"You son of a bitch, I'll cut your dick—" the demon shouted, her voice twisting as the holy water burns spread across her skin.
"—and demons should watch their backs."
Henry's voice came from behind her.
She started to turn.
But didn't get the chance.
His hand drove forward from behind, the sigil-etched strike punching into her back. The impact landed clean, and sparks burst across her body instantly, cracking outward like something underneath was being forced out of place.
She went still.
Her body locked mid-motion, eyes black, mouth half-open—and then it just stopped. There was no smoke, no exorcism, no struggle. Whatever was inside her was gone, cut off clean. The body went slack.
Dead.
[Demon Eliminated ]
[Reward Granted: 25 Supernatural Points.]
Henry pulled his hand back and let her drop.
Dean stared at it for a second, then looked up at Henry, his expression shifting from confusion to something sharper. "What the hell is up with that?" he asked. "Since when do we kill demons like that?"
Henry flexed his hand once, shaking off the sting. "It's not that simple," he said. "And it's a long story."
Bobby didn't even look at him. His attention had already moved past them, toward the bar, his posture tightening. "Yeah," he muttered, "well, you can tell it later."
Dean followed his gaze as the door creaked open, and one man stepped out, then another, followed by two more—four in total.
And all of them had black eyes, confirming what they were—demons.
Dean exhaled slowly. "You've gotta be kidding me," he said under his breath.
Sam's focus sharpened immediately. "That's not good," he said. "Not four of them."
One of the demons tilted his head slightly, then lifted a hand.
Henry felt it a split second before it hit.
The force slammed into him, lifting him off the ground and throwing him backward. He crashed into a tree with a heavy impact. The air knocked out of him as a branch snapped loose above and dropped down across his chest, pinning him in place.
"Henry!" Sam stepped forward, but stopped when the other demons didn't move.
They were watching.
Dean's jaw tightened as he glanced between them and Henry. "Yeah, okay, I don't like this," he said, already reading the situation.
Sam spoke quickly, keeping his voice controlled. "We're not set for this," he said. "Not against four."
Bobby was already moving. "We pull out," he said. "Now."
Dean didn't argue.
They moved to Henry, grabbing the branch and lifting it just enough to free him. Henry pushed it off the rest of the way, getting back to his feet, breathing harder but steady.
"You good?" Dean asked.
"I'll live," Henry said.
"Good," Dean replied, already stepping back. "Then we go."
They didn't wait.
All four of them moved fast, putting distance between themselves and the bar without looking back.
Behind them, the demons didn't chase.
They just stood there, watching, like they already knew this wasn't over.
They slowed after putting distance between themselves and the bar, stepping off the road as the adrenaline settled just enough to think.
Dean looked back once. "What the hell was that?" he said. "Since when do demons hang out like that? I've never seen that many in one place."
Sam didn't answer immediately.
Bobby did.
"I have," Bobby said, voice lower now, more certain. "Or at least read about it."
Dean glanced at him. "Yeah? Enlighten me."
Bobby shifted his weight, thinking it through as he spoke. "Back in 1589, a guy named Peter Binsfeld wrote about demons tied to the seven deadly sins," he said. "Not just concepts—actual demons. Pride, Lust, Greed… all of them."
Sam's eyes narrowed. "You think that's what this is?"
Bobby nodded once. "Numbers match," he said. "Behavior too. They don't just kill—they push people. Twist emotions. Make folks act on the worst parts of themselves."
Dean exhaled sharply. "So we didn't just walk into a demon nest," he said. "We walked into all seven of them."
Henry let out a short breath that turned rough halfway through. "So… four humans versus four demons," he said, but his voice dropped at the end as the pain caught up.
He staggered slightly and coughed.
Blood hit the ground.
Sam's head snapped toward him. "Henry—"
Henry pressed a hand to his side, breathing shallow now, feeling it properly. The hit from earlier wasn't just impact. Something inside wasn't right.
"Yeah…" he muttered, lowering himself down onto the side of the road before his legs gave out. "That's… definitely a punctured lung."
Dean moved immediately, crouching in front of him. "You're just figuring that out now?"
Bobby stepped in closer, serious now. "How bad?"
Sam lifted Henry's shirt to check how bad it was and saw it wasn't good—the ribs were soaked red, the skin already starting to darken.
Henry exhaled carefully, each breath controlled. "Not collapsed yet," he said. "But close if I keep moving like that."
"Yeah… if he even moves, he could choke on his own blood," Sam said. "He might not make it."
*****
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