is what it is. Iron lines so the demons can't cross." 

Ellen shook her head. "I've never heard of anything that massive."

"No one has," Bobby said, leaning closer to the book Arturo brought.

"And after all these years, none of the lines are broken? It still works?" Dean wondered.

"Definitely," Venus answered, "The omens tío and Bobby found? The demons were circling the spot...'cause they can't get in."

Arturo's eyes narrowed in thought. "Yeah, well...they're trying."

"Why, what's inside?" Ellen pressed.

Dean's eyes fell back to the book on the table before him. "That's what I've been looking for and there's nothing except for...an old cowboy cemetery right in the middle," he tapped the exact spot with his finger.

"Well, what's so important about a cemetery? Or, what's Colt trying to protect?" Sam thought out loud.

"Unless..."

All eyes met Dean's.

"Unless what?" Arturo and Bobby grunted in unison.

"What if Colt wasn't trying to keep the demons out, what if he was trying to keep something in?"

"Now that's a comforting thought," Ellen quipped.

Sam looked to the eldest hunters in the room. "Artie, Bobby, could they do it? Could they get inside?"

The men locked eyes for a moment, already knowing the answer. Bobby spoke up. "This thing's so powerful, you'd practically need an A-bomb to destroy it. No way a full-blood demon gets across."

Sam swallowed harshly, looking down as a haunting realization hit him. "No. But I know who could."

-ˋˏ [   ] ˎˊ-

Jake Talley entered Fossil Butte Cemetery, a knot tightening in his gut.

His orders from the Yellow-Eyed demon were clear— go to the cemetery, find the crypt, and use the gun to open it. It sounded simple but Jake knew better. His army-bred instincts screamed at him not to trust a single word from the demon, but he couldn't listen—not when his life as well as his family's were at stake.

We'll come out of this unscathed, he told himself, we have to.

Pushing aside the last of his doubts, he strode forward, his eyes locking onto the large crypt just ahead. The dry grass crunched beneath his boots, the cemetery eerily still. Almost there.

"Howdy, Jake," a familiar voice came from his right.

Jake whirled around, heart pounding, to find Sam Winchester creeping toward him, gun in hand. Five others emerged from the shadows, weapons raised, but Jake's gaze was glued to Sam. "Wait...you were dead. I killed you," he said.

"Yeah? Well, next time, finish the job."

"I did!" Jake spat, "I cut clean through your spinal cord, man."

Sam faltered, his eyes meeting Dean and Venus' nearby. They avoided his stare.

"You can't be alive...you can't be," Jake insisted.

"Okay, just take it real easy there son," Bobby spoke lowly, gun still aimed at Jake.

Jake's head tilted threateningly. "And if I don't?"

"Wait and see!" Sam said, nearly shaking in anger.

"What you a tough guy all of a sudden? What are you gonna do, kill me?"

Sam didn't spare a second. "It's a thought."

"You had your chance and you couldn't."

"I won't make that mistake twice."

Jake then began laughing, the sound low and haunting.

Dean's eyes narrowed viciously. "What are you smiling at, you little bitch."

"Hey, lady," Jake turned to Ellen, his eyes flashing a light amber, "Do me a favor. Put that gun to your head."

The other hunters watched, stunned, as Ellen obeyed, turning her gun to her head. Her body shook violently, her internal struggle evident but futile.

Jake laughed again, pleased with himself. "See, that Ava girl was right. Once you give in to it, there's all sorts of Jedi mind tricks you can learn."

Venus tore her eyes from Ellen, tightening her hold on her beretta. "Let her go. Now," she demanded.

Ellen managed a strained whisper. "Shoot him."

"You'll be mopping up skull before you get a shot off," Jake taunted the hunters.

Venus took a determined step forward, but Arturo's hand clamped down on her shoulder, holding her back. "Wanna bet?" she challenged.

"Everybody put your guns down," Jake ordered, "Except you, sweetheart."

The hunters exchanged anxious glances, their faces reflecting the grim realization that they had no choice. One by one, their guns clattered to the floor, with Sam's falling last.

"Okay, thank you."

