[ Dean's silent through this entire affair, as though not speaking about it somehow means it isn't happening. The good news is that he has a little more experience shoving emotions down once he's past the thing that spiked them — or maybe a better way to phrase it is that he can drown everything out with an enormous, heaping mound of steely determination and sheer stubborn will.
It flickers like a candle, stable for a while with sporadic lapses that allow bits to slip through.
All of them routinely stomped back down again under the boot of a soldier's resolve. If an emotion could feel like a person, Dean's cold and nearly-impenetrable wall would feel like John Winchester. Like a transplant of that man into Dean's core, not organically grown but spliced in nonetheless.
He smooth the bandage on and his hands fall away finally, topped off with a muttered: ]
no subject
It flickers like a candle, stable for a while with sporadic lapses that allow bits to slip through.
Curiosity.
Concern.
Frustration.
Self-consciousness.
Ache.
Anger — self directed.
Protectiveness.
Appreciation.
Fondness.
All of them routinely stomped back down again under the boot of a soldier's resolve. If an emotion could feel like a person, Dean's cold and nearly-impenetrable wall would feel like John Winchester. Like a transplant of that man into Dean's core, not organically grown but spliced in nonetheless.
He smooth the bandage on and his hands fall away finally, topped off with a muttered: ]
Don't say I never did nothin' for ya.