"Sam." Of course the youngest Winchester's name was the first thing out of the angel's mouth. He sat forward in the chair and let his hand rest on the taller man's forearm, resting there warmly. Gently. Just enough pressure to let Sam know that he was there. "You're in a hospital. You were injured in a battle." The information was relayed in case Sam couldn't make heads or tails of the situation. There was little worse than being unaware of what was going on around you.
"Dean returned to the barracks to try and get some rest." And Castiel, of course, didn't sleep. He'd volunteered (okay, Dean had demanded he stay in exchange for going to try and get some sleep, which Cas had been demanding, but Cas hadn't fought him on it) to stay here with Sam while Dean dragged his sorry ass back for a bit of rack time. Or, really, back-seat time. He was sleeping in his car, after all.
Finally pushing up to his feet, his hand gave Sam's arm a squeeze before releasing it. He wanted to hug him, but there was no way the younger Winchester was getting out of that bed just yet. The doctors here weren't going to stand for two Winchesters acting like they were just fine, and Dean had already claimed the position of biggest pain in the ass for the family. So, Sam had no option but to be a good patient.
"How are you feeling?" Perhaps the question was ridiculous, considering he was laid up in a hospital, but Castiel felt he had to ask it.