Dean/Lisa
Finding out what this whole nightmare was didn't take as much effort to process as one might expect- not given Marrowood, or the dreams she'd been having, or the Fade. Maybe it was the fact that he came with the hope of actually getting away from it that helped grease the wheels of acceptance, or her extreme lack of energy- whatever. Lisa nodded and clung to him, ready to drag her ass anywhere with him as long as it came with the possibility of escape. Together and armed with only the beam of a flashlight, their journey 'back' came to a screeching halt in only two steps. Instead of the fog, the light-beam blazed on a very solid shape that was suddenly just there, two inches from Dean's face. Dead-gray skin, blood-caked red hair, not a thread of clothing, hundreds of jagged, yawning gashes like a roadmap across the malnourished body of a teenage girl- whose mouth was wide and black in a crazed scream that had no sound.
In the span of half a second, Lisa's lungs stopped working, wanting to scream but too frozen in fear to do so- and the wraith's hands shot like lightning to circle Dean's throat.