Dean's mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, and a pulsing headache traveled throughout his head, reverberating through his skull with each beat of his heart- almost as though a hammer were bashing against his skull in a constant rhythm. Groaning in discomfort, Dean closed his heavy eyelids against the light of the room, and drew the blankets up to cover his face, his eyes screaming with pain from the unexpected intrusion. He could feel his stomach heave as he rolled, and suppressed the urge to gag. A hand reached out of the covers, fumbling about trying to look for the nightstand, but only hitting empty air.

Then Dean realized that this was not his comforter- the sink of the mattress was unfamiliar, and the window of Dean's room was to his left, not right. And, most importantly, he realized he was naked. Not even the sleeping naked, where he'd keep his boxers on. No, Dean was absolutely bare, and a discomfort sat on his skin- it felt like dried sweat and it made the sheets slide uncomfortably against him.

A sudden realization made the blond man shoot up in his spot (much to the opposition of his massive hangover), looking wildly around as he came to and noticed where he was.

This was Cas's room.

The teacher only vaguely remembered last night. He remembered getting drunk at the bar and Cas joining him, and then they took a cab home… he couldn't recall anything else after that.

Fuck. Fuck everything.

Dean fumbled around the empty bed, rolling over onto the other side to squint at Cas's alarm clock. It was ten o'clock, and Dean was almost too busy freaking out about how late in the morning it was to notice the tall glass of water and two ibuprofen that sat on the nightstand.

Suddenly feeling a sense of gratitude, Dean accepted the water, downing both the pills in one go before he got up and forced himself on his feet, taking a deep breath to ease his nausea and settle his spinning vision. He padded around the room for a moment in search of his boxers before finding them under the bed (how the hell did they get there?), and slipping them on.

He then gathered the rest of his clothes shucking them on as he rushed out the room, searching for his cell phone. After freaking out and wondering if he had left it at the bar, Dean found his phone in his jacket, which was draped nicely on a dining chair. For the second time that day, Dean felt an air of thanks towards Cas.

His phone was dead, so Dean went to his room to plug it in, letting it charge.

While he waited, he decided to take a shower to rid himself of the smell of sex and the hard after kick of alcohol. The sooner he got clean the sooner he'd be able to sit down and try to remember what the hell happened last night. He stripped himself of his clothes as he stepped into the bathroom, and nearly collapsed in embarrassment at the sight of himself in the mirror.

Love bites covered his chest and neck, mainly around his nipples and below his jaw. And suddenly Dean had a flashback of lying beneath a fully clothed Castiel, urging him to continue and-

Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, Dean swallowed hard and forced himself to take a long and hot shower. He scrubbed his skin vigorously, rubbing uselessly at the love bites, as if that would remove their being.

He had just been drunk. They were both drunk. It didn't mean anything.

Dean's breathing accelerated as he freaked out, closing his eyes and tilting his face up against the spray of the shower, parting his lips and letting the clean drops caress them in a soothing fashion, washing him of remnants of Castiel's kisses. Memories slowly flooded back to him, ridding him of his attempt at calm and further driving him towards anxiety.

Sam's voice sounded in his head.

Don't freak out, Dean. Count to ten.

"One," Dean forced himself to murmur, taking in a deep breath as he did so. He couldn't breathe it out as calmly.

Don't freak out, don't freak out.

"Two."

Keep going.

"Three."

Don't think. Don't think of her.

"Four."

She's gone.

"Five."

Dean's voice replaced Sam's now.

Move on. Sammy told you to move on.

Dean's jaw clenched, and he couldn't breathe.

"S-six."

They're both gone. It's too late.

"Seven," Dean gasped.

Clear your mind.

"Eight."

Everything was spiraling out of control. Dean was struggling to regain his mind- a hand braced against the wet wall.

"Nine."

It's okay.

"Ten."

Everything will be okay.

When Dean was fully dressed he made himself some coffee and lounged in the kitchen, reading over some emails on his laptop. It was well into noon, now, and Dean tried to get a normal routine going so he wouldn't think about last night.

Then his phone began buzzing with incoming messages that he had received when it had been dead. Charlie's name lit up the screen, and Dean hesitated before answering. He was instantly met with a picture of a sleeping stranger. Dean suddenly recognized her as the brunette Charlie had been admiring last night.

