Dean and Castiel Go on a Hunt

Chapter Seven

"What?" Dean repeated, now more forcefully. Sam continued to breathe heavily as he watched Dean's face return to normal. "... Nothing," he muttered. Dean inhaled sharply and looked down at Sam's hand that had a death grip on his left shoulder. Sam followed his eyes and exclaimed, "Oh!" He quickly released him and his arm slumped back on to the rest. "Sorry," he gave a nervous smile. "Yeah," Dean muttered, annoyed as he rubbed his shoulder. Sam shifted in his chair, all while keeping an eye on Dean. (Guilt) The word reappeared before his mind's eye. (Why?) (He thinks it's his fault) (He always does...) The last thought scared him as he glanced at his brother again. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and were surrounded by light bags. His eyes glistened with withdrawn emotion. The scratches on his face, though the blood had finally slowed, were surrounded by dried blotches of it. His lips were dried and cracking (just like his heart). Sam quickly took his attention off the analysis of Dean. (What?) The thought had zipped past him so quickly that he almost didn't catch it. (His heart?) Sam tried to grasp the thought but it disappeared as fast as it had appeared. He sat there dumbfounded by remnants of the thought that had visited him so briefly.

Dean kept his head down, trying to avoid any and all reflective surfaces. He rubbed the back of his neck, it was sore from his sleeping position and several bruises. As he stared down at his hands, images of Cas flashed before him. He quickly picked his head up and looked around for any distraction. "God, how long is this gonna freakin take?" Dean muttered, exasperated. Sam continued his blank stare at the ground as he slowly resurfaced to reality. "Hmm?" He asked with a tired yet curious face. "... Nothing." Sam's soft, concerned gaze towards Dean was hesitant to look away. Dean looked back at him, allowing his eyes to show hints of worry. They both exchanged glances. (Will Cas pull through this one, Sammy?) (I don't know) Sam immediately looked back down, upset that he was unable to reassure Dean. Dean sat frozen as his lip began to quiver. He bit it down and took a deep breath. "Dean, I - " "No, Sammy it's -" Dean paused to recollect himself, he took another breath and continued, "It's ok." He nodded lightly with a miserable smile. "Can't Cas heal himself?" Sam asked. "I don't know. He might have enough Grace left to do it but... I don't know." Dean was becoming sick of those three words: I don't know. They both sank back in their chairs with a tired sigh.