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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I'd have preferred to take my car or bike, but we needed to drive in shifts. South Dakota to Oregon wasn't a short trip by any stretch of the imagination. Twenty-four hours with breaks. And that meant a lot of long, awkward silences along the way.
Bobby stayed home to keep an eye on Crowley. We knew there was a good chance that he'd lied about Lee being my brother. Clearly, the man existed, but he could have been anything to the demon. It would've been foolish to assume that anything out of Crowley's mouth was the truth, and so it paid to have a hunter there to guard him in his prison. A part of me wondered if Bobby would be safe. Whether he was enough to hold the line against the creatures who might come for him.
Then I remembered that he was Bobby bloody Singer, and he'd outlasted things more terrible than demons in his life.
I could tell that the men were all itching to talk to me. I'd told them that my mother had tried to murder me when I was a child and then tried to stuff that revelation back into the box. It was too late, of course. It was out there now. Nothing I could say or do would take that away. Thankfully, the Winchesters weren't the touchy-feely type. Well, Dean wasn't. Sam kept glancing in the rear-view mirror and trying to catch my gaze. When it wasn't my turn to drive, I stared resolutely through the passenger side window or tried to sleep. The moment my arse hit the driver's seat, I focused on the road and clenched my jaw.
Even the rock tunes blasting from the Impala's stereo weren't enough to ease the tension. I didn't care about it. Rather, I couldn't. There was time and it was just a distraction from what mattered. Maybe someday I'd find a therapist who didn't think that I was speaking metaphorically when I said that I was a monster. Until then, I would keep my thoughts and feelings about my almost murder to myself.
By the time we rolled into a motel, I was dozing lightly with my forehead against the window. It vibrated against my skin and my breath misted the glass. Castiel was watching me. I could feel his gaze. It warmed my cheek and, tempted though I was to return it, I resisted. Sam was in the driver's seat and Dean had occupied himself by methodically cleaning his demon-hunting knife.
I opened my eyes. It was impossible to ignore the glaring neon sign which was like a gaudy beacon against the night sky. "We aren't going to Lee's place tonight?" I asked groggily.
"We need to regroup," Dean said. "Make some plans."
"And sleep," Sam added.
Of all of us, he'd been driving the longest. It didn't seem fair to him to take the final shift, but he'd volunteered. I had a sneaking suspicion that Dean feared, if I was behind the wheel too long, I might forget that we were in America and drift over to the wrong side of the road. That didn't explain why he hadn't taken up the role as our main driver but never mind.
Castiel vanished from the back seat and pulled my door open from the outside. I'd have fallen out if not for the seatbelt. Startled, I grasped the back of Dean's seat to steady myself. He chuckled quietly and stepped out of the car. Typical hunter, finding amusement in someone else's humiliation. I fumbled with the buckle and climbed out with all the grace of a newborn foal. Castiel placed a hand under my elbow to steady me. It was a brief gesture. Barely a glancing touch. But that didn't make the meaning behind it any less significant. Like the Winchesters, he was supporting me, even if I didn't deserve their help.
