"Sorry," Sam says, helplessly, trading a look with Dean as they ease her to the floor. "Sorry. I got you. It’s okay. It’s -- it's gonna be okay."

She doesn't seem to hear him; Meg's focusing on something else. "A year."

"What?"

"It’s been a year," Meg repeats, and sends Sam's world spinning around him.

A year. She's been-- that thing's been using her for a year?

What do you say to that? How is there anything to say to that? The answer's simple. There isn't, and so he falls back on what he can at least try to do.

"Just take it easy," Sam reassures her.