downswinging | -- tell me are you crazy, and did you mind the cold,

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thenerdangel. ]

[ The bar's practically empty, the only other people inhabiting it the same kind of down and out drunk that Dean's just aiming to be. The barmaid - Candy? or Sandy? - keeps giving him the eye but Dean's barely pays her any attention beyond refilling his glass. It's what she's doing now, leaning over so he gets the full view of her cleavage and the glint of her name badge (oh, Mandy). He used to give a crap about this kind of stuff, would respond to the pretty waitress without a thought, but recent years have taken the joy out of it. People are best kept where they can't stab you in the back the moment your boundaries are down. He's learnt that the hard way.

Besides which, he's barely got enough room in his brain to contemplate the cheap and meaningless fuck she's offering. It's the Apocalypse, all day, every day. All he has to do is think about that and his libido gets doused in cold water. Dean could fix things, he could save the world for one little yes, and he used to think it was a good thing having pride, that being the kind of man who didn't back down for nobody was what made him special.

Now he just wonders if it's just stubborn fear clogging up his throat each and every time.

Glad he came out alone, Dean knows it's just going to be one of those nights, the kind where it'll be the blur of alcohol filling his system, hopefully getting drunk just enough to ignite some kind of life in him. Maybe he won't say no to Mandy, maybe he'll go home with her and avoid having to find an excuse to sleep in the Impala, avoid having the very conversation that's been brewing on the horizon between him and his brother. Cas too, the rare times he's around. They're disappointed, but it's okay, so is Dean. He's the one with the most of it.

Glancing away from the reflected bar-back, he swallows down the entire glass, feels it scrape raw against his throat. ] Another when you're ready, sweetheart.

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[ If his brother is trying to hide, he's never done a real good job of it considering how conspicuous the Impala is, but he's succeeding admirably at pissing off the only two people in the world right now that know he's freaking about the whole Michael sword thing, and know just how dangerous a thing that Dean freaking at all is.

He stops to call off Bobby's alert, doing a good job at keeping his own cool against the climbing fear that his brother is talking himself out of all of this, after he's the one that pushed him and Cas along and did more to protect them and keep them on the right path that Sam owes him this. Without Dean, he'd still be so sure that going along with his demon blood smoothie diet is a good idea

But if he goes in, there'll be no stopping it - he still zeroes in on his brother like he's the only real thing in the world sometimes, and Cas doesn't deserve to stay in a panic (or as panicked as the angel gets, with his newer humanlike traits). Leaning against the redbrick building, Sam loiters outside the place and starts murmuring under his breath. ] Cas, I found him. I could really use your help in this, please.

[ Heaven is in chaos, the angels at war with one another, and Castiel is doing everything that he can, but it's still not enough. He's tired, worn in ways that no angel should ever experience, and he wonders for a moment what it might be like to stop, to shut down, to sleep as he's seen Sam and Dean do so often. Even Dean can appear at peace in sleep, occasionally, when he does opt for rest.

But he can't stop, clearing up one mess after another and still seeming to get no where. The thing is, though, that he can't remain there and look the other way when he hears Sam summoning him. He's been splitting his attention between the job at hand and keeping tabs on the Winchesters, and it's not enough.

The angel appears to the side of Sam, standing stiff and awkward, because what else can he do? It's wrong, and he's needed elsewhere, but he can't lose the one person who gave him so much. ] Sam.

[ Thankfully, Sam's tall enough to block any interest in the angel suddenly appearing out of thin air, looking all but dead to the world. Swallowing down some of the panic and adrenaline, Dean's mere name weighing down all his thoughts, he almost reaches out to Castiel, concern overtaking his features. ] Hey, are you all right? You look dead on your feet, Cas.

