Angsty, alcoholism. This one is for Sandraugia, a friend of mine who gave me the idea for this drabble.
Castiel landed in the room where he felt deans intoxicated presence. He was sitting behind his laptop at the kitchen table, doing Castiel-didn't-want-to-know-what, surrounded by empty or half-full bottles of Johnny Walkers.
Dean looked guilty. "Cas," he said husky.
"Dean? What happened?" Castiel asked
"She was six, Cas, six! If I had been a little bit quicker, I could've saved her," Dean shook his head and wanted to bring the bottle to his lips.
With two big steps, Castiel stood in front of the table. He leaned over it and grabbed the bottle out of Deans hands. The Hunter tried to struggle, but was too drunk to really put up a fight. Castiel slammed the laptop shit and looked Dean in the eyes.
"You're wrong, Dean." He said
"Don't say 'you can't save everyone' because God help me I will punch you in the face." Dean growled.
"Please listen to me, you are wrong Dean. The world doesn't rest on your shoulders, you don't have to carry all the weight. Please don't drown you sorrow in drink. You don't have to, Dean. Let me help you." Castiel was breathing hard, taken by surprise by his sudden outburst.
He looked away.
Dean got up, stabilizing himself on the table until he sobered up enough to walk over to Castiel.
"Give me one good reason to forgive myself about today."
"For every person that dies in your arms, you save fifty." Castiel said without doubt.
"Would you help me?" Dean asked.
Castiel nodded. "Angels are not only warriors of God, there is some truth in the Guardian Angel lore part and I do not wish to see you suffer."
