Vowing to himself that he'd break out the good stuff once he was home, Castiël poured himself another cup of virgin punch.
Gabriel had been adamant that he'd stay sober, until he was back home.
The room was buzzing with talk, but also with a kind of tension. Castiël knew why, and it made him wish his drink had some oomph.
Dean climbed on stage, guitar in hand. He would sing another lovey, dovey song that somehow would show everyone how he loved Lisa, and probably their baby too, and Castiël would want to throw up again.
Dean strummed the strings a few times, then picked a chord.
He swallowed hard and all of a sudden Castiël saw his face become a mask.
Hard, cold, devoid of feelings.
Then he started to sing.
"It started off so well.
They said we made a perfect pair.
I clothed myself in your glory and your love.
How I loved you,
How I cried."
This was unexpected... it didn't seem to register with most of the people, but this was not like other years.
"Years of care and loyalty,
Were nothing but a sham it seemed.
Years belie,
We lived the lie.
I'll love you, 'til I die."
It was like someone had punched Castiël in the stomach.
This song... it was pure heartbreak.
"The slate will soon be cleaned.
I'll erase the memories.
To start again with somebody new.
Was it all wasted?
All that love?"
Heart breaking to tiny pieces for the hurt in these words, Castiël set one step forward, to the light.
His eyes sought and found Dean's and read everything from them.
He knew, Dean knew everything. How? Anybody's guess was good.
All Castiël knew, was how empty those green eyes were when they found Lisa in the crowd.
His hand crushed his paper cup.
Gabriel's hand landed on his arm and Castiël snapped out of it.
"Cassie... go. Leave, keep an eye on him. He's hurting and who knows what he's gonna do..."
Castiël hugged his brother, glad he read the situation as good as he himself had.
And he was right. Dean would need a guardian angel for now.
Castiël left the office silently and swiftly.
He was barely in his car, when the doors opened again, and the achingly familiar figure of Dean stepped out into the starting snowstorm. He was wearing a leather jacket, and if Castiël wasn't mistaken, it was the same one he had worn that day in highschool.
Dean shrugged deeper in his jacket and just started walking out of the parking lot.
Castiël followed him, worry swirling around him like the snow.