Warning: This chapter contains alcohol abuse, fighting, and a bit of adult content.

Chapter 9: A Slight Mistake

Dean crept through the halls of the bunker. His movements slow and quiet. He hadn't turned on the lights in order to avoid alerting anyone that he was leaving. As long as he was back before Sam's morning jog, no one would notice. He made quick work of the public area's of the bunker and the stairs. The door was the toughest part, getting it open with barely a noise. A big feet of it's own, seeing how heavy it was.

He'd taken his opportunity earlier, after his work out with Castiel, to move his car out of the garage and push it down the street. He'd told Castiel he needed a couple more minutes to catch his breath and just enjoy being outside. It'd been so long since he'd seen the sun and felt fresh air on his face. Castiel seemed to have understood, and given him some time, luckily it was just enough time he would need to complete his task. He felt like a teenager again, having to sneak out like this. But, unfortunately, he was now living with three blood hounds instead of just his father.

He pushed the car another block before he started it. He wanted to make absolutely sure no one was woken up to stop him. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he drove down the road to the nearest town. He needed a bar and a good stiff drink more then anything. As he let his baby pick up speed, he rolled down the windows, loving the feeling of the wind in his hair. His stress still present, but pushed back to the edge of his mind. Turning on the music lifted his spirits even more.

He pulled to the side of a road as he found what he was looking for. A bar, with a number of people crowded around the area, looking for a private conversation or a breath of fresh air from the hustle and bustle of the inside. He parked his car a block away and walked back to the place.

He opened the door and walked in, straight up to the bar and parking himself on a stool. He ordered a whiskey and downed the shot quickly. Then the next, and the next. Five shots in, he ordered a beer and told the barkeep to leave the bottle of whiskey. Taking two more shots, he pulled a long drink from his beer before turning around to look at the rest of the occupants.

He had to admit, the talent tonight wasn't much to go on. A few women, who looked like they would make a decent night, but half of them had dates and the other half where sitting at the table together. Probably a girls night out, one of them most likely getting over a break-up. Not a good idea. He turned his attention to the men. There where only a couple of contenders.

Dean was a bit more picky about his men then women. There where a few guys, but one was wrapped around one of the girls in the back corner. One was lying on the counter, too drunk to notice anything around him. No go, he wasn't into that. They would both have to be completely shitfaced for that to work. A guy was sitting in the front corner, but his face was covered by a news paper, so he continued on. There was a guy in a cowboy hat who looked like he'd be good for it, but then he turned on the music and started square dancing by himself. Dean turned back around from that, guy may be hot, but he was weird. Not the good kind either, just goofy.

His eyes caught something hopeful in the back. A young woman with big blue eyes, and dark silky brown hair. She was a bit on the short side, but Dean could see, what she lacked in height she more then made up for in spunk. He gave his best smile and a wink. Just flirting a bit, he liked it when they came to him. Let him know they where just as interested as he was. He had to be careful in these places, never knew what girls would slap him in the face if he made a move.

She continued to flirt with him from across the room, sipping her margarita with a sly smile. He took several more long pulls from his beer and ordered another one before taking another shot of the whiskey. He was just about to invite her over when he felt a pull on his arm turn him around.

He was immediately met with a very red, angry face.

The guy was tall, with dark hair and brown eyes. His face giving off nothing but anger, and intent to hurt. His teeth bared and his breath, stinking of alcohol, coming out in pants as he glared at Dean. Who for his part, faced him calmly.

"Can I help you there buddy?" Dean slurred, looking behind the guy who was surrounded by a few of his friends.

"Your hitting on my girl." Angry-man spoke, moving further into Dean's space.

Dean, for his part, took a step back, holding onto the bar for support. He knew the guy was drunk, and could just be acting out of that. The guy, however, was not happy with Dean's move and took another step closer, closing the gap again.

