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Cas knew about throwing up as a sort of theoretical concept. He had known it was a thing humans did, Sam and Dean had mentioned it occasionally, usually under a variety of not-quite-endearing nicknames, and during the trials Sam often disappeared to the bathroom and came back noticeably paler. They had once discovered a particularly badly decomposed body out on a hunt, strong smelling, slightly swollen, and already well on its way to being consumed by the local insect life, primarily maggots. Sam had gagged a bit, but Dean had promptly turned on his heel and left, and Cas found him leant against the wall of the disused cabin coughing up his lunch: it looked unpleasant, and he had been rather glad in that moment to not be human.
Castiel had since become human.
They'd been driving back to the bunker from a hunt Cas had been minimal help on, and stopped at what he had to admit was one of the more dubious establishments Sam and Dean had eaten at over the years, but it also wasn't the worst. Sam had taken one look at the very large menu and promptly announced he was sticking to coffee. "Dean, one of us needs to not get sick."
"It'll be fine," Dean replied, leaning back in the vinyl booth. It had a few odd stains on it, and was in need of wiping down, but then again, they weren't cooking off the benches.
"Yeah, you'll probably be fine, but I'm pretty sure you're immune to food poisoning at this point. Cas, if you're really hungry just stick to fries," Sam advised, nose wrinkled.
"He's just annoyed because his vegan smoothie stands or whatever aren't open this time of night. Besides, we've eaten in way worse places."
"I have seen worse," Cas agreed.
"Yeah, and you know what? Some of those places didn't end well," Sam pressed. "Do you remember that pizza place in Wichita?"
"Yeah, and I was fine."
"I wasn't."
"Pretty sure you've just got a weak stomach, dude. I'm telling you, it's all the organic crap you eat, that pizza was just too much of a shock to your delicate system, we've gotta get some grease in you more often." Sam glared pointedly across the table at Dean. "Honestly, Cas, it'll be fine." Cas was generally inclined to listen to Dean over Sam when it came go human matters, and if he was being honest, Sam regularly turned his nose up at food that Cas would consider uninspiring at worst.
"I think I'll get pancakes." He was partial to them: Dean said he had a sweet tooth.
"Sounds good."
It was not, in fact, good.
They had been back at the bunker for a few hours but Cas could not get to sleep because his stomach hurt, not badly, just an unsettled ache, almost like he'd over-eaten, though he hadn't actually finished the pancakes (they had been alright when they were warm, but the lack of flavour and vaguely rubbery consistency had gotten more apparent as they cooled). Eventually he got up, assuming he'd get water or go to the bathroom or whatever his body wanted of him this time so he could rest: all he knew was that something felt decidedly wrong.
The war-room light was on, and when Cas glanced through the doorway he wasn't surprised to see Sam hunched over a thick book: probably trying to find a way to kill Abaddon after they'd failed to close the Gates of Hell. Were they supposed to be researching? Cas had assumed that, given they'd just gotten off a hunt, they would be resting, and Dean had definitely gone to bed.
None of this was his most pressing matter anyway. Cas decided that, as much as Dean was generally his go-to for human matters, this was still a question Sam would be able to answer, maybe even more so than Dean if the diner conversation was anything to go by. "Sam?" Sam's head snapped up from the book, frowning.
"Cas? You good?"
"How do you know if you're going to throw up?" Sam's brows shot up, and he immediately stood.
"If you're asking that, it probably means you're going to. Come on." Sam started herding him towards the bathroom with an urgency Cas did not have the energy to match, given he didn't feel like moving anywhere particularly quickly.
"You didn't answer my question." Sam's face pulled.
"You'll know. It'll feel pretty bad." Cas considered this a decidedly non-specific answer, but decided he couldn't be bothered arguing the point.
The bunker bathrooms were fairly spacious, so it wasn't tight with him and Sam in there. "Better sit down," Sam stated, indicating to the corner of the bathroom next to the toilet. Cas complied, hearing his stomach gurgle in a way that registered as vaguely disquieting. He had always taken it for granted that things usually moved in the traditional direction through his digestive system, and he seldom had to consider the possibility that they could come back up, though he was beginning to give the idea a little more thought.
"I'll go and get water so you can rinse your mouth out. You want anything else?" Sam asked, expression transparently worried, and Cas shrugged. He wanted his stomach to settle and to go back to bed, so he could sleep, then get up the next morning to train or help research.