Everything seemed to happen in a matter of seconds. Jake turned and stuck the barrel of the colt in the crypt, twisting it. Venus, Arturo, and Bobby—standing the closest to Ellen—ran at the woman, wrenching the gun away from her head just as she pulled the trigger.

Then Sam pointed his gun at Jake, shooting him three times in the back.

The soldier falls to the ground instantly, blood pooling on his lips, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. "Please...don't," he begged, his voice barely a whisper as Sam loomed over him—gun still aimed and a sneer on his face.

Sam fired three more shots. Jake stopped moving.

The other hunters moved past Sam, sending him uneasy glances, all filled with concern at the sight of his newfound brutality.

Dean came to a halt beside Sam, looking up at his younger brother. Sam wiped the splatter of Jake's blood from his face with a steady hand, his expression otherwise impassive.

That sight worried Dean.

Venus, however, was fixated on the spinning grills of the crypt. "What the hell..." she muttered.

The grills spun for a few more seconds before coming to a stop, in the perfect shape of a devil's trap. And then an ominous clicking sound echoed through the crypt, the unmistakable noise of something unlocking.

"Oh no," Arturo softly exclaimed.

"What is it, Artie?" Ellen questioned from behind him.

Bobby and Arturo locked eyes. "It's hell," they replied in unison.

The crypt's door began to rattle. Dean wasted no time—stepping forward to grab the Colt.

"Take cover, now!"

The group scattered in a frenzy, leaping over headstones and ducking behind statues, all hiding as quickly as possible.

The crypt's doors burst open. And out came the thickest cloud of black smoke any of them had ever seen. It poured out into the cemetery, spreading rapidly and darkening the sky. The wind howled and thunder crashed, the scene resembling something straight out of the Book of Revelations.

Once the biggest cloud dispersed, out came smaller black swarms, and faint outlines of people—from what Venus could tell.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean's voice cut through the roar of the wind.

Arturo turned to him from behind a nearby headstone, Venus tucked close to his side. "It's a Devil's Gate, a damn door to hell!"

"Come on, we've gotta shut that gate!" Ellen cried out, charging toward the crypt.

The others rushed to follow her, but Dean remained where he was, staring down at the Colt in his grip.

Venus joined her uncle and Bobby, struggling to push one of the heavy steel doors, while Sam and Ellen wrestled with the other. But their combined strength wasn't nearly enough to force the stubborn doors shut.

The sound of something cracking against stone made Venus spin around. She saw Dean leaning heavily against a headstone, clutching his forehead. "Dean!" she shouted, grabbing Sam's attention.

They both bolted in his direction, but Venus suddenly stopped in her tracks, a chill running down her spine. She had brushed past one of the nearly see-through souls escaping from hell—its presence felt oddly different, unsettling in a way she couldn't quite place.

Slowly, Venus turned to see a familiar face materializing.

"M-Mamá?" she croaked, her voice trembling as she took in the sight of her mother—Xiomara Castillo—standing before her, not a day older than when she had died over twenty years earlier.

"Venus, is that you?" Xiomara said softly, taking slow, tentative steps toward her daughter. The torment of hell clung to her like a second skin, but her eyes softened as she gazed at Venus, as if she were a miracle. In all those years spent in hell, one thought plagued her mind: Did her daughter get to grow up?

A sob tore through Venus' chest once her mother reached up and pressed a hand against her cheek, the warmth of it grounding her in the impossible reality before her. This was really happening...

"You're so beautiful, mija," Xiomara smiled through her tears, her voice faltering with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

Venus couldn't hold back any longer. She pulled her mother into her arms, clutching her as if letting her go might send her back to hell. But with that embrace came a crushing realization.

"You were in hell...this whole time?" Venus whispered, terrified at the thought of the horrors her mother had suffered all these years. "How is that possible? You...you weren't..."

Behind them, Arturo strained against the creaking gates, his muscles burning as he tried to force them shut. The sound of metal grinding echoed through the air, but he didn't dare look back—couldn't risk losing his grip. He had no idea what was unfolding behind him.

Xiomara pulled back just enough to look into Venus' eyes, her thumb gently brushing away the tears that streaked her daughter's cheeks. "It doesn't matter," she said softly, "All that matters I that I'm here with you, even if it's just for a little while."

