Dean frowned a bit at the fact that she didn’t react positively to his normal joking.  Besides the crying, which he expected, the dream must have been extra bad for her to not respond to his usual bad humor and self sacrifice.  He continued to just have a grip on her, wiping the odd blood drip from his nose, until she began to calm a bit.

When she adjusted, he loosened his grip on her a bit to allow movement and listened intently.  As she finished explaining what she was experiencing, he sighed, a bit lost at what to do in the moment, “I know.  Those things don’t just go away…because we want to bury them.  But I’m right here.  Alright?  It’s bad, but you can handle it…and where I can, I’ll handle it for you.”

He knew his words wouldn’t help things completely, reliving an experience like she had was devastating.  It was reliving the pain, and the emotions, exactly the same as they happened over and over again.  It was no wonder she had grown colder, since the incident.  He sighed again, “I don’t have all the answers.  I have pushed everything down so much, that I don’t even know how to have nightmares, or if I’m even having them.  But you tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.  I’ll figure it out…”

He reached a hand down and lifted her face to him by her chin, staring between her eyes, “You know I will.  If there was a way to go in there and kill that son of a bitch, I would.  I’ve wanted to, since the day it happened…”