Words by You

What's Left Standing

True to his word, Dean and Sam went out first thing in the morning. I knew because I woke to the muffled sounds of the makeshift front door– a stretch of plyboard with a side table shoved behind it – dragging across floorboards downstairs. I didn't move from beneath my comforter, trying to pick out the sounds of their footsteps before the plyboard was dragged back into place.

They'd stayed the night. It took some convincing, but after Jeff was taken care of, there were only an hour or two left until sunrise. I'd pointed out the spare bedrooms, more telling than offering them to stay. My brain had been on autopilot, reasoning that if Sunnie was going to, they should too.

After all, more people around meant more things to focus on come morning besides the night's terrors.

Surprisingly, that'd been enough. They all slept over and I'd managed a couple hours of sleep. Most of it was dreamless, but there'd been some nightmares. Some with the new monsters, and some with old ones too.

A knock came at my door. Sunnie let herself in, looking about as sleep deprived as I felt.

"They went out," she offered in greeting, yawning.

"I heard." I shifted, bracing my arms beneath my pillows. I'd slept on my stomach, trying to keep from making my back even worse. But the pain had amplified over the night. Now, if I moved an inch and it felt like needles were jabbing between my vertebrae.

She noticed me freeze. "You okay?"

"Not really," I admitted. "You wouldn't happen to have morphine in your bag, would you?"

"Nope."

I exhaled into my pillow. "Fantastic."

There came the sound of footsteps, then the corner of my mattress dipped from her weight. "'m so sorry about this," she murmured.

"Sunnie, don't–"

"I am apologizing, you nearly broke your back," she interrupted, sounding annoyed. But I knew it was for this situation. From me getting hurt.

"This wasn't your fault. How can you apologize for a– shapeshifter?" I fumbled over the word. Not even seeing the damn thing could keep me from being stupefied. "God, I can't believe I just said that."

"My stalker was a shapeshifter. A shapeshifter tried to kill us," she repeated.

Impossibly, the corner of my mouth tugged up. "Try and explain that to a cop."

A giggle tumbled out of her mouth. It was the kind that came from grasping at her last bits of sanity. "If I said that to my parents, they'd drive me to a mental institution."

My lips threatened to split into a grin. "Don't make me laugh. Laughing hurts."

"Sorry," but her breathing was getting huffy, like she was holding back laughter. "This is so fucked up. Monsters are real. What are we supposed to do with that?" She whispered.

"Keep garlic in the kitchen and silver stakes in our draws."

She doubled over, instantly wheezing. I had to smush my face into my pillow to keep from ending up the same. It took a long time to regain control again. By the end of it, tears streamed down her face and my spine ached even worse, but we were smiling.

"I can't believe that happened," she breathed.

I turned my face, trying to eye her over my shoulder and failing miserably. "I know."

"What are you gonna do?"

"A shit ton of therapy for starters."

"You know what I mean." The humour eased from her voice, leaving behind something quiet and uncertain. It was a loaded question, one we both knew I didn't have an answer to.