Severely unbetaed like wow.

"Cas? I know you're upset, but you can't hide in the bathtub all day." Dean tapped on the door again. "Cas?"

Cas sighed, took one last swig of tequila and slid back under the hot water. He really wanted the world to just go away and leave him alone.

"Dammit, Cas!"

He could hear Dean banging on the door.

Fuck, he was drunk. Really drunk. He vaguely wondered what would happen if he didn't resurface.

Finding the tabloid had been bad enough, but then Bob from the network called and Cas's world collapsed a little more. He hadn't even told Dean that Taste of Heaven had been cancelled. Couldn't bring himself to admit it. All he needed now was for more info to be leaked - like the incident in LA.

Strong hands latched onto his shoulders and yanked him out of the water. "Dammit, Cas! We're not going to do this, do you understand me?!"

Startled, Cas flailed, knocking the bottle of tequila off the edge of the tub with one hand and smacking Dean in the nose with the other.

"Ow!" Dean yelled, releasing Cas, who slipped right back under the water again.

He spluttered as he surfaced.

Dean was madder than he'd ever seen him. "What the fuck, Cas? It's been two days. I know you're upset, I do. You have every right to be. But I can't do this with you right now. I can't take care of another fucking person! I can't!"

"Then leave me alone."

"So you can wallow in the bath? What the hell?"

"Fuck you."

"No. Dammit. Get the fuck out of the tub." Dean reached down and opened the drain. "And enough with this shit." He snatched what was left of the bottle of booze and dumped it down the sink. "You're upset. Fine. But you're not going to turn into a goddamn drunk mess while I fight with the Moores, take care of Sam, and take care of these kids. I can't take care of someone else!" he said again.

Cas silently watched the water swirl down the drain, mourning the loss of his tequila. Numb was better. Then he didn't have to think about how John Bartholomew had ruined his good reputation. He didn't have to think about the loss of income and how they weren't going to be able to afford Sam's medical bills. He didn't have to think about how he'd let Dean down.

"Hey," Dean said softly. He reached out and gently swiped Cas's cheek. "Don't cry. It's ok."

Crying? Cas touched his cheeks, surprised by the wetness. "'M not crying," he said stubbornly.

Dean knelt beside the tub. "Yeah, you are. And that's ok. Let's get you out and dried off. You can sleep this off after I get at least twenty ounces of water in you." He stood and reached for a towel.

"The network canceled Taste of Heaven."

"What?" Dean froze, towel in hand.

"Bob said they're quote, going in another direction," Cas said, making exaggerated air quotations with his fingers. "And sales at both Pearly Gates locations have been slower than usual. My reputation is gone, Dean," Cas said bitterly. "I've become a pariah."

"We'll take it as it comes," Dean murmured, helping Cas to his feet.

He stepped gingerly out of the tub. Cas was drunker than he realized, swaying on his feet as Dean wrapped a towel around him and led him from the room.

"Sit. I'm going to get you something to wear."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cas sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've really blown the whole thing to bits, haven't I?"

"No, you haven't." Dean pulled the towel off, gently wiping the last bits of water from Cas's skin. He rubbed the towel through his hair and pulled the Rolling Stones shirt over Cas's head. A pair of boxers were tugged up his legs, and Dean tucked him into bed. "I'm going to go get you some water. Lay back and relax, but don't fall asleep yet."

Cas sighed as Dean left the room. He stared up at the ceiling, distantly aware of the tears rolling down his face and gathering in his ears. He couldn't bring himself to care.

The door to their room opened, and he caught a snatch of a baby crying before Dean closed it again.

"C'mon, you gotta calm down." Dean handed him a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin. "Drink the whole bottle and take the pills. I'm putting a trash can right here in case you barf. Here's your phone. Call me if you need me. And I'm locking up the alcohol." He patted Cas's blanket covered leg. "We can get through this. We've made it through everything else; we'll get through this."

"When did you get so optimistic?"

"Someone's got to be." Dean leaned down and kissed Cas forehead. He brushed away a few tears with his thumbs. "Sleep, baby. I love you."

"Love you, too," Cas sniffled. He opened the bottle of water as Dean left the room. The pills were taken as ordered, and the entire bottle drained. Cas rolled onto his side.

