Dean looked at their joined hands for a long moment, then back up at her. He nodded, struggling to swallow back the lump in his throat as he remembered just what fourty years in hell was. And then another, darker thought came to him. If he had spent four months in hell for Sam's sake, and that felt like four decades, just how much time had his dad burned and suffered for him?
He shook his head, not wanting to think about that just then. He couldn't think about his dad dying for him, not unless he wanted to fall to pieces entirely. He focused on something he could fix in that moment--or at least attmept damage control on--what Lilith told Jo.
"What else did she tell you?"He asked quietly, giving her hand a squeeze. Wasn't that a good sign, that she was still holding his hand? Certainly Lilith hadn't told the worst.