Without his brother, Dean felt like a part of him was missing. Even with Lisa beside him, there was still a hole that couldn't be filled. Sometimes this hole consumed him, throwing him off balance and into a state of extreme emotions. Whenever this happened, Dean ran off and drowned his sorrow away in what Lisa referred to as Lost Weekends. He would throw the tarp off of the Impala and leave it discarded on the garage floor, drive for hours just listening to the same 5 cassettes over and over, singing loudly with his windows down. On the outside he looked perfectly fine, but on the inside he was dying. He would go to a bar and drink until he couldn't drink anymore, then he would crash in a cheap motel room with two double beds. That way it felt like he was just stranded there while Sam was out doing research. There would be no porn during his lost weekend; he couldn't bring himself to do it. Just Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, downing rum and whiskey like no tomorrow. After he was sufficiently drunk, the dam was breached and the tears started to fall. The current bottle of alcohol in his hand was downed, and he would fall back onto the bed, tears silently streaming. He wouldn't let anyone see him like this, not Ben, not Lisa, and definitely not Cas. Finally in a drunken and emotional stupor, Dean would finally fall asleep. He dreamt of the days that he and Sam spent as kids in motel rooms, of the late nights fighting the supernatural, and of the times when Sam and him could finally have some quiet time and could act like normal people.
Cas knew about the Lost Weekends. He heard Dean singing at the top of his lungs, and he heard the bottles hit the walls. He heard and saw everything. He sat silently in the bar watching Dean turned away woman after woman, downing drink after drink. He sat on the second double bed watching Dean smiled in his sleep, tossing and turning, reliving moments in his life. The only time he didn't watch was when the tears fell. That was private, and not something to be watched. That was the reason that Dean would leave his warm house for a roadside motel.
One night during a lost weekend, Dean muttered Castiel's name in his sleep. Cas perked up and stared at his broken friend. There wasn't a smile on Dean's face, there was a tight grimace and his fist was clenched around his sheets. Cas walked over to him, and sat down beside him, gingerly reaching out and touched Dean's face. The remaining Winchester relaxed in his sleep under the angel's touch. A smile creeped across Castiel's face as he stroked Dean's hair; he could finally do something to help quell the pain that was created when Dean lost his brother.
The Lost Weekends started to become scarce, the hole in Dean was becoming less and less violent with each passing week. The Impala's tarp stayed on her longer and longer until finally it had been covering her for well over two months. Cas was glad that Dean was healing, and decided that it was high time he took a break from watching over the Winchester and tend to his duties as a soldier of God.
All was going great until May 1st. Lisa didn't know what was wrong with Dean. She tried talking to him, but he just kept sinking deeper and deeper into his drunken state and finally storming out of the house after a very heated conversation about secrets and things that were best left untouched. Dean tore the tarp off of his baby with a ferocity that was usually reserved for when he was torturing demons and other supernatural creatures. After jamming the key into the ignition and revving the engine to life, Dean drove off with nothing but the purr of the impala's engine in his ears. No cassettes. No off-key renditions of Wanted Dead or Alive. Just the possibility of a speeding ticket.
Dean didn't know where he was going until he was idling in front of his old house in Lawrence. He had been driving for a solid12 hours and was exhausted and partially under the influence. Disgusted at the fact that he drove back to his old stomping grounds, Dean went and got himself a hotel room, all the while pretending that he wasn't in Kansas anymore.
Whiskey bottle in hand, the last Winchester collapsed onto the end of the hotel bed. The hotel room's clock shone a haunting red while informing Dean that it was now 12:00am on May 2nd. Happy Birthday, Sammy. He downed the rest of the cheap whiskey and reached for the second bottle. The more he consumed the number Dean became. Numb was good. Numb was golden. Numb was lonely. Soon the ratio of blood to alcohol that was flowing through his veins was heavily disrupted and completely unnatural, and Dean still wasn't lost enough. Sure he didn't feel anything, but he still remembered everything. Lucifer, Michael, Adam, and Sam were still trapped in the cage and the thoughts of what the younger Winchester was possibly going through drove Dean mad. Why wasn't it him down in the pit and not Sam? Anger welled up inside of him and before he could register what happened the newly emptied whisky bottle crashed against the hotel room's wall.
Castiel saw it all. He wanted to reach out and tell Dean that there was still hope - that they would get Sam back - but he felt like Dean needed more than just a verbal reassurance to stop this bender. Cas just stood near the doorway and out of the warpath. As soon as he heard Dean's argument with Lisa, the angel knew that something wasn't right. It took him a moment to connect the date and the meaning behind it. Dean finally collapsed from exhaustion and intoxication. Cas decided that maybe he should stay and keep an eye on this one just due to the sheer magnitude of it so he went and sat down on the other bed and watched over Dean. The eldest Winchester fell into a nightmarish sleep, thrashing around and muttering in his sleep. A few words were coherent enough for the angel to realize that Dean was reliving Sam's final moments over and over again. Cas couldn't take it anymore, he reached over and just as he was about to wake Dean up, he hesitated. He wanted to bring Dean out of the nightmare, but what would he say when he found out that Castiel had been watching his benders? Before the angel realized what he was doing, he crawled in bed beside Dean, wrapped an arm protectively over the Winchester's midriff, and snuggled up close; touch had worked before so why not try it now. Dean instantly relaxed under the warmth of another body near his and Cas shifted closer to Dean until there was no space between the two of them. Dean seemed to completely slip out of the nightmare and into a steady and undisturbed slumber. The angel breathed a sigh of relief and inhaled Dean's musky scent. Peace and serenity washed over Cas as he held Dean. He would do anything for this man, whether it be to keep him safe or to give him peace of mind, he would to anything. Cas didn't quite understand how it felt to lose your brother, but if he had lost Dean, he didn't know what he would do.
AN: This is also available on my account on A03