Charlie, 6:01 a.m:

So I just woke up to this... I wish I remembered because damn

And then there was a second message.

Charlie, 6:05 a.m.:

did u get lucky?;)

Dean squirmed in his seat, glancing around the apartment as if Castiel would pop up out of nowhere. He then decided to ignore the second message.

Dean, 12:45 p.m.:

are you ok? You need me to pick you up?

In a minute, she replied.

Charlie, 12:47 p.m:

well, apparently she drove us in my car so I'm good. :)

Charlie, 12:47 p.m.:

I'll text u soon. Say hi to Cas for me

That was about the time that the door opened and Castiel jogged in. Dean looked up from his computer, startled until he remembered that Castiel had Sundays off. The blue-eyed man was clad in black track pants and a gray gym sweater. Beads of sweat clung to his face, and he removed the headphones he had in at the sight of Dean.

"Good morning," he panted out, giving a kind smile. Dean returned the action, if not a bit hesitantly.

"Did you go out on a run?" he asked, although it was pretty obvious he did. Who the hell exercised themselves out of their hangover?

Castiel chuckled as he walked over to the kitchen, placing an empty water bottle on the counter. "Mostly a jog- I only ran a bit."

Dean raised an eyebrow, admittedly impressed. "That's crazy. I can hardly get myself to shower the morning after," he replied.

"It's really not so difficult, once you get moving," Castiel retaliated as he went to get a fresh glass of water. "The hardest part is getting up. But if you drink a lot of water it actually helps a good amount."

Dean snorted, taking a sip from his coffee. "Well, I ain't trying that anytime soon."

Castiel gave him a wink, automatically sending Dean's stomach in a flurry of butterflies. "Who knows? Maybe you'll warm up to the idea."

Dean made a protesting noise, trying to avert his eyes to his work but unable to help but keep a wary gaze on the librarian. Castiel was drinking his water, and Dean watched as his throat bobbed with the action. His jaw was covered with stubble, and Dean couldn't help but study the man's profile. He caught a quick glimpse of a love bite on Castiel's neck- right beneath his jaw. That finally made him look away, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Castiel didn't seem to notice Dean's inner predicament, because he suddenly appeared next to him, leaning in uncomfortably close.

"What are you working on?" he asked, arm brushing against Dean's. Although he had gone on a run, Castiel smelled good- his signature sweet, warm scent invaded Dean's senses. His intoxicating warmth filled the cool air with buzzing electricity that made Dean's mind blank for a moment. He tried to calm his heart. Fuck's sake, how old was he? It was just Cas.

Dean decided to brave himself, facing Castiel. He was not prepared for the sight of intensely deep blue eyes and jog-flushed cheeks and fucking perfect lips-

"Uhm- just work, uh, boring stuff," he stammered, internally cursing his crippling awkwardness.

Castiel hummed, a corner of his lips turning up in a sly smile. Dean felt his breath catch as those blue eyes averted to Dean's lips. The teacher found that he couldn't move, just waiting for Castiel to lean forward and seal what they were both thinking.

Then Dean's phone rang, and he suddenly regained control of his body, letting out his breath and ducking away from Castiel's gaze as he searched for his phone.

His hand fumbled for its purchase. Sam's name shone, and Dean thanked whatever higher power brought him this interruption.

"I- ahem, I gotta take this," Dean told the librarian, excusing himself and making his way quickly to his bedroom.

As soon as his door closed behind him, Dean answered the phone.

"Hey, Sammy," he spoke, placing a hand on the door behind him to balance himself. "What's up?"

"Hey," Sam replied, "I'm in town- are you free today?"

"Uh, yeah, I am. Sure- what do you wanna do?"

The sound of Castiel's shower started, and Dean tried not to think of Cas naked and only a room away. He tried not to think about how many lovebites Castiel would find in the mirror.

"Just wanted to grab some lunch or something. How about the diner Charlie showed us over the summer?"

Dean licked his lips, wiping a sweaty palm onto his jeans. "Yeah, sure."

"Hey, you should invite Cas, too," Sam added, sounding excited about the idea. Dean almost forgot how well those two had gotten along.

Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Uhm- he's actually pretty busy today. Maybe next time."

"Oh- okay, that's fine. So I'll see you in an hour?"

"Yeah, see you."

