TWO SHOTS RANG out in the dimly lit room, and Dean watched silently as the spirit disappeared with a gush of chilled air, leaving his sister to collapse on the ground in a lifeless heap.
"Damnit, Makayla."
He surged towards her just as her mouth opened, sucking in an impossibly large breath as a cough threatened to spill from her lips. She wheezed as her twin knelt down beside her, pulling her into a sitting position as he held her head up in his hands. Her lips were parted as if she were a fish out of water. Her cheeks were still tinted purple.
"Talk to me, sweetheart."
She looked into the green of her brother's eyes, her own pair glassy with tears.
"Bobby."
It came out as a hoarse whisper, but Dean got the message.
"Go, Sammy, now!"
Sam raced out of the doorway, his footsteps clomping on the wood floor as Makayla collapsed into another coughing fit, her attempt to speak taking too much out of her.
"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, baby, I'm right here."
"Go, Dean."
She sputtered, motioning towards the open door with her head.
"Go help Bobby."
"Yeah, like hell-"
"Dean!"
Her voice rose into a stern, reprimanding shout, and for the first time, the brother noticed just how shaken up she was.
"Alright, alright, I'm going, I'm going..."
He stood dramatically as he made his way over to his sister's duffel bag, reaching into the pocket where she kept her pistol. He checked to make sure it was fully loaded with rock salt before clicking off the safety. He reached back down and grabbed the small container of salt as well.
He pressed the gun into the palm of her hand before taking the lid off of the tupperware, pouring a thin circle of salty protection around the girl.
"If that son of a bitch shows up again, you blow his brains out. Don't listen to whatever bullshit he's putting into your head. Shoot first, ask questions later. You hear me?"
"Dean, I-"
"You hear me, Makayla?!"
She swallowed, her eyes not meeting his as she nodded fervently.
"Stay right here. I'll be back in a sec."
He stood and made his way out the door.
"I'm sorry, Dean."
She called after him, quietly and carefully, but the words made the brother stop in his tracks.
"You were right about everything. I should've listened to you."
Her voice broke off and he poked his head back in the doorway to find her knees pulled to her chest, tears trailing down her cheeks.
"We can talk about this later, sweetheart. Just- don't move, okay?"
His footsteps receded away, and she buried her head in her knees, her hand gripping her gun with impossible strength.
"I'm so sorry."
__________
Another kick landed on his ribcage, and Dean sputtered, looking up at the ghost of Meg just as her foot collided with the flesh of his stomach. His gun was only a few feet away from his hand. If he could just-
BANG!
The man flinched as a single shot rang out, Meg fizzling out of existence from above him. He rolled over slightly, lifting his head to find Makayla standing several feet back, her arm still holding up the gun.
"Shoot first, ask questions later, huh?"
She questioned sarcastically, shoving the pistol in the waistband of her jeans as she approached.
"I thought I told you to stay put."
Dean groaned, and she smirked down at him cheekily, bruises in the shapes of fingerprints beginning to form along her neck. She offered him a hand, which he accepted.
"You're welcome."
__________
"Like- the apocalypse apocalypse?!"
Makayla questioned through a groan, her green eyes wide in both confusion and sheer dread. She was pacing along one of the sides of the panic room as Bobby read from a lore book in front of him.
"The four horseman and the whole shebang?"
Dean added, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
"That's the one. The rise of the witnesses- it's a mile marker."
"Fuck me."
Makayla muttered under her breath, running a hand down her exhausted face.
"What do we do now?"
Sam asked softly, his brows knitted.
"I say we pack our bags and hit the road. Maybe we can make it to Disney World before everything goes to shit so Mak can finally get some Mickey ears."
"Disney would be a stellar place to die."
Makayla agreed, shrugging.
"We ain't gonna die, idjits. At least, not yet. Right now, we need to figure out how to survive our friends out there."
Bobby gestured his head toward the door.
"Well, I got nothing. Any ideas better than staying in here until Judgement Day?"
Dean leaned his hands on the desk in front of Bobby, sending accusing looks to his siblings.
"I've got a spell here that can send the witnesses to rest. Should work."
"Should. Outstanding."
Sam muttered.
"Got any better ideas?"
Silence.
"So, what do we need?"
Makayla queried, and Bobby rested his forehead against his hand.
"If I've translated right, we should have everything we need here in the house."
"Any chance that everything we need is here in this room?"
Makayla huffed with an eye roll.
"When have we ever been that lucky?"
__________
The pads of her fingers were red and raw from making as many rock salt bullets as she could within the time crunch. Her pistol had just enough for a full round, but that wasn't nearly enough.
Bobby pushed the iron door open with caution, peering out carefully before gesturing for the three Winchesters to follow behind.
"We gotta be quick. And remember- aim
carefully. We run outta ammo before I'm done, we're toast."
Makayla caught the sideways glance that Dean gave her, and she nodded firmly.
"Got it."
The group of hunters stomped up the stairs, Bobby and Dean leading the way with Sam and Mak taking up the rear. Their guns were held up at the ready, prepared to blast the ghostly threats away.
Her steps mimicked those of her brothers when a ghost suddenly fizzled into existence to her right. Her breath caught in her throat, cocking her gun, but Sam had pulled his own trigger before she could even process the fact that it had been the ghost of one Ronald Reznick, a man they had all grown relatively attached to before he died.
Makayla outlined the area around the fireplace with salt as Bobby fetched a bowl to contain the spell ingredients. Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention and she pulled the trigger twice, successfully disintegrating the two child spirits.
"Nice shot."
Dean whistled.
"This isn't target practice, Dean, this is us trying not to die. Kitchen. Cutlery drawer. It's got a false bottom. Hemlock, opium, wormwood."
Dean's brow cocked.
"Opium?"
"Go, Dean!"
Makayla urged frustratedly as Bobby shouted orders at the younger brother as well.
"I'll cover you, Bobby."
Makayla insisted as Meg's spirit appeared in front of her. She couldn't look at her face as she pulled the trigger.
"Makayla. I wish I could say it's nice to see you again."
Ronald glared, and she aimed.
"Yeah. Likewise."
A bang sounded as a bullet flew from her gun.
"Duck!"
Bobby yelled, and she followed his order blindly, catching sight of Richie's shoes as she moved out of the line of fire.
There was a quick commotion from the kitchen before the brothers rushed back into the living room, Dean's arms full of supplies.
Meg flashed into view, and Mak pulled the trigger, only to hear a click.
"Shit. I'm out!"
Victor appeared to her left, then Ronald and the twins. Bullets were flying, until both Dean and Sam dropped their pistols in defeat.
"Makayla, think fast!"
Dean shouted, tossing her an iron rod from beside the fireplace. She caught the tool with ease and used the momentum from her spin to swing at one of the spirits. Victor evaporated in contact.
A sharp pain pierced the back of her neck and she cried out, but found herself unable to move.
"I guess we're back where we started, huh, baby?"
"Get your nappy paws off of my sister!"
Dean screamed at Richie, swinging his own weapon. Makayla stumbled forward when the ghost's grip on her disappeared.
Bobby was halfway through his incantation when Meg approached him from behind.
"Bobby!"
Sam shouted, but was thrown back by Victor.
Bobby stumbled when Meg pushed him, and at the last second, Makayla hurled her rod like a javelin and it passed straight through the spirit, making her vanish.
The bowl slipped from Bobby's grasp in his moment of imbalance and Dean lunged, managing to secure a hold on it as he hurled it into the fireplace.
A cold breeze blew and then suddenly- nothing.