A/N: As promised, second chapter of this update. Guys, I know I suck, but could you please review? I need a little feedback to help me get through. For those who have reviewed, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Oh, and if you want to try something a bit different from me, I wrote a very long one shot called "Thanks for the Memories." Destiel of course. Anyway, enjoy.

Chapter 16

Cas just hung out at home for the rest of the day. He didn't want to see anyone, he didn't want to to talk to anyone. Gabe had tried to call him several times that evening, but he never picked up. All Cas wanted to do was get back to normal life... without Dean. Over the last few days, he had started living in a fantasy world, a world where he was happy, he had a smile on his face. Those were things he hadn't had in a long time. He opened up the refrigerator and saw a bottle of wine. He looked at his watch. Only 3 o'clock. Fuck it, it's 5 o'clock somewhere. He pulled out the bottle and opened it. He didn't even get a glass. He just started drinking right out of the bottle. Three quarters of a bottle of wine wouldn't make him drunk enough to forget, but it would help him sleep. Besides, he had a bottle of whiskey somewhere for later.

Dean and Sam returned from the gun range in the late afternoon. Sam kept throwing looks at Dean the whole day. "Dean, what's going on with you today? " Dean was busy cleaning the guns and getting them safely stored away. "What do you mean? I'm fine." Sam tossed his brother one of his patented bitch faces. "Dean, you missed more targets than you hit. You haven't done that since we were kids. Something's up. You're just... off. Tell me."

Dean really didn't want to talk about this crap with is brother. Sam would want to talk about his feelings and shit. "Sam, really. I'm fine. Just haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately, that's all. Anyway, I'm starving! Where do you want to go to dinner?"

Sam noted the change of subject but didn't say anything. He knew Dean better than he knew himself, and if he kept pushing, Dean would shut down completely. "Uh, why don't we go to the Roadhouse? Then we could have a few beers, too."

"Great! Be ready in thirty minutes." Dean locked the guns away and went to his room to change. He couldn't stop thinking about Cas. Somehow he'd have to find him, talk to him. He'd go see Gabe tomorrow after work. Then he could get Cas' number. He just had to get through tonight. Those beers were sounding better and better.

By 8 o'clock Cas was drunk. Not happy, having fun drunk, but a crying heap of depression drunk. He'd found something that had made him happy and his stupid fucking family fucked everything up. God damn, them. Assholes. All of them. He hated all of them. Tears ran down his face as he drained the rest of the amber liquid from the bottle. Well, shit. No more booze left in the house. He was really hoping he could pass out. He laid down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He missed Dean. He missed his warmth. He missed his smile. He missed his laugh. He sighed. Real life sucks ass. And with that, he passed out.

The next day, Dean was in a great mood. He got to the garage a few minutes early, which was a miracle in and of itself. "What the hell are you doing here Winchester? You're on time!" Bobby barked when Dean walked in. "Can't a man be on time? I just love my job so much I want to be here on time to start my day."

Bobby huffed, "Whatever, idjit," and continued working on the car in front of him. Dean walked over to the list of jobs that needed to be finished. He didn't see Gabe's yellow Mustang. "Hey, Bobby? Whatever happened to that '72 Mustang? The yellow one that needed a new engine?" Bobby kept his back to Dean, head under the hood of a car, "Guy came and got it a few days ago. Ash finished it up. Why?" Dean thought for a moment. "Nothing." There went one of the ways to get Cas' number. He grabbed a work order off the wall and got started for the day. Well, he'd just have to go see Gabe tonight after work, then.

Cas woke up to a jackhammer going in his head. He felt like death. It was too bright and the damn birds were too fucking loud. Why did he drink so much last night? He was in agony, but it was about to get worse. "Cassie! Cassie?!" BANG BANG BANG Some asshole was banging on Castiel's door. "CASSIE! Open the door! Don't make me use my key little brother!" Great. It was Michael. Just fan-fucking-tastic.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Keep your pants on!" Cas slowly got out of bed, the room swimming before his eyes. A wave of nausea hit him and he almost lost it. He pushed down that nausea and made his way to the front door. He realized that Mike had stopped banging on the door, but was still yelling. "Cassie! Come on baby brother! Open the door!" Cas opened the door, turned around, and walked to the couch and flopped down, face first. "Jesus, Cassie. You look like shit!" Cas tried to keep the acid in his stomach under control and said, "Gee, thanks. So glad to came over Mike. What do you want?"

He heard his older brother moving around in the kitchen. "Gabe called me this morning, said you weren't answering your phone." Cas just groaned, not saying anything. "Castiel, we were worried about you." He was close now. "Hey, Cas, look at me." Cas raised his head to see his older brother crouched on the floor next to him. "What's going on? What's wrong?" Cas dropped his head and closed his eyes. "I really don't want to talk about it. I'm fine. Really. Just very, very hung over."

Michael handed Cas a glass of water, and some ibuprofen. Cas took them both, eagerly. "Then why wouldn't you answer your phone? And exactly how much did you drink, anyway?" Cas sighed. "Mike, I told you, I really don't want to talk about it. Just, let me lay here and feel miserable. Please. I'll be at the office later today. Please. I'll be fine. Really." It was Mike's turn to sigh. "Fine. I know you're not okay, Cassie, but I won't push you anymore. Get yourself cleaned up. I'll make you a little breakfast. Come on, bro."

Cas sat up, drank the whole glass of water, swallowed down the pills and steadied himself. He stumbled to the bathroom and into the shower. This was going to be a long day. At least he was too hung over to think about Dean. Well, shit. So much for that.