On the other side of the room, Dean stares at her, aware that his mouth is opening, that air is pushing up and out of his lungs, but he can't hear over the sound of his pounding heart, can't hear whatever words anger has chosen for him in this moment, because he is sick, so sick and tired of coming down here and finding good people doing their damnedest to die.
"You had him," he echoes, so quiet it's almost lost in the settling dust. "You had - you. You didn't have him," he says, taking a step forward, "You didn't have another round in your gun. You didn't have time to put another clip in. You didn't have him, what you had," he says and he's shouting now, but Dean can't feel it, wouldn't even notice but for the way the dust swirls in front of him, "Was a goddamn bullet between your eyes if I hadn't gotten here!"
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Date: 2011-07-13 07:05 am (UTC)"You had him," he echoes, so quiet it's almost lost in the settling dust. "You had - you. You didn't have him," he says, taking a step forward, "You didn't have another round in your gun. You didn't have time to put another clip in. You didn't have him, what you had," he says and he's shouting now, but Dean can't feel it, wouldn't even notice but for the way the dust swirls in front of him, "Was a goddamn bullet between your eyes if I hadn't gotten here!"