Sometimes, occasionally, more often than not, Sam wants to bitch-slap his brother for being such an emotionally retarded moron. Sam's in the Impala, heading out to the nearest grocery store that also sells booze and he has his ipod plugged into the dash of the Impala (he often carries the ipod dock and his ipod just in case he gets to drive and can play the music he wants for a change). Mentally rolling his eyes at Dean's total lack of self-awareness, he bobs his head to the drum n bass he's listening to. Never something he thought he could get into, a drunken night with Charlie and Dean, where the red head had so enjoyed torturing Dean with various dance music, had convinced him otherwise. There was something very satisfying to the build and drop of the music; mini music 'gasms, Sam recalled Charlie naming them.

Parking the Impala as close to the store as he could, Sam climbed out and smirked at the idea of Cas ever liking drum n bass and how funny the former angel might be as he dances to it. Silently promising to bring out some of the more head-banging tunes during their ill-advised drink-fest today, Sam opened the door to the store and grabbed a basket. As much as he thought that getting drunk today was a totally idiotic idea, especially given Cas's apparent refusal to eat, he figured that maybe the best thing for the former angel would be to indulge in some of the earthly delights he'd never sampled, hoping that it would make Cas feel less awful about not being an angel anymore.

Trying to plan the day in his usual fastidious way, Sam grabbed beer, red, white and zinfandel wine, the whiskey Dean liked as well as store-brand nachos and salsa, pretzels, peanuts, a huge bag of potato chips, blueberry muffins, chocolate chip cookies and some other beer-munch necessities. Sam took his bounty up to the cash register and tried to focus on the positives of Castiel, former angel and bad ass, getting utterly hammered with the child-with-the-demon-blood and the-righteous-man. Sam figured God cared very little about the Winchester's brother's corrupting Cas, or, if he did, that he was too busy being elsewhere to do anything about it. And, given the time that Cas had gotten smashed, Sam guess it was probably ok for him to do it again.

As the middle aged woman behind the counter rung up his purchases, Sam found his mind wandering from thoughts of corruption to the way his brother had held Castiel that morning. It had been kind and affectionate in the way that Dean reserved for the chosen few, not that, that was unusual; he'd hugged Charlie, Garth, Kevin and of course Sam that way many times before (despite his protests, Dean was a hugger, they all knew that) but Sam'd never seen Dean hug anyone that way before, not even Cassie or Lisa. Knowing Dean, even if he realised the extent of his feelings for Cas, and fuck knows if he'd even manage that, Sam was pretty sure that Dean's infuriating self-loathing as well as his unrelenting guilt over his time in Hell would be more than enough to stop him from ever acting upon them. Of course, Dean would also have a big gay panic and would probably go out and bang some more nameless women just to prove his masculinity in the most base way possible. And Cas…

Sam shook his head to himself as he dumped his grocery bags in the back of the Impala, making sure to put the bottles of booze in the foot well behind the passenger seat so they wouldn't roll. He climbed into the driver's seat but didn't start the engine. Images of Cas flickered through his mind; Cas staring adoringly at Dean, Cas furiously smiting demons as they tried to attack his brother, Castiel's face when Dean had shouted at him that no one cared that he was broken. He'd wanted to punch Dean for that one when he saw how small, hurt and afraid Cas looked, standing there clutching his plate that he brought their sandwiches on. Dean hadn't meant it, he rarely did when he lashed out like that, but Sam could tell the kicked-puppy look on Castiel's face had stayed with his brother for a long time. Then there was Dean's face when he spoke about purgatory, about Castiel; the way he danced around the subject but Sam could tell that his older brother's heart was broken. He had actually started to worry that Dean was cracking up in the same way Sam had because of the whole mess with Lucifer and the wall when he said that he'd been seeing Castiel but then Sam remembered how he used to see Jess everywhere and how much it hurt.

