your shrinking soul
"Turn it off," Dean begs, looking up at the thing. The thing that's wearing Castiel's face. But it's all wrong, all so wrong. The eyes are wrong.
"Turn what off?" it asks, and the voice is so Castiel, rough, with a lilt of confusion. It brushes its hand over Dean's face again, the touch too gentle, too loving, and that hurts more than being slapped had.
"The music. Please," he moans, flinches away from the hand.
- Part 1 of your shrinking soul
29 Jul 2012
Dean doesn't feel alright.
- Part 2 of your shrinking soul