He listened to her questions and figured she really hadn't been talking much to anyone if there were that many blank spots. And the idea of it still hit him like it had when she had first admitted to it the night they'd both arrived. The idea of her having been out there for that long alone, he didn't like it.
Dean pushed himself off the counter and grabbed two of the beers he had just put into the fridge out and handed one to her. If anything said time to dip into your work's alcohol stash this was it. He settled back beside her leaning against the counter and took a long drink. "You do know you can just watch the show right?" he joked, still trying to figure out the best way to answer all her questions, how to walk a thin line between what he was okay with her knowing and what he couldn't fathom telling her.
"Sam... he kind of got stuck in this twisted demonic version of survivor and some Jake kid stabbed him in the back," Dean paused, his eyebrows creased together. Even now he hated thinking about that day. "Literally." He took another drink trying to push back the sight of Sammy like that. "I got a year."
He took another drink and looked to her. He was torn between wanting things out in the open between them and being terrified it would completely change everything. "Four months, I was there four months, but it was... time's different there," was all he said. "As for how I got out," he set his drink down and shrugged out of the button up he had over his t-shirt and turned so she could see the large handprint burned into his skin. "Touched by an angel," he joked, trying to make the whole thing seem more casual than it really was, as though it was entirely normal to be having a conversation about hell and angels.