"Not really." Sam patted him on the shoulder and disappeared, and Cas heard his quick retreating footsteps down the hall. Curling up slightly, Cas wrapped his arms around his midsection and closed his eyes. A minute or so later, Sam came back in and there was the soft rush of water filling up a glass, followed by a quiet clink as it was set down on the sink.
"How're you feeling?"
"Worse." Sam made some vague, sympathetic noise, before Cas heard him sit down.
"You'll probably feel better afterwards." Cas hummed: he sincerely hoped so. He had to concede that Sam had been right in that he was, by that point, acutely aware that his digestive system wasn't happy with him, and it did indeed feel bad. Sam pushed the toilet lid up, and Cas felt himself shudder as his stomach lurched threateningly. He was only in sweat pants and a t-shirt he had... acquired from Dean, but he felt entirely too hot.
"What do I do?" Cas asked, daring to open his eyes in order to peer at Sam: the bathroom light seemed entirely too bright. It had always seemed fairly involuntary to his eye, so he assumed being sick didn't require much conscious input, but he didn't know for certain. He'd studied humans for years but he knew so little about being one.
"Try aim for the toilet and not the floor," Sam replied with a grimace. A few moments later, Cas' stomach was crawling up his throat, and he knelt dry heaving over the toilet bowl until the pancakes made an abrupt reappearance. It felt, tasted, smelt and looked disgusting.
"You're fine, it'll be over in a minute," came Sam's voice from beside him, and Cas became vaguely aware of the hand on his back. Cas coughed, and gagged a few times, succeeding in bringing up a string of saliva and not much else, before his stomach grudgingly decided it was done, and he slumped back against the wall. His eyes and nose were running, his mouth tasted awful, and the crawl-out of his skin heat was disappearing as fast as it had come, the cool tile of the bathroom growing less pleasant by the second. He grabbed some of the toilet roll to wipe his face, as Sam reached for... something.
"Here, rinse your mouth out," Sam advised, and a glass of water entered Castiel's field of vision. He mumbled out something that at least resembled 'thank you', glad that Sam only let go of the cup once he had a good grip on it. The water did make his mouth feel slightly cleaner, though Cas suspected he wasn't getting the taste out for at least the rest of the day.
Finally, he tucked himself into the corner between the toilet and the wall, keeping his arms against his body and trying to chase off the goosebumps now running up them. "That is... unpleasant," Cas observed.
"Yep." Cas closed his eyes again, resting his head against the cistern: it was too cold against his shoulder, but pleasant for his head. “You want me to go get you a blanket or something?” Cas shook his head: there didn’t seem much point.
“I’ll get up in a minute, just…”
“Yeah, I get it, you’re good.” Cas folded his arms and drew his knees up, feeling faintly stupid.
"Just say it," Cas grumbled.
"Huh?"
"You told me so." Sam did his odd huff-scoff thing.
"I'd say that to Dean if he'd gotten sick, not you." It was more the sort of thing Sam would say to his brother, not to Cas: they were still too awkward for ribbing, and sometimes even then Sam would look at him with something dangerously similar to faith, as if Cas were still an angel and not an unusually ill-equipped human.
"If you brush your teeth that usually gets the taste out."
"I will take that into consideration." His current position wasn't comfortable, and he was cold, and he did want to try brushing his teeth, but all of those things required standing up, which he did not seem like an appealing concept. "Is this a regular occurrence amongst humans?" If it was, he would like to be prepared, but mostly he was hoping Sam was going to say 'no'.
"Kind of depends. Uh, hangovers won't do you any favours, and if you eat at a lot of questionable diners that doesn't help, but it's not that frequent. If you don't drink too much, maybe a few times a year?"
"I am not eating at any questionable diners again," Cas grumbled, Sam laughed.
"Yeah, you learn that one the hard way."
"And you did this regularly during the trials?" Cas asked, and there was a pause, so Cas opened his eyes again. Sam looked briefly conflicted, probably because the trials weren't something they talked about if or when it could be helped, and Cas was beginning to wonder if he'd overstepped when Sam replied.
"I mean, towards the end, yeah, but it's not quite as bad when you haven't had much eat. Didn't do my teeth any favours though."
"That sounds unpleasant."
