He didn’t hear Sam coming. He didn’t hear anything except the rush of his blood and his heartbeat, the ragged edge to his breathing, and his entire body tensed at the contact. It could have gone horribly wrong - if this hadn’t been Sam, it probably would have, because Azazel wouldn’t have given him time to go for the holy water, he’d have just ripped him apart (or knocked him out and brought him to where he was keeping Mom, ‘cause if anything would hurt Dean worse than dying it would be watching a demon hurt his family, first-hand watching him tear her open and burn her alive).
>"We're gonna get her out of here, Dean."
But it wasn’t Azazel, it was Sam, and Dean relaxed, letting out a rush of air that sounded somewhere between a sigh and an uneasy laugh, swallowing back the uncertain words that tried to claw their way out of him, you don’t know that, she might not even be alive, what if we’re too late, what the hell do we do if... He wasn’t going to say any of that, not to Sam. Not to anyone in the family, anyone close to this - anyone at all, because outside of family who the hell could he trust enough with something like this?
>"We're gonna find her, we're gonna get her out, and then we're gonna deal with that son of a bitch. Okay?"
He nodded, one hand scrubbing across his face, up through his hair, while the other pressed against the Impala’s cool metal, fingerprints on shiny black paint, as much a part of the family as the rest of them, almost as much a comfort at Sam’s hand on his shoulder, his brother’s presence working like magic to help him focus.
It was probably less to do with believing Sam’s words, and more to do with the fact that Sam being here meant it was time to pull himself together, fit back into the big-brother mindset, instead of the scared kid who missed his mom. Still, either way, it helped, and he looked over at Sam with a thin smile. His quiet “’Kay,” was part agreement and part an unspoken thanks, and the deep breath after while he turned to look back into the trunk was preparation, pushing everything else down, away, aside, and focusing on what they were here to do.
He picked up the axes again, offered one to Sam with a smile, pushing for back to normal and almost making it. But, whatever. It was dark, and this was Sam; if anyone knew when Dean was and wasn't okay, lies or forced smiles aside, it was Sam.