It was an excuse, more than anything. He felt bad, he felt disgusted with himself, but he just had to get away, get on his own. So he used the news of Michael's death as an excuse, and at the first available opportunity he practically ran from Gabriel's apartment.

"Castiel." Pamela grabbed his hand, making him stop before he could get down the stairs.

"Pamela, please…"

"Are you alright? Do you want to crash at mine tonight?"

"No, I need…"

"You've drunk too much to drive, I'd be happier if…"

"Just let me go." He didn't mean to snap, and the way Pamela withdrew her hand made him feel even more slimy and monstrous than he had before. "I'm sorry, I am. I just… I need some space."

"Ok." She smiled, weakly, patting his hand. "Just… don't be a stranger, sweetie. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

"I know." Castiel gripped her hand, and helped her down the stairs.

He couldn't believe that he had received news of his oldest brother's death, and still be preoccupied with thoughts of Dean.

Heart-breaking, life-wrecking, lying, baiting Dean.

Because no person could ever make anyone feel this bad without meaning to.

He had to have done it on purpose.

When Castiel finally got home, he took off his coat, shoes and tie, unbuttoned his shirt and fell into bed. He didn't want to think about any of it, and even if his thoughts wouldn't leave him alone, even if it was horrendously unhealthy, he was willing to try smothering himself with his own mattress.

The next morning, Castiel managed to shuck off his shirt entirely, and mustered the energy (over a series of uncomfortable hours, to lose his pants.

He inhaled the scent of dried tears, unsure whether it came from his hands or from his covers.

That evening, he continued to feel each relentless blow as the cycles of grief, heartbreak and guilt repeated on him.

His phone rang.

He didn't answer.

The next morning, his phone rang again. It managed to drag him out of his sleep, and he supposed he should eat something.

He poured out some cornflakes, and watched as they slowly turned to sludge.

He threw them away, and made himself some coffee.

His phone rang again.

"Yes?"

"Dr DiAngelo? Um, it's Becky. Not to, um, nag, but there's a lot of people here, and, um… well I was wondering where you are."
"Apologies. I overslept. I've been dealing with some… personal emotional issues. Apologise and reschedule to those whose appointments I've missed. I will be with you in twenty minutes."

"Ok." He'd never heard Becky sound so relieved. "Thank you."

She hung up, and he noted that he had several missed calls, possibly accumulated while he was asleep. Some were from Becky, two were from Gabriel, one was from Pamela. Four were from Dean.

Castiel left his phone on the kitchen table at went to shower.

He could not afford to wallow in his self-pity, and he knew as much.

He went to his job, and listened to people. He did what he was paid for. It wasn't until Becky knocked on his door at lunchtime that he even spared a thought for himself.

"I just wanted to ask… are you alright? Do you want… anything, or… I can get you some food?"

"No, thank you." Castiel decided his desk needed tidying, because it did, and was definitely not using it as an excuse to avoid Becky's eye contact. "I have lost my appetite."

"If you don't mind my asking… I mean, sometimes it helps to talk about things…"

"My brother." Castiel sighed, feeling the same weary contractions of his insides that he had felt for days now. "My eldest brother, Michael, he passed away."

"Oh, I'm so sorry… were you… close?"

"No." Castiel managed to drag his eyes up to meet hers. "Somehow, that makes it worse."

Becky stood for a moment, looking torn between giving him a hug and going to fetch coffee. She smiled, sympathetically.

"You shouldn't be working. You should take the day off, have some time to relax…"

"No, thank you." He got to his feet, and returned her smile with a curt one of his own as he approached the bookcase. "I have too much to think about at home. I would much rather just… move on with my life."

There was a pause, as Becky considered arguing. Eventually, she nodded.

"You want me to send in your next appointment?"

"Please."

(-*-)

Dean had planned it all, damn it.