"Yeah, well, it's over now," Sam replied, and he didn't quite manage to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but it was gone a moment later. "You feeling any better?" The feeling that Cas could now identify as nausea had gone, which was an immense relief.
"Yes, actually. I will probably go back to bed." Sam offered him a hand up, which he took because his legs still felt slightly weak. He had been able to lift a car at one point.
"Just shout or text if you need anything. And probably keep the garbage can nearby in case." Cas really hoped he wouldn't need it, just once had been bad enough so he couldn't fathom throwing up a second time, but he had to concede that it wasn't a wholly unreasonable precaution. Cas gave a grunt of acknowledgement, Sam patted him on the shoulder with a small smile, before leaving Cas to head back down the hall towards the warroom.
The toothpaste did indeed leave his mouth tasting mostly of mint and only a little of vomit, which was a relief, and he made the trek back to his room, eager to get back under the covers and sleep.
For about ten minutes he was extremely comfortable, lying peacefully on the cusp of rest, then his stomach gave another warning gurgle and it became increasingly clear that he was not going to get to stay in bed. Not entirely sure how long he was going to be able to safely put it off for, Cas dragged himself back out of bed, feeling irritable and sorry for himself
The trip to the bathroom seemed to take forever, and it was only when he got there that he decided he maybe should have brought a robe or something similar because the bathroom hadn't gotten any warmer. He sat down on the floor next to the toilet and resolved himself to being cold, because he really did not want to risk walking back, nor could he find the energy: hopefully it would be over soon.
Two minutes or so later, there was a knock at the door. "Is it alright if I come in?" Sam's voice again.
"Yes," Cas grumbled. There was the click of the door latch, and he opened his eyes to see Sam holding out a blanket and a hot water bottle. "It'll help with the cramps." Cas took both, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and pressing the hot water bottle against his stomach: it did help somewhat.
"Thank you." Sam hesitated in the bathroom doorway.
"You uh, want someone to talk to?"
"You're busy with research." Finding out how to kill Abaddon was clearly a higher priority than his potential boredom. Sam fidgeted.
"Honestly, I wasn't really getting much done. But if you want privacy I can get back to plugging through it. Or, I could wake Dean up if you'd prefer him, I mean, he'll be cranky but it's Dean, he'd probably stay with you." Cas considered for a moment: he didn't enjoy being seen in his current state, but sitting alone in the bathroom at two in the morning was slightly dispiriting.
"I have nothing against your company, and if you don't think it will make a difference, then yes, it would be my preference that you stayed." Sam sat down adjacent to him with a small grunt.
"Still not feeling great?" Cas hummed in confirmation.
"Does Dean really never get food poisoning?" He asked a moment or so later, immediately sensing this was a stupid question: obviously he must do, even if infrequently, Dean was human after all, probably the most human out of the three of them.
"Not never," Sam replied, and Cas closed his eyes again, the bathroom entirely too bright in his current state. "Gosh, one time when he was... uh, sixteen I think? I would've been twelve; he got sick really badly off some burger joint, I freaked out and rang Bobby at like... eleven in the evening because Dean hadn't drunk anything in a day and I thought he was gonna die. He was fine the next morning, even made fun of me for worrying, the dick. Made me ring Bobby back to say sorry for calling so late." Cas could imagine it: he could maybe also imagine Dean was probably exaggerating how fine he'd been to make Sam worry less; they both did that, really.
"Does it normally last that long?" Cas asked: he honestly thought he'd rather die than last twenty-four hours as he was.
"Oh, no, a few hours usually."
"Good." Sam was quiet for a moment, so Cas could hear the old pipes humming and clanking.
"You ever been to an aquarium?" Cas frowned.
"No."
"We should go some time, once we deal with Abaddon, I think you'd like them." Sam sighed, and Cas heard him shift. "I don't think we've been to one since we were kids."
"What fish do you like?" Cas asked, trying to imagine an aquarium, trying to imagine anywhere other than the bunker bathroom.
"Like I said, it was ages ago, and uh, it's not really a fish, but I remember this aquarium we went to in... Minneapolis I think, it had this really big tank with kelp growing in it and a bunch of different fish: I stared at it for ages, just watching them swim around, until Dean got really bored and dragged me off to go see the sharks. It was nice." Cas could sort of imagine, and decided he maybe would like to see an aquarium.
"Perhaps we should visit one, provided Dean doesn't find it too boring."
