Alcohol
Another shot to drown the pain flooding Castiel's now human heart. The alcohol coursed through his veins, his heart beating out of his chest. His wings were ripped out of his back and the only way to mend the scars was to drink his pain away. Drink after drink, until he just couldn't feel anymore. He liked life a little better after that.
Dean sat down across from him, eyeing the past-angel. Castiel barely acknowledged his appearance, just grabbing another glass to down another drink. Dean ripped the cup from his hand, sending it across the room. A loud crash was heard throughout the huge bunker.
"Don't do this, Cas. Don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to us," The hunter took a deep breath. "Don't do this to me."
Castiel just glared at him, trying to pour himself more alcohol. His hands shook, knocking everything off the table. He let out a sorrowful sob, dropping to his knees to pick everything back up. His vision was blurry, his thoughts scrambled, tears streaming down his face. "No, no, no."
The man's wrecked cries echoed throughout the room. He lay on the ground, passing out then and there. Dean was right there to carry him.
In the morning, Castiel had this awful thing called hangover. Dean was right there, rubbing his back, right where his wings used to be. They didn't speak to each other that day.
The next night Castiel couldn't find any alcohol. He was sure Dean had something to do with this.
"What the fuck?" Castiel yelled at the hunter, gritting his teeth.
"You don't need it,"
He rolled his eyes. "How do the hell do you know? Tell me, Dean. Tell me when you turned into the angel,"
"The day you weren't."
"Fuck you." He raced out the door, heading to the nearest bar. He had gone way too long without his only pain reliever.
He felt a hand grab his arm and twist him around. He wished he was still an angel so he could smite Dean. He wished he was still an angel so he could teleport away from Dean. He wished he was still an angel.
Dean was only a few inches taller than him, but boy was he intimidating. He seemed to tower over Castiel. "Cas, please. Come back,"
"Why should I?"
"Come back and I'll show you," Dean pleaded. Dean never pleaded.
Castiel silently followed the taller man back to their home. Dean gripped his hand, pulling him to Dean's room. He locked the door, shoving him into it as soon as it closed. Their lips met. It was rough, stubbly, and hot as fuck.
Dean quickly removed the ex-angel's shirt, turning him around so his back was facing him. He gently kissed the scars that were left on him after he fell from heaven. He was still Dean's angel in his book. "Don't worry, Cas. I'll be your wings."