Sleep.

Yeah right.

"Cas?"

He must've fallen asleep after all. It was dark out, and it had been daytime when Cas laid down. Blinking at the light in the room, he stared up at Dean.

"Hey. How're you feeling?"

"Like shit."

Dean grinned. "That good, huh? Better than I expected." He cupped Cas's cheek in his hand, and Cas leaned into the touch. "Ellen's downstairs. She's going to watch the kids while I go see Sam. I won't be long. I wanted to go earlier, but it's been kind of busy day."

"No thanks to me."

"No. We're not going to do that. How many days have I had where I couldn't get out of bed? If anyone understands depression, it's me. Ok?"

"Just I -"

"No. No excuses. You needed a day to be self-absorbed. It's cool. We all need that once in a while. Also, I talked to Gabe. He thinks you should get Balth to contact someone like People Magazine. Give them an exclusive and tell them what really happened."

"Ugh."

"I think it's a good idea. Especially if they interview us both. We have the drug test results from the hospital, and if we get ahead of this as much as we can -"

"I just don't - I don't want to talk about it. I want the whole mess to go away."

"I get that, I do, but if you don't tell your side of this, the world is just going to assume that tabloid reporter is right. You deserve better than that, Cas!"

Cas opened his mouth, but Dean silenced him with his own. He kissed Cas long and deep.

"It's ok. Just think about it," he said after. "I'm going to the hospital. There's dinner downstairs and no one is upset with you. No one believes the report. This whole family is behind you, 110%. Ok?"

He nodded.

"Alright, I'll see you when I get back. I love you," Dean said softly, kissing him again.

"You deserve better, you know? After everything you've been through..."

Dean froze with his hand on the door.

"But hey, at least TMZ and that awful Perez Hilton are taking your side." Cas chuckled bitterly. "I'm truly the villain of this piece."

"Then turn it around on them."

"With an interview? Who would believe me now?"

Dean walked back to the bed. "I'm not letting you give up," he said firmly, reaching for Cas's hands. "We're gonna fight, ok? That assclown started this. I say we finish it."

Cas's stomach lurched. Dean's expression was so bright and determined, and Cas didn't have the heart to bring him down.

"Call Balthazar while I'm out. See what he thinks." Dean leaned down and kissed him again. "I'll be back. Love you."

Cas didn't call Balthazar. He didn't go downstairs for dinner. He rolled to his side and pulled the covers over his head.

He could still hear Bob's voice in his head. It's not you or anything you've done. We've just decided to go in another direction. I'm sorry, Cas.

Please. Like he believed that shit.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.

-Cassie. Call me. Have to talk. Important. -B

Cas sighed and tossed the phone back on the nightstand, rolled back over, and let himself pass out.

Sam stared out of his window. Outside, the leaves were beginning to turn, and several danced in the wind.

It'd been three weeks, almost four. November now. Where had the time gone? Of course, he didn't really remember the first two weeks he'd spent in Lawrence General. The first week, he'd been non-responsive, and the second week he'd spent his time attempting to die of sepsis.

This last week, he'd worked with Amelia more and more, relieved as he regained some dexterity in his right hand.

At least something was working right.

"Did you hear a word I said?"

"What?" Sam looked up at Amelia, who was packing all her little PT devices into a blue duffel bag.

"I asked if you were excited to be going home."

"Uh, yeah. I guess so."

"Don't sound like it," she said softly. Amelia set the bag aside and perched on the edge of Sam's bed. "Wanna talk about it?"

Sam sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. "I um, I dunno. I guess I'm just ready to go home."

"You don't sound very convinced. Surely you don't want to stay in this hospital longer than necessary?"

"Well, no, but I just - I'm worried about my brother. They've got so much going on right now, and he's busy rearranging his whole house so he can take care of me and my daughters, and it just doesn't seem fair. His son just turned two months old, and he's spent most of the kid's first months on Earth dealing with my shit. It's just not fair."

"You're worried you're going to be a burden to him."

"Well yeah. I mean, I can't go to the bathroom myself, can't do much of anything really. I'm going to need help around the clock and not only is that going to be a strain on him, it's pretty embarrassing to me. I've gone from successful lawyer to helpless invalid overnight."

