"I'll do my best to hold her off," the Blacksmith says, but there's something unsettled and grim in her tone. She turns her hunted, frightened glance on Sam. "She'll come for me first. You have to go."

Waverly gets up, grabbing the skull and setting it back in its box. "Come on," she tosses at the brothers over her shoulder, before giving the Blacksmith an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry."