"I'll see you guys in a little bit," Sam says quietly, turning and exiting the suffocating room with a final nod to his brother and the insane angel. Meg gives Dean a smug smile before shutting the door and leaving with the youngest Winchester to search for whatever the hell they were going to go search for. Castiel stood beside the hunter, expressionless as he and Dean were left alone.
"So," the human mumbles, green eyes scanning around the room and looking for something to fill the silence. "What do you usually do around here?"
Before Castiel could answer, Lucifer appears behind him, jabbing at his back with pointy finger. The angel stiffens, but doesn't move. He knows Lucifer is just of his imagination, but he can't help but react.
"Oh, come on, brother, you have to say something to me!" he sniggers, sliding around Dean to get a better look at Castiel's face. He smirks. "Sam caved in, so you might as well not waste any time."
Cas turns to give the human a dead look, trying to block out Lucifer's annoying voice. Dean furrows his brows, glancing around for a moment before facing his destroyed friend.
"I, uh… what you do for fun around here?" he repeats, frowning. "Or do you just lie around doing nothing all day?"
Castiel blinks, looking dull. "I usually stand beside the window; not lying down," he replies blankly. Lucifer suddenly cackles, and the angel's attention flicks to the hallucination as he begins clapping.
"Wow, little brother, you're really blunt, huh?" he chuckles. "And oblivious."
Castiel's brows knit together, and he glares at the vision without really thinking what he was doing. Dean quirks an eyebrow, and peers over his shoulder at nothing. He turns back to Cas, eyes wide.
"Is Lucifer riding your mind boat right now?" he asks, astonished. Castiel suddenly glances at Dean, realizing what he just did, and he quickly averts his eyes to the floor. He doesn't answer. Dean nearly growls, grabbing Castiel's arm and pulling him away from the smothering walls. He slams open the door, and heads down the hallway with mental institutionalized Castiel.
Castiel remains silent as he walks, his arm extended as he lets the Winchester tug him along the hallway, and to the right.
"We're going to find something to do," he grumbled suddenly without looking at him.
They soon reach the interactive ward, where games and whatnot were filed about the white, large room, chairs and tables scattered across the floor. Dean pauses, taking only a moment to browse the shelves and grab the first board game he could find.
"Sit," he orders, plopping down at a two seated table, peering down at the game he had obtained. Castiel obeys, and sits in the chair opposite of the hunter, his hands carefully resting in his lap as he quietly stares at their table. "Okay, so," Dean begins, studying the name of the game and he instantly regrets choosing this one, "We're gonna play… uh… Sorry."
Castiel finally lifts his eyes, looking surprised and confused. "Dean, why are you apologizing?" he asks, which is about the first actual sentence he has said to the hunter since he and Sam got here.
"No," Dean stumbles, "I- I mean the name of the game is, 'Sorry'."
Castiel blinks slowly, and then lowers his gaze once again. "Oh."
Dean bites his lower lip, pulling off the top cover and pushing it aside. He reaches inside the box and extracts the rules, quickly reading them over. He grimaces. Great. Why did he have to choose this particular board game?
"Alright," he sighs, setting up the game and placing the cards in the middle of the stiff cardboard, positioning them in a neat stack. "So you just pull a card, and whatever number you get, you move your pawn that many spaces." He shrugs. "Easy enough, right?"
Castiel doesn't reply, only stares at the table blankly. Dean shifts in his seat, grabbing the small bag that held the pawns.
"Here, you can have blue. I'll have green, 'cause green is awesome," he quips weakly, putting the pieces in the starting zone. "So! I'll go first." Dean reaches over, pulling a card from the top of the stack. "Cool, I got a five! Not so hard, this game, is it?" He takes a random green pawn and places it five spaces forward. "Your turn, Cas."
The hunter watches the angel carefully, but he doesn't move to extract a card, only stares expressionless at the game board, his azure eyes dull. Dean's breathing quickens, and he leans forward, desperately snatching the first card in the pile.
"H-here, I'll start you off!" he splutters, inspecting the flat card. "Oh, wow, a twelve! Not bad, Cas, you're actually beating me!" he laughs pitifully, waiting for his friend to move the piece, but he doesn't. "Don't worry, I got it," he huffs, straining to snag the light blue pawn from the starting zone, and moving it forward twelve spaces.
He continues to do this routine for three more of their turns, until during Castiel's fourth move, Dean flips the card to see the words, "SORRY!" splattered across the surface, and he scrunches up his nose in confusion. He skims through the rules once more, and discovers what it means. He raises his emerald eyes to blink uncertainly at the crushed angel.
"Uh, Cas?" he tries. "When you get this card, you have to, uh, you have to say 'Sorry' and then bump one of my pawns back to the start," he explains.
Castiel slowly lifts his head to leer at Dean with the slightest hints of sadness that pierces through the hunter's damaged heart. The angel doesn't say anything, only continues to gaze grievously at the man in front of him.
"Cas," Dean chokes out, forcing himself to sit still beneath those horribly, terrifyingly blue eyes. The angel still doesn't answer, nor does he move. Dean clenches his fist that held the card, crumpling it in his hand. "Damn it, Cas, say something!" he pleads, sounding hopeless and utterly desperate. He sounds pathetic. He knows he does. But he doesn't care; he just wants his friend to say something! Anything, it doesn't matter! Just a few words to spill off the angel's lips to ease Dean's worry and anger will do. Castiel's eyes squeeze shut and he presses his lips together in a manner of silence. Dean's lip curls into a snarl, and he grips the game board between his fingers, thrusting the game from the table. Cards and pawns scatter through the air, hitting the hard floor and spilling across the ground. Dean pants heavily, glaring down at the broken angel, but freezes when he notices something. Castiel's attention was focused on a single blue pawn that had survived the attack, and was sitting upright in front of the stiff man. Dean stared, wide eyed, at Castiel, his breathing slowing as he caught his breath. Finally, Cas raised his defeated gaze to stare, pained at the Winchester.
"I'm sorry, Dean."