"Okay, look buddy." Dean said, putting up a hand in a pacifying gesture, stumbling a bit. "I had no idea she was taken." He said. "But you might what to tell her that. Cause she was flirting back, and I'm not one of those people to turn down a lady when she's interested." He explained. Which seemed to be the exact wrong thing to say, Dean found out as a fist slammed across his face.

Dean knew the guy was drunk, and a jealous asshole from the looks of it. But he was also drunk, and hot headed, and cursed by a mark that was screaming for some kind of blood. So naturally, he retaliated. Hitting the guy with his own souped up power.

The guy went flying a good couple of feet into the wall, and Dean found himself surrounded by four of the guys friends. The first guy was on him in a matter of seconds, followed by his buddies. Dean blocking jabs and dodging kicks as effectively as he could in his current state of inebriation.

But when he got a moment to look up, he saw that everyone of the guys teaming up on him had black eyes. The first guy getting up, a smile on his face before it morphed into that of Azazel, eyes turning yellow. They all took a few steps toward him and he pulled out his knife. It wouldn't kill the Demons, but it was made of iron and would at least injure them. Hopefully giving him time to get away.

When they attacked, he started defending himself the best he could. Slashing with his knife and getting a few in the extremities. There was something weird about these Demons. They where backing away after he got them with the knife. He could distantly hear screams around him, and could see people running away. Good, they should run, Demon's where dangerous.

He smiled, the pain in his arm had lessened with the adrenaline and fighting he was doing. He sent a swift kick to the yellow-eyed bastard, knocking him against the wall. He ran up on him, knife poised to kill, before another Demon knocked him out of the way. This Demon was stronger, and quicker. Dean defended himself as the Demon made a move to take the knife out of his hands.

Dean made several swipes with the knife, getting the thing a couple of times, but he just kept coming. Then finally, the Demon managed to get a hold on his hand and pushed him back to the bar. Knife pointing up, out of harms way, no matter how much strength Dean put into it. Gripping Dean by the throat, pushing him down on the bar with his arm. He looked the Demon in the face and became very aware at the eyes staring into his where a familiar blue. But not as gentle as he was used to seeing. They where hard, and filled with worry, and anger.

Castiel slammed Dean's hand down on the edge of the bar, knocking the knife free. He stooped down to pick it up, then grabbed Dean by his bicep and marched him out of the bar. He walked him down the street towards the car, but before he reached his destination, he slammed Dean against the brick of one of the buildings.

"What the Hell, Dean?" Castiel screamed at him. Moving himself right up into his face.

"Back off, Cas." Dean shouted back, pushing Cas away. He was too drunk to deal with the guy.

"Not until you tell me what you where thinking." Castiel argued, slamming Dean against the wall again.

"They where Demon's Cas. What was I supposed to do?" Dean defended himself, trying to push off the wall. But Castiel's arm held firm and wouldn't let him move.

"No they weren't, Dean. They where humans." Castiel corrected. "You're hallucinating again." He told him, looking him in the eyes. Dean seeing nothing but sincerity and worry in his eyes. "Why did you leave the bunker?"

"I needed a drink." Dean answered, letting his voice raise. "I needed some time alone, not under the scrutiny of you and the rest of my family."

"Then you could have said something to me." Castiel shot back. "But getting into a fight..." Castiel pointing in the direction of the bar, letting out a deep breath to calm himself. "You know that's a bad idea. You know what could happen. You almost killed those guys Dean. You just set yourself back. Do you need to hurt somebody that bad?" Castiel asked. Then put the knife back in Dean's hand and opening his arms wide. "Cause if that's the case, do it. Kill me. Not some man in the bar that was too drunk to know better. I've made enough mistakes I deserve it." Castiel offered, raising his chin to expose his throat.

"I'm not gonna kill you Cas." Dean groaned, trying to force the knife back into Castiel's hands. But Castiel pushed the knife back to him.

"Go ahead, Dean. Do it. You where so willing to do it earlier. What's the difference between him and me?" Castiel encouraged, moving Dean's hand to his up, just under his chin, knife flush against his flesh.

