Dean sat back down on the bed, looking over at her. "And that sucks. But you're still you. So I don't think you've lost everything. A lot, sure. And I'm sorry."
He patted her hand gently, a "there-there" gesture he usually saved for grieving women that he and Sam were interviewing. But he didn't know what else to do. Bela wasn't really a friend; he was mostly putting her up 'cause he had the space, and he didn't want to be a dick.