Time passed Dean by with no real meaning. He was managing to eat and dirnk more, and even ganking monsters and Leviathan had begun to feel almost fun. His mind, however, was still elsewhere. His dreams had been getting more vivid. He had been dreaming about Castiel. Sometimes Castiel was crying out Dean's name, and Dean would dream of running towards the sound of his voice, trying but never succeeding in finding him. Sometimes Castiel was being maimed and tortured by faceless creatures, and Dean was being restrained, unable to get to his friend, unable to save him. Other times, he would dream of the two of them sat by a lake, fishing lines cast in to the water, holding light conversation or an equally comfortable silence. Other times... Dean had often had dreams about Castiel. Ones he didn't understand, and despite the fact he remembered them, he never spoke of them. Never so much as hinted them around anyone, not even to himself. If he admitted it to himself, he'd have to deal with it. Like always, Dean would push them to the back of his mind and pretend they didn't exist.
Sam and Bobby had buried themselves in research, trying to figure out anything at all about the dreaded Leviathan. Of course, nothing too helpful was being turned out.
Bobby cursed quietly and pushed the book aside. "Not a damn thing,"
Sam sighed and ran a clammy hand through his hair. He watched Bobby's eyes scan the room in irritation, and his deep brow furrow. "Where's Dean?"
Sam shrugged, standing up from his chair.
"What's been up his ass lately?" It hadn't gone unnoticed that if Dean wasn't on a hunt or filling his arteries with heavily processed fat in a fast food restaurant, he was in the bedroom. He rarely showed his face.
Bobby sighed, frustrated as he was greeted by a don't-ask-me face from Sam in reply to his question, and he waited whilst Sam vanished in to the bathroom, emerge again, fetch more beer from the kitchen and finally return to his seat with a grunt. Sam huffed and scratched his cheek as his eyes locked with Bobby's.