When Dean hung up, he took a deep breath and tried to stifle the guilt in his chest. Castiel probably would have wanted to come along. Who was Dean to cancel for him?

Dean shook his head, trying to rid himself of his guilty thoughts. He didn't need this now. He didn't need all this confusion.

So Dean slung on his jacket and headed out the apartment, not before writing a quick note telling Cas where he'd be. He at least owed him that.

The note did nothing to ease his regret, though. Neither did the music that he blared on the car ride to the cheap burger joint where he was meeting Sammy.

It was only once he saw his younger brother that Dean could allow himself to relax. The taller Winchester gave Dean a comforting smile when he walked into the diner, signaling him over to the booth he was at.

Dean plopped down in the seat from across his brother. Sam had already ordered for the both of them- a hamburger sat in front of Dean, in all its greasy glory. Sam even got one for himself.

But Dean didn't feel very hungry, and ignored his plate, instead taking to pushing around his fries. "So, what's up?" he asked.

Sam shrugged, taking a bite from his burger. "I was just picking up some things for the wedding. I was close to your apartment and wanted to check on you," he explained.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Why isn't Jess with you?" he asked. "Shouldn't you two be doing all this coupley wedding stuff together?"

Sam snorted, smiling. "Uh, yeah, she's with her mother. They're dress shopping. It's all top secret and stuff- Jess even made sure I wouldn't be home at the same time as her so I won't see the dress. So I'm just on my own, and I gotta kill about three hours before I can head back. And, I mean, I'm only picking up envelopes for the invitations, so there isn't much to do."

"Ah," Dean replied, taking a sip from his glass of water. "So when should we go pick out your dress, Sammy?"

Sam threw a crumbled up straw wrapper at his brother. "Shut up, Jerk," he retorted, although he was smiling.

Dean smiled, feeling infinitely better. It had been a while since he had the opportunity to just hang out with Sammy- conversations of hospitals and apartments aside.

Apparently, he had spoke too soon.

"So how's everything going?" Sam asked. "Are you and Cas getting on well?"

Yeah, Dean thought. Too well.

"Well, uh, it is how it is, y'know?" Dean replied, ignoring his brother's gaze and taking to eating the fry he had been fiddling with since he sat down. "We're both just kinda busy with work- I hardly see him."

Sam, of course, knew his brother better than anyone. And it wasn't that hard for him to tell what was going on (especially according to other circumstances that were currently taking place).

"Listen, man- I'm really worried about you," Sam admitted. His gaze grew serious when Dean snorted. "I'm serious. You always do this to yourself. Don't shut anyone out, okay?" Sam advised, leaning forward- his face encompassing that concerned look that Dean knew all too well.

Dean rolled his eyes, reclining back in his seat in an act to oppose his brother's concern. "It's almost been seven years, Sam. I'm fine." He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to think about it. And he most definitely didn't want to confine in his brother about something he's kept to himself for so long.

Sam wasn't easily convinced, though. He huffed as he sat back straight, searching for words to say. "It's okay to need someone, Dean. It's fine to have someone there- even if it's just to distract you for that night. I don't want you doing what you usually do- I know you say it helps, and, well, I don't doubt it doesn't for a while. But it's not healthy to drink everything away," Sam ranted. Dean had a feeling the younger Winchester had been preparing this speech for a while.

"What is this- an alcoholics anonymous class? Last I checked, you were a lawyer, not a damn therapist," Dean grumbled, crossing his arms.

Sam's mouth twisted into a frown, but he didn't let up. "Maybe Cas can help- maybe he could hang out with you for that night. Or Charlie- hell, I could even come over. We don't even have to talk about it. We could do whatever you want."

Dean glared at his brother. "What I want is for you to drop this, Sam. I'm perfectly okay- I'm a grown ass man and I know how to take care of myself," he argued, getting up and digging through his wallet, now. He placed a twenty on the table before he spoke again. "Anyways, I just remembered, I gotta go. See you."

He ignored Sam's protests as he walked out the door. Needless to say, a liquor store was his next destination.

Dean Winchester had his own ways of coping. And they certainly didn't involve crying on someone's shoulder.

When Dean finally got home it was well into the night. The day had been overall uneventful. After buying a few bottles of liquor, he stashed them in his car and just wandered aimlessly. The last place he wanted to be was anywhere near Castiel. He couldn't take what Sam had said- using Castiel to fill the void inside of him. It didn't feel right. He didn't want things to be that way.

