Castiel and Sam had gone through their fair share of traumatizing scenes, but never to the extent that either of them had been shellshocked. Oh, Castiel had to employ the safe word before, and Sam had to force him to use it, to, back when he was too prideful to mind his own limits. This was without precedent. There was little telling, therefore, for how exactly Castiel would react.

But where his panic had made him violent, now that it had subsided and he was left with the shock of James' screw up, Castiel felt drained. The touch to his shoulder was a balm, and he crawled into Sam's arm. "I'm sorry," he muttered into the fabric of his shirt. Not knowing what had happened outside, he wasn't sure, now, if this mistake was his fault - bringing up one bad memory tended to wash the others up, too, and right now Castiel was trying to sort through sexual humiliation coupled with the real trauma of drowning, Naomi's torture and mind-washing, the way everything that went wrong in Heaven was placed as blame onto his shoulders. There was no way he could evaluate the situation clinically, right then - which was good for James continued life and safety, because Castiel might be a sub, but he was also a deadly former warrior of Heaven.

Instead, he merely clung to Sam, knowing by instinct that if any safety was to be had, it would be here, because if punishment was in order, it would be swift.

Still, for safe measure, he muttered "Leviathan" into Sam's chest, too, trying to end a scene that clung to him like cobwebs.