#huntercore

“She said that she was Dean's daughter.” Sam didn’t say it lightly — and Eileen didn’t take it lightly. But there it was: a manila folder, a name, and a bloodline. Now the question was: What if it’s true?

Not only did they play things that go bump in the night, they also played cowboys. Yee Haw!

Bonus

She knows the rules now: salt the door, shoot second, don’t stay long enough to be remembered.

The next hallway is darker. Not dramatically, just enough that the shadows feel thicker. When Jack glances through a different window, the sky outside is deep blue, almost night. The trees are silhouettes. He stops again. “So… that’s new,” he says. Nellie nods once. “Time’s slipping.” “Or the house is,” he replies.

Jack glances toward Nellie once, then back to the dish in his hands. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he says. She doesn’t look up. “That’s never a good opening.” He smiles faintly, drying another plate. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Just… something I noticed.” The faucet keeps running. She finishes rinsing the bowl and sets it in the rack before turning off the water. The quiet afterward feels louder. “What did you notice?” she asks. He leans against the counter, folding the towel once in his hands. “Sometimes I hear you talking at night. Not every night. Just once in a while.” She picks up a spoon from the sink and begins rinsing it, even though it’s already clean. “When I wake up,” he continues, “I can hear you talking in your room.” He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “And… another voice.” The spoon clinks softly against the sink. Then she dries the spoon carefully, placing it into the drawer with unnecessary precision. “What do you mean?” she asks, voice steady but quieter now. He keeps his posture relaxed, making it clear he’s not accusing her of anything. “I was just curious who you were talking to.” She wipes her hands on a dish towel that doesn’t need wiping. Her mind moves faster than her body. Dean. Of course, he has heard her talking with Dean.