Dean Winchester stumbles his way down the dark streets of the random city he and Sam are currently staying for the next two days before going off on another case. Tilting his head back, he presses the bottle of whiskey against his lips. The burning liquid hits the back of his throat. At least that lets him know he's still alive. Vision slightly blurred, he continues his way. Where he's going, he doesn't know. He just wants to walk. Their faces haunt his mind. All the blood. Tears. Pain. Desperation. Guilt. His fault. All his fucking fault. He can still hear the screams of pain. The explosion... He takes another long drink, not caring if he's slowly damaging his liver and other body parts with the excessive amounts of alcohol.
"Dean, what are you doing?" A voice comes from the silence, followed by the rustling of wings. The breeze brushes against Dean's bruised cheek and he has to snort at the question.
"You already know what I'm doing, and what I'm thinking, Cas. So don't ask stupid questions."
"There was nothing you could have done."
Dean says nothing, drinking from the bottle as he continues to walk with Castiel beside him.
"They chose to come along and fight. You couldn't have made them stay away."
Again, silence, though the angel can feel emotions radiating from the broken man he had saved from hell.
"It's not your fault. Ellen and Jo died like heroines."
Without warning, Dean threw the bottle at the brick wall of the alley before pushing Castiel against it with all the force he could muster which, compared to his own strength, was barely nerve wracking. His green eyes burned darkly, reflecting pain.
"DON'T YOU TELL ME IT WASN'T MY FAULT! THEY'RE DEAD BECAUSE OF ME!"
"No, Dean. That isn't true and you know that."
"NO! IT'S MY FAULT! ALL MY FAULT!" Dean's voice cracked as he shouted in anguish, gripping handfuls of Castiel's trenchcoat to stay on his feet. Tears slipped down his cheeks.
"It's not your fault."
"Jo... Ellen... they didn't... if I hadn't... that fucking Hellhound..."
"Jo made her choice, Dean. She knew you had to keep going. That's why she saved you."
"She was just a kid!"
"She was a consenting adult, though I know she was like a sister to you. Sometimes more than that."
"I should have been able to save them."
"You can't save everyone."
"They were family. Now they're gone," Dean bowed his head in shame, tears falling from his cheeks onto the grimy cobblestone road.
"They're not gone. You'll see them again, at the end. When it's your time."
"I didn't want them to die."
"Of course not. No one wishes that on people they love," Castiel reaches out and, by surprise of himself and Dean, places a strong yet comforting hand on his shoulder. It causes him to look up, his face streaked with tears that still fell. "You, of all people, should know that."
"You won't leave, right?"
"I can't promise anything-"
"Cas, please. With all the people I've lost... the only ones who have come back and stuck around are Sam, Bobby and you."
"I..." Trailing off, he means to say a vague response but finds himself saying something else entirely. "I promise I won't leave on my own accord."
"I'll take that for now," Whether it was the emotions or alcohol, Dean finds himself wrapping his arms around his angelic friend and hugging him tightly.
"...It's okay, Dean. I've got you," Castiel spoke several moments later, placing his hand on the man's heaving back as he begins to sob. He knows the sobs are for more than just Ellen and Jo, and it would be a long road towards the realization that none of the events were anyone's fault. But, as a friend, he was willing to stand by and help in any way he could. Even if it meant being more human than he ever had been in all the time of his existence. "I'm not going anywhere."