Trust Sam to mess it up. The first night he'd decided to come out, he'd got a text on the way back from Bobby's, saying he would be visiting Gabriel. Then, the next morning, he'd got another one informing him that Sam wasn't coming home over the weekend, because Gabriel was going through some stuff.

At first, Dean had been content to wait, but the longer he wasn't telling Sam, the more he was at risk of losing, which drove him nearly insane. Eventually, on Sunday evening, he phoned him.

"I can't come home, Dean."

"And hello to you too, jackass."

"Sorry. Look, Gabriel's…" there was some clunking on the other end of the line, and then Sam resumed, if whispered. "I'm worried about him. He's got a history of taking things badly, and I just don't want him to feel alone right now."

"Seriously? What is he going through that means you have to stay with him all weekend?"

"One of his brothers died, Dean, in a car accident."

There was a pause, as Dean's brain suddenly seemed to have upended itself.

"Oh." He managed. Then, "shit."

"Yeah. Hey, you should call Castiel, I haven't heard from him since we got the news…"

"Yeah, ok, I'll… catch you tomorrow? I've got something we need to talk about."

"Ok… you alright?"

"Yeah, it's nothing bad. Just… see you."

He hung up, before instantly dialling Cas' phone. No answer

Four tries later, still no answer. The next day, he had nothing to do but wait until Sam got back from classes, which really could have been any time.

He grabbed his jacket, skipped breakfast and headed straight for the door, feeling the road tear away underneath himself. He couldn't sit around waiting, not when he had someone who could very well need him. When he got to Castiel's office, he found Becky with a queue of people waiting to be booked in, each apparently waiting for their appointments. Feeling the dramatic moment bypass him somewhat, Dean flashed Becky an awkward smile and took a seat.

"He'll see you in a while." Becky said, navigating Castiel's schedule. "I guess you heard about his loss?"

"Yeah. Is he ok?"
"He won't talk to me about it, but I'm sure you'll help him." She smiled at him, and went about checking off appointments.

Dean waited. And waited.

He was starting to think maybe he should have stayed home and kept calling, because at least then he would have been waiting on comfier chairs. After an hour or so, he realised Becky was motioning for him to go in, and quietly slipped through the door.

Cas looked up at him, and quickly looked away.

"You don't have an appointment today."

"No, I wanted to see you." Dean was a little taken aback by Cas' avoidance. "Sam told me about your brother, you weren't answering your phone…"

"I think it would be best, in future, if you make appointments, should you wish to see me. I can no longer find it viable to speak with patients outside of office hours."

"What? Cas, I'm not a patient…"

"It puts my professionalism at risk and endangers the mental well-being of the patient in question."

"Cas, it's me. Dean. I'm not a patient, I don't need therapy."

"Really?" Castiel's eyes were on him too fast, too intense. His voice was a dangerous, forced level which somehow seemed worse than if he was shouting. "Then help me diagnose a man, Dean. He is in denial, he is apparently a compulsive liar. He is ashamed of himself, that much is obvious from his continuing a job which he could easily have advanced beyond. He could have gotten qualifications, gotten a decent job, could still get a decent job, but is so afraid, feels so uncomfortable with the idea of succeeding that he can't face the idea of trying." Cas stood and glared at Dean, his knuckles whitened against the desk. "His condition has extended on, into his personal life. He cannot admit to his family, least of all himself, that he is a homosexual, even though he has entered into a deceptive, dishonest relationship with a man whom he led to believe he harboured genuine feelings f…"

His voice caught. He sank back into his chair.

Dean felt stuck to the spot.

"Cas…"

"What was the lie, Dean? Did you tell them, and lie to Sam about us? Or was it me? Did you just lie to me?"

"I just… wanted you to be…"

"Leave. I have other appointments."

Dean stared at him, his jaw working in an attempt to create sound.

"Cas…"

"Good day, Dean." He stood, pushed past Dean and nodded to Becky. "Send in the next appointment, please."

"Oh… yes, Doctor DiAngelo."

Dean was indirectly shunted from Castiel's office. Dean didn't know what to do.