Dean didn't know what made him do it. Whether it was the alcohol, or the anger and energy that was running through his veins. But something in him made him drop the knife and grab hold of Castiel shirt to pull him forward. Covering Castiel's mouth with his own in a sloppy, drunken kiss. Using his free hand to hold Castiel's head to his face.

Castiel for his part, didn't respond for a couple of moments. Caught by surprise, eyes wide open. But after the initial shock wore off, Dean felt him melt into him. Felt him responding with just as much passion as he was giving him. However, he could feel Castiel start to pull away before he could deepen it.

Castiel pulled away with a look of confusion, his face calculating. He held the keys to Dean's baby in his hand, using Dean's distraction to take them out of his pocket, grabbing Dean's arm, he started leading him to the car again. Making Dean stand to the side, while opening the back door.

"We'll talk about this in the morning." Castiel said, helping Dean into the back seat. He closed the door, and moved himself into the front seat to start up the car.

John was awoken by the loud rumble of the Impala. Realizing that meant they had a jail-break, he bolted out of bed and ran down the hall to the garage. He ran into Sam, who had apparently been awoken as well.

"You heard that?" Sam asked, looking at his father.

"Yeah." John said, continuing down the hall. "I think Dean might be trying to sneak out. Do we have another working car?"

"No." Sam answered, pulling a shirt over his head. "We don't. Dean's been working on them so we can sell them later. But times been short and we haven't had a chance of finding the right parts."

"Great." John snapped sarcastically. "So he just drove away the only working car we have." John said, getting to the garage door. But before he could open it to look, it opened form the inside.

There stood a very drunk Dean, being supported by a harassed looking Castiel. Dean was hanging over his shoulders, smelling heavily of whiskey. Castiel pushed forward through the door, dragging Dean along with him. He didn't let up when Dean seemed to trip, keeping him up with a surprising amount of strength for a guy so skinny.

"Cas?" Sam asked, watching him drag Dean across the room.

"Don't worry. Everything is fine. I managed to stop him before too much damage had been caused." Castiel answered, not breaking his gate.

"Everything is super." Dean added, with a big smile on his face as he turned around to face Sam. "Absolutely fucking wonderful." He said, head sinking down and hanging limply form his shoulders.

"I just going to put him to bed." Castiel explained, giving Dean a nudge to make him move again.

Dean continued to mumble un-recognizably as he was walked down the hall. John watched them walk out of sight. Then turned to his son, who was watching them as well, before shrugging and walking back to his room.

"You don't seem to concerned about this." John asked, following his son back.

"That's because I actually expected this a lot sooner then it happened." Sam answered. "Dean has always had impulse control issues, I'm surprised it took this long."

"Shouldn't we be doing something about his set back? I mean, he's drunk, he's going back on his rehab." John asked.

"Nah." Sam said, reaching his door. "I'm too tired right now, and Cas has got him. He'll take care of him."

"You trust him that much?" John asked again. He didn't like the idea of Castiel alone with his drunk son.

"Yeah, Cas has always been really good about taking care of Dean when he needed it. At least when he was around. Trust me, Dean's in good hands." Sam said, opening the door to his room and walking in.

John however, did not trust Castiel as much as his sons did. He never trust any hunters around his children. Especially if they gave him the same kind of feeling that Castiel did. That feeling that they where not one hundred percent what they say they where. Most hunters where not exactly the most trustworthy of people, and some of them where also rather unsavory characters.

He'd never particularly had anything against homosexuals. But he was very aware that his kids, Dean in particular, where very pretty and attractive. Taking after his mother in more ways then just his caring personality. John had spent a majority of Dean's early teens keeping him away from other hunters, knowing that if he left them alone he might have been taken advantage of. Not all hunters had the same morality as he or Bobby. He avoided working with them when he could, but sometimes, he just couldn't help it. So he had to leave the boys with someone, or at hotel rooms with strict instructions to not let anyone in.

He found Dean's room down the opposite hall as Sam's and his own. He could hear voices from inside, but couldn't make out what they where saying. He walked closer to the room and found the door open a crack. What he found put his mind a ease a touch.

