Lies We Tell ~ Dean Winchester

I.

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Erin
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Horror movie protocol initiated. I think as I stand in the dark of my kitchen, looking out into the midnight shadows of my backyard.

It was an old joke between Jack and I. On the rare nights he was home from a Hunt we would watch old horror movies together. He would sit in his ancient recliner while I cuddled under a blanket on the couch and we would make fun of all the stupid mistakes the characters were making that would get them killed. We would laugh for hours over the 'horror movie protocols' that would have saved so many of their lives.

The pang of grief that follows thoughts of the old Hunter nearly overcomes the eerie tingle along my spine that has me peering out the dark windows. I shiver as a cool breeze blows through the screen door and think that this feels exactly like the start of a horror movie. Complete with scantily clad heroine losing her dog.

"Bonnie!" I call into the night, but there's now answering movement. I curse the stubborn dog up and down and then myself for deciding to let her out one last time when I'm in nothing but my underwear and the old concert t-shirt I wear to bed. 

Rookie move Erin, I think to myself. I call once more but there's nothing. The only movement I can make out in the shadows is the billowing grass thats a week past needing a trim. I close the door and walk back through the dark house. The dim light of the kitchen clock sends my reflection onto the dark glass. I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye and I flinch.

"Shit Erin," I mutter to myself. There was nothing here, I just managed to get myself thoroughly freaked out. It was a hazard of living with a Hunter for eight years. I had always known I was different but at seventeen I found out monsters were real, and at twenty five it wasn't something I had forgotten.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and force myself to walk calmly through the dark house. There is no reason for me to be this worked up. I should have skipped the serial killer documentary on Netflix. I know better than to watch something like that alone. But that's all I was these days, alone. Ever since Jack died. 

I shake myself free of those thoughts and lift my chin as I march past the closed door of Jack's old room and into mine. I snatch up the jeans I had worn that day off my floor and jerk them up my legs. I walk back through the house forcing myself to leave the lights off rather than admit I was freaked out. I don't know why I bothered, there wasn't anyone here to witness my cowardice.

I was halfway across the living room when I caught movement outside out of the corner of my eye. I flinched and spun towards the window but it was just the tree branches being tossed by the wind. I exhaled and allowed myself just one little peak, just to be sure.

I closed my eyes and dropped the walls I envisioned around my mind that protected me from my 'Gift'. Although to be honest I had never found it to be much of a gift. I stood in the middle of my living room feeling like my skin was crawling but there was nothing to feel. I stretched, pushing to the edges of what I could do. If there was someone within a mile of the house I would have been able to feel them.

There was nothing here.

I blew out an aggravated sigh and drew the walls back around me, shutting the power out. Now I was even more mad at myself for allowing myself to get so worked up by a stupid tv show that I used my power. Jack had always been adamant about not using it. We used to keep track of how long I could contain it. I hadn't touched it since the morning I heard the news of his death.

I pressed my lips together as tears burned the backs of my eyes. Even ten months later it was still hard being alone. I turned the corner to face the open backdoor and stepped up the screen door calling. "Bonnie get in here, I swear to-"