"If he does, he can always ditch us and... go hustle pool or something." Cas smiled for a moment, before his stomach abruptly decided the touching moment had run its course, and he immediately dropped the blanket off his shoulders and pulled the toilet seat up, once again that uncomfortable, sticky sort of hot.
"Being human... has a great many downsides," Cas choked out.
"Yeah, it kind of does." A hand settled hesitantly on his back between his shoulder blades, and it soothed whatever social, mammalian part of the human brain had come over millennia to associate touch with comfort. A moment later he was dry heaving, then not-so-dry-heaving over the toilet bowl, his front cramping more than before as his stomach put a great deal of effort into fastidiously ridding itself of any traces of the stupid pancakes, and then some.
By the time he was done coughing, his legs felt decidedly jellyish, and he slumped back down onto the floor with a groan. Sam patted his back then stood up, and Cas had a damp flannel then a glass of water handed to him. Finally, Sam sat down next to him again as he tried to get his breath back. He felt spent.
"How long is this going to last?" Cas asked, closing his eyes and letting his head tip back against the wall.
"Depends," Sam replied, which wasn't the answer Cas wanted. "That could be it if you're lucky."
"I don't feel very lucky."
"Give it an hour. Usually if you can go an hour without anything coming up, you're good, provided you take it easy the rest of the day." Cas did not really want to 'take it easy', not when they had a knight of Hell breathing down their necks and he was still struggling to keep up with two hunters who'd spent their whole lives fighting as humans. Or, nearly their entire lives, Cas supposed Sam had powers for a brief period.
"How do you do this?" Cas asked.
"Usually with Dean hovering over my shoulder: you should be glad he's slept through all this."
"No, being human," Cas grumbled. Sam shifted slightly, though it more qualified has fidgeting than anything else.
"Not sure I'm the person to ask that," Sam replied with an awkward laugh.
"You are human for most intents and purposes." Sam didn't reply to that, so he carried on. "It's so much eating and sleeping, and then the food you ate was the wrong food because that is apparently a point of concern, so now I can neither eat nor sleep for the foreseeable future." When Cas looked over, Sam was giving him a small, lopsided smile.
"Tell me about it."
"It's extremely stupid." Sam laughed, a little more earnestly.
"Yeah, it is. I could get so much done if I didn't need to eat or sleep, and don't get me started on injuries." Sam paused, before adding, "you probably shouldn't think like that, though."
"'Do as you say not as you do'?" Cas replied with half-hearted air quotes.
"Yeah." They were quiet for a small while, during which Cas let Sam help tug the blanket back over his shoulders and he settled with the hot water bottle over his stomach again: the muscles there hurt significantly more than they had beforehand.
"You are still an effective hunter, even as a human," Cas stated, trying to get back to his original point.
"Yeah, but you'll learn, or you'll get your grace back." He truthfully could not wait for the day he got his grace back: he felt so utterly useless stuck as a human.
"But I am currently slowing the two of you down," Cas pressed matter-of-factly, not expecting Sam's face to tug like it did when he was reminded of some unpleasant aspect of his past.
"Don't. I mean, I get it, back when I first started Dad and Dean were already leagues better than me and I hated it. Hell, you've already improved a lot." Cas scoffed: the only way had very much been up. Sam caught his arm, and Cas looked over, seeing Sam looking horribly earnest. "Look, you're not some burden, you're our friend, and we don't just... keep you around because you're useful. We want you with us, human or angel, I mean, I know you obviously didn't see before, but Dean's a lot happier with you here, we both are. I'd prefer if the circumstances sucked less, but it's nice having you around." Sam blinked, glancing up at the bathroom ceiling, as Cas tried to work out what to do with any of what he'd just said.
"I get it's hard not to think of it that way, but it's not how me and Dean think about it, I promise." Cas swallowed, not sure how he was expected to respond. He supposed he believed Sam, though he wasn't sure how he offered value if he wasn't useful: he had to take it on faith, he supposed dryly.
"Thank you," he replied after a beat: it seemed appropriate, though wholly inadequate.
"It's fine, just... yeah, I've been there and it's not great." Cas couldn't really imagine Sam as anything other than an experienced hunter, but he had to concede that both Sam and Dean must, as the saying went, have started somewhere.
