Dean is stupid. He doesn't get the correlation. He will, given enough time and a little more than cryptic angel-explanations, but he doesn't yet. Sparing a minute to finish off his rapidly cooling coffee, Dean grabs a handful of candy from the jar on the table and follows after Cas, settling into the passenger side of the Impala.

He hates it on this side, he really does.

Dean's subdued once they start driving, turning Cas' words over in his head. He doesn't really remember hell so much as he remembers feeling it. Even his nightmares are mostly red-tinged impressions of horror. He definitely doesn't remember reaching for Cas.

"Did I really make a grab for you?"