Another quick, little bonus chapter. A bit darker than the others, I guess, but hey, that's one of the things that we love about the show. Also a bit of stronger language than previously.
Still no actual timeline to these things (Was also supposed to be complete, but what the hell…), but I would place it between A Rm wa Vu and A Changed Tune in the original one-shots.
-.-.-.-
Long term association with the Winchesters had shown many different aspects of human behaviour. It was not always easy to interpret or decipher – usually due to references to unspecified movies, which did not seem to follow an identifiable pattern.
One such puzzling thing was the intake of alcohol.
There was the intake of one to four units of alcohol in connection to consumption of food. In this situation, alcohol was a mean of enjoyment, relaxation and often complimentary to the chosen meal. It was customary to make jokes and the brothers would flirt with the waitresses, which mostly was well-received.
If no food was involved, but the intake was approximately the same, the alcohol was less about the enjoyment and more about 'unwinding'. It often happened after a long day of driving or researching. The mood was less talkative and more practical; What should be done tomorrow, which other leads should be followed. There might be funny remarks, but not in the same carefree way as during a meal.
Looking back, Castiel did not understand the differences between these two scenarios when he first arrived on earth. Food or no food. Books and casefiles or not. He just considered it intake of sustenance, though thinking that alcohol was a poor choice as it would leave them more dehydrated than rehydrated. At first, it didn't seem important, but he learned the nuances along the way and which psychological factors were in play. Both brothers needed these moments to mentally recover and have a sense of social connection with each other. The alcohol facilitated these moments.
However, if the amount of alcohol increased, the differences between the situations became much clearer. He quickly learned the differences, even if it took him longer to understand the full depth of the situations.
Sam and Dean could spend a night in a bar, consuming what Castiel considered a ridiculous amount of alcohol. However, the mood was good, the tenseness in the brothers' shoulders would dissipate and the air quickly filled with laughter. The Angel quickly gained a certain appreciation of these rare nights.
Drinking large amounts of alcohol alone, on the other hand, was a completely different situation. From the very first time he experienced either brother in this state, he understood the severity. His own first bender had only confirmed his feelings about this type of drinking. It was a desperate act without enjoyment or relaxation as a goal. It was nothing but drowning while still breathing.
Dean was… exceptionally good at this form of drinking. It had quickly become painfully clear that the older hunter used this method to carry the immense weight that he took upon himself. Every lost innocent, every time his family and friends got hurt – or worse. Dean sought the solution at the bottom of a bottle. Or maybe not a solution, but a bottomless abyss where he could bury his emotions.
Tonight was no different.
Having known Dean so long, it was unfortunately a common sight. One that made Castiel take a deep breath as he felt the uncomfortable phantom pain of his stomach dropping.
"Hello Dean." Castiel walked up to the library table where Dean was slowly turning a glass with amber liquid, bottle more than half empty next to him. Castiel silently prayed that the bottle had not been full earlier this night. "Where's Sam?"
The huff that his question received told him that Sam's absence had everything to do with the quickly emptying bottle, even before Dean spoke. "Out."
"Is he working a case?" Castiel sat down carefully next to Dean, fingers itching to remove the bottle standing on the table between them.
"No. Just…" Dean shook his head and emptied his glass. He huffed out a mirthless laughter. "I don't get it, Cas… He's my brother. I… We… It shouldn't be like this… So fucking hard."
It became clear that the bottle had been at least close to full when Dean opened it this night. His speech was slightly slurred, but mostly it was his initiative to speak that revealed his lowered guards. Dean seldomly shared his feelings, and yet he had these moments where Castiel got a rare, honest look into the hunter's heart. It was the only good thing to come out of these situations.
"What happened?" Castiel kept his voice low and neutral. Non-intrusive.
Dean snorted. "The usual. We're around each other for a looong time and then… Bam! Suddenly we can't stand each other. And it just gets worse and worse and worse unless one of us takes off…"
Castiel frowned and after a moment carefully said. "You both care immensely for the other. Needing some time a part does not diminish that."
