Possession
By Spectral Scribe
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Noise.
Screaming, cursing. A bottle shattering on the wall above some kid's head. A gentle curl of smoke from his own lips. Blood. Flashes of faces. Darkness.
"I'd rather die."
Blonde hair tangled in his sweaty fingers. A gun heavy in his hand.
Dean… disappearing into choppy, black water.
Dean… crying out in pain as a crimson trail arcs over his lips and down his chin.
Dean. Refusing to shoot.
There is pain, and there is light and noise and flashes like lightning. And he is trapped, trapped, like a prisoner, like a comatose patient, inside his own body.
Watching.
