It started with the words "Here Cas, try this." At the time Castiel didn't know what he was getting into much less the slippery slope he would soon fall victim to. He trusted Dean. There would be nothing he would do to hurt Castiel. So the angel took the pills and for the next twelve hours he lay there with the human in sheer euphoric bliss.
But no drug in the world could make you forget the apocalypse. No matter how many times the angel and the hunter would bury their problems in the pills, no matter how vivid and bright the hallucinations were, the brothers were destined to fight. Both Dean and Castiel knew deep down there was no trumping fate. Still, they clutched the notion that one day they would wake up and the world would be okay again. It was their last shred of hope, their anchor and their totem.
As the world plunged into the devastating spiral, Dean and Castiel could no longer hold onto their little lie they told themselves. The Croatoan virus has spread. Towns and cities alike had fallen with little to no fight.
The day Dean lost Sam to Lucifer, he and Castiel took more hits than normal. The angel used his fleeting power to wrap his massive charcoal colored wings around his lover. Anything to shield the hunter from the sorrow and pain. For the first time since the damnation of man, Dean Winchester cried.
With no hope in sight, Dean took up leadership. They didn't touch the drugs for a while and set up camp. More and more survivors were coming to them looking for safety and shelter. Dean had no time to notice Castiel's Grace fading and neither of them would figure out that it was Castiel's indulgence in earthly pleasures that diminished his Grace. I wouldn't be until Castiel broke his foot that Dean would find out that his angel was going mortal.
Then those words were uttered once more. "Here Cas, try this."
Four simple words sparked the addiction to the pain killers. By the time Dean caught it, it had been too late. He kept supplying Castiel with the pills, turning away whenever his lover would lay in a drugged stupor. Selfishly he clinged to the last shred of hope within himself. Admitting that Castiel had a problem would take that away. So his bottles would refill and neither spoke a word of it.
Coming down was the hardest. More often then not on these days the rest of the suvivors would hear yelling and screaming coming from their cabin. Just as often they would hear the crash of Dean breaking something in anger. Like clockwork, Dean would storm out of the cabin and come back hours later and all would be seemingly okay. These were the days Castiel got his refill.
Eventually fights and anger gave way to habit and indifference. During the day Dean would go about his duties and come back to pretend everything was the way it used to be. Fights would break out now and then, worse than before and soon both men fell into being numb. Dean didn't notice when Castiel took a couple of extra pills the first time he cheated. More so he didn't notice his tears.
They fell into a routine. Dean would go out and sleep around, Castiel never asked questions. Dean's guilt turned to regret and he found himself trying to justify his actions. Castiel had chosen the drugs over him. Castiel was the one who would rather be high than be his boyfriend. Dean never truly believed himself.
Dean didn't say anything when Castiel moved into his own cabin. He didn't utter a word when Castiel was the one who began sleeping around. But he was angry. Angry at Castiel for having sex with others, angry at his own hypocrisy, never knowing the ex-angel felt the same. The two men were broken and wounded but neither could pick up the pieces. The rage could only fester to the point of bursting.
When it did, Castiel didn't make a sound a Dean used his body. He refused to look him in the eye as their passionate play turned to questionably consensual rough sex. He didn't climax nor did he cry out Dean's name. There was no after glow kissing or cuddling. Just the sound of Castiel's cabin door closing as Dean left. This became a routine occurrence.
Numb as ever, Castiel would wait for Dean, naked. As always Dean would use him roughly, angrily, and leave without a word. No amount of drugs could cure his heart break. He could never drown himself in women and men enough to forget Dean. Deep in his heart he still loved the man. Dean couldn't go through women fast enough and never once stopped loving Castiel. Often he would cry in his dark cabin, reflecting on how he lost everything he had loved. He couldn't save Sam andhe had pushed Castiel away. Every time he would grab the loaded gun from beneath his pillow, switch the safety off and nestle it to the side of his head.
But he was too coward to even do that. Little did he know on the other side of the camp, Castiel sat in bed, staring at the full bottle of pills, counting out how many would put him to sleep and how many extra he needed to take to never wake up. Neither ever went through with it.
When past Dean laid eyes on these events, asked the questions, and heard the stories, he returned with a new purpose. He would save the world. For him, for Sam, and most of all for Castiel. His hand clasped upon the angel's shoulder, jade hues finding the vibrant cerulean that he had come to love. "Don't ever change." he said, voice wavering barely a second. Before Castiel could question the hunter, he found a full pair of lips on his and arms wrapped tightly around him.
Dean could care less about the world, about Micheal and Lucfier, and about the other angels up in Heaven and that moment. He found something worth fighting for and he would fight tooth and nail to keep it.