When she finds herself back in Sioux Falls on a job, a twist of fate puts Evelyn Marshall in the path of the Winchesters and Bobby Singer. With nowhere left to run, the dark secrets in her past and the creatures who've hunted her are about to catch...
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Crowley made his thoughts on being locked in the basement clear as we ascended the stairs. I blocked out his curses and threats. As long as he was in the trap, he wasn't going anywhere, and that meant I was safe. It wouldn't be too long before his minions came looking for him and, when they did, they'd tear through us to get him out. Still, we had some time, and that was all we needed. Well, we needed a nice shiny solution to our massive problem, but time would give us the chance to find it.
I found my way to the threadbare sofa and sank into the cushions. "Maybe there's a cure."
"This isn't something that can be cured," Castiel said. He hadn't bothered with the stairs. The last to leave Crowley's prison, he'd simply teleported his way back up to the living room. "A cure implies you have a disease or a curse. The only way to resolve what you are would be death."
"You need to learn how to sugarcoat information," I complained. "Soften the blow."
"Angels don't sugarcoat," Dean said. There was no hiding the anger simmering inside of him. The hunter kicked Bobby's desk which seemed condemned to bear the brunt of all our frustrations. He turned around and growled, "Son of a bitch!"
"That ain't helpin'," Bobby snapped. "We need to think of a way to get Evelyn out of this deal. See if anything like this has happened before."
"He called me something new," I said.
Sam sat beside me and dropped one of his long arms across my shoulders. It wasn't quite a hug. More of an awkward older brother gesture. Castiel took a step towards us but stopped himself. There was a lot of hesitation with the angel. As though he wanted to mimic the human gestures that came so easily to others, but wasn't certain of how best to execute them. I was glad that no one else was inclined to be so kind toward me. I was starting to feel like I had a terminal illness. Well, maybe I did. If other hunters found out what I was, they'd kill me just to stop Crowley from having the soldier he so desperately craved.
"Well, seems to me we've got two choices." Dean turned and leaned against the desk. "We can sit on our asses and cry like we're on Oprah, or we can dig through these books and put in some calls."
"Or I could run," I said. "If my grandmother found a way to hide from demons, there's no reason I can't do the same."
"This ain't your grandma's time," Bobby said. "Demons talk to each other, and they're everywhere. You think you can hide from them forever? Now they know who you are, they'll never stop lookin'."
"Fine." I stood from the sofa and snatched up a book. "Might as well start reading, then. Seeing as I'm stuck here until either me or Crowley is dead."
Bobby snatched the book out of my hands. "You should rest. Let us deal with this."
"In case it escaped your notice, I'm a hunter too." I took back the book and clutched it to my chest. "I'm not useless, Bobby. I can help. I've done this without any help for a long time."
