( It probably works better on Dean than on Sam's super soldier bestie, but that's not saying much. It's still not hitting as hard as it should a normal human, and he's steadfastly ignoring how much that should bother him. How much it would bother his father, this implication that he's something other.

He is, though, isn't he? At this point, is he even really human anymore? Setting aside the god damn wings, the magic, the witcher signs... the things this mark makes him capable of, they're not right. He's not right.

It came with a price. He grimaces tightly — an affirmative, but the latter guess keeps him from nodding. )

Not exactly. See that... that'd be easy. If it was just gonna kill me, hell, sign me up. I've died before. I shouldn't even be here anymore in the first place, fair trade, stick me in the ground. But no. It's... I don't know, my humanity, maybe? My soul? It's turning me into something, Sam, and I can't- I can't stop it. I can't control it. I-

( He falters. Cracks. Licks his lips, and stares down at the bar top. )

I hurt Jo. I couldn't stop myself. It's like I could see myself doing it, but I couldn't snap out of it. Christ, I almost-

( I almost killed her.

He doesn't say it, but he lifts his eyes and levels Sam with a desperate look, pleading, clear as day.

I almost killed her, and I couldn't stop. )