Mary shook her head. She wasn't explaining it correctly. She wasn't explaining it very well at all.
"What if I've lost my touch?" She whispered, unable to make those words anything more than barely audible.
"I was born to hunt," she continued in a voice that was a little louder. "Generations of Harvelles, Winchesters, and Campbells de sure of that. What if I'm not as good as I thought I was?"
Hell. That word certainly stirred up some emotions. She raised her eyes yo meet Johnny's.
"My dad spent four months in Hell. Well four months Earth time, which is more like forty years down there. This was... nothing compared to that."
Her lower lip quivered with the unspoken question. Why didn't it feel like nothing?