"You're not helpless. Yes, you've got a lot to overcome. But I've seen the chair Dean got for you. It has controls so you can operate it with one hand until you get the left arm out of the cast and get it moving. Once you regain feeling in your legs, we'll get you fitted for a prosthesis and you'll be up and about again. It's completely reasonable to assume that you'll be back to daily jogs at some point."

"Right," Sam said bitterly. "I think you're way more optimistic than I am, Amelia."

"Maybe. But I'm also damn good at my job. And I'm stubborn and determined. I get what I want. And what I want is for you to get on your feet again, capische?"

"Yeah."

Amelia toyed with her ponytail. "That's not all that's bothering you, is it?"

"Worried about money, too. I'm in some pretty significant debt, and I'd just lost my job. Jess's health insurance will continue to cover for a while, but the bills are gonna start piling up. Dean's gonna end up laying out a lot of money on me and - y'know, I don't know why I'm dumping all of this on you," Sam sighed. "I'm sure you've got problems of your own and don't need my drama, too."

"Nah, it's ok. For real. I'm here to help you, and I don't mind listening."

"Thanks."

"No problem." Amelia patted his leg.

"You're so kind," Sam said quietly. "And so positive and upbeat. Sometimes, especially at night, I lie awake and I'm just - I'm so fucking scared," he admitted, "and I feel like I'm letting you down by doubting. Feel like I'm letting my girls down. Letting Jess down," Sam sniffled, and rubbed at his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Amelia looked out the window. "Don't be. It's ok."

They sat in silence for a bit, both staring out the window. The sky was gray, and the windblown leaves had given way to rain. It pattered against the glass, leaving long streaks of water behind.

"In August of 2012, my husband got called up for a deployment to Afghanistan," Amelia said softly. "His enlistment was a month away from ending, but the Army pulled something called 'stop loss' which meant his enlistment would be extended until six months after the year long deployment ended. We'd been trying to start a family, but stopped as soon as we got the news. Didn't want to have a baby with him gone."

She sighed, and pulled her ponytail around to the front, running her fingers through the curls. "It was almost over when I got the call that Don had been hurt. They were flying him to Landstuhl, an Army hospital in Germany."

"My brother got sent there when he was hurt, too. Also Afghanistan."

Amelia turned back to look at him, surprised. "I didn't know Dean was in the Army."

"Yeah. Joined after 9-11. Almost died over there. He just started talking about it in the last few years. He's been in therapy and stuff. It messed him up pretty bad."

She nodded. "I can imagine." Sighing, she released her ponytail and looked back out the window. "When I got there, he was in a coma. They told me they were surprised he'd held on that long." Sniffling, Amelia wiped her eyes. "He died that night. I'd crawled into bed with him, and I was holding his hand. I sang to him. Don died in my arms." Covering her face with her hands, she was quiet, didn't make a sound, but her shoulders were shaking.

Sam didn't know what to say. He could understand why she'd shared this with him; that made sense. But he was still so wrapped up in his own pain, the agony of losing Jess, that he didn't think he had it in him to comfort her.

"I'm not telling you this because I want your pity or anything like that. And I'm not saying that it's the same for both of us, but I just want you to know," the hands slipped from her tear stained face, and she reached for Sam's hand, squeezing gently. "I just want you to know that I understand. I'm a widow, and I understand. And if you come to therapy and you just need to talk, or sit in silence and just be, Sam, I understand."

He nodded, feeling tears prick at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

"I have to go. I have another patient." Amelia stood and gathered her things. When she was ready, she reached for Sam's hand again. "You're not alone. I promise you that." She patted his leg and left.

Sam thought about what she said. He laid in his bed and thought about what it would have been like to hold Jess in his arms as she died.

Oh god, but he wanted her back. It hurt so bad. It was the ache in his chest that no amount of medicine could numb. Sam believed maybe it was part of the reason he wasn't ready to go home yet. Going home would make it real. Once Dean settled him into his new bedroom at the house, he wouldn't be able to pretend anymore.

Not that he could really pretend now.

He'd started crying at some point, tears rolling freely down his cheeks to gather in his hair and his ears.

"Sammy?"

Dean. Always showing up at just the right moment.

