He frowned, repeating the words silently to himself, mouthing out the shape of them. Sam...and Dean as well.

This felt like a trick, another one of Lucifer's games, or Michael's. Something of both of them? He closed his eyes tightly, mouthing 'enough' in Enochian several times before he blinked his eyes back open.

He was still in the truck, his mouth still tasted like salt. They were still driving.