Angels are wrathful beings. They tune into violence and vanity more than any other emotion. Were he still metaphysical, were he still an angel, Dean's speech would probably fill him with a kind of rage. Make him square his jaw and shove the man against the wall, ground out something alien about deserving respect. As a human, not a single of these things apply.
Rather than being filled with anger, he is only filled with shame. Hurt. Humiliation. He should have never come back here. He knew, it was all but to be expected, and yet he'd come anyway, with the absurd hope that- what- Dean would be as forgiving to him as he was to Sam? Sam may have done a whole lot of shit, but Sam was Dean's brother. He was not. That was made abundantly clear.
The blow to the gut comes as- well, exactly that. A blow. It sucks his breath away, sends a pain rushing to his kidneys, and his arms curl around himself as he staggers back, dropping to one knee with a cough. This body is thin, not muscled like the hunters', not providing very much cushion for defense. He takes it like a girl, by comparison, and heaves out another cough before he can focus.
"Dean-" He works to unlock his throat. "You are the only family that I..."
His mouth closes again, his jaw works, and he wiggles his head a little, shifting his gaze from one place on the ground to another, bringing along with it an acceptance. He should not have come. He should leave now. With a grunt, he pushes himself to his feet and turns away. He should stand and face this before ducking out, but... well, he really doesn't want to get hit again, much as he deserves another few hay-makers to the face.
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Rather than being filled with anger, he is only filled with shame. Hurt. Humiliation. He should have never come back here. He knew, it was all but to be expected, and yet he'd come anyway, with the absurd hope that- what- Dean would be as forgiving to him as he was to Sam? Sam may have done a whole lot of shit, but Sam was Dean's brother. He was not. That was made abundantly clear.
The blow to the gut comes as- well, exactly that. A blow. It sucks his breath away, sends a pain rushing to his kidneys, and his arms curl around himself as he staggers back, dropping to one knee with a cough. This body is thin, not muscled like the hunters', not providing very much cushion for defense. He takes it like a girl, by comparison, and heaves out another cough before he can focus.
"Dean-" He works to unlock his throat. "You are the only family that I..."
His mouth closes again, his jaw works, and he wiggles his head a little, shifting his gaze from one place on the ground to another, bringing along with it an acceptance. He should not have come. He should leave now. With a grunt, he pushes himself to his feet and turns away. He should stand and face this before ducking out, but... well, he really doesn't want to get hit again, much as he deserves another few hay-makers to the face.