Dean was glad to see Sam clean, relaxed, and relatively unharmed when he came in. There was still a faint mark on his neck, but that would be gone by morning, if not sooner. He managed a tired smile, relieved. "Hey. You feelin' okay?"

He sat down in one of the chairs to work his boots off. The shirt he was wearing was 'borrowed' from the dealer's house before it went up in flames. His had been too mangled and bloody to wear any longer.