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Castiel doesn't see anything but the inside of that room for the next two weeks. The darkness becomes his best friend and his worst enemy. His dreams become his only pastime, and if he had a person hell, this would probably be it.
Dean, Sam, and Bobby spend most of their time alone in the only carpeted room in the building. It is decorated similarly to Bobby's old place (When the three of them first came to this place, it was situated exactly like that. That showed that Eleanor Visyak's time with Bobby meant more to her than the old man thought. It is the only thing that brings a smile to his face these days.)
Dean sits in the farthest corner of the room, watching Bobby flip through another textbook, trying to find some way of getting rid of this God forsaken flood. Sam is taking a nap since he hasn't slept for the past three nights.
When Bobby finishes off the last of the whiskey bottle being shared between the three of them, Dean stands up and walks over to the liquor cabinet that Visyak had stocked some twenty years ago (consequently, the liquor in that cabinet is aged and the best shit out there). He bends down and opens the cabinet to see nothing there. He lifts the false bottom up, but there isn't anything there either. "Where did you put the rest of the liquor?" Dean demands, his voice rough with impatience.
"Nowhere," Bobby replies, looking at Dean. "It's all in there."
"Well, there isn't anything left," Dean replies, his impatience dropping in his tone.
Bobby doesn't take offense to Dean's tone since his own emotions echoe the needs of his surrogate son. He asks, "You checked the false bottom?"
"Yes I checked the false bottom," Dean retorts, mocking Bobby's voice.
Bobby stands up and looks in the liquor cabinet. Nothing. It's completely empty.
They end up waking Sam and searching the entire premises for any sign of alcohol. Two hours later, they turn up empty-handed. They checked every inch of the place… except for the prison.
Dean groans internally at this. Sam can't go in there alone because he'll just deep fry Castiel with holy oil. So all three of them reluctantly make the trek down to the very bottom of the safe house. They open the door and turn on the bright light.
The sudden brightness shocks Castiel and he ends up falling off his cot. He lies their limp for a second, long enough for all three of the men to notice the Maker's Mark Whiskey bottle in his hand.
Cas stares at them, overjoyed for a moment that they finally came to see him, regardless if the reason is malicious or not.
All three of them are confused as to how exactly he's drunk on one bottle. Then Bobby walks to the other side of the cot to see a hundred empty bottles or so lying abandoned on the concrete floor.
"Last one," Castiel croaks.
All of them look at Castiel.
"You're welcome to have what's left of this," Cas says, holding up the bottle for one of them to take.
Sam just wants to punch Cas in the face. Bobby rolls his eyes and leaves the room. Sam follows suit, but not before looking back at his brother, "You coming, Dean?"
Dean doesn't answer at first. He's frozen in his place as he stares down at the drunken angel. The only time he has ever seen Cas drunk was when they were hunting the Whore of Babylon. At the time, if Dean looked past the humor of the entire situation, he could just see the deep lines underneath Castiel's eyes. He could see the brooding edge of his forehead and the tired look in his eyes, as if he were ready to give up.
Dean sees that now too. Cas looks exactly as he did then.
"Dean?" Sam calls again.
The eldest Winchester looks back at his brother as he replies, "In a minute."
He turns back, leaving Sam to stare at him for a moment. Then the youngest Winchester rolls his eyes and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Cas, thinking that they all left, opens his eyes. He is shocked to see Dean there For a second, he inches away because he is afraid Dean will hurt him again.
Dean does step forward, but only to give Castiel his hand. Cas' angelic brain is slowed because of the alcohol and takes a bit to register what Dean wants. It's long enough for Dean's patience to run thin. He leans down and grabs Castiel's arm, putting it around his shoulder. He hoists the angel up and drops him back on the cot. Cas groans quietly as Dean pries the bottle from his fingers. He puts it on a high shelf before turning back to Cas.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel says through his drunken stupor, "I truly am." Even if his judgment is cloudy, he knows there is a good chance Dean Winchester will punch him or use some other violent act against him.
But Dean just sighs as he replies, "It's not your fault, Cas. You weren't you."
Cas sighs at Dean's words, "You're wrong. It might have been the souls' ideas to make the choices I made, but I could've resisted. I didn't. I agreed to their… suggestions," Castiel replies, unsure of the last word. The words they whispered to him were more like promises than anything else.
Dean didn't assume any different of Castiel's reasons for his action. But he drowns out his anger because he knows the angel feels guilty. He knew it the moment he saw the bottle in Cas' hand. Dean is still pissed at the son-of-a-bitch. There's no doubt about that.
But he can't stay enraged when he knows that the man he once called brother has to drink away his guilt for his actions—even if that individual in question drowned millions of people and slaughtered Dean's family.
The thought doesn't anger Dean as much as it did over the past two weeks. It's a big reassurance that the original big cahoots is finally back in office. That gives Dean a little hope.
So to Cas' confession, he replies, "Just sleep, Cas."
The words are soothing to Castiel. When he doesn't hear the metallic squeal of the door, he knows Dean isn't going to leave. Soon enough, he drifts off to sleep with a little more piece in his drunken heart.