This week's word is Shoulder and it's such a nice word I did another chapter! I still don't own the boys, Kripke does. Lucky, lucky man...
He wakes suddenly, torn from the scarcity of a dreamless sleep by a fire searing through his scarred shoulder.
The raging pain drags a reluctant cry from his dry throat as he scuttles up the mattress to cower against the shabby bed head.
He is afraid.
He has met any number of the Divine Host through this journey; angels, archangels and demons but this is different.
He dips his head shielding his eyes from the singular radiance that emanates from the being whose presence dominates the cheap motel room.
"It is time, my child."
And Dean knows it is so.
Thanks for reading. How was it?