Of course it all begins with a kiss. There is no way for Bobby Singer to deny it, not anymore. Not with Crowley crawling around inside his head, under his skin. Not with the things he knows he’s been asked to do.
Crowley had started it all on animals. Would he hunt with a demon mentally pulling the trigger? Just how many things could Crowley get Bobby to do?
Just how many?
Something had happened to Bobby’s phone bank, and he couldn’t reach anyone, not anymore. Crowley, though, he was everywhere and anywhere he wanted to be in Bobby’s world.
Crowley could hunt Bobby himself if Bobby ever stopped.
It wouldn’t even be a sport. It would probably bore Crowley to tears compared to the many other things he had done. And yet Crowley would do it. If Bobby ever did stop.
But these days, Bobby lived. Bobby lived to serve.
It was the kiss, unlike any Bobby had ever had. Demon tongue, they don’t tell you how persuasive it can be, even to a hunter.
Besides that, Bobby’s tired. He misses his wife. Or at least, he did before he was given a new purpose (run for your life).
Bobby can either run (wouldn’t do much) or he can hunt alongside his new master, and if there’s one thing he’s learned to be built for, it’s the hunt. He settles into it, finds a new heart-pounding life inside of it, and as he thinks of Crowley’s kiss he just hopes none of his former colleagues find him as he sets the traps now meant for them.
One demon’s kiss can do so much. He knows now how hard they are to resist, and how he had tried and done well, but not well enough in the end to outdo Crowley.