Sam had gone to read in his room after his brother had requested some time to think. He thought things would be better after Castiel entered Dean's dream, and for about thirty-seven seconds they were. That is, until Dean had to go be Dean and Dean all over everything with his infuriating Dean-ness. At first Sam had not understood why Cas had disappeared, nor did he understand his brother's reticence. He knew now that it had been too much to hope for a happy ending, that Dean and Cas would emerge a loving couple and all the neuroses and past hurts would simply evaporate into bliss and calm.
I was so fucking naive , thought Sam, frustrated with himself. While his brother was a man of simple tastes, he was not a simple man. And Castiel, well he wasn't a man at all. Sam knew Dean loved Cas, and now that Dean had admitted as much it felt like it should be such an easy fix. Just talk to him! Tell him how you feel! What you want! Use your goddamn words!
Sam knew Dean feared the worst, that there was nothing he could do to fix the situation. That he didn't deserve for the situation to be fixed. It infuriated Sam, because he felt so strongly that Dean deserved something good, to feel good. To feel loved. He'd sacrificed so much for the family business, and for Sam. He didn't know what he'd do without his brother, and to see him go from melting down with self loathing to, well… melting down with self-loathing was almost too much to bear. When Dean's heart ached, so did Sam's.
Sam was glad when he heard the pipes groan. Good, he's taking a shower. Sam returned to his book about the Chicago World's Fair. Sam loved historical non-fiction. It was such a pleasant escape from the daily grind of witches and demons and lycanthropes. He got lost in the details, and was particularly entranced by the section on the first Ferris Wheel when he heard the pipes groan again. He looked down at his watch. Jesus , he thought with mild panic. He's been in there almost an hour. He put the book down and stood up quickly, strode out the door and down the hall to the bathroom.
He banged on the door loudly with his whole forearm. "Dean?" he called out over the sound of the shower. He heard nothing. "DEAN!" he called, louder this time, panic rising in his voice. He tried the handle and found it unlocked. He rushed in and pulled the curtain aside to find his brother sitting in the shower, shivering as ice cold water poured over him. His eyes were closed. Sam quickly shut off the water and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his brother's shoulders and he knelt down beside the tub.
"Dean? Dean, pal, can you hear me?" Sam said quietly, voice edged with concern. He rubbed the flat of his hand in a circle on Dean's back, over the towel. Dean lifted his head and stared into Sam's eyes with a haunting look.
"Sammy, I'm fucking exhausted," he whispered hoarsely.
"It's okay, Dean. I'll help you to bed."
Without another word, Sam helped Dean stand and step out of the tub. Shakily, Dean pulled the towel down and wrapped it around his waist, still shivering. Sam got another towel and draped it over his brother's shoulders and steadied him as he walked back to his room. When Dean got to the doorway, he stopped.
"No, not here, Sammy. I am not gonna sleep in this room ever again," he said with exhaustion and defeat coating every syllable.
"No problem, pal. Here, you can sleep in my bed tonight. I'll take your bed. Is that okay?" Sam was nearly in tears seeing his brother so lost.
"That's good, Sammy. That will be just fine," Dean said, still shivering.
The brothers kept walking until they got to Sam's room. Sam grabbed some clean sweatpants and a t-shirt for Dean from his room. He came back and handed them to Dean who accepted them vacantly. Sam turned around to give his brother some privacy and said, "Dean, I just want you to know, I'm here to support you, no matter what. You opened up to me, and I think that everything you said, well… it was fucking beautiful. I am so proud of you, Dean." Upon hearing no response, Sam turned around to see his brother, sweatpants and t-shirt on, curled up on Sam's bed fast asleep. Sam's face fell. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he quietly walked over to the bed and pulled a blanket up around his brother. He headed out the door and before closing it he turned one last time to make sure that Dean was still there, still breathing. As he backed into the hall he heard a static crackle of feathers and he turned around to find himself face-to-face with Castiel, Angel of the Lord.
"Jesus, Cas!" hissed Sam.
"Hello, Sam," Castiel replied, voice low and sad.
Sam grabbed Castiel's jacket and guided him down the hall. "You came back!" he exclaimed in whisper tones. "Dean thought you'd never come back!"
Castiel tilted his head and furrowed his brow. "Sam, what do you mean?"
"I mean," said Sam emphatically, "that after he was a total ass to you he thought he'd scared you off for good. He's been going on and on about how terribly he feels. Cas," Sam dropped his tone," he told me what happened in his dream. What you did. What both of you did."
Castiel froze, waves of conflicting emotion washing over him. But I thought Dean was the one mad at me. That he wanted me gone. That I had reciprocated his attention in error. "Sam," Castiel swallowed hard, "do you mean to say that Dean is not mad at me?"
"Mad? Are you kidding? He's absolutely despondent. He loves you. Cas. He just doesn't know how to say it."
Castiel's face softened and his eyes misted. He reached toward Sam and pulled him in for a strong hug, and whispered, "he does not need to." Castiel released Sam and looked him in the eye. "I have a plan. Do you know a Lloyd Dobler by any chance?"