"Alright, dude, it's ok. C'mon, calm down. It's ok." The bed buzzed as Dean lowered the head. "Got yourself all worked up. C'mon." Dean smiled sadly at him, adjusting the blankets. His eyes looked tired, exhausted. "When's the last time you had pain meds, huh? Are you overdue?"

Dean pushed the call button. "Let's see who's on duty. Get you something, make you feel better."

"Dean, I - I -"

"I know. I know it hurts. Believe me." He reached for Sam's hand as he pulled a chair over. "I know between the pain and Jess and - I know, buddy."

They sat in silence. Ava let herself into the room, syringe in hand, confirming that it was indeed time for pain meds. She injected the contents into Sam's IV line, did a quick run of his vitals, then left the room, leaving Sam alone with Dean.

The floating weirdness that always came with the meds took over, drying up his tears as he slipped into the nether state between consciousness and oblivion.

"You want to talk about it?" Dean asked quietly.

"No. Wanna sleep," Sam slurred. "Hurts. I just - I would trade myself for her, Dean. I would." He meant it too. It would have been far better for Jess to survive than him. She was stronger, always had been, and Sam knew what it was like to grow up without a mother.

As horrible of a person as it probably made him, he would have traded John for Mary in a hot minute.

"Sammy, it's ok. I understand that, too. About wanting to trade Mom for Dad? But that doesn't mean you won't be a hell of a lot better at this than Dad was."

"I said that out loud?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, you did," Dean smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry, I just - meds. No filter."

"It's ok. Look, in another day, you'll be home, and I can take care of you. It's going to be ok. Cas and I, we got the room ready. Rented a hospital bed that does this weird thing that will prevent you from getting bed sores. It's got like a thousand tiny foam balls in it. It's weird, but they said it'll help. I rented you a chair with controls on the right side, so you'll be able to get around, but I doubt you'll need it for long and …" Dean prattled on, filling the silence with friendly chatter.

Sam drifted, on a warm wave of medicine and the disconnection the meds brought on.

"Hey, Jude. Don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better."

He could hear Dean singing to him, feel the wetness on his own cheeks. Sam wondered when he'd started crying again.

"Hey Jude, don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better."

Dean was tracing soothing patterns into the skin of his hand, and Sam let himself go. He let the tears come, let them fall, knowing Dean would be there to keep him safe.

Sam finally fell asleep during the nah, nah, nah, nahs. Dean sighed, released Sam's hand and leaned back against the chair.

"What a day," he muttered to himself. He was so tired of being worn out and exhausted. Between Cas's drama and get the house ready for Sam, not to mention caring for the children, Dean felt like he didn't have a moment to himself.

"He's probably going to sleep through the night," Ava said quietly, as she pushed the door open. "You should go home and rest. Look like you need it."

"Don't know if I could sleep if I tried."

"Still. No point in running yourself into the ground. Don't make me call Cas on you."

Dean scoffed. "Right."

"C'mon." She walked over to the side of the bed and grabbed his coat. "Go. You're taking him home tomorrow. Go home and rest. Ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going."

Dean said goodbye to Sam and bundled up. He waved goodbye to the nurses and took the elevator down to the first floor. As he stepped through the doors and outside, a thousand bright flashes went off in his eyes. Dean stumbled back and threw his arm over his eyes.

"Dean! Dean, did Cas cheat on you?"

"Dean, are you getting a divorce?"

"Is brother ok? How are you holding up?"

"Is it true Cas's show has been cancelled? Did your show get cancelled?"

"Is Cas going to close the restaurants?"

Dean stared in horror at the cameras and reporters. He shoved his way through, digging in his pocket for the Impala's keys. The paparazzi followed, still hurling loud questions at him, and they surrounded the car as he opened the door and locked himself in.

Slamming the key into the ignition, he pushed on the gas pedal, revving the engine and making it very clear that he was about to pull out. Whether or not the reporters got out of the way was up to them.

Once he shifted into gear, they got the idea and moved.

There were more on the street in front of his house. They didn't dare come on the lawn. Dean parked the car and walked around to the front of the house.

He ignored the loud questions and raised his hands for silence. Surprisingly, the crowd quieted immediately.

