He turned, expertly masking the mass of unshed tears and unspoken fears that threatened so very much to burst from his usually strong and controlled person. Expressionless in every aspect save for his eyes, his gaze met Anna Walker’s. A silent message was communicated.

He knew she was telling him first. He appreciated it.

He knew she was asking his permission to say it aloud. He gave it.

He knew he would never be grateful to anyone more than he was to her now. He silently told her so.

He knew she understood.

Their mutual gazes broke apart, and Dean continued to clean his prized guns as Anna relayed the series of events that took place that day at the hospital to Sammy.

Dean knew his younger brother would cry.