The anguished cry caught him a bit off guard. To be honest, he was likely an empath's nightmare. The buried guilt, pain, anger, and fear wasn't something he'd wish on anyone let alone a young girl who had no choice in the matter.

Dean whirled away from the image of his mother to see the girl drop to her knees in the snow. He started to pull away from the blonde woman, then hesitates, torn. Mary just gives him a warm smile and a nod and Dean breaks away from her to skid to the young girl's side. His hands hovered around her shoulders, wanting to touch her and help her up, but afraid he'd hurt her. She had to be in pain, right? Why else would she cry out like that?

"Hey--" But he was cut off when she spoke. His hands stilled as he watched her and the words clicked. "...this ain't my first rodeo, kid. Of course she's not real." But even saying it out loud made his chest tighten. What he wouldn't give for her to be real right now.

Dean held the match stick between his teeth and shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over the girl's shoulders and hesitantly rubbed her back. "Where're you hurt? Can you stand?"