Dean knew Jen was there with him during the last few hours, but he barely remembered her presence. All he could focus on was Lillith advancing on him and his heart pounding like it was going to explode. When it finally ended though, he found himself on the floor with his head in her lap. They both breathed a long sigh of relief and relaxed for a moment. After a bit of recovery, Dean sat himself up, still leaning on Jen for support.

Now that he was past the panic, he allowed the whole encounter with Lillith in his mind sink in. He spoke carefully, trying to keep his voice steady.

"So, I didn't get this ghost sickness because of anything I did up here, did I? It was all about what I did in the pit."

Jen's arm was wrapped around Dean's shoulder and she gave him a squeeze. She was the only one so far who knew that Dean remembered it all, and she had been there with him through the nightmares and flashbacks whenever she could. She never pushed, never asked him to talk about it; he appreciated that.

She responded strongly to his statement. "That appears to be the case, but you aren't there anymore, and no one is going to let you go back."

The memories were already surfacing quickly as tears filled Dean's eyes.

"I hate myself for it. I really do."

Jen's other arm encircled Dean, holding him securely. He reached up for her arm in front of his chest and held it as she spoke.

"You shouldn't hate yourself. It was Hell. That's what happens down there."

The tears in Dean's eyes spilled over and down his cheeks, and he gripped Jen tighter. "I should have fought harder. I should have …" He trailed off, unable to finish his statement.

Jen's voice echoed now both in his ears and inside his head.

"I know you did your best, because I know you. I also know that no one who loves you would think less of you for what happened down there, only you do. You should really forgive yourself."

Dean shook his head as he gripped Jen's arm harder. He knew she was trying to help, but there was no way he could forgive himself for what he did, what he became. He whispered. "No, I can't. Not yet."

The tears had completely blurred his vision, and he felt a sob rise up in his chest. He turned toward Jen and put his arms around her, burying his face into her shoulder. This was really the first time since Dean had returned that he had been in a position to stop and think about his time in Hell. Everything up until now was brief, fleeting, and quickly pushed aside so that Dean could continue with his life. This time, though, it settled in to his gut, and it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

The funny thing was that part of him wanted to feel this way. He felt like he deserved it somehow, as payback for the souls he tortured. The rest of him just wanted to be able to forget it ever happened.

Jen sat silently, holding Dean tightly. There wasn't anything more she could do, Dean knew that, or she would have done it already. He tried to think about the pain melting into her, because she told him once that she can take that from him. He always hesitated doing that, worried that it would be too much for her, but somehow he knew she could handle it. So he did and began to calm down and push the memories back down inside where they wouldn't bother him.

Dean suddenly realized how exhausted he was and he loosened his grip around Jen, but remained against her shoulder. His eyes were so heavy now. He looked up at Jen. "Don't let them know, please."

Jen smiled at him. "Of course not."

One more battle with his past finished. One of so many he knew were still to come.