"I don't want- damn it, Dean, I don't want to die," He snapped. This is just... the sadness is giving way to anger and annoyance. The same he always gets during extended periods of exposure to Dean. Dean is always so... fucking annoying and impossible. He hadn't realized just exactly how grating until now. "I just assumed it was your next logical course of action for retribution- very likely, considering you continue to hit me."

He brought a hand up, flexed his jaw. Not dislocated, just really really painful.

Dean was right, though, he probably was going to get mugged, be homeless, and sleep in the rain. He did feel shame and guilt and disgust, and he was starving. No money for food. No way to get a job without a name, a birth certificate, or any quantifiable human skill or trade.

He'd be more angry about the blow, but the initial anger is fading away again, and he just wants to leave. Just let him leave, Dean. He held up a hand, a gesture of submission, and took a step back. Then another, then another. If Dean was going to punch him again, he'd at least like to be expecting it. "I do not blame you- for hitting me or hating me. There is nothing I can do about the second, I'd at least like to avoid the first."

Because he feels a need to justify why he isn't just taking the beating. His fingertips skim the wall as he backs away, nearing the corner leading to the stairs.