After Anna and Gabriel return home, Cas locks himself in the bathroom. He is upset, Dean understands. His father was not grade A 'father of the year' material but it still hurt when he passed away. He had to be strong, hold Sam's hand and tell him it will all be okay. He was grateful when Bobby took them in, just wishes Cas would do the same, let him in. They have been together long enough for Cas to know that Dean isn't going to toss him out.
He has only known Cas a short while now, but Cas holds a sort of familiarity. A stranger he's know his whole life. They fit together easy, between sharing shitty childhoods and taking their coffee black. Dean has never been one for heartfelt moments but he doesn't mind sharing with Cas, letting him in. There is a sort of satisfaction that comes with seeing him in his old t-shirts too. He likes the little things Cas does too, like run his hand through his hair when he's nervous. The way his lips are always chapped and his eyes crinkle when he smiles. Enjoys being the one to anchor Cas when he's had another nightmare. Likes the way Cas hums to his old tapes.
Helping Cas feels like helping Sammy the way he never did. He gets a second chance to hold his hand and carry him through. It's a redemption he thinks, a way to say sorry without picking up the phone. Because as much as Dean wants to apologize, say he's proud, he can't face that he was the one to let his brother down this time. All those years of taking care of Sam, cooking and cleaning after him. Driving him to a diner when John was in one of his states. When Sam's shit was hitting the fan and he needed someone to guide him to the light Dean was the one to let go. No sorry can blanket the guilt.
But Dean is here now and Cas is on the other side of the door. He knocks and jiggles the handle but gets no response.
"Cas, man, you gotta let me in," it contains two meanings that weigh on Dean.
Shampoo bottles and other toiletries thump against the wall Dean can practically feel the heat of his anger through the door and just wants to get in there. Make it better. This was bound to happen. Cas hadn't spoken about it through lunch, faked a few laughs through lunch. No he is an erupting volcano and he's not stopping until Pompeii is ripped off the map.
Dean grabs a butter knife from the kitchen, the good thing about his dump of an apartment is the locks are easy to open. He waits to hear the click and slides the door open, easily, as if Cas is some timid animal in the wild. He looks like a predator, his hands rested against the sink counter, staring at his own reflection to avoid eye-contact with Dean. Dean slides the door shut behind him, shuts the lid to the toilet to sit on. He watches a tear streak down Cas's cheek.
"This is bullshit! I didn't even get to-" he cuts himself off and tucks his head into his hands. Just cradles it as his body shakes and shivers.
Dean reaches out a hand and Cas slaps it away, he tries not to take it to heart. Cas needs a minute to recompose, he tells himself. He focuses on the dirt beneath his fingernails and tries to wipe the image of a shattered Cas beside him. He can hear Cas muttering to himself, inhale, exhale, like a broken record player. His breathing is rapid and then there is the sound of shattering glass and a shard collides with Dean's cheek. Cas's fist is bleeding he's shaking and Dean knows it hurts.
He reaches for a towel, tries to grip Cas by the arm but gets shoved off. He's spitting words in his face like, not some charity case and can't make up for being a shit brother. Cas knows how to hit where it hurts and Dean would rather have a bloody nose right now because the burn in his throat hurts too much. His eyes stings but he shakes it away. There is blood on his hands and he just wants to help, make it better but Cas is storming out of the room, out of the apartment. Dean winces when the door slams, wants to go after him but he is comatose.
He isn't sure how much time has passed when his legs start working again. He is numb when he slides shattered remains of his mirror into the trash. Numb when he wipes down the counter, mops the floor, takes out the trash. He stands outside by the trash, thinks of tossing himself in. Thinks maybe Cas will come back. But he doesn't, not until the sun trades shifts with the moon and the stars fade away.
Dean feeds Grace, cleans her litter, and washes the dishes. He thinks maybe he will eat, trades it for a drink instead. The phone feels like it is judging him when he does not pick it up and call Sam. Tell him he is sorry for not being there. Tell him he wants to be big brother again, tease him and call him bitch again. But he just watches the stars instead.
Dean's startled out of his stupor when a buzz at his door echoes through the kitchen. The sound of heavy footfalls and fabric sliding against wallpaper tell him just what state Cas is in. He bites back his anger and helps Cas through the threshold. Cas tries to shrug him off but he's too far gone that his body is limp in Dean's grasp. Dean catches the scent of sweat and some other man's cologne of Cas, thinks he might lose his shit after all. Cas is smiling something in genuine and it makes bile churn in Dean's stomach, presses against the lining and burns.
The shower subsides the burn under his skin, itches it's way to the surface. Cas slides easily to the back of the tub. His wings are still on, Dean realizes as he starts to slides his shirt off. They are tattered, torn at the corners and drenched from the shower. Dean tries to slide them off his shoulders but Cas catches his wrist and refuses to let go. His eyes are dead when Dean catches them. When he finally slips and slides his wrists free, he tosses a rag at him and leaves him to his own devices.
Dean can hear him stir in the water from the kitchen. Wonders where he was, who he met with. He's piecing it together like some sort of jigsaw because Cas doesn't have money and those sermons don't pull in a profit. Then there was that cologne and who the hell was touching Cas and feeling Cas, making his sweat and keen for them. Dean feels sick, grabs his bottle and thrusts it into the wall in front of him. Watches as the pieces ricochet and scatter across the floor. Remains of its contents cling to the wallpaper. The commotion in the bathroom stops so Dean fights himself to go check on him
Cas is laying in the tub with his eyes shut, clothes gone but still wearing his wings. Dean almost smiles because no matter what shit Cas pulls he still looks angelic as fuck in the tub. He pulls the plug and lets the water run out. Cas' small body is lithe in his arms when he carries him to the bed. He tries his best to dry him with a towel but Cas moves around too much. Dean sheds his own clothes and slides into bed next to him.
Say what he wants, Cas is not a charity case and Dean does care. He needs this, needs to help him. Somewhere at Stanford, Sam is trudging through life on his own and he isn't about to let that be Cas too. He slings an arm over his soaked chest and rakes him to his side. Cas opens his eyes to look but shuts them again. He starts a repetition of sorries in Dean's ear. Dean knows, hell he knows. He's sorry too. Sorry Cas's life is just as fucked up as his, sorry Cas never got to fix things, sorry he couldn't play big brother. It hits so close to home and Dean's eyes burn again.
"I've got you, it's okay," he whispers back, runs a hand through Cas's hair.
He tries to pull his hand back but Cas catches it, presses a kiss to his palm and chants sorries again. Dean presses a kiss to his temple and plays with his hair until he's asleep. He makes sure to keep Cas on his side and rubs his back when he vomits.
Maybe he will call Bobby tomorrow, get Sam's number. Let him know that he is sorry. That he didn't want to walk away but he couldn't keep feeling like he failed his little brother. Tell him that he tried but guilt sticks like wet clothes and weighs you down. He was too young and too unsure of anything. Talk to him about Cas. Get the number to the treatment center he went to. Cas may be able to get through this tonight but there will be tougher days where he is unsure. Where his mind wins the battles and he climbs back into prescription bottles.
Dean spends more days biting his tongue than he would care too. Even with the chance the situation may get better from this point, things could get worse. Cas could find solace in a needle again and push him away and he can't have that. He can't be selfish with Cas and he feels like a dick but he still slides out of bed and shuts the door before dialing Bobby's number.
Dean thinks about hanging up but there is a gruff voice on the receiver before he can.
"Bobby, hey, I uh, I need to talk to you."