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Sam doesn't notice at first, he admits it takes him a few days to figure it out, Dean's been leaving in the middle of the night, to go God knows where, and'll stay out until dawn. He normally wouldn't question it, but that was then, and this is now. This is Dean we're talking about, he wa-has to know, it's been driving him crazy. And it's not because he's disappearing, but because he looks well rested, which he can't believe, considering the fact that he's just up and leaving every night for four or more hours at a time.
He's been oblivious for months, except for one night when he woke up to use the bathroom. He glanced at Dean's bed when he was coming out and it was just, empty, so you can't blame him for freaking out. Natural fucking response when your brother's been in Purgatory for three months, he can't not freak out at that. He calls Dean's phone and it rang next to the bed, he left it and went out to wherever he is.
"Shit." He cursed, yanking a hand through his hair, looking around for a note, some clue he might've left to point where Dean might be, there wasn't anything, and that made him edgy. Dean was probably hungry, went out to get something and forgot to leave a note for him, he tried to convince himself, close to panicking.
Dean was fine, he'd be fine, he had to be. Sam couldn't deal without him again, I mean, he'd just gotten him back from fuckin' Purgatory for Christ's sake.
He's slipping on his boots, not bothering to tie them correctly, just tucking the laces into them, getting ready to go out and yell in the streets for Dean, when he comes through the door.
He raises an eyebrow at Sam's open-mouthed expression. "Uh, Sammy? What're you doing?" And Dean, Dean just can't fucking do that. Leave him in the middle of the night and acting like nothing happened, like Sam isn't worried sick.
"Where were you?" He asks, tone emotionless. Dean shrugs out of his jacket, stepping out of his shoes.
"I was hungry, got a burger at the bar down the street." He answers, watching as Sam relaxes a fraction. It's just a smidge, but it makes him feel better.
"Oh, I was just..." He trails off at Dean's are-you-fucking-kidding-me? look.
"Worried about me? 'm fine, Sammy. 'sides, Cas was there." He flops down onto the bed, hands tucked under his head, eyes closed. Sam sits down on his own bed, watching him carefully, Dean's been spending more time with Cas lately, almost obsessively so.
It worries him, Dean had a problem with it before, always has, Castiel's under his feet constantly, shadowing him at everything and Dean's just... Letting him. It's unsettling, Dean not commenting on it, sometimes even initiating the contact himself.
Dean opens one eye, quirking a brow at him. "Go to sleep, Sammy. I'll still be here when you wake up, just went out for food." Dean's been needing to reassure him lately, Sam almost had a panic attack a few weeks ago when he'd lost Dean in a crowd.
"Kay." He sighed, slipping under his covers, and turning away from Dean. "Sorry." Dean didn't answer.
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They're in a diner a few hours later, Castiel watching Dean carefully as he eats, speaking quietly with Sam about something not important when it hits him.
Dean hadn't smelled like food when he came back to the room.
So what had he been doing?
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Sam's been staying awake at night, waiting for Dean to leave and come back, it's the same routine over and over. They'll spend a day hunting, doing something, anything, it doesn't matter anymore. Dean'll wait for him to go to sleep, and then slip away and come back in a few hours.
It's a cycle that's keeping him awake at night, making him cranky and irritable, not just because he's tired, but because he wants to fucking know. Can't he have that God damn thing? And Dean doesn't know, he just knows somethin's up with Sam, trying to get it out of him and he can't just come out and ask "What the Hell are you doing at night?"
So he snaps one night, pushed to the limit, from not sleeping, and being nervous that Dean's been doing something he shouldn't. So he wait's, pretends to be asleep and Dean's slipping outside, closing the door softly.
He gives himself two minutes of making sure Dean isn't turning around and goes after him. He catches sight of someone sitting on the Impala, just their shadow, hidden by the trees and only outlined slightly buy the light of the motels vacancy sign. He storms over, ready to chew Dean out. He's been sleeping out here?! In winter, what the Hell is wrong with him? He could get mugged or robbed or attacked, and he's just going to stay ther-oh.
Oh.
Oh.
It wasn't Dean like he thought, well sort of. It was Cas and Dean's head was pillowed on his thigh, Dean's legs tucked up close to his chest, Cas' trench coat covering him like a blanket, asleep, soundly, he might add.
"Yes, Sam?" He looks up at him, eyes still soft from watching Dean as he sleeps.
"I just, wanted to know where he was going." He admits, face flushing, embarrassed. Castiel levels him with a steady gaze, his mouth pressed into a soft line.
"You were worried he was doing something illegal?" He tilts his head, nodding thoughtfully as Sam's cheeks darken further. Sam's eyes flick down and he notices he's petting through Dean's hair as he sleeps, not appearing to notice as he does it. He stops when he notices Sam watching.
"Cas?" Dean mumbles groggily, tensing under his hand.
"Hush, Dean. Go back to sleep." He resumes his stroking, muttering a few words in Enochian to him when he won't settle right away.
"This is what he's been doing?" He asks softly, feeling guilty for thinking Dean was doing something bad.
"It's the only way he could sleep there." He looks down at Dean's face. "Apologies for worrying you." Sam rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.
"Thank you." He nudges his chin at Dean's sleeping form. "And if uh," He clears his throat. "You guys can stay in the room like that if you need, actually sleep in a bed."
"Yes... I'll see what Dean thinks of that, he didn't know how to explain this to you." He shakes Dean lightly, waiting a few seconds for him to be coherent. "Dean, would you like to go sleep in the room?"
He grunts slightly, opening his eyes and looking at him. "Sam?"
"We're good Dean." He reassures him. "Just come on, before you catch a cold." He turns, heading back to the room.
"I would never allow him to catch one." He hear's behind him, Cas sounding offended at the mere thought, Dean huffing a laugh.
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Dean's curled up into Cas's side, head on his chest, breathing softly as he sleeps. Sam can catch the smallest sliver of the collar of the trench coat from where it's hidden under the blankets and tucked against him. Castiel has let sleep claim him too, mouth puffing breaths of air onto Dean's hairline, arm curled around his waist.
Smiling softly at the sight, Sam closes his eyes, letting sleep slip around him too.