Bad decisions? [He scoffed.] A bad decision is wearing sandals in the snow. What you made was the worst fucking decision in the history of decision-making. You could write a book on what not to do. I mean, Jesus Christ, you called us pets.

[He bit down on his tongue, cocked his head to the side, tried to get his anger under control. He sounded... he sounded like his dad. That thought made him direct his eyes to the ground for a second. What would Sam say? What would Bobby say? He took a deep breath.

Let me fix it. Well, it was an order, he felt compelled to comply. He strode forward, arms clenched at his sides, and thought for a long second about hitting him. A tense pause, and he reached forward, wrapping his arms around Castiel's shoulders.

Just. Don't even say anything about this. This is not a chick flick moment. That's totally not what this is. He doesn't hug often. Shut up. He pulled back, muscle in his jaw jumping, eyes serious, pointed.]

You fix Sam. Understand me?