"Seventeen," he said, sounding as if he really had a hard time with that concept, that he was ever ... seventeen. Claire's sudden realization that she was only five when he was that age might've widened his eyes slightly, and they flashed down towards her, to read her expression. Was she horrified, realizing she'd been making out with a guy twelve years her senior moments before? Or more likely, was she horrified that that guy had kissed her in the first place? Yeah, it was probably messed up. But Claire had been through a lot more in her life than regular teenagers, and Dean never saw the measure of a person's age in terms of numbers (except where it was a legal concern). So while he might have felt uncomfortable for a moment, he was a lot more concerned about her judging him, than about whether it was wrong.

But then again, he chastised himself, Claire was still an innocent eighteen year old, when it came to sex. If she'd let him keep going, who knows what he might have done to strip that away.

Unsettled, he tried to scrabble back for the peace he found from the story he was telling.

"Sam uh, he thanked me. And... gave me a hug. It wasn't somethin' we did a lot, even then, but I mean, he was a kid, and he was just... grateful. And it... meant the world to me. It really did." He felt his heart clench up with emotion just remembering it now, even though it wasn't as clear as reliving it. "We just spent that whole night setting 'em off until we set the field on fire by accident, and had to run for it."