"Hunting?" Castiel frowned, squinted. "As in your kind of hunting? Family business?" He didn't really think Sam looked like he was in the right state for something like that, but chose not to pass judgement. Yet.
"If -- you need help. Telling Dean...." He was offering, setting it on the table and looking very nervous about it. Dean was, after all, Castiel's best friend. That he wouldn't even know him hurt the angel in ways he couldn't possibly describe. He didn't want to avoid it either, though.