Castiel felt stretched thin. There was so much to do, there was a rescue to plan, there was politics and comfort and frightened people and desperate people and he'd been avoiding the latter because they didn't need his words half as much as his actions. They needed to get everyone out, and soon, but it was dangerous. It was so dangerous if they rushed it they could all be killed.
He'd had barely a thought for his new home, or Christmas. He'd enjoyed none of it so far. It seemed so pointless like a game or a garish toy. It was something for later but not for now. He couldn't seek comfort with what was left of his family because he couldn't let himself stop, even for a minute. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to get up again.
He was afraid.
He only returned to the house to check on his people. Peter first. Peter had lost one of his too and Cas knew how that hurt now. He was worried about his friend, glad Peter had his mother's comfort at least but, still, he worried. Peter was important to him. He didn't like the thought of his friend carrying that grief.
He smell Peter before he saw him. Cas didn't much care for the smell of cigarettes once they were lit but he didn't screw up his nose, not tell Peter to stop. He simply took it for a sign of his friend's distress. His eyes were full of sadness and concern as he knelt beside Peter, not even sure he was noticed.
"I'll bring her back to you, my friend," he said softly. "I promise."