Mysterious Ways
AN: If I were being paid for this it would probably be more cheerful! This may or may not go somewhere. Vaguely Dean/Castiel, enjoy!
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Dean doesn't know where it all went wrong. He remembers the vicious arguments with Sam, and how it was like trying to drive reason into Dad when he picked up another trail. The trail. Again. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned to his brother that celestial forces were working against him, but you'd think that'd be enough to stop, save, anyone. He got used to waking up some mornings and Sam not being there. He started to wonder if he did it on purpose, some sort of act of defiance, like when he used to drag his feet home, 'home', from soccer practice, arriving muddied, still in his kit, slyly cheerful. He could be quite torturous sometimes, in a worryingly quiet way. Then, one day, he didn't turn up. Dean doesn't remember if he rolled over and went back to sleep, but he knows he didn't start looking for Sam in that panicking, Hell in his throat, way until the evening, when he still wasn't back, still wasn't answering his phone. I swear, it was like looking for his brother all over again. So when he turned up, a few days late, it was oddly comforting.
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He didn't want to look for Sam at first, he was absent about details in that quiet way; he only promised to hold them off until Dean had taken a shot at finding Sammy. Then again, Sam hadn't been Sammy for a while.
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Dean swears he checked everywhere, and funnily enough, he still had someone in the passenger seat the whole way across the country. He still didn't talk much, he'd just sit in the seat and stare ahead, and he was still vague, wouldn't give straight answers when he didn't like the questions. It was like a hand on his shoulder though, from coast to coast, motel to motel, Hell to... Hell.
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He doesn't know if he's doing the right thing. In every way. One of the others mentioned he was giving Dean false hope, and they were probably right. But he's convinced, no, he knows, that Dean will tear the whole place apart to find his brother. It's sort of his instinct to do so, like it's sort of his instinct to stand by him while he does it. There's this nag at the back of his mind; every second we waste we aren't stopping them, we aren't holding the night back, we're just looking for one man, one man on the wrong side of the front line. And the soldier's getting weary for battle.
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He doesn't sleep, at least, Dean doesn't think so. He still books twin rooms, and he's not sure if he does it out of courtesy, or if he's still just hoping Sam will turn up in the other one each morning. The bed never looks slept in though, and whenever Dean wakes in the night, from Hell, and his own personal one, he's not there. He's always there when he goes to sleep though, and when he wakes in the morning. If he's there in between though, it's a mystery. He doesn't really mind though, if he is there, he's got used to being watched in his sleep, even if he doesn't realise it. Maybe it's the second presence that's comforting, or maybe it's just because Mum was right. Either way, however bad it sounds, sometimes he wishes he could spend forever looking for Sam, because he's going to miss it when he's back, and Castiel is gone.