"Dean, Dean! What are we gonna do with him?"
"I don't know," Dean admitted from the edge of the seventies inspired bed while Sam paced back and forth nervously.
"Well, does he eat? Or sleep? Or—" Sam was starting to piss off Dean.
"I DON'T KNOW SAMMY! I was with you when we found him," His face calculating and worried, he observed Cas's vessel searching for some sort of answer. The vessel hadn't moved once since being plopped down into a chair across the room. No expression or anything, it was like he was in a sort of trance or coma. He was just empty.
"…but I don't understand, if Castiel isn't in there, what about Jimmy? There has to be someone in there right?"
"Sam, don't make me repeat myself," Dean threatened. Sam released a deep stress filled sigh and plopped down on the bed parallel with Dean's. Dean felt the tension in the room and his own mind wasn't doing too much to help the situation. It's your fault. You have to do something. Castiel's dead and his vessel is all that's left. It's ALL your fault. His chest began to tighten while his throat was swelling shut, "I need some air. Be back in a while," and with that Dean ducked out the door.
"What are we gonna do with you Cas?" Sam coaxed pointlessly from the edge of the bed.
The cool night air aggressively licked at his lungs, releasing him of his anxiety. Dean filled his lungs and counted to ten before gingerly releasing his feelings in one big roar. Cas had been eating at the back of his mind since he disappeared and now that they found his vessel, all that panic and worry came flooding through. He hadn't had a chance to process since losing him. Things were getting more and more complicated. But now that they found his vessel maybe, just maybe he could get Cas back.
'Room 206,' the key taunted. Dean steadied his hand and slid it into the lock. The lights were off and Sam was passed out on his computer. He made his way through the door to Sam and convinced him to get some shuteye. Sam groggily accepted the terms and conditions when he noticed the hundred and seventy-eight pages of gibberish on his screen. He moaned angrily then let Dean tuck him into bed. Dean thought back to when they were kids and how it was his duty to take care of his brother. Dad would be out on a hunt and he would have to tuck Sam in at night sometimes. An innocent smile spread across Sam's face and Dean chuckled at the sight. What was he, 5?
Dean turned to face the rest of the room. The vessel, still unmoved, stared back at him. A chill ran down his spine when he made eye contact in the dim light. Dean made his way across the room, snagging a blanket as he silently tramped. He wrapped the man with it as he thought, can he even get cold? He knelt down next to the shell of his friend, once again searching his face for some sort of sign. A lump grew in his throat as Dean placed his shaky hand upon the man's forearm and squeezed hoping for reassurance. Still no movement from the vessel, his chest tightened again and he whispered, "Cas, I need you," before situating his forehead on the mans leg.
Dean was a mess hunkered down next to the vessel. Every attempt to hold back his emotions failed and tears rolled down his cheeks, soaking Castiel's thigh. Silence suffocated the room while Dean wept. He squeezed Cas's arm one more time before gathering himself up to stand. With one last weary look he turned defeated to get in bed when he heard a hushed familiar grumble, "Hello Dean." His heart dropped as he jumped to face the man but all that he saw was a bloody stream of tears dripping down his face before Castiel's light went out again.