Sam and Cas are understandably worried about Dean. They're also dealing with the sense of powerlessness that goes hand in hand with knowing a loved one is beyond their ability to help.
Still, they're doing what they can and they're holding out hope that they'll make a break in the case. Eventually.
Though, honestly, it's feeling like they might be better off straight up praying for a miracle.
Locking his brother away had been one of the hardest things Sam had ever had to do.
Honestly, at the last moment, when Sam had suddenly realized whose face he was shutting that door in, he'd been ready to call the whole thing off. After all, Sam knew from personal experience what being trapped in a box with an angry archangel was like. Plus, as good as Dean had always been at hiding it when he was scared, he hadn't been able to hide it this time.
So Sam had been a little more than grateful when Cas had stepped in and taken over for the locking part, because he wasn't sure his hands would've been able to work the keys after what they'd already had to do.
Then, with an understanding look, the angel had told him to go and rest and that he'd keep an eye on things long enough to be sure they hadn't made any terrible miscalculations with the build.
Sam wasn't proud of it, but he'd jumped at the offer and gotten the hell away from that suddenly trembling, screeching,rumbling ma'lak box. Running with tail between his legs not to his own bed, but to one of the countless libraries they'd already given a perfunctory, 'get rid of Michael' comb through. Hoping to find something- anything to distract himself from the fact that he might never see his brother again.
Those next couple of weeks, he'd barely come up for air. Practically drowned himself in dusty tomes, archaic journals, and ancient anthologies in an attempt to find even a shred of proof that that Room wasn't the only thing he could do for Dean. That triple locking and barring the guy somewhere he'd never see the sun again wasn't the best he could do for his brother. For someone who'd helped save the world more times than anybody outside their circle would ever know.
If it had been up to him, he wouldn't have gone back to the build chamber until he'd found a solution. But Cas visited every chance he got. Had been the one who actually thought about whether the archangel in Dean's clothing might need food or water or anything at all, for that matter. While all Sam had been able to think about was how it was his box Dean was spending every passing moment trapped inside.
It wasn't until day fourteen that Sam felt himself shaken from his single-minded, desperate search.
Hearing footsteps approach from the direction of the build chamber, Sam'd looked up from the eight hundred page reference book he'd had his nose buried in since dawn in time to see the unflappable angel he'd known for the better part of a decade hurrying past. A plate full of utterly mashed food balanced in his hands. And the sparkle of fresh tears glinting from his visible cheek.
That was the moment it had finally clicked for Sam that he wasn't the only one there struggling with what they'd both had to do to- the kind of prison they'd had to commit Dean to in order to keep him from a far, far worse fate.
So, with a vow to do better by his fellow griever, he'd dropped a place holder on the open book and jogged out the study door and down the hall. Hoping whatever had the angel upset wasn't too serious that he couldn't help.
Turned out, Cas had been the one keeping the bunker up and running. The one who'd stayed on top of coordinating hunts and managing supplies while Sam had wallowed in self-pity and fear. And every book that even mentioned the word 'angel'.
After that revelation, the next couple of weeks had gone by far more smoothly, with Cas still running point on... everything, but with the big exception that Sam was making the effort to share time between what he normally did around there, and his absolutely compulsive need to delve deeper and deeper into their stores of arcane and obscure lore.
Cas had gotten them through that first month.
Even though he'd been just as affected by Dean's absence as Sam had, he'd pushed through and kept everyone on track the best he could and Sam couldn't hope to thank him enough for it.
That's why it caught him so hard by surprise when suddenly, right around the end of those first four weeks, Cas had started having second thoughts.
"Are you sure about this being the right thing, Sam? It's Dean's body trapped in there," Cas reminded, voice absolutely prickling with unease and apprehension.
"Dean's sure about it and the world hasn't fried yet," Sam said with a hapless shrug. "I think this is our only option right now, so, yeah, I'm sure."
"It's been a month, Sam. It's been an entire month and Michael hasn't eaten a thing. Not only that, but the only communication he's attempted with the outside world is banging on the walls and screaming," Cas said, pursing his lips and motioning toward the prison when it rumbled worryingly. "Case in point."
"If that was what Dean was dealing with, I can kind of understand why he was so Gung-ho about stopping it," Sam admitted with a heavy slump of his shoulders.
"It was worse."
"What?"
"Dean told me, in a private moment, that Michael was, as he put it, 'tireless'," Cas relayed with a sad shake of his head. "But now, perhaps, with his powers smothered as they are, he is feeling the wear of time and is finally... tiring."
"Here's hoping," Sam said with a similarly sad shake of his own head.
