Understanding
"Well, is he alright?"
"Yeah he's alright Cas, as in, he isn't physically wounded or anything; but he is fucking gone in every other respect."
"Do you know if he made it home?" Cas stares helplessly at the wall, hoping answers will somehow appear in front of him, but all that he sees is pale blue paint and the edges of himself in the mirror.
"I have no idea. I got the hell out of there when he basically said we weren't brothers anymore."
"He said that?" Cas could never imagine a world where Dean turned away his adored, little brother.
"More or less. In any case Cas, I am just letting you know where he's at, you know, mentally—just in case he tries to contact you or something. Not that he will, you know Dean. Mr. On-My-Own."
The soullessness of Sam's voice is jarring. Cas has never heard Sam talk about Dean this way—then again, Dean has never been like this before. It's all new and it's all terrifying to him.
"Well, I thank you Sam. Do you want me to let you know if he calls?"
"It's better if you don't, man . . ." Sam lets out an exacerbated grunt "the less I know right now, the better."
Cas chokes on his breath, looking desperately at the floor before nearly whining at the younger Winchester. "But, what if Dean really needs your help?"
"Dean doesn't need anybody but Jack and Jim Beam apparently!"
Cas falls silent, unsure if Sam is making a reference to something or talking about actual acquaintances of Dean's; but he is pretty certain he has never heard Dean speak of friends by those names. The silence flowing from Cas's end of the line seems to soften Sam's voice.
"Look Cas, Dean doesn't want my help. He made that perfectly clear last night. I know you care about him just as much as I do, but neither of us can force him to be normal again. He wants to decide that on his own. All we can do is hope he doesn't kill himself instead."
Cas shudders at Sam's words but remains silent because he knows what Sam is saying is true. After a long breath, Cas nods to himself in the mirror.
"Okay Sam, I understand."
"I wish I had better news on the Dean-front, buddy, I really do."
"As do I."
"Alright man, hey, I gotta go. Hang in there okay? And, you know; if Dean does call you, feel free to talk to me about it. I may not be able to help him but I know this affects you too. I'm here for you, since Dean isn't right now."
"I appreciate that Sam. Talk to you soon."
Sam hangs as soon as Cas's words dissipate into the static. "Goodbyes" were never in the Winchester vocabulary and Cas always appreciated that. Wrapping up conversations or conversations in general weren't one of Cas's strong suits. Dean and Sam always came about words so effortlessly and they could always tell when Cas needed saving or even just some backup when he started to flounder.
Cas sets his phone down on his night stand before looks back at himself in the mirror. His dark hair is sticking up, a mess of waves and cowlicks. Purpled circles cradle his drooping eyes. The usual bright blue rings are now dulled by redness. He hasn't slept well recently—Sam's weekly Dean-updates have been keeping his mind reeling. He wants to help his closest friend; he wants things to be better. He wishes he was as good with words as Sam; maybe it would make a difference.
Cas's mind travels back to what Sam had just told him about the previous night. If Sam's artfully shaped phrases of concern and love didn't make a difference, Cas certainly would not be able make one—even if he did know what to say. Cas knows that Dean doesn't love anyone as much as he loves his brother. How could he just turn him away like that? How could Sam let him give up? How can he fix this?