Summary: Dean can’t stay, Castiel can’t leave, and Sam’s left to fill out the insurance forms. Watching an angel break is one thing, but figuring out where to put the pieces is something else.
[Cas, I am not Lucifer. Calm the fuck down and just listen. Come on, stop fighting, it’s me, Cas…]
Sam leaves Dean with a desperate, struggling Castiel and goes to find Meg, followed down the hall by Dean’s grunted assurances that he has it “under control, Sammy, just go.” Half an hour later, Sam bursts through the door to find Castiel sitting on the bed and Dean crouched against the wall, staring at his hands.
“He just stopped, man,” Dean says without glancing up. “He was Linda Blair one second and then just, I don’t know. Gone. He stopped struggling, said, ‘It’s fine.’ and sat down. He hasn’t moved for…” He checks his watch. “Ten minutes.”
Sam turns from Dean to Castiel. He tries to examine the angel from the doorway, though he has no idea what to signs to look for. Even offline like this, Cas doesn’t seem human. He’s staring at nothing, but his gaze isn’t empty. It’s like he can still read the universe in every dust mote that floats by his eyes – even if none of it registers. Sam nods. “You think it’s gonna stick?”