Monachopsis

Chapter LXII: Lying In Wait

The anticipation of what we were about to face had me keyed up. Unfortunately, staking out Monica's house was less about action and more about waiting. I sat on pins and needles, watching listlessly out the window as Monica and her family ate dinner.

"God, that looks good," I groaned, eyeing the grilled chicken and mashed potatoes piled onto Monica's husband's plate.

"We just ate a few hours ago," Dean grumbled from the front seat.

I rolled my eyes. As if fast food joints had anything on home cooked meals. "I'm a growing girl."

Dean shifted. I couldn't see his face, but I could imagine his furrowed eyebrows as he said, "You're twenty."

"And?" I shrugged. "You're twenty-six, and I don't comment on your three-burger-a-day habit, do I? Mr. I-Have-The-Arteries-Of-A-Middle-Aged-Man."

"Hey, not everyone can afford gourmet meals everyday," Dean retorted. "And there's nothing wrong with road food."

"Yeah, there is," I said. "If you take off all the vegetables on those burgers. You're gonna get scurvy."

"Apex predators don't get scurvy, little sister," Dean said, stretching in his chair.

"You're not a hyena, you ignoramus!"

"Come on, you guys," Sam groaned. "Knock it off." 

I huffed, annoyed, but slouched lower in my seat. I ground my teeth together in an attempt to hold in the ants scurrying along my bones. I was tired of waiting. The thought that the demon might take all night to do anything was unbearable. My mother used to describe me as her 'incorrigible hummingbird'; never staying still for long. As a child, the nickname used to drive me crazy. It was not a title she gave out of affection or humor. It was like an insult, spat at me like venom from an agitated rattlesnake. I was an annoying loose thread in her otherwise pristine life: a messy, unruly child with her father's temper and a penchant for getting into trouble.

Looking back now, life with her was so stifling. Even knowing it was true, the thought of hating any aspect of my life with my mother made guilt twist my stomach into knots. Despite her cold mannerisms, she had died protecting me. It made me feel evil for acknowledging any part of my life that held bad memories. Like I wasn't allowed to remember anything but the good.

Before my thoughts could linger on my dead mother any longer, I pushed them away. Sitting quietly in this car was giving me too much time to think. In the months since she'd died, silence and stillness had become my enemy. Freeze for too long in one spot, and the demons were bound to get you.

The irony in that was not lost on me.

So instead of delving into the past, I forced myself to be in the present. I scooted up in my seat, and leaned in between Sam and Dean.

"We've been sitting here for hours," I said. "What if this thing never shows up? Maybe it's a trick."

"It's not a trick," Sam insisted, not taking his eyes off the house. "The demon's coming. We just have to figure out how to get them out of there before it does."

"Oh yeah? How're we gonna do that?" Dean asked.

Sam didn't reply, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he shrugged, "Maybe we can tell them there's a gas leak. Might get them out of the house for a few hours."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, and how many times has that actually worked for us?"

Sam lifted a shoulder. "Yeah." He looked at the house again, then carefully suggested, "Could always tell them the truth."