BATTLE - Peter, open to John
Peter was pretty sure he was dying. He'd died before, but this was different. This wasn't a monster infecting him and eating him from the inside out, carving out his insides to make room for itself, this was just pain and oblivion - he could be grateful for that much at least. Oh, but something had tried to carve out his insides, only in a more physical way, and now he couldn't feel anything from the waist down. His ears were numb too, the sounds of battle around him hollowed out and ringing. His shirt was damp in the front, and he wondered for a moment if it was raining before realizing it must be the blood.
He wasn't surprised at this really. He was still so certain that this was all going to be over soon, that they couldn't truly defeat Lucifer. Deciding to go to the fight, to take this one last chance at trying to do something worthwhile, that had given him purpose, and purpose gave him strength. He'd tried so hard to reassure his mother, to pretend that nothing was wrong and that he knew they were all going to carry the day. He just wanted to give her the hope that he'd given up on. He wanted the life they could have had here, that stupid fucking house he'd been trying so hard to make safe for her and the others, pulling together his motley little family. But he hadn't dared actually hope for it. He knew this was coming.