![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
The return from the ash didn't gift him perfect self-knowledge. There are still times when he's not altogether sure what he's thinking, what he's feeling. He's still fragmented, tangled; there will always be knots he can't completely undo. The thing is that usually it doesn't bother him. Usually it's something he notes, accepts, and moves on from.
Not so much now.
He makes the connection he needs to make, watches the man go into the little room that, for a while, housed a cathedral he built to contain the pain of Dean Winchester, and turns away. The truth is that he's glad he left his gear with them. He couldn't do any more tonight.
Like he often does, Neil is drifting through the crowd, pausing and coming to rest where he will. Mike sees him leaning against the railing and climbs the stairs, settling a hand on his shoulder.
"I need to get outta here."
Not so much now.
He makes the connection he needs to make, watches the man go into the little room that, for a while, housed a cathedral he built to contain the pain of Dean Winchester, and turns away. The truth is that he's glad he left his gear with them. He couldn't do any more tonight.
Like he often does, Neil is drifting through the crowd, pausing and coming to rest where he will. Mike sees him leaning against the railing and climbs the stairs, settling a hand on his shoulder.
"I need to get outta here."