He almost wants to laugh, would even if it didn't mean a slip on his control. It's been... over a week now since the jump, a week of no sleep, no food, and-- and it's weighing down on whatever little control he has.
Dean turns to see Sam, the exhaustion clinging to his brother obvious in the dark circles under his eyes. It's been over a year for Dean, since he's last seen Sam like this -- young, from the past, way past -- not the... version from his time. The Sam that wasn't quite right, the one who'd let him get turn-- he shakes his head. It's a rough, sudden gesture, as if he's trying to shake something but. But you can do that with sounds or smells, with fatigue and hunger.
"Turn 'round and walk away, Sam." His hand curls into a fist against the wall as he turns his back to his brother again, eyes screwing shut tighter, all in attempts to block out everything. Of course, it's not like it works, not like he can dull out the hammering of his brother's heart, or the ever growing itching of his own gums. How Sam had found him, how Sam of all people is beyond him at the moment, the memory of his brother's special mind voodoo skills under a hazy layer of lost information.
He almost wants to ask if Sam did as he'd asked, if he'd gotten what he'd requested. As much as he wants to just say it -- you need to gank me, Sammy -- he can't bring himself to, not yet.
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He almost wants to laugh, would even if it didn't mean a slip on his control. It's been... over a week now since the jump, a week of no sleep, no food, and-- and it's weighing down on whatever little control he has.
Dean turns to see Sam, the exhaustion clinging to his brother obvious in the dark circles under his eyes. It's been over a year for Dean, since he's last seen Sam like this -- young, from the past, way past -- not the... version from his time. The Sam that wasn't quite right, the one who'd let him get turn-- he shakes his head. It's a rough, sudden gesture, as if he's trying to shake something but. But you can do that with sounds or smells, with fatigue and hunger.
"Turn 'round and walk away, Sam." His hand curls into a fist against the wall as he turns his back to his brother again, eyes screwing shut tighter, all in attempts to block out everything. Of course, it's not like it works, not like he can dull out the hammering of his brother's heart, or the ever growing itching of his own gums. How Sam had found him, how Sam of all people is beyond him at the moment, the memory of his brother's special mind voodoo skills under a hazy layer of lost information.
He almost wants to ask if Sam did as he'd asked, if he'd gotten what he'd requested. As much as he wants to just say it -- you need to gank me, Sammy -- he can't bring himself to, not yet.