Nobody could fill that void.

His old apartment was the first stop. Dean spent a while lingering by it, even getting out the car to walk to the spot where he'd been attacked. A dark stain still marked the ground- refusing to weather out. Dean wished that night had never happened- he wished he was still in his crappy apartment, cost and condition be damned.

And a part of him wished he'd never approached Castiel in the library.

Afterwards, he drove around some more, no particular destination in mind. He ignored Sam's messages, feeling a twinge of guilt in his stomach at walking out on his brother. Sam had only been trying to help, Dean knew that. It had been too much, though. Dean didn't expect they'd be discussing what happened all those years ago. Sam normally left the topic untouched- it was too traumatizing and he didn't know how to discuss it with Dean, who normally detested any sort of emotional talks. So he let Dean do what he wanted to cope.

The shock was a blow to Dean's already weakened emotional state. And a few hours after the encounter with Sam, Dean found himself in a shabby bar, drinking a few beers to numb himself of the thoughts rampaging in his mind. It was only four o'clock when Dean walked in, yet he had managed to waste hours in the horribly sad establishment, nursing beers and feeling more and more like he was losing control rather than gaining it.

After a while, he stopped himself from going for the harder drinks and headed off to a park where he lounged around until the sky went dark and whatever buzz he felt from the beer was well worn off. That was around the time he decided he should head back.

When he arrived home, it was silent. The lights were still on, and the balcony door was open, but there was no noise signalling Castiel's presence.

Tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter, Dean trudged to the glass door, checking the balcony before he slid it shut. The plastic bag in his hand weighed him down- bottles clinking in rhythm to his footfall.

Upon approaching his bedroom, Dean saw that the lights to Castiel's room were on, a yellow glow leaking into the dark hallway through the small gap of his ajar door.

After carelessly placing his bag in the entrance to his bedroom, Dean toed off his shoes and walked silently to Castiel's door.

He knocked once- a muffled tap before he eased the door open. "Cas?" he whispered.

When he opened the door all the way and peered in, he found the fortune teller asleep on his bed, hand clutching a book that laid page-down on his chest. An arm was folded underneath his head, and he was peacefully asleep- eyes blissfully closed.

Dean felt a wave of guilt at abandoning the librarian. After he had promised to show Dean around the area, too. Dean didn't even want to think about how lonely Castiel must have been, just reading by himself in his room.

In order to somewhat right his wrongs, Dean tiptoed in and removed the book from Castiel's hand, marking it and placing it on his nightstand. He then drew a blanket over the sleeping form, trying to keep himself from freely observing his features, even though the sink of his v-neck beckoned Dean forward.

Strangely, Dean found himself observing Castiel's room. It was well kept, just like the rest of the apartment. There was a lone oak bookshelf, a closet, and a neat desk and chair. No clothes laid about- no photos or trinkets were exposed. It was eerily bare.

Feeling as though he were intruding, Dean turned off the lamp and stepped out of the bedroom, making his way towards his own. He picked up his bag and shoes and closed the door behind him, taking to hiding his liquor in his closet. He'd use it when the time was right. But he had work tomorrow, and there was no way in hell he'd lose his job on top of everything else.

So he slept thinking of what was to come.

Dean was surprised with how easily he brought himself to slip into the motions of his everyday life. He pushed all thoughts of the anniversary to the back of his mind, and instead worked with catching up his students to their required pace. His kids put him in a good mood, and Dean even felt well enough to try at creating idle chat with Charlie and the rest of the English board.

Charlie only brought up Castiel once, surprisingly. She asked how things had gone Saturday night, and Dean had replied saying nothing happened. He didn't want Charlie to encourage him towards something he wasn't looking to pursue. In fact, he wished he hadn't brought up Castiel to her or Sam at all.

But Charlie respected Dean's answer, and (upon noticing his sour mood), instead told him of her adventure with the brunette girl, who was apparently named Gilda. They had gone out for lunch, and even planned on going out, again. Dean expressed his happiness for his friend, although he felt an awful twitch of jealousy. After that, he never mentioned Castiel, and Charlie never pestered him about it.

The difficult part was avoiding Castiel at home. Not only was it nearly impossible to do, but Dean felt like shit when he did it. He had stopped visiting the library, and instead took to doing all his work in his room, then closing his door and retiring for the night when he knew Castiel would be home.

