Dean hadn't thought of that. He paused, and without turning, he pulled the neck of his shirt down to stare at the tattoo on his chest, that chest. It was not his chest. He then jerked a sleeve up to see that the hand print was still there.
"No, no, this..no." He turned to look at Aidan who was now taller than him. "No. No." Something was happening, and he didn't understand what. His eyes were getting a little watery, and he felt like his voice was catching funny. He knew what that catch meant, but this wasn't a time to cry. This was a time to hunt a witch down and gank her. Or find the hex bag, or something. This was not the time to cry.
"No." He wiped at his eyes with a hand that did not belong to him and turned back around to get his usual flannel shirt and his boots, wherever those had gone. "This is the work of some witch, and we are going to find her. I don't care what it takes."