Sam's nap didn't go so well. He'd spent several fitful hours trying to doze but he couldn't stop thinking. Dean is such an absolute ASS. Either get with the angel or don't. Cas doesn't deserve to get yanked around like this. The poor guy has never been in any kind of relationship and he goes and falls for Dean of all people. He's about as emotionally available as a fucking cabbage.
Part of him is glad that Dean went for it, even if he immediately back-peddled. He's weirdly proud of him for having the guts to try, even if the decision was lubricated with alcohol. 'Oh god, don't think about lube!' The fact that Dean had expressed that kind of affection in the first place was the most surprising part of all this.
How the hell he was going to even try to fix this was beyond him. Getting Dean to talk would be anything but easy. But he's got to try, because Dean deserves this - even if he doesn't think so. With all the shit in their lives, Dean deserves a little happiness. The same goes for Cas. So Sam decides that as weird as it sounds in his head, he's going to hook his brother up with the angel.
He abandons his attempted nap and heads for home. He stops along the way to grab some whiskey. Maybe a little alcohol will make this easier. It had set this ball rolling, so maybe it could get it rolling again.
Sam only has to take one step into the bunker before he realizes something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. He pulls out his knife and creeps through the halls. He scans the rooms, one by one, surveying the damage as he goes. Pieces of jagged wood that used to be furniture are littering the floor. There's shreds of paper and fabric, shards of glass and porcelain. It looks like a tornado tore through the place.
As he prowls toward the door of one of the many bathrooms, he hears movement inside. The door is slightly ajar, so he tries to peer through the gap before rushing in. He spots a thin line of plaid and denim. He flings the door open and rushes toward his brother, fearing the worst.
Dean is hunched in the corner between the toilet and the wall. He's passed out and covered in vomit. Sam tries to wake him but he just groans and swats a lazy hand at him. He drags Dean into the shower stall and turns on the cold water. Dean sputters and thrashes his way back into consciousness. The angry grimace on his face softens as soon as he spots Sammy.
"You came back?" Dean slurs.
"Of course I came back, idjit."
Sam realizes he didn't need the supplies he'd picked up, Dean was plastered. And then he realizes that Dean is the tornado. He's the force of destruction that tore through the bunker - because he thought Sam was really leaving, not just going out for some fresh air.
"Sammy I- I'm so sorry. I broke the bunker. I broke everything. I ruin everything."
"It's okay Dean, I kind of stormed out of here. I should have told you I was coming back."
Dean reaches up and wraps Sammy in a big bear hug, which would be nice if it wasn't for the fact that he was rubbing puke all over his little brother's shirt.
"Dean, I'm not gonna leave. Never again. Now let's get you cleaned up okay?"
He turns the hot water on in the shower to warm it up, and pulls Dean's up-chuck covered flannel off of him. Dean swears he's ok to do the rest, and Sam grabs him a towel before going to change his own shirt and then wait in the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, Dean emerges. He's much cleaner but obviously still very drunk. He flops down in the chair opposite Sam, and plants an elbow on the table so he can prop his head up with one hand.
"I know I told you I wouldn't make you talk to Cas. So I went and talked to him myself."
Dean stays quiet, looking down at the table, with an unreadable expression pulling his features tight.
"He told me everything. And you're not allowed to get mad at him for that so don't even start. I made him tell me."
Dean's expression doesn't change but he's a few shades more pink than he was a moment ago.
"I got a bit more detail from Cas than I was bargaining for. And I don't ever need to hear those things again, but they need to keep happening."
Dean frowns, doubt painted clearly across his face, but he still doesn't speak so Sam continues.
"I know how much you blame yourself for every little fucking thing, but you're aren't a monster. You're a good man. Sure you've fucked up, but we all have. Me, you, Cas… we've all fucked up pretty severely. But we're only trying to do the right thing. We don't do what we're told, and we don't do what's easy. We try to do what we think is right. That's what matters."
Sam pauses, giving Dean a chance to interject. His brother remains uncharacteristically silent.
"You deserve a little happiness Dean. Cas does too. You should let him decide if he wants to risk provoking the Winchester curse. We both know just how capable he is of taking care of himself. So here's what you're going to do. You're gonna sober up. You're gonna pray to your angel - get his feathery ass over here, and then you're going to make amends. After you apologize for being a giant douche, you will listen to him and let him make his own decision."
Dean doesn't speak, but he slowly nods his head. Sam rises and claps his big palm onto Dean's shoulder. He helps him stand and walks with him to his bedroom before pausing to deliver his last piece of advice.
"You're fucking this up by trying not to fuck it up. Just be happy for once in your life."
He watches Dean walk in to his room and closes the door behind him. Then Sam gets the first solid night of sleep that he's had in a very long time.