Chapter 8
He follows them to a barn- they are fighting, like they do- creatures falling beneath their swords. It's- heroic. They are heroes- Dean is a Hero.
Cas turns- this can't be it- these foes are easy to beat. Dean has beat people like this a million times. He walks away- there's a tree- an onion field-
A barn.
A tree.
Light- lamps.
An easily winnable fight- he sits on a tree stump- it is just the right height. He's starting to get cold in his green and blue sweatshirt- he should have grabbed his trench coat from Becky's car before she went to the hotel. He hugs himself. Waiting for the fight to be done.
Maybe he came back at the wrong time- he needs to save Dean from Chuck's wrath, from Amara's wrath- not from some clown's fighting in a barn- it's-
Easy.
He gets up, brushes off his pants, and turns to walk back to the hotel- Becky wouldn't let him drive her car.
It was probably a wise decision.
The darkness is all around him- it feels, pressing- again- like the empty- but not painful- not -
He thinks about the butlers, the elicit-
He thinks about the butlers- jail-
He tries to just think about the butler's lives- living together in a cozy attic room. Working together- not- popping out.
Cas's chest feels tight.
Not popping out- how do you- you stay. He supposes it's simple, academically, to just stay. You plant your feet, hold your ground- and
Well, that's it, right?
Becky made it seem so simple.
Not-
Popping-
Out-
Puncture.