A/N: Rediscovered I wrote this recently, sometime near the start of season 12 when Mary walks out on them. No idea why I didn't post it at the time, but there's the context.

Dean's eyes are glassy, staring off into the near distance as he raises the bottle and pours himself a glass of whiskey. Cas watches the amber liquid hit the bottom, celestial eyes picking out the details of each splash, miniature vortices forming as it steadily fills the tumbler. Dean isn't focused at all. He doesn't even look at the drink as he picks it up and knocks it back.

Cas watches him swallow, muscles working in his throat, clenching too tight. "Dean," the angel tries softly. "I'm sorry about your mother."

It gets a vague, "Hmm," acknowledging that he's spoken, but that it doesn't really help.

"I remember when my father left," Cas continues, hoping to provide comfort. "The millennia without him were…difficult, constantly asking why he abandoned us. But, then he came back."

It isn't helping. Dean's rolling his eyes. It's subtle, just the tiniest of movements, but Cas can tell. He pauses; changes tack. "Mary loves you, Dean. I know it's hard, that she left, but she has her reasons."

"Yeah," Dean says drily without looking at him. "You would say that."

Cas' eyes flicker down to the floor. He wants so badly to ease Dean's pain, yet he's failing. Once again.

There's no point him even being here, just to intrude on Dean's anguish when clearly the hunter wants to be left alone. Silently, Cas rises and heads for the door.

Dean's in his room when the angel returns. Cas knocks, then cracks the door open slightly when he doesn't get an answer, to see Dean laid out on the bed with headphones clamped over his ears. The room stinks of alcohol.

The faint sounds of a Jimmy Page guitar solo drift out to meet him as Cas approaches, sitting himself down on the bed as gently as possible and raising the shopping bag in his hand to his lap. Dean stirs, blinking and then frowning slightly as he sees Cas, before pulling off the headphones and sitting himself up. His face spells confusion.

"Here," Cas says, reaching into the shopping bag and pulling out a plastic box containing a slice of apple pie. "We needed groceries. I thought you may be glad of this."

There's a beat, a look Cas can't identify passing over Dean's face, and then Cas thinks he recognises it being replaced with gratitude. "Thanks, man," Dean says, voice whiskey-rough as he props himself up straighter against the headboard and accepts the offering. He pops out the plastic fork in the lid and then opens the box, looking disappointingly unenthused as he picks at a sliver of pastry.

Cas watches, concerned, before taking a second item from his bag and offering Dean a bottle. Evian. "Drink some water, Dean," Cas says. "Your liver's had enough."

There's a pause, then Dean takes it from him. "Yes, mom," he says irritably, then immediately his face floods with shame and regret. He takes a few sips then hands it back to Cas, both of them ignoring the way their fingertips brush gently over the other's.

Dean pokes at the pie a bit more, his expression conflicted, before letting out a sigh. "Cas, look," he begins earnestly. "I appreciate the thought. Really, I do, but I'm not hungry. I think I'm gonna crash."

"Oh."

There's an uncomfortable pause, then Dean shuts the box again and hands it back to him. Cas slips it back into the bag alongside the water bottle, and then waits as Dean settles himself back down onto the bed. Still above the covers. Still fully dressed.

"I thought," Cas says softly after a beat, "I would stay?"

Dean goes still. For a moment they look at each other, Cas' expression tentative, and then Dean replies, "I'd like that."

They don't say another word. They don't need to, as Cas lies himself down on the bed above the covers. Dean doesn't incline towards him, but doesn't turn away, closing his eyes as he allows the angel to settle down close.

The following moments are quiet, still, but Cas senses something different in the way Dean's breathing, in the way his body seems more at ease. There's still pain there, and sadness, but he senses something else there now too: something Cas can't quite define, but it brings a small smile to his lips as he watches Dean drift to sleep.

There's no fast cure for a broken heart. No certainty of a cure at all, but Cas is here. They're together. And that's a start.