"Dean," the resonant voice of the angel spoke from where he'd suddenly appeared beside the older Winchester.

"Cas!" he loudly whispered, startled by his sudden appearance. "You came!"

Castiel narrowed his eyes and his brows pinched, slightly, "Did you not just request my presence?"

"Well, yeah," Dean replied, cocking his head a bit as he shrugged, "But I honestly didn't expect you so soon."

"I don't have much time. But it was the most opportune moment to sneak away. That, and the sound of desperation in your voice told me that you might be in some trouble. What is it that you need?"

"It's Sam," Dean glanced at his still sleeping brother over on the other bed. "I think there might be something wrong with the wall," worried eyes met the pensive ones of the angel who stood before him, now.

"How so?"

Dean stood from his bed and led Castiel toward the kitchenette, before he spoke again, "His memory is a little off." Castiel cocked his head, needing more information. "He forgot about a game we've played all our lives, Cas, and I know it sounds stupid and insignificant. But after trying his best to recall the information, he shut down again; seized like the last time he got a face full of Hell. It's the wall, Cas; I can tell." The worry on Dean's face didn't go unnoticed by his omnipresent friend.

"What is this game you're referring to?"

"Is it important?"

"It could be."

"It's just somethin' we've always played...somethin' that helps us determine who does a job neither of us wanna do. It's not a board game or anything; just a five-second game..."

"Is there anything else he's forgotten?"

"There's no way to know that, right now," Dean sighed, realizing that that had been a stupid question to ask Sam, earlier.

Castiel's gaze wandered around in the air beside Dean as he contemplated. A twinge of guilt seemed to flash his features. He had an idea of what this might be, and why. But he couldn't be certain. "I... Is this a recent development?" he asked as he met Dean's eyes again. "By that, I mean, was there an incident such as this before this past week?"

"You mean with his wall?" Dean raised his brows.

"With the game, Dean."

"Never." Castiel looked away, then down at the floor, before briefly closing his eyes. "Cas, do you have any idea...?"

The angel met Dean's eye, briefly, before they darted away again, "I...will do some digging for you," he stalled. "I'll let you know what I discover."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Dean alone again...in silence. "Thanks, Cas," he whispered with a sigh, and headed back to his bed.

11 00 11 00 11

When Sam woke, he found a note on the bedside table beside him, from Dean.

Went to get beer. Pizza in the fridge.

-D

He glanced toward the closed curtains and could tell it was starting to get dark. Or starting to get light...he wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping. But that didn't really matter, because he was suddenly starving.

When Dean got back to the room, Sam was halfway through the remaining pizza; box open on the bed as Sam flipped through channels on the TV. "You're up," Dean stated the obvious as he locked the door behind him and moved to set the six-pack on the table. "How're ya feelin'?"

"Like I've been sleeping all day," Sam smirked as he threw his crust back into the box. "Can I get one of those?" he motioned toward the beer.

Dean broke one out of its rings and tossed it to his younger brother. "You have been sleepin' all day," he told him as he broke another can out for himself, then made his way to sit on his own bed, facing Sam. "Better part of it, anyway." They were silent for a few minutes, looking at the TV as they drank. Sam picked up another slice of pizza and began eating it. "Cas is looking into this," Dean spoke before taking another sip of his beer.

Sam looked away from the screen and over at his brother, with raised brows, "What?"

"Cas is looking into this whole...thing that happened to you today," Dean clarified.

"You called Castiel?"

"I was bored," he shrugged.

"You were worried about me," Sam cocked his head, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"'Course I was worried," he grunted as he pushed up off of the bed and walked back over to the table. "It's one thing to keep you off certain jobs. But something like this? I dunno what's safe to even talk to you about, anymore, Sam..." he sank down into the chair beside the table.

Sam felt himself nod, set a bit uneasy by Dean's words, but understanding. He tossed the half-eaten slice back into the box, no longer hungry. "So...he thinks he might be able to figure out why that happened?"

"I dunno," Dean sighed. "He said he'd do some digging. On the bright side, he's not back yet. Usually, if there's nothin' to find, he's back pretty fast."

Sam nodded again, then stood and closed the pizza box, picked it up, and brought it back to the fridge before returning back to flop down onto the bed. "So, what do we do until then?"

"Nothin'," Dean replied, casually. Sam looked at him with a quirked brow. "This is the perfect opportunity for neither of us to do any thinkin', Sammy," he smirked. "In fact, I think, right now, it's kind of imperative. So," he stood and made his way back to his bed and flopped down on his back, "We watch hours upon hours of whatever crap TV we can, until Cas gets back here." He propped his feet up and got comfortable.

"Can I get on my laptop, instead?"

"Nope. That's research. Research is thinking."

"You're serious about this?"

"As a heart attack, Sammy," he said as he grabbed the remote and changed the channel. "So get comfortable. Oh, look! A Spongebob marathon! Perfect," he grinned before setting down the remote.

Sam glared at his brother a few more moments, before giving in, settling back against the headboard, and occupying his mind with the nonsense that splayed over the TV screen...

Tbc...