He tries to force it, tries to split himself off from reality. Let Sam's breath be his breath, let that heartbeat be his, but everything else? He doesn't want the care for it no more. He doesn't give a damn.

Sam's words come through though. He growls, but it's more a whine than anything. He doesn't want to. He doesn't care. Why do they have to motherfucking move? He casts a glare around and over, eyes going darker again. He then looks at Sam, questioning and protesting but underneath just wanting to not. Somewhere between a child stomping their foot and a desperate plea is it to be.

He holds Sam tighter.