"If you wanted to, you would have." Dean said through clenched teeth. "It's that simple." It should be that simple anyway. He didn't want to be placated right now with weak excuses and not-quite-apologies.

"What happens next time? Are we just going to do this again? Avoid the conversation that I thought we had an understanding on?" Dean shook his head, feeling some of the anger fading into the hopelessness he'd tried to replace it with. That frustrated him almost as much, the miserable tone in his voice. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, unable to look at Don Juan.