Then, after the last of the Room's relatively minor vibrations died off, something Cas had said clicked and Sam turned to the angel with a snap. "Maybe he doesn't like the food! We've been sliding things through the slot that Dean likes, or- or that you or I like, but we hadn't considered what Michael might actually consider eating."
His reasoning must have been sound, because Cas's face brightened. "Yes, that's true, Michael's personality is very different from Dean's. It would stand to reason that he would also have very different tastes in food."
"We don't even know whether he's eaten before. He didn't exactly try to blend in after he got here from Apocalypse World," Sam pointed out, flummoxed that he hadn't thought of it earlier.
"Yes, that too is something to consider," Cas agreed, face pensive.
"Start simple?" Sam suggested.
"Excellent," Cas said, a new sense of determination coloring his features. "I'll begin preparations now," he said as he turned for the kitchen, trench coat fluttering with the energy of his movement.
"Mind if I tag along?" Sam asked as he half-jogged to catch up.
"Not at all. When it comes to matters of the hearth, I'm afraid I can use all the help I can get," Cas admitted, giving his tag along an appreciative glance.
"Don't worry, not a lot of ways we could mess this one up," Sam reassured as the two of them hit their stride. Attitudes hopeful as they approached their destination.
Three hours later though found the two back exactly where they'd started, emotionally as well as situationally. With not an ounce of buoyancy between them and a cold, untouched, obviously rejected dish to show for their efforts.
"Well, that was a bust," Sam admitted with a sigh.
"We cannot allow this to continue. I shall attempt to reason with him," Cas volunteered, before walking right up to the sigil encrusted door and giving it an incongruous, polite knock.
"Michael, Sam and I fear that you require nourishment, which we are well aware you have been rejecting these past weeks." The angel gave it a few good seconds, but continued when there was no rebuttal.
"You have to eat, Michael, I would not lie to you in this. Dean, your vessel, is my dearest friend and you, though from a different dimension, are my heavenly kin. I wish no harm to befall either of you," Cas implored, voice growing more concerned as the moments he took to speak passed uninterrupted by enraged thrashings and screeches. Nor by anything else, for that matter.
Sam watched on as Cas lowered himself onto both knees, bent down so that his eyes were level with the open slot at the bottom of the door, and proceeded to take a cautious peer through it.
"Sam," came the angel's voice, urgency setting the brother's hair on end, "something may be seriously wrong." Cas sat up enough to make eye contact with the hunter, then dropped back down to peek through the slot once more. Almost sticking his face inside to see as clearly as possible. "I think Michael is... unconscious."
"But, how would that-"
"My guess: unintentional deprivation," Cas asserted, the firm nod at the end complimenting the self assured tone. "For angels, as I've mentioned some years ago, eating is not at all the same experience as it is for humans. For an archangel such as Michael..."
"The thought of eating probably makes him want to gag?" Sam offered, biting his lip when Cas nodded once more.
"At this point, I think it more likely than not that he doesn't know how to interpret the feeling of hunger," Cas informed, tone bleak.
"Well," Sam started, expression somewhere between wry and resigned, "guess I'll have to go in there and teach him."
"Sam-"
"Not much else we can do," Sam pointed out, cutting Cas off with a regretful sort of determination.
Thankfully, it took Cas only scant moments to concede the point and before Sam knew it, the angel had moved to unlock the locks they'd made multiple promises to never unlock.
"Michael may possess some modicum of his angelic strength; he should still be... formidable," Cas warned as he looked up from his task. Expression grim.
"Yeah, I know. Thanks for the reminder, but I'm prepared," Sam said as he pulled out and held up their set of archangel tried, tested, and proven handcuffs. "If he's putting on an act, or even if he isn't and just gets defensive while I'm in there, he'll be wearing these, so I think I'll be okay."
"Alright then, but if he makes any sudden moves before those go on," Cas said with a pointed look toward the cuffs, "you call for me. I will assist, in any way I can."
"Thanks, Cas. Wish me luck," Sam said as he watched the angel undo and lift the last of the only things keeping Michael from his goal of eradicating all life on their planet.
"Good luck, Sam. Though, I sincerely hope you don't need it."
"Same here," Sam whispered to himself.
Then, with a grateful nod to Cas as the angel gave the foreboding thing a tug, Sam ducked through the barely opened door. The one Cas was already leaning his body against in preparation for shutting the moment Sam was past. Which the angel did with force to spare.
Reeling just a hair as the clang of the freshly reshut door reverberated through his skull, it took Sam a second to realize just how dark it was in there.
Though, considering the family business was all about dark, obscure places, it was only a couple blinks before the details of the utterly depressing space came into focus. And with them, so did the reason for his visit.
Phew! The editing on this one took forever! Hope it turned out enjoyably readable and that everyone's looking forward to the next one! :D