"But it shouldn't be like that!" Dean snapped, slamming his open palm on the table. He took a deep breath and lifted his hand to run it down his face instead. It almost obscured his next words. "We're brothers…"
"Dean, all siblings – all families – have their ups and downs. And you and Sam, you deal with difficult situations – Life and death situations – almost weekly, so-"
"That's the problem, Cas!" Dean interrupted, though this time, his voice was thick, and he kept his hand in front of his eyes, shielding himself from Castiel. He took a shaky breath. "How… How can I keep him safe, when he can't… stand to…"
The words died on Dean's tongue, but the 'be around me' rung in Castiel's head, completing a sentence that caused his heart to constrict. He intended to comfort the hunter, but the only word his mind could form was; "Dean…"
"I just want to keep him safe." Dean's gruff voice took on a bitter tone as he continued. "Hell, its all I've ever wanted... Tried to do. You know the drill. 'Look after your little brother, boy'… 'Stay here. Don't leave 'till I come back. Keep Sammy safe'… Well, easier said than done, old man…" Dean snorted and filled his glass again, immediately taking a large gulp.
"Your father put too much responsibility on your shoulders." Castiel had never known John Winchester, except from what was described in the Winchester Gospel. He did not doubt the father's love for his sons, but his parenting methods left much to be desired.
"You don't know the half of it." Dean swirled the amber again, sending a small splash down the outside of the glass which he either didn't notice or pointedly ignored. Dean was not a man who pitied himself, but that did not mean that he was not still influenced by his past. He carried it as a second shadow that would cloud his judgement, making him act before thinking. Anything to protect his family. But sometimes he would have these drunken moments of clarity, where he could feel the true weight on his shoulders. He continued, almost whispering more to himself than Castiel. "Before I turned five, I was changing diapers and feeding a baby. Did a pretty shitty job at it too. But dad was researching, looking for Yellow Eyes, so someone had to do it… I played with him. Put him to sleep. Which was great, getting him to sleep, 'cause then dad could take me target practising... Had to learn how to defend Sammy when dad went out haunting, after all… The sooner the better… That gun was so goddamn heavy…" He ended with another breathy, humourless laughter.
"Your father took away your childhood." Castiel concluded sadly. He already knew, of course. But sitting here, now, listening to Dean describing his five-year-old self performing the chores of a grown-up painted a painful picture. And the image of a small boy holding a gun that almost slipped from his fingers due to its size in those small hands physically pained him.
"Dad didn't kill mom-" Dean started defending his father.
Castiel raised his voice to stop him, fuelled by anger from his mental images of Dean's childhood. "But he chose to raise his sons as soldiers instead of as children. Especially you, Dean."
"He did his best!" Dean finally looked at Castiel, for the first time that night, a warning clear in his eyes.
Castiel didn't back down. "No. You did your best Dean! You made the best of an extremely difficult situation. You raised your brother to be a smart and independent man, despite being only a child yourself. Sam is strong and a very capable hunter. He can take care of himself because you raised him right. You… You have to stop taking on the responsibility for everyone around you. Your father put that burden on you, but you don't have to keep carrying it."
Dean didn't say anything. He scowled at the Angel, and Castiel got the feeling that he was debating whether to contradict him or just simply hit him. Dean's knuckles were turning white where he was grabbing the arms of the chair, and Castiel steeled himself.
Instead, Dean looked away, body tense and jaw clenched. He grabbed his glass an emptied it aggressively. Through clenched teeth, he finally answered. "You don't know what you're talking about." He slammed the glass on the table and got up from the chair. Besides a small sway to find his balance, he quickly left the room.
Castiel released a breath he didn't realise that he had been holding. At first, he felt relieved that Dean had not taken the bottle with him. Then he felt sad that Dean had needed the bottle to begin with. Next, he felt a sense of pride and gratitude that Dean had not hit him but walked away. Lastly, he hoped that just some of his words would stick with the hunter, and maybe give him some comfort.