[ Staring intensely at the unlit wood and tinder arranged in that fireplace, Dean honestly wouldn't be all that surprised if it did spontaneously combust. Only person who knows how to get under his skin like this is standing in his poor excuse for a living room and he's already feeling like this was a bad idea.
The town's unfriendly at the best of times - not the other sleepers, so much, but the monsters that come in waves - and never before has he felt so hemmed in. So stuck here. He just knows now that the only thing waiting for him back in his world is failure and death. And it's suffocating to think about, worse that he already knows he's set the two of them down this path both back there and here.
It's not the first time he's been forced to look at the ways he'd changed in his world since he arrived here, but it's the first time he's had to do it with somebody who suffered because of it.
Silent against that continued needling, eventually that fire gets going, and the liger that had appeared again at the door, ready to defend him if needed, pads away again to resume its watch over the back of the house. It always draws closer when he's feeling at his worst. ]
Oh, you're good?
[ He's upright again, the light from the fire at least partially bathing the room in flickering orange. Good is a relative term, he gets that. But Cas ain't good, and that's on him. He watches on from where he stands, eyes finally drop to the mess of badly patched up wounds littered across Cas' torso. There's a moment where he thinks he's probably not going to get the words rolling around his head out, like there's a wall there between them that he built himself that he can't demolish again. Except it's already started to crumble and this town, this place and everything that happens in it, is part of that reason. ]
Cas, you're not good. And I know that's on me. So just-- [ Baby steps. Confessions that aren't inviting discussion just yet. The muscles at his jaw ripple with how tight he's squeezing his molars together. Like he's trying to contain something. ] look, if we don't patch that up we're just askin' for more trouble from outside...
[ A pause, heavy and yet strangely filled with a nervous energy that he'd deadened himself to in his world. ]
And I [ need, desperately ] want your help. [ Clearing his throat roughly, the frown loosens slightly. ] So we're gonna get you patched up. Understand?
no subject
The town's unfriendly at the best of times - not the other sleepers, so much, but the monsters that come in waves - and never before has he felt so hemmed in. So stuck here. He just knows now that the only thing waiting for him back in his world is failure and death. And it's suffocating to think about, worse that he already knows he's set the two of them down this path both back there and here.
It's not the first time he's been forced to look at the ways he'd changed in his world since he arrived here, but it's the first time he's had to do it with somebody who suffered because of it.
Silent against that continued needling, eventually that fire gets going, and the liger that had appeared again at the door, ready to defend him if needed, pads away again to resume its watch over the back of the house. It always draws closer when he's feeling at his worst. ]
Oh, you're good?
[ He's upright again, the light from the fire at least partially bathing the room in flickering orange. Good is a relative term, he gets that. But Cas ain't good, and that's on him. He watches on from where he stands, eyes finally drop to the mess of badly patched up wounds littered across Cas' torso. There's a moment where he thinks he's probably not going to get the words rolling around his head out, like there's a wall there between them that he built himself that he can't demolish again. Except it's already started to crumble and this town, this place and everything that happens in it, is part of that reason. ]
Cas, you're not good. And I know that's on me. So just-- [ Baby steps. Confessions that aren't inviting discussion just yet. The muscles at his jaw ripple with how tight he's squeezing his molars together. Like he's trying to contain something. ] look, if we don't patch that up we're just askin' for more trouble from outside...
[ A pause, heavy and yet strangely filled with a nervous energy that he'd deadened himself to in his world. ]
And I [ need, desperately ] want your help. [ Clearing his throat roughly, the frown loosens slightly. ] So we're gonna get you patched up. Understand?