Dean stiffened at the pleading request. "I can't." Dean replied, a little too sharply. Sage had said that Don Juan might be incoherent and possibly aggressive while he came down off the drugs, but that under no circumstances could he have anything else. No potions, nothing, because she hadn't known what he had taken and she couldn't give him something that might make it worse. And Dean didn't know the right spell to get anything close to what Don Juan asked him to. He worried it would it could be disastrous. What was he supposed to do?

"It needs to just wear off." He said more gently, an underlying tone of helplessness. He knew he didn't have it as badly as Don Juan physically right now, just judging by the state of him, but Dean was close to snapping mentally and emotionally, hanging on by a thread. He felt hollow and somewhere deep down, angry and betrayed and terrified and a whole host of other things that just wouldn't let him rest either.