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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Hunters needed strong stomachs, but I had to admit that I'd never had a taste for torture.
It seemed to me that hunters should be above that sort of thing. It was our job to find monsters and kill them. We never stuck around to ask questions or press for more information. If there was a threat we eliminated it, then we moved on. I shouldn't have been so cold and pragmatic about the whole thing given what I was, but I was attachment averse in every aspect of my life. Besides, with the pack on my tail, I didn't have time to hang around.
The sooner the job was done, the better.
Despite my squeamishness, I sat in the basement and watched as Crowley was restrained and the Winchesters got to work. The way they broke him down was methodical and cruel. If I'd been a demon, I might've admired their methods. Starting with physical assault against the vessel before stepping up and using weapons that were designed to harm the supernatural. Blood spattered the ground and dripped from gaping wounds. I tried to remind myself that whatever poor soul had occupied the meat suit was long gone. There was only so much time that a human soul could spend trapped inside their body along with a demon before it snapped. That, and the more abuse and trauma a body suffered, the less likely it was that they'd survive the separation.
Although Crowley still walked and talked like a man, I needed to keep in mind that only the monster remained.
"You're uncomfortable," Castiel observed.
"Yes."
"There aren't any other options."
I kept my gaze locked on Crowley and asserted, "We both know that's not true."
Castiel sought my gaze but I refused to give it. I didn't trust myself not to go all weak at the knees at a time when it was imperative that we displayed strength. The demon could see us. All of us. If he sensed even a scrap of hesitation then the Winchesters would need to start all over again to break his confidence back down. Fortunately, it seemed he was too busy crying out in agony to hear Castiel's observations.
I didn't need to say it for Castiel to fully grasp my implication. There were a lot of options available to us, they just weren't pretty or easy to come to terms with. I could run away and hope that Crowley didn't catch me. That was the riskiest of them all, and we knew that my luck would run out someday and we'd be right back at square one. Alternatively, I could ask the hunters to kill me. Or I could kill myself and spare them the pain of the task. I didn't want to die. No one did. Not really. But if it would keep a weapon out of Crowley's hands then it did at least need to be considered.
The last choice was to kill Crowley, but I figured if that was on the table then the Winchesters would have done so already.
As if reading my mind, Castiel explained, "Crowley is a resilient foe, and there are many powerful demons who wouldn't hesitate to take his place were he killed. Those demons wouldn't be so generous in allowing Sam and Dean Winchester to live."