"It is not." It seemed impossible to articulate how 'not great' Castiel felt about his lack of abilities. He would help with research the next day when he wasn't... indisposed: that at least he was capable of.
They talked about nothing of note for a while: Sam asked him about what different dinosaurs looked like, and he did his best to answer, though they were hampered somewhat by the Enochian and English names being different, and that carried on until Cas' stomach made its final protests known, and he was back to being leant over the toilet as Sam rubbed his back.
Afterwards, Cas quizzed Sam on various monsters, and Sam provided answers that while thorough, bordered on lengthy, and Cas had a sneaking suspicion he had ended up an unwitting captive audience to the sorts of detailed explanations Dean fundamentally did not have the patience for. About halfway through Sam's exhaustive description of Kelpies and their regional variants, Cas began to experience some difficulty keeping his eyes open. Eventually he ceded defeat and closed his eyes, with the assurance that he was still listening. It was important information. Probably.
Cas woke up to whatever he had his head rested on moving and the sound of voices. Squinting, he made out Dean stood in the doorway to the bathroom in his nightclothes, looking down at him and Sam, and that what his head was rested on was probably Sam's shoulder. Feeling incredibly stiff, Cas straightened up. "Rough night?" Dean asked, and Cas realised he was being spoken to.
"Yes." Cas paused to clear his throat: he was barely awake and his neck and back hurt. "I'm taking Sam's verdict on the safety of eating establishments in future." Dean winced, and it was very evident he felt guilty.
"Yeah, that's fair. I'm sorry man, I honestly thought it would be fine." In the grand scheme of things, it was certainly not the worst thing they'd brought upon each other.
"I expect I can forgive you."
"No more cracks about my 'delicate constitution' though, you're clearly the weird one here," Sam remarked, and Dean sucked a breath in through his teeth.
"I'll think about it." Dean turned back to Cas. "You feeling better at least?" Better, Cas decided, was a relative term: he felt like towel someone had wrung all the water out of, but he didn't think he was going to be sick, which was an improvement of sorts.
"Yes, thank you." Sam checked his phone: it said it was seven in the morning.
"It's been... two hours, so you're probably good. Sorry, falling asleep wasn't a part of the plan."
"Usually happens if you've been awake for, what? Forty-eight hours," Dean remarked.
"I slept in the car." Sam started to stand up with a grunt, taking Dean's hand when offered.
"Go to bed, both of you, Jesus." Cas let Dean tug him upright as well, finding the floor listing beneath his feet and his legs definitely not as strong as he was used to. Dean caught his shoulder with a slightly worried smile.
"Easy tiger, might want to take it slow the rest of the day."
"I'll think about it." He definitely needed some amount of rest before helping: as it stood, he gave himself maybe twenty likely ineffective minutes of staring at a book before he fell asleep, and the thought of hunching over the library table did not thrill him or his already sore back. Was being human nothing but a series of aches and inconveniences? Again, he used to be able to pick up cars, and now he couldn’t keep his eyes open to read a book.
"Well, good, I guess. I'll go get you water before you shrivel up. You sure you're feeling alright?" Cas was beginning to understand the slightly harried look Sam sometimes got when Dean was 'mother-hen-ing'.
"I'm just tired." Dean patted his shoulder.
"You need anything, just text: I slept like freakin' baby, so I'll be awake." Cas wasn't completely sure he believed that, but he decided he did not feel like arguing.
"Thank you." Sam smiled, grabbed the glass Cas had been washing his mouth out with, and followed Dean out the bathroom. Cas shuffled himself around to face the sink so he could brush his teeth: his reflection looked visibly haggard, so he tried to ignore it.
"Bedrooms are the other way," came Dean's retreating voice.
"Yeah, but I was in the middle of chapter on Hell's hierarchy before, you know, and I want to finish it before I completely forget where I was at." Cas sighed: as soon as he was of any use again, he really needed to pitch in. Still, he needed those few hours of sleep first. He was also fairly sure Dean would physically chase him back to bed if he tried to join Sam in research.
As promised, Dean came into his room with a glass of water a few minutes after he laid down, told him to rehydrate, asked again if he wanted anything, and only left after some assurance that no, he didn't require anything else, and yes, he felt fine just worn out, and if he needed anything he would text. It was touching, obviously, that in spite of his own lack of contribution they cared, and also Cas was near certain at least some of Dean's hovering was guilt, but he also really, really wanted peace.
