This one was inspired by my mother's dislike of how St. Patrick's Day is just an excuse to get piss poor drunk. I thought we might enjoy seeing Cas' opinion of the holiday from his point of view. Enjoy, Dear reader!

2. Copious Amounts

of Green Alcohol

Dean and Sam had explained to me how most humans celebrate the holiday called St. Patrick's Day before forcing me into the backseat of the Impala and parking at the local 'watering hole' for some green tinted alcohol. Dean was wearing some kind of T-shirt that invited others to pinch him and Sam had worn one of his greener plaid button up shirts. They gave me a green colored tie to switch out with my normal blue one. I didn't want to but they insisted as it was the customary color on this the feast of St. Patrick. While Dean chugged down his first of many alcoholic beverages, what he called 'Irish car bombs', I inquired as to the importance of the color green for Saint Patrick.

"Dude, I don't know." Dean belched after finished his drink.

When Sam had finished his chugging just moments after Dean, he gave a helpful response. "It's because St. Patrick used a green clover to explain to the pagans in Scotland how the Holy Trinity worked." Then Dean had placed a second green concoction along with another tiny glass next to my first, that I had not inbibbed yet, and also to himself and his brother.

Together they clinked the smaller glass into the larger one and quickly gulped it down. They seemed to be competing for the quickest completion.

Then Dean danced with some of the females for one song length only to come back and purchase more alcohol. It was unnecessary but Dean implored me to "catch up" and drink my first two beverages then join them in their race with the third. I think I may have exceeded the normal human rate of consumption when I drank all three before they each finished their single drinks. It was then when a particularly brightly green dressed female grabbed my tie and pulled me closer to the tall speakers that emitted what could barely pass as music, even for this era.

That was when these events started to become more…complicated.

Right when there was a large group of females that surrounded me and began rubbing on me in time with the 'music' that was when someone else grabbed my tie again to control my movements. This time it was Dean.

"Sorry, ladies he's spoken for." He called over the music with a friendly smile.

The bright green female moved between Dean and I expertly halting my retreat and said. "By who? You?"

I just looked to Dean because I didn't understand what he meant that I was already 'spoken for'. Dean was frozen and his face had the look of shock. Where was his wit? What couldn't he answer? Perhaps the alcohol was impairing his judgement but he let loose my tie and raised his hands in some sort of surrender. I was through perplexed by this chain of events. As the females rejoiced in their victory over me I watched Dean's facial expressions while he sat at the bar with Sam. He stopped drinking the green concoction item and switched to a bottle of stronger liquor and paid the bartender to keep it. Every time I glanced at him he was already looking at me. I'm not sure he ever stopped.

Some time later Dean left the bar and Sam came to retrieve me from the dancing females more successfully than Dean.

"Dean's pretty sick I think we should take him home. Can you drive?" Sam questioned me easily enough but I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

I voiced my concern that I didn't think that Dean would want me driving his beloved vehicle but Sam explained that his blood alcohol content was so high that he didn't have enough wherewithal to notice. When we left the establishment, much to the dismay of the green female, we found Dean vomiting onto the asphalt a few yards away from the Impala. I went to him and helped him to his feet.

"Cas? Cas! You came back!" Dean cried gripping into my outer coat. "Don't leave me like that again, dude! Don't dance with girls. Especially that one. She was so mean!" Dean began to cry and leaned into the shoulder and hugged me closely. I would be lying if I said I felt uncomfortable there. I enjoyed moments when Dean would embrace me. Even though he was intoxicated. While he embraced me and cried softly I took the opportunity to ask Sam my burning question.

"Sam."

"Yup." Sam murmured, he was barely standing up straight himself.

"What does one mean when they say about another that they are 'spoken for'?"

"Just that they're already with someone. Like they have a …romantic friend that they are romantic with and like boyfriend/girlfriend with, like, uh, they already have a romantic partner in their life and shouldn't be doing stuff with other people." Sam managed out.

While his answer wasn't as concise as normal I managed to piece together Dean's erratic emotions of the evening to this conclusion: He didn't want me to dance with those women because HE considered himself my romantic partner. I had to test my theory.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Shall I go dance with those women again?"

"No, Cas! No! Anything but that! I can't stand to watch that anymore! Please!" He started sobbing into my coat again as he gripped the lapels.

"But why not?" I inquired.

Sam spoke. "Cas, it's because he likes you and he can't tell you about it."

I looked down at the creature attached to me and simply admired him. Right then, I thought he was as cute as a little honey bee. I don't think he heard what his brother said since his sobbing didn't stop until he suddenly pushed me away and turned to vomit again. That was when a barely clothed female, who was walking amongst the parked cars, bent near him and spoke to Dean.

"Oh no, honey! Sweetheart, are you okay?" She also seemed intoxicated. I didn't care for her friendly tone or the terms she used instead of his name. I spoke up.

"No, he is already spoken for. I will care for him." I spoke confidently hoping this would work against this particular female. She stood up, smiled, wished me luck and walked away.

Sam started laughing and he clutched his stomach, perhaps feeling nauseous himself. I paid no attention to it and I placed Sam in the backseat and buckled him in. Then I placed Dean in the front passenger seat. I buckled Dean too but somehow he still managed to lean far enough over to rest his head on my shoulder and sleep most of the way back to the bunker.

The following afternoon I found Dean in the kitchen of the bunker pouring a cup of coffee with Sam sitting at the table with his head resting on its surface.

"I'm telling you man, that bartender was adding something wrong to those drinks. Like maybe something other than the green food coloring, you know what I mean?" Dean spoke softly. Neither man seemed to notice my presence but I asked anyway.

"I need to tell you something."

"God! Tone it down." Dean complained.

So I spoke at a lower decibel. "It's just that. I've met St. Patrick and he did not consume copious amounts of green alcoholic beverages during his mission. And I was wondering how this became a widespread tradition."

"Cas, it's too early." Sam complained.

"And Dean, there's something else we need to discuss about-" Dean cut me off.

"Listen, my head is killing me and I need to try to remember what the hell happened to me last night."

"But I-"

"Shut-up, Cas. You weren't even there."

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