It's no worse than the discomfort that preceded it - pressure in Dean's chest, the shallowness of his breath over the panicked skitter of his heart. No worse, but for the presence of Kisuke's fist in his chest elbow deep.

Dean exhales in relief when it's over, clutching one hand to the spot, but of course his flesh is whole. And now that freaky glowing shell is inside of him.

"Hardly my soul's first fisting," he says, rubbing. "Feel free to hit me with the entendre next time."