Castiel didn't mention their switch in communication, but Dean could tell he was kind of hurt by it. The librarian rarely tried to reach out to Dean, and when he did it would only be a half-hearted smile or meaningless chit chat about the weather or work or what they needed from the store.

A massive part of Dean didn't want to push Castiel away. But he slowly yet surely lost to his hesitations and fear. Being close to Castiel wouldn't only hurt Dean, but would hurt Cas, too. And Dean was sick and tired of the repeated cycle his life had become. He wouldn't let himself get pulled into that, again.

Sam continuously called Dean as the week drew to a close. It was getting closer and closer to the anniversary, and the liquor in Dean's closet seemed to be calling out to him- reminding him of what it'd be used for and giving him promises of a numb mind and dulled emotions. The days kept counting down, and the need to drink burned in Dean's gut increasingly with every day that passed.

Finally, the day had come. Dean woke up that Friday morning with a feeling of dread. But the day he was greeted with was no different than any other. The sun still shone- his students still laughed and smiled. Charlie still brought Dean over to her classroom for lunch. They still talked and time still moved and nothing fell apart around him.

It was sort of strange, how that worked. Even though Dean felt chaotic inside, everything went about normally. Nothing stopped for him.

Nothing stopped for them.

People still breathed and spoke and laughed. And Dean did, too. He treated that day like it was any other, until it hurt too much to pretend. Until he was in the safety of his apartment and away from other people.

Now he didn't have to pretend. Now he could drink it all away.

And that's exactly what he did.

Dean didn't mean for this to happen. In fact, he pretty much never meant for all the bad things that have ever happened to him to happen. And they still did. They always fucking did.

But this was definitely not okay.

He had been almost done with his first bottle of jack when Castiel got home. Dean didn't expect him to check on him- he was so sure Castiel would just go to his own room and sleep like usual. Hell, that's why Dean had closed his own door and turned off his main light- switching on the small lamp on his nightstand. It was a clear indicator that he did not want to be disturbed.

Maybe he should have gone for that extra step and locked the door.

But it was too late for that, now. He didn't even register the knock at his door before it was already opening, Dean's name being called by a hesitant librarian. He barely even had enough time to get up (or, rather, stumble) onto his feet when Castiel had already stepped into the room.

"Hey, whas' up?" Dean asked rather lamely- his voice a horrible slur. He was well beyond the edge of sobriety, and he was actually surprised he could manage to stand let alone greet Castiel in a civil manner.

The librarian gazed at Dean with wide eyes- his hand frozen on the doorknob. The air was tense.

When he finally spoke, Dean almost sighed with relief.

"Are… are you drinking?" he asked in a dumbfounded tone.

Dean couldn't help but laugh at that. "Uh, yeah, you wanna join?"

But Castiel wasn't in the mood for jokes, obviously. He stepped forward, closing the door behind him as he observed Dean carefully. It was awkwardly silent.

"Why have you drunk a bottle of whiskey?" he asked.

Dean licked his lips, clutching his bottle possessively- as if he wanted to protect it from Cas's critical stare. Then he suddenly remembered why he was drinking- he remembered what all this was for. Flashbacks returned to him, and he fought not to finish drinking them away in front of Castiel. "I don't wanna talk 'bout this, Cas. Jus'- it's okay. I'm fine. Go to bed, 'l see ya in the morning."

And so Dean sat down on his bed, taking another swig from his bottle in hopes that Castiel would leave at that. But he should have known the librarian would be more persistent.

"Dean, what's the matter? Why are you drinking?" Castiel asked, his eyes seeming troubled. Dean was too drunk to stop what he said next. He was irritated- irritated with himself for drinking and with Cas for not leaving and he just wanted to be alone.

"'Cuz life is shit! My life is shit! And if you don't stay the fuck away yours will be, too," Dean exclaimed, heart pounding in his chest.

Castiel moved forward, prompting Dean to stand up in defense. "What on Earth are you talking about?" the librarian asked.

Dean sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment before he spoke again. "Nothing- it's just, it's nothing. Forget about it. Just- just go," Dean commanded, turning around and flicking a dismissive hand- praying to whatever holy being that Castiel would just listen for once and leave.

