[ Some people think hell is just a lot of chains and whips and having your skin flayed off you while you scream, but it was never that. It was the guilt and the dread and the tight coiling in your stomach as you waited and waited and waited for that poker to descend, for the air to leave your body and the sweet oblivion that was just out of reach that meant death and at least a few hours of rest. He knew it all so well and yet, despite that, he felt like he was living in a personal hell far worse then anything Alastair had thrown at him.

Guilt because he should've noticed, should've cared what was happening to the angel that had chosen to be a man rather then dessert Earth forever. That other Dean was the one at fault for this, not him. And the worst guilt of it all, was that it'd be so dang easy to let it happen all over again.

Tightening his grip on Cas' shirt, he hauled him another step forward and through the door of the complex, kicking it shut behind him. ] Yeah, well. Think of this as my next best chance to make it up to you before I turn into a dick. You've gotta give me at least that much I think.