That got Dean to falter, hurt flashing across his face before he could mask it under another glare. He looked away for a moment, hands clenched tight into fists at his side.

It'd be too easy to take a shot, but Dean resisted that urge.

"Jesus, Sam..." There was so much he could say. So much he wanted to say, but... dammit, he was tired of fighting and seeing who could give the hardest blow next. He shook his head and looked away.

"Forget it. I'm not dealing with this shit, Sam. I've fucked up... I know that I have, alright? I let Dad kick you out and I dragged you back in when you had something good going for you. I get it." Not like he wasn't all too familiar with each of his fuck ups from his time in Hell. They didn't let you forget your failures, forget what you really were down there.

"You resent me or hate me, fine. But I'll be damned if I watch you destroy yourself, Sam."