Between Sammy and Cas, Dean was falling apart. He couldn't be this strong. He couldn't hold up himself, all his fuck-ups, and theirs too. But they couldn't do it, and he was not going to watch them ache over it. Sometimes he would go in and sit by Sammy when he was sleeping, which was very, very rare, but he'd just let the tears fall as he looked at his baby brother.
Every night he would whisper to Cas as he fell asleep in his arms, and he would tell him lies about how it was all going to be okay. He'd kiss him until he stopped crying and then he would let him cry some more.
Between him and Bobby, he was determined to find a way to fix things, and he wouldn't stop until he did. It was weird, not being able to talk to Sam about Cas, and vice versa, because they were both so fucked in the head that he didn't trust himself not to upset them.
He couldn't talk to Bobby either, because the old man was starting to get a little worn. Between the alcoholic angel, the antichrist upstairs and the aggressively determined hunter who was knocking at his door at all hours, he was constantly making calls and reading up on lore, trying to find anything to help his boys. But Dean was okay without him. He would find something. He had to...