( He casts one last look back at that closed door as they leave. That scream has him tugging his eyes away just a split second too soon to see the knob begin to softly turn behind them.
Back on the job, head focused on the mission. He's good at compartmentalizing.
He's on Geralt's heels as they ascend, beat for beat. No difference in their stamina in a dream, not really.
Together they stand by the sign that reads seven, a push-bar metal door standing between them and the floor proper. Dean offers up a silent nod.
I'm with you. Let's do this.
On the other side of the door looks like it used to be a hospital ward, probably a few seasons into the Walking Dead. Abandoned gurneys, upturned tray tables. Doors wide open, bodies scattered about, decomposed. Somewhere further down, deep within the bowels, a heart monitor beeps rhythmically.
The temperature plummets.
When he exhales, his breath fogs and curls in the air before them.
Behind the open patient doorways, things move. Shuffle. Cast shadows. They are not alone. )
no subject
Back on the job, head focused on the mission. He's good at compartmentalizing.
He's on Geralt's heels as they ascend, beat for beat. No difference in their stamina in a dream, not really.
Together they stand by the sign that reads seven, a push-bar metal door standing between them and the floor proper. Dean offers up a silent nod.
I'm with you. Let's do this.
On the other side of the door looks like it used to be a hospital ward, probably a few seasons into the Walking Dead. Abandoned gurneys, upturned tray tables. Doors wide open, bodies scattered about, decomposed. Somewhere further down, deep within the bowels, a heart monitor beeps rhythmically.
The temperature plummets.
When he exhales, his breath fogs and curls in the air before them.
Behind the open patient doorways, things move. Shuffle. Cast shadows. They are not alone. )