He almost smiles, because oh, those words. They don't remember, neither Dean nor Sam, the way he cradled their bright, glowing souls close in Hell, so small against the mass of his Grace. How he'd whispered 'I've got you, now' before raising them up - or trying to, in Sam's case.

And now they've got him, don't they?

"Yes," he agrees. It doesn't sound relieved, not quite yet. There's tension between one place and the next, tension in the fact of what's to come, and he almost wishes he were back home, trying to ask for a drink so he can survive entertaining their guests.

Instead, he holds on to both his boys and makes it through the ride to the bunker with only a few tears spilling down his face.