Dean felt like he was running, but he told himself it was for the best. Claire and Ben needed to get out, and truth be told he did too. He had just woken up from what had to be the biggest shock of his life, and he needed a minute--just a single minute--to get himself together before he went to investigate what was on the other side of the door. Dean didn't have it in him to see what was left of his brother right now.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going outside with Ben and Claire, even if it was just for a minute. Being around Ben always made things feel (even if the feeling passed quickly) at least a little better. It was as if his childish innocence and the proud way he looked at Dean put a bandaid on everything until Dean was a little more ready to deal with it. He wanted to see his son.
He reached the top of the steps into the living room, and he sighed. The TV was off, and Ben was nowhere to be found. No doubt the noise of Sam losing all control downstairs had drove the boy to go even farther away. With a soft sigh of frustration, Dean turned to the stairs to go to the third level of the home.