[ He tilts his head ever so slightly as he looks at Sam with an odd expression, not as blank as the neutral one he wears, because it's not often anyone asks him how he's doing, it's often the other way around. So he doesn't answer, wouldn't know what words would describe how he feels, and he glances to the entrance of the establishment. ]

We need to move this along, I can't spare much time. [ His voice is tighter than usual, gruffer, and makes towards the door with slow footfalls. He won't leave until this is put right, though, and he thinks that they both know it. ] I think we are both aware that this isn't going to be easy.

[ The look lingers, because Sam's done this his whole life, hanging around people that don't acknowledge their own weakness until it's too late. Castiel's made of much stronger stuff than either of them, but he's not wrong: Dean is who they're here for, and that urgency is kicking up again. ]

Yeah, he just took off without a word. [ Sighing a bit in relief, Sam puts his game face back on and edges in front of the angel, what traffic there is inside the bar parting before Sam's imposing figure. ] I don't have a problem with talking to Dean alone, but he's really in a funk. He's not going to ask for any help, so we gotta give it to him, you know?

[ He follows him through the crowd easily, sticking close, eyes scanning the room to locate the exact spot that Dean occupies, senses pulling him in. He envies their relationship, wishes he could be there more for both of them, and if things were different he would be. But he's lying to himself by claiming it wouldn't be a selfish act.

He's honoured, in a way, to be asked here to help when Sam is capable, but the words sink in and he knows he's only here for the extra muscle, to force Dean to snap out of it if it comes down to it. ] Dean will not be handing himself over to Michael.

Over there. [ He takes charge, leads them over, and suddenly the anger is there as he towers over Dean. ] Going somewhere, Dean?

[ He doesn't flinch, not exactly, but something about his spine stiffens. His elbow's resting on the bartop, cheek in his hand and he can feel the beer seeping into his jacket. Dean really should have expected it, it's not like he doesn't notice the worry and panic following each of them around every time they so much as look at one another.

None of that matters when he can put his walls up and be the biggest dick around, does it?

Glancing over, gaze shifting from Cas to Sam and back. ] Depends when Mandy gets off her shift, for now m'good.

[ Thankfully Sam has experience dealing with what a massive pain in the ass his brother can be, taking in the alcoholic glaze in his eyes with a mounting disbelief that this is what he'd ditch Sam for after he's spent the last however long talking about how they need to do this together and Dean's gonna go lock his wounds over a couple pints and do his usual teenager bullshit?

Sam wishes he were surprised. ] Dean, come on, you can't be serious.

[ Castiel spares a brief moment to send a death glare at the barmaid who scurries along to the opposite end of the bar to serve the other patrons, and then he turns his full attention on Dean, gaze intense and presence very much there.

If he sounds angry it's because he is, but there's something else there beneath it, desperation, perhaps, fear even. But mostly it's anger. ] After everything that we have been through together, this is the choice that you make?

Wo-oah, slow down there, this isn't Wisteria Lane.

[ There's barely a swallow left in his glass and thanks to Cas frightening away the barmaid, there's no one left to give him more alcohol. His gaze slides over him before he shrugs. ]

Can't a guy go for a drink now, huh? [ Back to his brother. ] Or do I gotta get y'to sign a form or something.

Except I speak dick brother and leaving without telling me ranks pretty high on the cry for help meter there, Dudley Moore. Cas is right, what gives?

[ Sam has every right to be furious, glaring down at this sorry sack that is still the brother he loves pissing away his courage one glass at a time. This isn't some weepy alcohol intervention, Dean's a grown ass man, but the setting leaves something to be desired, or there really needs to be less readily available booze if Sam's going to kick his ass back into reality. ]

[ There is a slight glare as he throws Sam a look that clearly states he knows not of this reference, but he doesn't comment because this is that serious.

He shifts closer to Dean's side, the intimidation levels rising. ] This is serious, Dean, I had to leave Heaven for this.

An' I didn't ask you to come down, so unwind your panties there, feathers.

[ He cuts an annoyed look toward Sam, as though there's nothing wrong whatsoever, that Dean is just out for a good time and there's nothing the matter at all. ]

-- tell me are you crazy, and did you mind the cold,

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