Dean's green eyes blearily flickered, clearly glasses from the painkillers coursing through his veins. They had always hit him hard. He also wasn't that young anymore. It was harder to see in the light brown hair, but grey hairs peppered along his temples.
He must be dreaming, or hallucinating. Because the voice he was hearing was impossible.
"Freakin' ghosts, go 'way," he slurred his speech in annoyance.
"Hell no, I'm not on board with Walker joining up. The dude's a psychopath. He--" The voice trailed off, then swore softly. "You said he couldn't hear me." Accusatory, but coming closer. The air at Dean's right hand chilled slightly. "I'll contact you later."
There was the sound of a snap, like a phone shutting, then a chilled spot against Dean's face. "Dean?"
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He must be dreaming, or hallucinating. Because the voice he was hearing was impossible.
"Freakin' ghosts, go 'way," he slurred his speech in annoyance.
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"Huh?" Another pause. "No, there was some mumbling. I know you said that he can't hear me, but it's sort of habit. I don't want to disturb him."
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"God, pleas', accept your servant. Take this cup 'way." He couldn't really move much, but his right hand floundered for something to throw.
"And take this fuckin' fake voice with you!"
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There was the sound of a snap, like a phone shutting, then a chilled spot against Dean's face. "Dean?"
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