Dean/Lisa
At first sight of the spirit, Dean froze just as quickly as Lisa's lungs, the initial inability to act quickly led to a terrifyingly strong hand gripping his throat. In that moment, every ounce of fear in his body suddenly gave way to a white rage that almost scared him as much as the thing in front of him.
Kill. It flashed through his mind, almost like an order from some omnipresent being, quickly becoming the only thought his mind could grasp. Kill. In that moment, there was no Lisa. No Marrowood. No home. His entire reality was an overwhelming urge to murder this thing.
"Let. Go of me. You bitch." Dean sputtered, struggling to breathe, and lashing out his arms at his attacker. His feet kicked as he lifted into the air, looking like a barely restrained wild animal. It didn't stop until she dropped him, his form rolling to a crouch position as his hand slid to look for the knife that wasn't there.
Only then did he remember what was actually happening, where he was, his mission, though they were all thoughts still battling with the rage that nearly blinded him. Eyes darted his surroundings, seeing nothing for a moment but the eery silence surrounding him, until he caught a glimpse of the flashlight's beam. But, just as he darted for it, something grabbed him from behind.
"Lisa! Run, get to the station!" He shouted as he was nearly pulled off his feet again, using that same momentum to spin around and grab the arm holding him, and letting his fist meet a once pretty grey face.