Starting the engine finally, Sam decided to drive the scenic route back to the bunker, hoping that giving the other men time alone would be helpful to them, though he wasn't sure how. Sam hoped that Dean had managed to persuade Cas to eat something; the sight of that frail, pale wrist looking so fragile in Dean's hand pulled at Sam's heart and his conscience. He'd been trying to get Cas to talk, knowing how utterly useless his brother was at it, but had been met with sad silence or quiet monosyllabic answers instead. He'd suspected that Cas hadn't been eating properly but had explained it away as the man still recovering from his first ever stomach flu. Once, not long after him and Dean had started hunting together again, Sam had gotten sicker than he could remember being (before the awfulness of the trials) with a hideous stomach bug. At first they'd thought it was food poisoning and Dean had crowed about how salads were linked to more cases of food poisoning than anything else (a factoid he'd no doubt gleaned from the internet in order to shove in Sam's face at an opportune moment) but after the third day of continual vomiting, sweats, fever and lovely diarrhoea, Dean got worried and all mother-hen over him and took him to hospital where he'd actually been admitted so they could get his fluids up, lower his fever and stop the vomiting. For a few weeks after he recovered, Sam had been reluctant to eat anything just in case the whole thing began again so, naturally, considering that Castiel had never before experienced the joys of being ill, he'd assumed that was what'd been going on.

Pulling up to park, Sam winced and ground the gears by accident as a headache jumped out of nowhere and smacked him in the back of the head, another reminder of the ridiculously slow recovery he was making from the trials. Fuck it, getting drunk might just be a fantastic idea, Sam thought grimly as he lugged the groceries from the car into the bunker, hoping to find a happier brother and friend than when he left.

'What? No! Don't introduce him to that crap! What if he likes it?' Dean shouted over his shoulder as Sam pulled together a drum n bass playlist for Castiel to listen to, smirking at the outrage in his brother's voice and the wide-eyed look on Castiel's. 'I can't believe you like that stuff, Sammy. I mean, holy shit, drum n bass? I know, let's get some UV paint and glow sticks and MDMA and dance around the bunker like idiots!'

'Dean, first off, it's ok to listen to a variety of music. You don't actually have to listen to the same ten albums over and o-'

'It's way more than ten! And at least I don't listen to beepy-techno-rave stuff!' Dean waved his arms around to demonstrate the type of dancing he thought was suited to that type of music. Sam rolled his eyes and Cas went back to sipping at his red wine.

'Just shut up and let him listen, alright?' Sam ignored Dean's spluttered reply and hit play. He decided to begin with the same song Charlie had started with and tried not to throw something at his brother who was stomping around and muttering about 'embarrassing long-haired girl of a brother' and 'how can we be related' as he poured himself another large glass of whiskey. So far they'd killed off one bottle that was only a third full but were now into the second one. Well, Dean was; Sam and Cas were trying the different wines that Sam bought.

The first bottle, a dry white chardonnay with a screw top had, unsurprisingly, tasted like vinegar and Sam had, had to bite his lip to stop the chortle that welled up when he saw the disgusted look on Castiel's face as he tried the tart wine.

'Sam, I do not mean to be rude but that is very unpleasant. Does all wine taste that bad?' Cas asked, looking at the pale yellow liquid in his glass with a mixture of revulsion and trepidation as Dean chuckled and tried to hand Cas whiskey.

'No Cas, it's just hard sometimes to find- Dean, stop it! He's not chugging whiskey on two slices of toast! He'll be hammered in minutes.' Sam had grabbed the glass out of Dean's hand and threw down the contents, grimacing as it burned its way down. 'Cas – agh, fuck that whiskey is rough – Cas, why don't we try the red next? It has quite a strong flavour but it's more fruity… Shut up, Dean!'

Cas' eyebrows had shot into his hair as he tasted the much more pleasant merlot and smiled in appreciation as he took another sip. Sam had chanced a quick glance at Dean and had to suppress an eye roll at the goofy smile on his brother's face as he watched Castiel enjoy the dark liquid. Soppy bastard, Sam'd thought fondly as he took a large sip of his own glass of red.

'Sam?'

Sam blinked and looked at Castiel who'd apparently been speaking while Sam was remembering.

'Yes, Cas?'

'Thank you for playing me some new music but… it's making my head hurt.'

Dean laughed gleefully behind them as Sam snorted and switched the music over to some Jethro Tull he knew his brother liked. 'That's ok, Cas. I think you've just made Dean really happy.'

Castiel smiled broadly at that.