Venus shook her head, more tears spilling over. "You've been suffering, Mamá...all these years, and I didn't even know."

Arturo, using his back to force the gates closed, finally turned around. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of his sister, alive—or something like it—in Venus' arms. The realization struck him like a blow to the chest, and he stumbled forward, momentarily forgetting the gates.

"Xo?" he breathed, disbelief and pain mingling in his voice.

Xiomara turned, her eyes lighting up as she met her younger brother's gaze. "Arturo," she gasped, relieved to see him. She pulled him into a hug. "You did such a good job, 'mano."

Arturo held her tightly, his heart aching with the weight of all the years they had lost. "Just wanted to make you proud, Xo," he whispered.

"You did," Xiomara assured him, drawing back to press a kiss to the side of his head, "More than you know." She then turned back to Venus, gently cupping her face in her hands. "Mi mariposa," she murmured in awe, committing every one of her daughter's features to memory—something to hold onto in her darkest moments

Meanwhile, Ellen and Bobby continued their desperate efforts. The gates were nearly closed.

Xiomara's smile faltered as the darkness began to pull her away, her body slowly fading from view, but she stayed focused on Venus, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face.

Venus' eyes widened in panic. "No! Wait!" she cried out, reaching desperately to grab her mother's fading arms.

Xiomara sent her one last smile just as she was drawn toward the small crack in the gates.

Venus tried to run after her, but felt Arturo's arms around her, holding her back. She struggled against him, to no avail. "Mamá!" she shrieked, spotting the image of her mother's face fade from view. 

And then, with a final, deafening clang, Ellen and Bobby slammed the gates shut, sealing Xiomara's fate once again.

Venus collapsed to her knees, her sobs echoing through the stillness as Arturo knelt beside her, pulling her close. He held her tightly, his own tears silently streaming down his face. The agony of losing Xiomara all over again cut through them both, as raw and devastating as the day they first watched her die.

-ˋˏ [   ] ˎˊ-

In the distance, the faint sound of footsteps crunching on grass and gravel broke through the fog of grief. Ellen knelt beside them, her eyes filled with compassion as she gently helped them to their feet. "I'm sorry, honey," she said softly, soothingly rubbing Venus' arm.

"The demon," Bobby's voice cut through the moment, drawing their attention to where Sam and Dean stood over a body.

Venus and Arturo quickly wiped their tears and moved towards them.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon lay dead at their feet—Jessica had been avenged, and Mary's killer was gone. And, according to the brothers, John Winchester crawled out of hell to fight alongside them. The thought brought a fleeting smile to Arturo's face.

Yet, as Venus walked with him to his truck, unease flared in her chest, sharp and relentless.

"There had to be some kind of mistake," she said, her voice shaky as she wiped her face with the edge of her palm, "She doesn't belong down there."

Arturo, now leaning against his truck, met her gaze with a heavy heart. "I know."

Venus leaned next to him, her hands buried deep in her jacket pockets. "She didn't make a deal or anything, did she?"

"No," Arturo replied, eyes fixed on the ground. He wasn't surprised that his sister ended up in hell—after all, she had broken one of heaven's oldest rules. 

Not that he could tell Venus that. 

"Speaking of deals," Arturo said, turning to her with a sharp edge to his tone, "I'm assuming if Dean hadn't made that deal for Sam, you would've stepped up yourself, yes?"

Venus chewed on the inside of her cheek, shifting away from her uncle's piercing stare.

"Don't let me hear about you throwing your life away again, ¿entiendes? "

Venus met his eyes but remained silent.

"Venus María—"

"Fine," she muttered.

Arturo sighed, knowing her agreement was more out of frustration than true acceptance. The woman he had raised was willing to leap into danger for anyone she cared about, just as the women who had raised him would have. They would be proud of her. His attention soon turned to where Dean and Sam were by the Impala, engaged in a tense discussion out of earshot. But he had a sense of what it was about.

"You think you and Sam can find a way to get Dean out of this deal?" Arturo asked his niece, visibly concerned.

Venus glanced at the brothers, then back at her uncle, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion. "I...I don't know, tío," she admitted, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.

