That...That wasn't something Dean had been expecting. It was a thought that was never very far back in a corner of his mind - that thought that, if not for Cas, that would have been how things had turned out - and being confronted with it here, like this...Well, it certainly was the wrong place and the wrong time. And as the feather drifted to the ground at his feet, he stared at it a moment, before his face contorted into a mask of anger born from fear.

"Alright. Fine. I get it. Great. Point made. Now how about you crawl back to whatever rock you came out from under in Hell." He pulled the canister of salt from his pocket, moving a step closer to Cas, and upended it, starting a salt ring around them both. "Because me? I'm not playing this game. Dream or not, I don't give a crap."