Dean was sitting in the bed completely covered. The blankets drawn up to his chin. Castiel placing a large trash can next to the bed, and a large glass of water on the table next to his bed. John could see Castiel opening a bottle of aspirin and laying them down on the table next to the water.

"Go to sleep, Dean." He heard Castiel tell his son before walking to the door.

John quickly slid down the hall to avoid being caught. He rounded the corner and then turned his head to watch as Castiel exited the room. He watched as he walked down the hall to another room a couple doors down from Dean, and walked in.

Dean knew he wasn't going to remember this night very well. But he was sure if he was going to remember anything, it would be these three things.

One: Castiel was extremely patient, and not to be distracted while driving. Because it seems, Dean was an angry drunk, but at the same time, he was all hands. During the entire ride back to the bunker, Dean would do his best to seduce Castiel into pulling over. Touching everywhere he could reach, even climbing halfway over the seat to get to what he could. While yelling at him for having a stick up his ass. Castiel, for his part, continued to drive. Staring ahead as if nothing was bothering him.

Two: He was in for a bad morning. Not only was he drunk, his stomach already promising a terrible hangover in the morning. But he was pretty sure, on the way to his room, he had passed his father and brother in the hall. He was too out of it to read their facial expressions or even really care, but he was fairly certain he was in for another 'over doing it' speech from his father.

Three: Eager as Castiel was to kiss him back at the bar, that did not mean he was going to jump into bed with him in his current state.

He vaguely understood Castiel mentioning something about getting him to bed, and he let Castiel drag him into his room. He was dropped unceremoniously onto his bed by his friend, who then bent down to get his shoes off. Dean, however started thinking about the last time they where in this situation, and how that encounter had left him very unsatisfied.

He grabbed hold of Castiel's shirt and dragged him up from the ground, locking his lips with his own. Castiel had let out a grunt in surprise, then softened into the kiss. Dean taking the opportunity to drag him up further. Laying down, and bringing his friend with him, positioning him on top of himself, holding Castiel in place at his waist. Dean's groin grinding up into Castiel's with a desperate need.

He moaned into Castiel's mouth, doing his best to get the friction that he wanted. Castiel however, had other ideas and he pulled himself away. He rolled off the bed, gracefully, and ran out of the room. Dean groaned when he saw that he was alone, and covered his face with his hands.

He sat in silence in his room, berating himself for his rash actions. Why he had tried that then he had no idea. But he knew, by the reaction it received, that it was a bad idea. Castiel was his friend, he would like it to be more. But, no doubt, Castiel would want to talk it out. Get all the facts and details first. Would want to know if this was just a fling, or if it meant something more.

Which made Dean ask himself that question. He liked Castiel, a lot. He was nice, and Dean was secure enough to admit, hot as Hell. But, did he just want Castiel for sex. No, he didn't. He owed the guy more then that. He cared for him more then that as well. If Castiel was interested, he just couldn't use him like that, or hurt him.

He felt his blanket being dragged out from under him, and thrown over his body. He pulled his hands away from his face to find Castiel standing above him. His face held no emotion, but Dean could guess he was keeping it that way to stave off any advances Dean gave him.

"'m sorry Cas." Dean apologized, looking up at his friend, who turned his head to face him.

"Your drunk." Castiel said, running his hands over Dean's face. "We can talk about this in the morning." He said, moving Dean's trash can to the side of the bed. "Go to sleep, Dean."

Dean watched Castiel walk to the other side of the room and turn off the light. He then covered his head with his blanket. He was not going to have a good morning in a few hours. Hopefully, he would sleep late enough that they would talk to him and he wouldn't have to be there.

Okay, another one. Just one day after the last, but I already have a few more chapters written. Though this may be the last for a week, I'm not sure. What I am sure of is that this thing is going to keep kicking me in the but until I'm done with it. Considering I can't seem to settle down and read anything of my own.

Oh, well. Hope you liked it.