[He mutters a "shut it" when Dean grumbles, but it's more out of habit than anything. Once Bobby pulls away, he eyes Castiel, who looks strangely fragile without that damned coat. Here the angel was, brought back from the dead and standing off to the side like they weren't family.]
The hell's wrong with you, boy?
[He beckons with his hands. You're coming to him, damnit.]
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The hell's wrong with you, boy?
[He beckons with his hands. You're coming to him, damnit.]