That didn't happen. Dean could hear the librarian step closer, and he fought not to turn around and look at him. He tried not to let him in. Dean needed to do this on his own- he's always done this on his own.

Dean's hands shook and everything was spinning. He could barely register Castiel's next words.

"Dean. Dean give me the bottle."

Dean laughed, although his panic was evident- clawing its way up his throat. He finally turned to face the fortune teller. "I'm fine, Cas. I don't need a goddamn babysitter."

Castiel stilled, giving a nod as he drew his hand back. "Alright. Yes- of course. Just tell me what's wrong."

Dean's breath hitched in his throat, and he met Castiel's gaze. He needed Castiel to get away- the memories weren't leaving, and if Dean didn't forget them soon he'd fucking lose it. "I can't. Just- please," he begged, hand squeezing the bottle in his hand. "You don't wanna see me like this. Jus' go."

Castiel's jaw tightened, and he shook his head stubbornly. "No."

Dean straightened up, a wave of rage pushing him off the edge. "Fine," he replied, stumbling off and grabbing his keys from his desk. He forcefully placed his drink on the desk before heading towards the door. If he couldn't drink in his house, he'd go to a fucking bar to ride this through. "I'm leaving."

Castiel caught his arm just as he reached the door. "Dean, don't be ridiculous, there's no way you're driving."

Dean yanked his arm out of Castiel's grip (nearly falling from his unbalanced state) , and walked into the hallway in a stubborn stomp. He needed to get out of here- he had to be alone or he didn't know what he'd do.

"Dean!" Castiel's voice rung out from behind him. "Dean, stop!"

It wasn't until Castiel forcefully grabbed Dean by the back of his shirt that the blond stopped walking. And that was only because he was being pulled back to face the librarian.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, swaying his arms about in his attempt to get free. "Let go!" he ordered, trying (and failing) to fumble drunkenly out of Castiel's grasp.

"You need to calm down and think about what you're doing," Castiel advised, intense blue eyes staring stonily into Dean's own.

Dean tried to push away, shoving at Castiel's shoulders and only earning a hard slam into the wall where Castiel now held him still. Dean's keys dropped to the floor from the impact, and he tried to focus his dizzying gaze on Castiel's eyes.

"Calm down," Castiel commanded, voice like a strong and burning fire. It caught Dean's attention, but he didn't want to give in- didn't want to let Castiel win. "Calm down, Dean," Castiel ordered once more.

Dean couldn't, though. He tried to free himself, but he was too drunk and Castiel was far stronger than he was on any day.

"Please," he begged, looking away from Castiel although he kept a hand flat on his shoulder, still trying to push him away. His fingers curled into the material of Castiel's shirt as he pushed at him. He felt defeated and ashamed, but his initial panic still made his heart race, and his mind was still screaming at him to run away and drink until he blacked out. "I'll get a cab, just let me go."

"You're going to get yourself killed," Castiel stated.

"That's normally the fucking plan, Cas," Dean replied, looking up to glare into the librarian's eyes. He was caught off guard at Dean's statement- his eyes widened and lips parted in shock. Dean dropped his gaze, trying again to push Castiel away although it was a weak attempt.

"What happened?" he asked.

Dean felt acid in his throat. "Doesn' matter. 'Was years ago," he murmured, trying to hold back the burning in his eyes.

Castiel was silent. "Your parents?" he asked, trying to see past the haze of Dean's secrets.

Dean chuckled humorlessly, lifting his head up and smiling bitterly at the fortune teller. "No- not mommy and daddy," he joked, although he had to repress a shudder at the thought of flames and gunshots.

Castiel searched Dean's eyes, eyebrows furrowed in a pensive manner. "Who did you lose?" he asked, voice low and laced with confusion- as if Dean's past was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

Dean clenched his jaw as he tried to stop himself from breaking down. "Doesn' matter," he repeated in a whisper.

Castiel continued to gaze at him. "It was more than one," he suddenly spoke, and Dean felt as if he were slapped in the face. "You lost more than one person that day."

Tears gathered in Dean's eyes- the alcohol ruining his attempt at holding them back. This was bad. This was very bad. He was too drunk and he was losing control of everything. He couldn't do this- he couldn't let Castiel know. He had to do this on his own, he just needed to get away.

But, instead, Dean nodded, head dropping as his breath hitched in his throat, coming out as a wet gasp. Castiel's grip loosened on Dean's shoulder.

