no subject

[ He nods, the movement short and a bit too jerky to really be considered much of anything else. It's an answer, and at the very least, she's not attacking him. Instead, his eyes are drawn to her hands, and it's sort of perfect, the thought filtering through everything else that's making him feel numb. There's fire. He could burn things with fire. ]

Something-- [ Happened. But he can't quite get out what it is. ] I had to.

[ It's soft and gentle, a confession in the midst of everything that's occurred. Slowly, he steps to the side to give her a better view of the backseat. Of all the blood, of Dean's body resting there behind him. His fingers curl into a fist. ]

I didn't have a choice.