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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ONE YEAR LATER
That night, Dean, Sam, and Castiel would have returned to an empty motel room.
Crowley wasn't stupid enough to sit and wait on the hunters. It was arguably the only smart decision he'd made that evening, to get out of the way of the Winchesters and one pissed-off angel. As far as they knew, Lee was on his side. The last thing Castiel had seen before Crowley had cast him out was my brother turning on us. There was no reason for him to believe otherwise. Even if Crowley protested the fact and said that Lee had turned on him, they'd never believe it. Crowley was hardly the most trustworthy creature.
Life for the hunters moved on.
It had to.
There were always monsters to fight and people to save. I could well believe that they spent some time trying to find me, but it couldn't consume their whole lives. Dean always said that I was just another monster, and the world was better off without me.
And, for a time, it was.
Until I was released from my cage.
News of attacks on hunters spread quickly in their tight-knit community. They were like pack animals. They were loyal to one another. Stupidly so. When one of their number fell, the rest stepped up to avenge them. Their anger made them reckless, and they'd always been more brawn than brains. They were easy for an intelligent predator to pick off, and as the death toll climbed, so too did their fear of what was lurking in the shadows.
It helped that their assassin could turn into a dog and simply disappear like another stray.
Lee had taken me for a reason. He had a list. The names of hunters who'd known our parents. The people who'd help them on missions, to heal when they were wounded. In short, their friends. The worthless human beings they'd chosen over their own kind.
Their own son.
I blocked out the sounds of their screams as I tore them apart. I was an animal through and through. The creature that Bobby had always feared I'd become. They told me that they knew my parents as if that would save them instead of enraging me more. They spoke of friendship. Family. None of it would save them. Once they let me through the door, they'd signed their death warrants.
It was a door that I found myself standing in front of almost a year to the day that I'd been taken.
Nebraska was brisk at the best of times, but outside in the dead of night, it was downright freezing. I cast a glance up at the sign, picking out the letters in the dark.
The Roadhouse.
The list was getting shorter with each passing day, and tonight it was the turn of one Ellen Harvelle. I'd met her once, that I could recall. The other times I was likely too young. My parents favoured Bobby Singer when it came to babysitting duties, probably because his house was the best warded. Not that it would save him now when I got around to him.
