It was far later than he thought he'd be getting home. The smell of cheap cigarettes and sweat clung to his shirt, but Sage had only made a comment in passing as she'd patched up his knuckles and the gash in his eyebrow. Her subtle disapproval ran deeper than he expected, but he wasn't about to question her as she wouldn't do the same to him. It had been years since he'd asked her to do this for him and he paid her handsomely for her careful attention to make everything disappear as best she could. She always balked and he always insisted until she gave in.

He hadn't intended to get involved tonight, just to watch. It had been a while since Dean had subjected himself to the ring, but he could feel this unexpected, strange, caged energy under his skin and it turned out to be the right sort of outlet to get the feeling to ebb. He wasn't exactly sure what was causing it, but he hadn't bothered to give it much thought, just figured out a way to get rid of it. It hadn't been pretty, he was out of practice, but he'd needed it regardless. Better to lose some money on the fight than to lose his sanity into the what ifs that kept him up at night.

Now he desperately needed a bath to get the remnants off his skin and to sooth the bruise that was no doubt blooming on his side. There was nothing to be done for that except to ignore it, so he would figure out an excuse if he was questioned. No Hanna tonight and he suspected if Don Juan was waiting for him, it was possible he might be sleeping. It would be easier, but Sage had done her job well and Dean had been careful not to get any blood on his shirt, so he figured he could talk his way out of any questions.

In that thought process, he headed straight home after walking back from the center of town, to give himself more time to cool off, and headed straight into the washroom to start cleaning himself up.