Castiel woke up on the floor of his cabin amongst a mass of deep breathing body's; he pinched the bridge of his nose a banging pain in his head. He had gone all out last night, not that he could remember any of it.
He knew Dean was going to be angry at him. Even though he wouldn't say anything.
The sun streams through the curtain less windows and it only makes his head worse, as Castiel stands up, looks down at his body and of course he's butt naked.
He looks around baffled, what the hell happened to my clothes last night?
After manoeuvring his way out of the tangled bodies, with out stepping on anyone (which was extremely difficult in his condition) he finds his dirty boxers, which had been forgotten very early the night before.
After having his first hit of the day Castiel gets dressed. Slowly.
Smiling to himself he finds a bottle of whisky which was left abandoned on the empty bed, taking a swig he looks around the room and feels the hole in his gut throb.
He knows this isn't the life he wanted but it's what he got, and to be honest it wasn't all bad. Humans can have a lot more fun than they give themselves credit for they just need the right drugs, alcohol and women.
Lots of women.
So Castiel shrugs it off and scoots round the edge of the room to the door, without looking back he goes to look for his 'fearless leader'.
This had somehow become a bit of a routine for both him and Dean they would find each other even with all the shit which was going down on a daily basis.
This morning Castiel found him leaning on the hood of a jeep, brooding over a map. Castiel was nursing his whisky.
Liquor was very hard to come by and Castiel needed it like he needed oxygen not that he would admit it.
He waltzed toward the hunched back of his companion and rubbed his eyes.
"Morning" He said cheerfully, he no longer had a rough voice. He no longer sounded authoritive as an angel should, which suited him fine as he wasn't.
He leant his back against the fender next to the hunter.
"Morning Cas" Dean huffed without looking at him.
This is what Castiel waited for every evening, though he told himself that it was because it was comforting to hear the old nickname not because of any weird human emotions.
Dean was the only person allowed to call Cas, Cas. It reminded him of being an angel and having that memory being prompted by anyone but Dean was painful.
Dean had decided they needed more stock, camp was starting run low and to Cas's dismay this included alcohol and drugs and all the good things left in his world.
The only problem was that to get everything they needed they would have to enter the Croats lair. Cas hated going to places like this and Dean knew it.
They were back at Dean's cabin talking about a plan how to get in and out safely, Cas sat back in his chair arms folded feet on the table not listening.
Dean and Risa were flirting in his face.
He didn't appreciate it.
His now empty whisky bottle sat on the table in front of him and he wished that it was full, instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small orange tub. Pulled of the white cap and poured two tablets in his hand.
He looked up to see Dean giving him a disapproving look. He knew this look all to well and every time it made him feel guilty.
Averting his gaze, he put his hand to his mouth and swallowed the pills.
He didn't know what they were and he didn't really care. He'd picked them up in Detroit all that time ago and carried them every where he went.
From the corner of his eye he could see Dean shake his head as though he expected more of his ex-angel. This is what annoyed Cas slightly, he had lost everything and this was how he coped couldn't he just get over that?
Dean never voiced any complaints but Cas knew he wanted to.
Both of them had changed over the last few years.
After a while of not listening, Risa left to get the men together for the trip into what would be called a 'town'.
Cas hadn't even noticed she'd left.
He'd completely zoned out and it wasn't until Dean clicked his fingers in his face that he resurfaced from a more relaxing place.
Dean was leaning both hands on the table facing Cas.
"Did you even try and listen to any of that?" He said whilst looking into Cas' eyes "You know you don't have to go, if you don't want to. I know you don't like going to those kinds of places Cas."
Of course I don't like it. You could die out there Dean. Is what he thought. What came out though was…
"Wow, is our Fearless Leader being concerned about such a lowly being as me." Emphasised with fake astonishment.
Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. Dean knew his sarcasm well.
"I'll take that as, you're tagging along. At least then I…" Dean trailed off, looked away from Cas and picked up his green duffle bag.
Cas knew it would end with 'wouldn't be alone' which was stupid really, Dean was never alone. Just not with the people he really wanted.
Placing it on the table he pulled out each gun and lined them up no the table in front of him keeping his eyes down focusing on his hands.
To Cas, Dean looked broken. More broken than he'd ever been.
Sam was lost. Cas was either high or drunk. Everything was on his shoulders
It made Cas ache inside, he just wanted to see Dean effortlessly and smile genuinely. All that was long gone though.
Happiness was but a dream.
The world was ending bloody.