Dean turns his head slightly, looking over at Sam with one lazily arched eyebrow, like Sam can’t possibly be serious. But there’s no life in it, no sparkle. It’s like, with Dad dead, a light’s gone out inside of Dean. His eyes are dark, haunted hallways to empty rooms, heavy circles beneath like shadows of blame. And Dean’s looking at him, but Sam isn’t sure Dean sees him anymore, and that hurts more than he expects, because Sam remembers a time not too long ago when he was all Dean could see.