[ sam doesn't need to voice his distress, because it's there, like an elephant in the room the moment anyone says dean's name. and this loss, he thinks, is more bitter than all the rest. if dean were dead it would be lonely, and painful, and difficult, but it would be simple and pure and easier to accept. but dean is alive, and somehow yet further out of reach for them both than he might otherwise be were he actually dead, and that is a whole different feeling, a horse of another color, messy, and abrasive. and his name hangs in the air now between them like a heavy fog, a stone dropped into his belly. things simply don't feel right without dean, the balance is thrown, the loss keenly felt.
but castiel keeps his counsel, because there are more important things to worry about right now, and because somehow he's sure that sam doesn't want to hear it. not to say that that has ever stopped castiel in the past, he's like as not to say his mind any time he thinks to, regardless of what anyone might not want to hear, but there is a time and a place for everything. right now he needs to focus on remaining conscious, and on leaving sam to his self-appointed tasks.
without complaint he shrugs out of his ruined shirt, tugging it away where it sticks to healing scrapes and dried blood, but as promised there is little enough left to be overly concerned with. nothing at least that should require sutures, or immediate attention. but castiel's gaze is fixed on sam, and all of his worry is writ clear on his face, in his eyes. as with most things, castiel can't help but feel personally responsible for everything that's happened with dean, and by extension, the loss that sam is feeling now. if he hadn't been so foolish.. if he weren't always so foolish.. ]
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but castiel keeps his counsel, because there are more important things to worry about right now, and because somehow he's sure that sam doesn't want to hear it. not to say that that has ever stopped castiel in the past, he's like as not to say his mind any time he thinks to, regardless of what anyone might not want to hear, but there is a time and a place for everything. right now he needs to focus on remaining conscious, and on leaving sam to his self-appointed tasks.
without complaint he shrugs out of his ruined shirt, tugging it away where it sticks to healing scrapes and dried blood, but as promised there is little enough left to be overly concerned with. nothing at least that should require sutures, or immediate attention. but castiel's gaze is fixed on sam, and all of his worry is writ clear on his face, in his eyes. as with most things, castiel can't help but feel personally responsible for everything that's happened with dean, and by extension, the loss that sam is feeling now. if he hadn't been so foolish.. if he weren't always so foolish.. ]
Truly, Sam. I appreciate this.