Dean is like that. Stubborn, determined; it wasn't like he'd ever known what was good for him, always fixed on being the strong one when he'd faced so much evil before Sam even knew what the word 'evil' was. Or any words, actually. Dean had been traumatized right from the start, but Sam had never seen it, never acknowledged it. And here Dean was, hurting, unable to take care of himself because he didn't know how, but stubborning his way through it like he could fight it just by wishing that he was bigger. The same as he had with the Mark, right up until that fight with Death.

Honestly, he still wasn't over that, but he was putting it behind him now, pressing in after Dean even though he tried to put the shower door between them. He was bigger, and he could force the issue if he wanted, reaching past Dean to shove the hot water on and instantly drenching them both.

"There, see? I'm already wet. Now you can't get rid of me." He said it firmly, but then he reached for Dean's arms to steady him. "Hey. Hey, it's okay. He's not getting back in here. I don't care what we have to do. You're safe now, Dean."