"Dean," he whispered, urging him to speak- to tell him what happened all those years ago.

"Doesn' matter. Doesn' matter, they're gone," he choked out. Castiel was silent. He didn't respond, silently coaxing Dean to continue.

So he did.

Taking a shaky breath, Dean tried to gather the words from his alcohol-soaked brain.

"Lisa- her name was Lisa. We were married," Dean recalled, swallowing down the lump in his throat. His hands shook, and he instinctively grabbed onto tight to Castiel's arms. "She got 'n a car wreck- some drunk bastard crashed 'nto her side of the car goin' eighty," Dean's voice quivered. "She didn' make it- passed before they could get her to the hospital. 'Said she died the moment of impact," Dean explained, tears streaming down his face before he even knew it- before he could compose himself. Castiel was still silent, digesting everything Dean was saying. Dean tried taking a deep breath, but it turned into another wet gasp, and he closed his eyes tight for a moment as he tried to shake away the awful memories. "Our son died too," he spoke, voice strained. "He was due in a week. We were going to name him Ben- after her dad," Dean blabbered on, unable to see past his tears, now. "We had everythin' set up for him- I had just finished painting his nursery," Dean explained, voice cracking. He screwed his lips shut. He never talked about this to anyone, and suddenly the need to recall that day was so strong he couldn't handle it. "I lost them both- there was nothin' I could do. I couldn't say bye- couldn't do anything 'bout it-"

"Dean," Castiel interrupted. Dean continued on.

"You know the worst part?" he asked as he looked up, laughing in a pathetically choked way. His bitter smile remained as he spoke. "The guy that crashed into her? He lived. He got to live and she didn't," Dean ranted, nearly spitting out the words in disgust. "How is that fair?" he asked, although he didn't expect Castiel to respond. Blue eyes stared intensely at Dean, and the blond laughed again before he continued. "And I was so goddamned mad. I wanted to kill him- wanted to fucking murder him the moment I was forced to talk to him as if he were a fucking human. And he tried to say sorry and tried to explain what had happened and I never wanted to kill someone more than I wanted to kill him-"

"Dean-"

"I never got to see my son," Dean cried, sagging down in a defeated manner, his body exhausted and his mind dizzy. "I didn't get to be with them- didn't get to hear her voice one last time. All I got was a call from a hospital- all I got was an 'I'm sorry we couldn't save them'."

Castiel was speechless. His mouth was opened, as if he wanted to say something- some words of comfort. But nothing came out. And Dean kept crying, losing himself in his drunken grief.

"'S all my fucking fault," he choked out.

That drove Castiel to speak. "Why would you think that?" he asked, breathless. His eyes were confused as they searched Dean's own.

"'Was supposed to take her to see her mom. Couldn't make it. I was at college- in a class, so she drove 'erself," Dean explained, breathing accelerating. "'Was still in that fuckin' class when I got the call."

"You couldn't possibly have known," Castiel retorted.

"But it could've been different. If I had just skipped that day- if I had driven her maybe it woulda been different," Dean argued. "I promised her I would- I didn't know-"

"Dean," Castiel broke in. "It's not your fault."

Dean shook his head, shoving Castiel away, now. Everything was spinning- Dean couldn't get enough air in his lungs. "But it is! Can't you see?" he exclaimed, panicking. "I'm poison, Cas! People get close to me- they get hurt or killed or," he cut himself off, taking a deep breath. "I just can't- I can't drag people through the muck with me, not anymore," Dean slurred, the alcohol making him stumble slightly as he tried to stand up straight. "That's why you need to stay away. Nothin' good will come out of- of whatever this is," he gestured between them.

Castiel was silent, looking Dean up and down for a moment before he shook his head. "You're wrong," he argued.

Dean gazed at Castiel incredulously. "What?"

"You're not poison," Castiel retorted, stepping forward. "You're not the reason for the death of others. It has nothing to do with you, and there is no way you could change someone's fate."

Dean searched Castiel's eyes frantically. "I could've saved them," he argued weakly. "It's-"

But before he could finish Castiel gathered him in a hug, holding him tight even when Dean initially struggled. "Stop it," Castiel murmured. "It's not your fault. You need to forgive yourself."

