Dean now knew what it felt like to get the "it wasn't you" excuse thrown in your face. Now he knew what it felt like.
Logically, Dean knew perfectly well that there was just no way he could resist a demon invading his body without protection. Sure, he was a hunter, he'd killed a lot of things people couldn't even imagine in their worst nightmares, but end of the day, Dean Winchester was still as much a human as the average, shitting-his-pants civvie. If he got jumped, he got possessed. It wasn't like he could stop whatever happened and it wasn't him attacking his brother. Sure felt like it though. Dean sat there, miserable and trying not to be a pussy and show it, chowing down on the tater tots from the plate between them 'cause he couldn't think of something better to do. Knowing he couldn't have done anything, that technically it wasn't his fault...it didn't make him feel any better.
He chewed angrily, staring off into the distance and knowing this had to be what Sam kept from him. "Explains how you got beat up," Dean said, trying to keep his tone neutral and failing. His eyes traveled to the cleaned up cut on Sam's neck, as effective as a slap in the face. "I did that to you. Demon or not, that bastard was riding around in my body."
Dean knew it hadn't been just knocking Sam out. What he wanted to know why he hadn't remembered any of this. The demon had to know who they were, who Sam was. It should've given him a horrific front row seat to this, but there was a still whole lot of nothing where last night should've been. It still didn't add up. He'd pulled some more info out of Sam, but it still wasn't enough to satisfy him. What had those demons been doing out there? How had Sam escaped? Hell, how come he wasn't still possessed? If he'd been busy trying to attack his own brother, the demon wouldn't have just booked it outta there when it was just starting to get good for it. Dean gave up on the tater tots, jaw working he clenched it, biting his lip and looking from the cafeteria back to same, his face troubled.
The idea of possession had always bothered him. Same with the psychic powers thing. The danger of getting possessed had always been there, sure, but it happened to other people. To civvies. Usually they cleaned up the mess - or bodies, like Meg - afterward. Getting possessed and attacking his brother, after Cold Oak? Dean couldn't help feeling like somehow he should've been more careful. Dammit, why hadn't he just done the smart thing and laid down circles around the bed, or drawn a devil's trap over it? It'd somehow gotten over the salt line (vents?), so obviously he hadn't been as careful as he could've been. It was stupid to beat himself up over something already over. Still didn't make it any easier to stop.
Dean frowned, cleared his throat, and tried not to ask just how much of Sam's injuries had been him personally. How much he'd worked Sammy over with hands that he hadn't been controlling but had still been his. At least not yet.
"How'd you get away? Aren't you worried I could be possessed right now?" Dean asked, though it was more to get more answers from Sammy than anything else. Dean was sure he wasn't possessed anymore...unless that demon was that good at hiding - from what it sounded like, talking to the formerly possessed in the past, you somehow knew a demon was still in you. "I don't remember any exorcisms."
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Logically, Dean knew perfectly well that there was just no way he could resist a demon invading his body without protection. Sure, he was a hunter, he'd killed a lot of things people couldn't even imagine in their worst nightmares, but end of the day, Dean Winchester was still as much a human as the average, shitting-his-pants civvie. If he got jumped, he got possessed. It wasn't like he could stop whatever happened and it wasn't him attacking his brother. Sure felt like it though. Dean sat there, miserable and trying not to be a pussy and show it, chowing down on the tater tots from the plate between them 'cause he couldn't think of something better to do. Knowing he couldn't have done anything, that technically it wasn't his fault...it didn't make him feel any better.
He chewed angrily, staring off into the distance and knowing this had to be what Sam kept from him. "Explains how you got beat up," Dean said, trying to keep his tone neutral and failing. His eyes traveled to the cleaned up cut on Sam's neck, as effective as a slap in the face. "I did that to you. Demon or not, that bastard was riding around in my body."
Dean knew it hadn't been just knocking Sam out. What he wanted to know why he hadn't remembered any of this. The demon had to know who they were, who Sam was. It should've given him a horrific front row seat to this, but there was a still whole lot of nothing where last night should've been. It still didn't add up. He'd pulled some more info out of Sam, but it still wasn't enough to satisfy him. What had those demons been doing out there? How had Sam escaped? Hell, how come he wasn't still possessed? If he'd been busy trying to attack his own brother, the demon wouldn't have just booked it outta there when it was just starting to get good for it. Dean gave up on the tater tots, jaw working he clenched it, biting his lip and looking from the cafeteria back to same, his face troubled.
The idea of possession had always bothered him. Same with the psychic powers thing. The danger of getting possessed had always been there, sure, but it happened to other people. To civvies. Usually they cleaned up the mess - or bodies, like Meg - afterward. Getting possessed and attacking his brother, after Cold Oak? Dean couldn't help feeling like somehow he should've been more careful. Dammit, why hadn't he just done the smart thing and laid down circles around the bed, or drawn a devil's trap over it? It'd somehow gotten over the salt line (vents?), so obviously he hadn't been as careful as he could've been. It was stupid to beat himself up over something already over. Still didn't make it any easier to stop.
Dean frowned, cleared his throat, and tried not to ask just how much of Sam's injuries had been him personally. How much he'd worked Sammy over with hands that he hadn't been controlling but had still been his. At least not yet.
"How'd you get away? Aren't you worried I could be possessed right now?" Dean asked, though it was more to get more answers from Sammy than anything else. Dean was sure he wasn't possessed anymore...unless that demon was that good at hiding - from what it sounded like, talking to the formerly possessed in the past, you somehow knew a demon was still in you. "I don't remember any exorcisms."