Arturo pulled her into a comforting embrace, his voice gentle. "I'll do everything I can to help, chiquita. You know I will."

Venus scoffed softly, shaking her head. "I just have a feeling that won't be enough."

"Well," Ellen's voice alerted them, "Yellow-eyed demon might be dead, but a lot more got through that gate," she announced.

Venus and Arturo walked over to meet her and Bobby by the Impala. "How many are you guys thinking?" she asked.

"A hundred, maybe two hundred," Sam answered grimly, "It's an army. He's unleashed an army."

The weight of Sam's words hung heavy in the air. The reality of what they were facing settled over them like a dark cloud. Venus felt a cold dread settle in her bones, her mind spinning with the implications of what they were up against.

"Hope to hell you kids are ready," Bobby said after some time, " 'Cause the war's just begun."

-ˋˏ [    ] ˎˊ-

Dean and Venus trudged into their motel room in silence. Even the dim light of the room couldn't soften the exhaustion etched into their features. The three younger hunters had opted not to make the twelve-hour drive back to Sioux Falls with Bobby, Arturo, and Ellen. Instead, they had found a motel in northern Wyoming to spend the night.

Venus dropped her bag at the foot of the Queen-sized bed, the thud echoing in the small room. She slid out of her jacket, laying the fabric on top of her duffel. As she turned, she noticed Dean gingerly poking at the gash in his forehead, his face contorted in discomfort.

"Thank God that fall didn't crack your skull."

Dean looked up, his eyes widening slightly. He hadn't expected her to willingly share a room with him, much less talk to him. "Y-yeah." 

Venus studied him for a moment, noting the weariness in his eyes. She sighed, her shoulders drooping with the weight of the day. "Sit down," she said, gesturing to the small table and chairs across the room.

"What?"

Venus reached into her duffel for her first aid kit. "You keep touching your wound, you're gonna infect it. Let me patch it up."

Dean walked over to the table and sank into one of the chairs, his expression unreadable. Venus pulled up another chair, positioning herself directly across from him. She placed the kit on the table and pulled out a few alcohol pads.

"You don't have to do this," Dean told her.

"Just let me do something, okay?" she replied, her voice firm yet gentle.

Dean nodded silently.

Taking a deep breath, Venus leaned closer, her hand cradling his head to gain better access to the wound. With her other hand, she pressed a damp cloth against the gash, carefully cleaning away the blood and dirt. After turning and reaching for another alcohol pad, she paused, frozen by the look on his face.

"Can I hold you?" he asked, tears welling in his eyes.

Venus' breath caught at the raw vulnerability in his voice. The anger she had clung to as a shield cracked, revealing the deep well of sorrow she had buried beneath it. Her heart ached with a fierce longing to be close to him, to erase the distance that had grown between them. "Yeah, of course," she finally managed. She barely set down the materials in her hands before Dean wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her into his lap. She gasped softly, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck as she felt his body tremble against hers.

Dean's hands gripped her back tightly, his face burrowing into her chest. The warmth of his breath against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and she held him closer, pressing her cheek to the top of his head.

"It's okay," she tried to soothe him, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. Nothing was okay. It was all unraveling, one thread at a time, and she was powerless to stop it. "It's okay," she repeated, her fingers brushing the hair at the base of his neck, trying to anchor them both in this moment.

But she couldn't shake the thought that she only had a year left of holding him like this, that in three hundred sixty-four days, she'd never feel his calloused palms against her skin again. The truth loomed over her, taunting her with no end in sight.

That night, even as the warm water cascaded over her in the shower, it did little to soothe the ache in her chest. When she stepped out, dressed for bed, towel in hand to dry her hair, she met Dean's gaze. The sadness that had consumed him just an hour ago was gone, replaced by an unsettling determination.

He rose from the chair, a resolute look on his face. "We need to talk."

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A/N: Double update cause I feel bad for being inactive for 2 weeks :/

Yall know that one scene in The Simpsons where that kid is on the bus and he chuckles and he's like "I'm in danger"? yeah...that's about to be me after the next chapter....

Translations:
¿entiendes? - You understand?

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