Whatever conclusion it was Don Juan had come up with, Dean knew that deep down, being here probably wasn't the answer. Still, it stung. Dean felt like every time he tried, it was pointless. Well, maybe that wasn't quite fair, but he was starting to wonder just what the fuck he was doing. All the honestly and the sincerity was going nowhere, Dempsey was caught up in whatever plight he'd found this time and Dean was just a spectator.

And just like that, he was leaving. Dean sighed and considered his options. If Dempsey was determined to leave, there wasn't anything he could do to stop him, but he'd worry as he always did. "What do you want from me right now?" Dean stood slowly himself, entirely unsure what the right course of action was here. Pride kept him from begging Dempsey to stay even if he wanted him to. He really didn't want Dempsey to go gallivanting off back into the Irish countryside to drink himself into dying of exposure in the winter air or finding some hovel to get high in either. Dean wasn't sure he could fix this, but he wouldn't mind trying. He'd been trying.

"You sent me a letter for a reason," he held his hands out uselessly at his sides, a gesture of discontent. "What was the point if you're just going to leave again?" Maybe this was selfish, but he had to know.