Until the new bottle came, Eliot gave Dean back the one he took after another swallow of the brew. It burned right into his stomach and he tried to hold onto that warmth. For a werewolf with higher body temperatures, he felt awfully chilled at the moment.

"I ain't judgin'," he told Dean again and looked at his Alpha hoping to catch the man's gaze. "You did what you did. It was Hell... I don't even know how fucked up that place must be."

He placed a hand on Dean's knee and just rested it there to let the hunter know he was there and he wasn't pulling away.

"Dean... you're right. I have done things I'm not proud of. Horrible, terrible things, and I don't even have the excuse of sayin' I was in Hell to explain it. I'm not a good guy, Dean. Not even close. So I'm not judgin' you. I don't have the right to judge."