Hearing the door click shut, he sunk down beneath the covers, closed his eyes, and finally fell asleep.
Castiel woke up a few times over the next few hours, sipped at room temperature water with an utterly unbefitting level of enjoyment and relief, relief that was furthered when there was no signs of said water coming back up again.
There was a tap in his room so he was able to refill the glass until his mouth was no longer tacky-dry, but eventually he got hungry (a sensation he wasn't sure he'd ever experience again), and he started to feel uncomfortable due to a lack of showers, so he resolved to clean and change and then get food. He was certain that he could have texted and Dean would have been knocking on his door with toast within three minutes, but he wasn't feeling as bad and he still had mixed feelings about being waited on.
Still slightly dizzy and weak-kneed, he made his way to the bathroom, had at least the second-best shower of his life, and he emerged from it feeling decidedly more like a human and less like some sort of diseased animal. Following his restorative shower, he began his slow journey to get food.
Sam was pouring coffee into a mug when Cas walked in, immediately turning round to face him. "Oh, hey, Cas. You feeling better?"
"Yes, I'm... much restored," Cas replied, taking his own mug down from the cupboard (unlike the shirt, this one was his, they'd got it in a gas station in Omaha: it had bees on it).
"Might want to stick to plain toast and crackers for a bit," Sam advised, pouring coffee into Cas' mug.
"That sounds... wise. Have you found anything on Abaddon?" Cas pulled a slice of bread out of the packet, considered grabbing a second, before deciding he did not feel like taking this particular risk.
"No, uh, still looking." Sam yawned, so Cas did too: he understood it was born of humans being social animals, but it was still weird. "I've read the same page like five times so I decided it was time for more coffee."
"Can I be of any help?" Sam opened his mouth, hesitated, then sort of winced.
"You sure? I mean, no one would blame you if you took the rest of the day off: you're sick and we just got off a hunt yesterday."
"You and your brother have worked in worse states. Arguably you aren't working in a much better state." Between the slightly bloodshot eyes and dark shadows, it was intensely obvious Sam had not, in fact, gone to bed. "I can be of use."
"I know, just-" Cas heard approaching footsteps, and clearly Sam did too because he never finished his sentence.
"He lives!" Dean exclaimed as he entered the kitchen. "Hey, me and Sam were thinking of watching a movie, you wanna join?" This was transparently not true.
"Actually, I was sort of in the middle of a chapter.”
"I was going to help," Cas agreed, and Dean smiled in vaguely threatening fashion.
"Let me rephrase that: you are both going to watch a movie so you," Dean fixed his gaze on Cas, "have a chance to recover from whatever the hell was in those pancakes, and so Sam doesn't go blind from staring at tiny hundred-year-old-book-text for twenty hours straight. Capisce?" Sam hesitated, then looked over at Cas, before sighing.
"Yeah, alright: I'll take a break if Cas will." Cas felt this was slightly manipulative, and levelled a glare at Sam, who just gave him a slightly guilty smile back. Dean raised an eyebrow expectantly. Cas wanted to help, but between him and research, Sam been up pretty much all night and most of the day, and probably didn’t intend on stopping for a while, and Cas figured he could do research after… whatever it was they were watching.
"Yes, fine, I capisce. But only one movie."
"One movie," Dean agreed. "Diehard?" Sam shrugged.
"I would be amenable to that," Cas agreed. They had seen Diehard before, in fact he happened to know Sam and Dean had seen it a number of times, but he didn't really know that he could be bothered with a new movie.
"Great," Dean clapped his hands together, "see you in the library in ten: we can try out that home projector."
They started with the library projector screen, Dean's home projector plugged into Sam's laptop. The picture quality was not the crispest, but they were sat far enough back that you couldn't really tell, and it wasn't like they didn't know what was happening.
It was, however, eventually decided the library chairs weren't very comfortable, so they wound up moving to Sam's room, because he had unadorned walls (unlike Dean) and a made bed (unlike Cas). Sam grumbled a little, but caved with fairly minimal push-back, so they all sat short-ways on the bed with the projector on a chair and the laptop on the floor. Sam lay down and fell asleep before they so much as hit the halfway mark: whenever the movie got quiet, Cas could hear him snoring.
Cas wasn't sure at exactly what point he subsequently fell asleep, but he did know he woke up to Dean harrying them about dinner.