His stomach lurches, acid filling up the back of his throat.

It makes it easier to bite back his first response.

And his second one.

He can feel his skin tightening, fingers clenched tight enough that the stubs of his nails dig into his palms.

But he knows what he's doing.

God, Dad, who the fuck ever, just let this work. I've gotta get Sam back. I've just --

I have to.

It just goes against the grain, letting her walk around without doing anything.

Giving her what she wants.

But if she gives him what he wants, too, then --

"I should send you back to Hell right now."