Dean Winchester

He smiles, very small, half twisted with something he doesn't even have a name for, except it's the final grown end of something that started in a place and a time he can't even identify. And he steps forward, because something else he's always known since they went into that room together is when to keep his distance and when to close the distance up.

"Soon." He lifts a hand and combs his fingers through Dean's hair. Familiar now. Almost ritual. "I'm so fucking sorry, Dean. I didn't see it in time. I should have."