Everything feels like a cage to Dean when he's sure that everything is supposed to feel like one. He isn't supposed to be here, he isn't supposed to be relishing what it feels like to exist within a tree, within the safety of greenery and kindness. It's perverse and wrong and he's broken some rule managing this, escaping Hell by the skin of his teeth and being thrust back into a life he doesn't deserve. Ten years he spent torturing souls, ten years and he gets this? There's gotta be some bullshit behind it, some level he's not grasping and it makes him hurt so deep down that he can't even begin to know how to make it stop. He wants to scream against it, wants to shove Sam and make them both disappear, clamor his way closer and cling tight until he can feel himself whole again. He wants to rip himself to shreds and leave nothing left behind because it just doesn't make sense and there's nothing more to it than that.
But Sam's question still makes him cringe most of all.
Because maybe something he did made this all his fault. Granted, he doesn't know what that would be, but it's entirely likely at this point, a kind of thing he can't deny because who knows what he's done wrong, what more he's fucked up, what lives he's ruined and tortured and sinned. It makes his gaze drag away and stare down between his knees, head shaking out of sheer desperation because Sam doesn't get it. He didn't get it the first time either, the fact that Dean can't go it alone. He can't. He doesn't know how. Without Dad, without Sam- he's nothing. He's not whole, he's not anything, and to think that he could keep fighting the good fight with only his skin and bones is ludicrous. He's a shell of a human without them at his side, and they had to have known that.
They have to still know it, even know.
"Because, Sam. I know, okay? Nothing I did could'a brought us to this place." His voice was strained, words toppling over one another to try and get there first as Dean squeezed them out between his clenched teeth. Nothing he did would have been idiotic enough to transport them to another world just... because and Dean didn't want think that this was his fault. But more importantly, he knew it wasn't solely because he knew the outcome of what he'd done. Everything had gone right. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, he hadn't fucked it up, and this wasn't his fault.
So whose fault was it?
"Just- just believe me. Nothing I did would'a shot us here- world travelling wasn't exactly what I was goin' for, Sam."
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But Sam's question still makes him cringe most of all.
Because maybe something he did made this all his fault. Granted, he doesn't know what that would be, but it's entirely likely at this point, a kind of thing he can't deny because who knows what he's done wrong, what more he's fucked up, what lives he's ruined and tortured and sinned. It makes his gaze drag away and stare down between his knees, head shaking out of sheer desperation because Sam doesn't get it. He didn't get it the first time either, the fact that Dean can't go it alone. He can't. He doesn't know how. Without Dad, without Sam- he's nothing. He's not whole, he's not anything, and to think that he could keep fighting the good fight with only his skin and bones is ludicrous. He's a shell of a human without them at his side, and they had to have known that.
They have to still know it, even know.
"Because, Sam. I know, okay? Nothing I did could'a brought us to this place." His voice was strained, words toppling over one another to try and get there first as Dean squeezed them out between his clenched teeth. Nothing he did would have been idiotic enough to transport them to another world just... because and Dean didn't want think that this was his fault. But more importantly, he knew it wasn't solely because he knew the outcome of what he'd done. Everything had gone right. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, he hadn't fucked it up, and this wasn't his fault.
So whose fault was it?
"Just- just believe me. Nothing I did would'a shot us here- world travelling wasn't exactly what I was goin' for, Sam."