Dean knew something was wrong with Sam. You couldn't spend every waking moment concerned about a person's health and wellbeing, and then miss such obvious signs of distress. The thing was, he didn't know what to do about said distress. Sam didn't want to bother him, and Dean knew he couldn't fix the problem. The Hell Gate trials were killing his little brother. Once again Dean just wasn't good enough to make anything better. You would think with all the experience he'd had, Dean would be used to failing the people he loved, he wasn't. Every cough Sam hid from him was a knife to the heart. Prayer was the last hope of a desperate man.

"Cas, you got your ears on?"