Dean tried to regain his shaky breath, his face buried in Castiel's shoulder. He didn't hug him back- he was too shocked to do that much. All he could do was panic over this- over the gentle touch he wasn't used to. "'M not good enough for you," he spoke, voice muffled and thick with tears.

"No," Castiel replied, hand rubbing slow circles on Dean's back. "You're better than you realize."

Dean shook his head at that, wanting to protest- wanting to pull away and get his drink. But Castiel only held him tighter. "You're so good," he insisted, making Dean cry more- unable to help himself. So he stood there, riding out his anxiety and trying so hard to grasp onto whatever consciousness he could obtain.

Once his panic settled, he could find it in himself to relax, closing his eyes and burying them in Castiel's neck, his hot breaths gusting out onto the librarian's skin. Castiel held him tighter, and Dean lifted a hand to grasp onto the hem of Cas's shirt- mostly because he felt too dizzy to stand up without the aid of balance.

Just as Dean's panic attack faded away, he suddenly felt sick- a strong tug pulling his gut.

"Fuck, Cas, I-" he managed to get out before he pulled away and rushed to the bathroom, where he proceeded to vomit violently into the toilet- the ringing in his ears and burning in his stomach resulting from the harsh liquor that sat in him.

He threw up for what felt like ages- sweaty hands gripping on tight to the porcelain bowl as he retched. A warm hand placed itself between Dean's shoulders, and he gasped as his stomach tried to rid itself of whatever leftover contents were in it. Wave after wave came, and Dean rode them out, his throat burning and stomach flipping horribly with the exertion. Once he had regained his breathing pattern and his stomach had somewhat settled, Dean's shaky fingers reached over to flush the toilet. He then got up- accepting the hand that Castiel gave him and willing his shaky legs to lead him to the sink in a stumbling stride. He turned the water on cold, rinsing his mouth and washing the sweat from his face as Castiel stood by him, keeping a hovering hand near Dean's arm.

When he was finished, Dean let Castiel lead him to his bedroom, where he collapsed onto the mattress, allowing Castiel to grab whatever alcohol he had left and dump it away in the sink. A part of him wanted to drink the rest of it, despite throwing up horribly only a few minutes previously. He didn't know if he'd be able to sleep with the thoughts that ran through his head, at the moment.

When Castiel returned to the room, he had a tall cup of water with him.

"Drink this," he urged, handing the glass over. It took a while for Dean to get it all down, but he did. Once he had finished, Castiel told him to sleep, and proceeded to get up.

"Wait- Cas, don' go," he spoke up before he could stop himself. The librarian paused, turning to look over at him. Dean licked his lips, his heart pounding. He couldn't be alone- not with all the thoughts that he couldn't drink away. "Jus'... sit with me, please?" Dean asked, suddenly shying away from Castiel's intense gaze.

The mattress sunk beside him, and a warm hand placed itself on Dean's leg.

"Lie down, Dean," the low voice coaxed.

Dean looked up and nodded before he complied, lying down on the mattress. He covered himself with a messy bedsheet and eyed Castiel carefully as he did so. The librarian gave him a small smile.

"Try and get some sleep," he instructed.

Dean nodded, again. But he couldn't find sleep, and instead took to gazing at the ceiling, watching the fan there spin until his drunken mind grew dizzy and his nausea started up once more. They remained like that for a while, until Dean spoke again.

"You can lie down, Cas," he spoke in a grumpy mumble. "Not gonna bite 'ya."

Castiel laughed at that. "You sure?" he asked. Dean rolled his eyes, refusing to respond. After smiling softly, Castiel kicked off his shoes and laid down beside him. Dean turned on his side, his back facing Castiel. He listened to Castiel's breathing, strangely comforted by the other man's presence.

"'M sorry," Dean murmured when he felt the fuzziness of sleep approach him.

"Don't apologize," Castiel replied.

Dean drew his lips in a line. His eyes fell closed.

"Thank you," he whispered before he fell asleep.

Castiel stayed with him throughout the night.

Woooooo

So a big part of Dean's life has been revealed :) I was gonna fit how Dean's parents died in there, but that will be for another time.

Geez, it's been forever since I've updated... I'm sorry, you guys!

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I'm gonna keep this author's note short since I'm really tired and it's 4am.

For those of you who read my other fic "I'll Try to Change", it will be updated later today!

Thanks for the patience!

Goodbye, lovelies!~