Dean couldn't take it any more. He was sick of the whole damn mess sick of hearing Sam's screams, sick of the furtive little glances Bobby and Cas kept shooting at him, sick of feeling helpless and scared and lost.
Finally, after Bobby asked him if he was OK for the fifth time in as many minutes, Dean snapped, slamming his beer down onto the counter.
"I'm fine, goddammit! Stop asking if I'm freaking OK, I'm OK!"
The silence that followed this outburst was somehow even worse than the unspoken tension which had filled the room before. Bobby stared back at him reproachfully, and Dean immediately regretted his words but he was damned if he was going to apologise.
Feeling the sudden need to be anywhere but here, Dean turned away and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Bobby asked quietly.
"Out." Replied Dean shortly. "I just
I need some air." He walked out of the room as quickly as he could, feeling Cas' gaze on the back of his neck. He grabbed the beer as he went