Time Spares No One

Ein tried to focus on something else—the buzzing of the lamp, the faint sound of the heater. Anything but the needle piercing through his skin, followed by the burn of the thread running through, and the stitches being pulled at the edges of the wound.

Midway through, Dean paused and glanced at Ein, a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. "Why didn't you kill him? You had the perfect chance."

"Who knows," Ein breathed, wincing as the last stitch went in.

As Dean tied it up, Ein was left floating between relief and irritation. He exhaled slowly, leaning his head against the backrest, grateful it was finally over.

"I'm not sure of many things lately," Ein mentioned, not fully grasping why he was even telling that to Dean.

"Like what?"

"Killing." Ein's fingers curled around an invisible blade. "I know it's one move and he's dead." He exhaled, relaxing his fingers. "But for some reason..."