Walking back to the downtown hotel from the local 24/7 he stepped inside the hotel and made his way up the concrete stairs, every step echoing all the way to the 5th floor. Turning the corner everything was deathly quiet, he looked down the corridor and saw figures stood in every doorway, all staring at him, all the same.
and this bit:
He dreamt of the Cage most nights, he dreamt of it from a height, a stranger looking in on all the things done to him, on all the things he did. He felt no pain. He heard no screams.... It was only those particular nightmares he woke from choked and in panic.
The depersonalization of it, the abstraction, and that being the thing that's somehow worst just seems perfect for the Cage. And also:
Some days everything tasted like ash, bone ash.
Because it's just so plausible that both the Winchesters would fucking know what that taste is
( ... )
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Walking back to the downtown hotel from the local 24/7 he stepped inside the hotel and made his way up the concrete stairs, every step echoing all the way to the 5th floor. Turning the corner everything was deathly quiet, he looked down the corridor and saw figures stood in every doorway, all staring at him, all the same.
and this bit:
He dreamt of the Cage most nights, he dreamt of it from a height, a stranger looking in on all the things done to him, on all the things he did. He felt no pain. He heard no screams.... It was only those particular nightmares he woke from choked and in panic.
The depersonalization of it, the abstraction, and that being the thing that's somehow worst just seems perfect for the Cage. And also:
Some days everything tasted like ash, bone ash.
Because it's just so plausible that both the Winchesters would fucking know what that taste is ( ... )
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air in the Impala smelled like home. ...
don't mind me... I'll just be in a puddle on the floor.
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Poor Sam.
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