Hunting Shadows, Facing Truths
894 Words
(Dean’s POV)
Lailah knows.
That sentence ricochets around my skull long after she stops talking, long after the house settles into its old familiar creaks, long after she finally leans back against the couch with a slow, steady breath.
She knows.
And she’s not panicking.
Not denying.
Not looking at me like I’m insane.
She’s just… sitting there.
Like someone who expected me to confirm it sooner or later.
Damn.
I don’t know what throws me more—her calm, or the fact that she figured it out years ago and never said a word.
Most people would’ve run screaming.
Called the cops.
Checked themselves into some nice padded room.
Lailah?
She cracks a joke about vampires in suburbs.
I scrub a hand down my face, trying to make sense of the new version of reality I apparently live in—one where Lailah Thomas, of all people, knows what I do at night and still asked me to stay.
Hell.
I glance over at her. She’s curled up on the couch, hugging a throw pillow like she’s afraid to let go of something soft. Her hair’s a mess, eyes tired, but she looks… steady. More than she did earlier, at least.
“You okay?” she asks when she catches me staring.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I mutter.
“Well,” she says, “you’re the one who looks like his brain just blue-screened.”
I scoff, but she’s not wrong.
“You knew,” I say slowly, like if I speak it too fast the world will shift again. “For how long?”
She tilts her head, thinking. “Since I was about seventeen.”
Seventeen.
Christ.
“That was—”
“Yeah,” she cuts in with a small smile. “A long time ago.”
My chest tightens. I try not to show it, but she sees everything. Always has.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask.
She shrugs. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey Dean, want to tell me about the demons in your schedule?’”
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
It is. But I won’t give her that satisfaction.
I lean back in the recliner, rubbing at the back of my neck. “You could’ve told Sam.”
“No,” she says instantly, firmly. “Sam would’ve felt guilty. He always takes on too much. You know that.”
Yeah.
Yeah, I do.
“And you…” She pauses, eyes finding mine. “You would’ve pushed me away.”
I blink. “What makes you think that?”
She gives me a look like she’s calling me on my own bullshit. “Because that’s what you do when someone gets too close.”
My jaw locks.
She says it so simply, so matter-of-fact, like she’s not describing the one flaw I can’t ever seem to fix.
“You think you’re protecting people,” she continues, softer now. “But you push them out before they can even decide if they want to stay.”
I don’t respond.
Can’t.
My throat’s too tight.
Lailah doesn’t push. She just sits there, watching me with those eyes that see too much.
Eventually, I clear my throat. “It’s dangerous,” I mumble.
“So are highways,” she counters. “So is love. So is living.”
“Lailah—”
“I’m not asking to hunt with you, Dean.” She wraps her arms around the pillow again. “I just… I’m not afraid. Not of what you do.”
That hits harder than any demon ever did.
Finally, after a long stretch of quiet, she asks softly, “Is this why you stayed tonight? Because you thought something was… out there?”
I shake my head. “No. Place is clean.”
Her brow furrows. “Then why?”
I don’t have an answer at first.
I should tell her something simple. Something safe.
Because Sam told me to check on you.
Because I was in the area.
Because it was the right thing to do.
But none of those are true.
So I tell the truth.
The uncomfortable, raw, undeniable truth.
“I stayed,” I say, voice low, “because you needed someone.”
Her breath catches, just barely.
“And because…” I look down at my hands, flexing them once. “Because I didn’t want you to be alone tonight.”
When I lift my eyes, she’s staring at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.
Not the sarcastic guy she used to argue with.
Not Sam’s annoying older brother.
Just… me.
And that?
That’s terrifying.
But for once, I don’t run from it.
She gives me a small, fragile smile. “I’m glad you stayed.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Me too.”
We fall into a softer silence after that—not tense, not awkward. Just… calm. Like the house finally exhaled with us.
Her eyes start to droop, exhaustion finally catching up.
“Get some sleep,” I murmur.
“You’ll still be here?” she whispers, half-asleep already.
I hesitate for only a second.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And for the first time in a long damn time…
I mean it.
- Writer