"I'm giving you five minutes to get the fuck out of here or I'm calling the goddamn cops!" He spun on his heel, turning and heading into the house. He shut the door firmly, and shut off the porch lights.

His phone rang.

"Hey, Benny," he greeted his friend.

"I got a .22. Always made expert marksman…"

"Very funny, Lafitte."

"Most of 'em seem to be leavin'."

"I gave them five minutes to go or I was calling the cops. The first bunch ambushed me at the hospital."

"Fuckin' Christ," Benny grumbled.

"Benny - I um - I um - shit." Dean rubbed his eyes. "So fuckin' tired. I'm so fuckin' tired."

"I know, brotha." Benny was quiet a moment. "Cop is rollin' down the street. Piranhas are rollin' out. Go get some lovin' from Mama Ellen and get your ass t'bed, alrigh'?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Ben."

"Anytime, darlin'."

Dean hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket. He turned and startled a bit. Ellen was standing behind him. She pulled him close and wrapped her arms tight around him.

"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't see them out there. I would have warned you otherwise."

"I know," he murmured, laying his head on her shoulder. "It's ok."

"It's not ok. That Bartholomew character better hope and pray he never crosses paths with me!"

Dean couldn't help but grin. "Rawr, Momma Lion."

"Damn right."

He let her hold him for a moment more, drawing strength from her. "Did Cas come down and eat?"

"No," she let go of him. "I tried taking him a tray. He uh - well, he wasn't interested."

"Which means he probably didn't call Balthazar. Shit. What am I going to do with him? What I am going to do with this whole mess?" Dean pulled away from Ellen, and walked into the kitchen, intent on the bottle of whiskey he knew was hiding in the cabinet above the fridge.

Ellen followed him into the kitchen, taking the bottle from his hands as soon as he got it out. "Uh-uh! No you don't!"

"Ellen!"

"No! This is exactly what you were pissed at Cas for earlier!"

"I wasn't going to have a lot," Dean protested, choking back a whine as she dumped the contents of the bottle down the sink.

"Sorry."

"Totally not sorry."

"No, not really." Ellen turned from the sink. "Dean, baby. You've got circles under your eyes a mile deep. Go upstairs, get a shower, and go to bed. I'm staying. I'll take care of the kiddies tonight. You need rest. Go get it."

"Ellen…"

"Honey. You've got to learn to accept help when it's being offered and especially when you do actually need it. Alright?"

"Yeah."

"Are you hungry at all?"

"No."

"Ok." Ellen cupped his cheek and he leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. "Go rest honey. I'll take care of everything."

Dean nodded and turned to go up the stairs. He stopped at the foot and looked over at Ellen. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed, sweetheart." She smiled reassuringly and opened the dishwasher.

He could hear the dishes clinking as she put them away. Wearily, Dean dragged himself up the stairs. His room was dark. Cas was snoring softly, so Dean went right to the bathroom, stripping his clothes and dropping them on the floor. They could go in the hamper in the morning.

In the bathroom, he turned the shower on as hot as he could stand, climbed in, and just stood there, letting the stream beat down on his tired back and shoulders.

Tomorrow, he needed to attack the massive amount of laundry in the basement. Tomorrow, Sam was coming home. Tomorrow, he'd essentially become a full time nurse. Tomorrow, he needed to try and convince Cas to snap out of it and rejoin the land of the living.

"Shit," he whispered, resting his head on the tile wall. He was just so fucking tired.

Dean washed and got out of the shower, dried off, and walked out to the bedroom, crawling under the sheets naked. He was too tired to put anything on.

Cas rolled over and burrowed into Dean's side. "Feel like shit," he mumbled into Dean's neck before dropping back off to sleep.

It was oddly hard to breathe, lying flat on his back with what felt like a two ton weight sitting on his chest. A lump formed in his throat, hot tears burning in his eyes.

He hadn't even kissed A.J. goodnight.

Dammit. He wasn't going to cry. He was sick of the emotional meltdowns and he was damn sick of crying.

No. No more. Fuck the world and everything it threw at him. Dean's resolve strengthened, and he wrapped his arm tight around Cas, pulling him closer.

Fuck the drunk drivers of the world. Fuck the paparazzi. Fuck John Bartholomew.

The world's on notice, he thought. Dean Winchester's done being fucked over.