justforspite: (Jenny Concentration)
“Dean? Tell me a story,” Sam asked, laying flat on the ground under the cracked Seal of Solomon. Bobby was hanging on the wall from a nail through his neck. Dean Winchester was pinned to an opposite wall; two long iron nails were clean through both his wrists. He could barely hear what the thing inside Sam was saying over the squealing in his own head but he knew the fucking thing was talking. That was enough.

“Eat shit,” he mumbled, his jaw burning with every motion.

“No fun,” it said. “You need a lesson in niceties Dean.”

“Fuck you.”
drowning )

June 2009

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