Dean's knuckles whitened on the wheel.
Blood, gore, screaming agony, white hot pain.
It all washed through his mind's eye so clearly that he could almost see it transposed over the traffic light before him. His foot stiffened on the brake. He closed his eyes. Tried to reassure himself.
Not there now. Not there now. Home. Fine.
"Dean, light is green." Sam's voice broke through the memory, flashback, whatever-the-hell-it-was and Dean hit the gas.
He could feel Sam's concerned brow-furrowed expression without even having to turn his head.
"You're distracted. What are you thinking about?" Sam asked.
"The tits on that blonde back there."
That did it. Shut the questioning right down.
Sam huffed and eye rolled.
Dean smiled.
Safe for now.