He's still running, still breathing under all this guilt crushing him, threatening to put him in his grave.
He needs Sam, needs to have him looking out for him cause goddamn it, he doesn't know how to be alone anymore.
The absence of Sam those days was hell, tore him apart fiercer than a hell hound could.
He can feel Sam beside him now…
A warm comfort.
He hates the image of personal space.
"Just don't leave, Sammy. Don't want you to leave."
"I won't, Dean. Promise."
Shit, did he just say that out loud?
"But we gotta talk, bro."