Dean made no pretense to being productive that night. He sat on the couch, staring at the wall, hearing a steady ticking that must be from the clock on the wall. He didn't care enough to get up and check or even to throw it against a wall to shut it up. He sat and wondered when his life had gotten so out of control.

He thought about Cas. The way he had instantly fallen into helping Dean sleep, not bothering to question what it would mean for him. Dean got angry at him. He just made himself a spot to fill in his life and then he let Dean push him out. Even if it had been him on the street earlier, he hadn't done anything. He hadn't fought to be let back in. Seemed perfectly fine with leaving that hole unfilled, aching.

The direction of his thoughts had him shaking again. He didn't even want him to be there, but he was angry that he was gone?

He made himself a pot of coffee. Decaf, of course. It was scalding hot when it splashed over the edge of the pot and onto his skin. The pain did funny things to his head. The next thing he knew, he was holding a broken coffee pot and the sink was full of broken glass and hot coffee. Seeing his anger had exploded out of him without his knowing just made him angrier. He picked up the rest of the machine, the part that had done nothing to him, and he threw it into the sink as hard as he could. Something cracked and weird sounds came from it. It wouldn't work again, most likely.

This was why Cas needed to be gone. Dean had no control over anything about himself. His anger was volatile and convulsive. His depression was all consuming. He couldn't even get himself to sleep. Cas deserved better.

Sam would want coffee when he woke. There was still an hour before he'd be up for class. Dean threw on clothes and headed to the store, looking for a cheap machine that looked the same, so maybe Sam wouldn't know. He hadn't left his room, so maybe he wasn't even there? Dean could only hope he wouldn't get that sympathetic puppy dog look from his brother.

When he arrived home, with a new coffee pot that looked nothing like the other, the old one was in the trash and the shower was going. So much for Sam not noticing. Dean plugged the new machine in and got his brother's coffee going before grabbing his backpack.

After forcing himself through his classes, feeling jittery and half pissed off, he arrived home just in time to see Sam and Jess leaving for a date. He faked a smile through the small talk and then pled homework and tucked himself inside. Sam hadn't asked about the coffee pot and Jess hadn't said anything about Cas. All he could say was that he hoped things were finally turning around.

He really thought they might be until he remembered to get his sheets out of the dryer. They weren't warm and were a little wrinkly, but he really didn't care. Dean managed to prevent himself from breathing in the scent of his pillows, knowing it would only smell like the fabric softener, not the subtle spice and soap he wanted it to.

The fitted sheet was on the mattress and he was struggling to put his pillows in their cases when the doorbell rang. Dean stopped, wondering who could be at his house. Sam was gone, and he really only hung out with Jess anyway. Bobby wouldn't knock and neither would Jo. He set the pillow down and walked to the door. What he saw through the peephole made him wish he hadn't decided to blast his music.

Cas was standing on the other side of the door.

Cas.

On the other side of the door.

He was here, where Dean was sure he'd never be again.

For a moment, Dean thought he could get away from the situation by going about his business and pretending he'd never heard the bell. But just before he made up his mind to do it, he saw Cas lean close to the door, looking through the peephole. "I can see you, Dean."

Dean swore and then opened the door. He didn't say anything, just walked away long enough to turn down his music. It was fitting that Alice Cooper's Poison would come on as he turned around to look at Cas.

"What are you doing here, Cas?" He'd meant to sound angry, but he just sounded tired. Maybe Cas would only think it was because he wasn't sleeping? Dean could hope. The other man looked tired, too. His hair was even messier than usual, like he'd been running his hands through it. His tie was off center and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He wasn't wearing a coat, even though it was pretty cold outside. He looked amazing and Dean didn't want to think about it at all.

Cas just raised a brow. "Why did you ignore me?" Apparently he wasn't the one to be interrogated.

Dean wanted to tell him the truth. He didn't know what he wanted from Cas and he didn't think he deserved anything. He wanted to lie and say anything that would just make him go away. He didn't want him, he didn't have time, he didn't like him. Anything. In the end, though, he had no idea what to say. "It doesn't matter."

"On the contrary, Dean, it matters quite a bit." He threw his hands up and then put on hand on his hip and the other through his hair. "I thought I was explicit in my desire for more than a fling with you. You seemed to have no problem with it, and then you left me in the middle of the night. You wouldn't return my calls. What did I do to you? Sam says that you haven't spoken of me to him and that you have stopped sleeping. Did Ana say something?"

He could only swallow and look down. The anger crackling in those blue eyes just made him feel worse. "You didn't do anything. And it wasn't Ana." A part of him wanted to say that it was, but he couldn't seem to make the words come out.

"Then why leave?" Cas's jaw was clenched and he just kept looking angrier. It only made Dean feel worse. And when he felt bad, he tended to react with anger.

"Because I don't want to care about you!" He yelled the words, screamed them into his home and at the other man.