Dean was pretty sure that he was going to as well. He could actually feel something in his chest sink and something else knot itself in his throat. He stroked his fingers comfortingly through Castiel’s hair.
Shifting out of what he supposed was Dom space, into this kind of comforting was easy. “Come on,” he said softly. “We’re going to get you a bath and I’ll wash you up and you can talk okay?” And Dean would take care of the clothes and putting the chair back exactly where it belonged and changing the sheets. Because he loved Cas and that was the kind of stuff you did when you loved someone and they had an occasionally crippling mental health thing.
When everything was back in order, Castiel would manage to be quietly appreciative. For now, he couldn't even bear to think on the mess that was everything in this room, it would probably be enough to tip him into full blown tears again if he gave it any mind.
The angel gave a sad little excuse of a noise and pushed himself up a little more in order to follow Dean into the bathroom. He hovered so close behind the other man that it was a wonder he hadn't just clung to him the entire way. Partly he didn't want to be far away from Dean, needed that almost touch, the other part was a literal fear that he might just pass out on the floor somewhere.
He sat on the toilet seat as soon as they made it to the bathroom.