Or Dean would have if some kind of white, sticky substance did not fly out of nowhere and cover the trigger of the g*n. So when Dean’s trigger finger pulled down on the trigger, it would not fully depress, which Dean was almost thankful for. He had never shot another human being before with a g*n and he certainly did not want to ruin that streak now.
Dean was not, however, thankful for the punch to his face that followed.
The fist felt as solid as a brick and hit about as hard as a baseball thrown by a pitcher. Dean would have collapsed onto the floor and lost all consciousness if the mysterious figure did not grab him by the collar of his sweater and force him against the wall.
His head spinning from the impact of the punch, Dean tried to raise the g*n again, only for his assailant to
