hey, it's me nikole. Back again with a new story.

This is just an idea I've had rolling around in my head for a while... I may or may not go one depending on how this chapter goes.

Disclaimer: If i owned any of Supernatural would i really be writing fic about it? (well yes but.)

anywho not mine, no profit.

Enjoy!

"Dean?"

He didn't expect an answer. Why would he? Dean hadn't said a word to anyone in days. He had barely left his room either. Cas had started leaving food out for him by the door. The one consolation in that was knowing Dean didn't have an unlimited accesses to copious amounts of alcohol. Although, he wasn't so sure it was even a good thing to remove the man's only crutch.

"Dean, please; I know you're in there." Sam had told him to give up. That Dean would come out when he was ready. Cas didn't want to wait for that. He didn't want to know what Dean would have to do to fix his brokenness this time around. "I know you can hear me. Just…. Let me in this time? Come out. Please?"

He let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the door. The angel was doing that a lot lately. What was he even supposed to do? Sure he could just pop into the room, force his friend to speak with him. But, what would that do Dean's trust? It had been so long in building; all the things that had happened between them. Cas didn't want to anything to hurt that. Hurt Dean. Defeated, he turned to leave.

Then he heard a shuffle from behind the door. Cas turned back around, watching the door knob as though it was the most important thing in creation. He almost missed the piece of paper as it slipped silently under the door. Cas picked it up, being extra careful not to bend the edges.

He read it. Then read it again. I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't.

He dropped his hands, looking toward the ceiling in frustration, letting out a long breath. An old habit he guessed. A few moments later Cas composed himself. He sat down next to the door. "Can I at least come in then?"

This was progress he told himself. That was good. Dean was talking and that was good because then he could help. He could help dean. At that moment though, and all the ones around, he thought of himself as completely helpless. He had to get to Dean now while the man was being responsive, but Dean could stop that at any moment. Cas was floundering for a way to reach his friend.

The seconds ticked by. Then minutes. Had he over stepped? Did he mess up so badly this time it was impossible to fix it? But before he could consider giving up another paper slid out the door.

You can go where ever you want. The angle crumpled this one in his hands.

"You know that's not what I meant Dean." Cas closed his eyes. He had to get to Dean. He just had to. "You know I'm not going to invade your space when I don't think I am welcome."

There was a sound on the other side of the door. Muffled, like it was coming through more than just the bunker walls. Cas waited, letting his friend take his time. A while later the door clicked. It was unlocked.

Cas stood up instantly, reaching to open the door before it could close again. He clung to it like a raft at sea.

He hadn't needed to have worried though. When he entered, closing the door behind, Dean was on his bed curled against the head board facing away from Cas. The room was a mess. Empty wrappers and empty bottles and even some broken glass. The bed looked like it had been torn apart in a tornado.

"Dean I–" Cas was speechless. He couldn't find the words for his mix of emotions. So much fear and anger and grief rolled up that it made the angel shake under its weight. He wanted to scream. He wanted to plead for answers and he wanted to give up and he wanted it all too just be better. It swelled in an ocean of sadness for Dean. A simple thank you was all he could manage. Which summed it up pretty well.

Thank you for being okayish.

Thank you for not hurting yourself.

Thank you for letting me in.

Letting me see you here, like this.

Letting me try to help.

And then Dean turned around. His face was the red and puffy face of someone who had cried far too much. His eyes were blood shot. His clothes clung and sagged in awkward places from being worn for too long. If he was half as tired as he looked the man was exhausted.

Dean looked up at Cas, then his face turned to the wall beyond him and his eyes glassed over.

Cas stood there, not knowing what to do. He couldn't fix this. No one could ever fix Dean. But maybe… maybe there was a way to help the man pull himself back together. The only question was where to start.

"Dean." Cas walked to the edge of the bed, sitting down next to him. He put an arm around his old friend's shoulders. "Dean speak to me. Talk to me."

Dean said nothing but leaned in closer. Searching for comfort in the familiar trench coat. Cas let him stay there, holding onto his friend. Dean pushed away when he noticed he was clinging, fisted wrapped, in the coat. Two wet spots had formed on his shoulder.

oooooOOOOOOooooo

Cas cleaned up the mess. Dean watched silently from his place on the bed, curled up with the trench coat Cas put around his shoulders. He gave dean a weak smile before turning to the task before him.

Where to start? Question of the day.

The wrappers were the easiest. He packed them all into a trash can he'd found by the nightstand. It had occurred to them that Dean must have started letting all this accumulate long before shutting himself in. (How many burgers and frozen burritos could one person eat?) It was full before he could even get them all. He'd have to go empty it.

He didn't want to leave to go empty it though. Dean may or may not let him back and he didn't want to leave without doing more for him. There wasn't anything to do with the rest of the trash though; he needed to go empty the can. Cas shot Dean a questioning glance.

"You go empty that," Dean said. His voice was scratchy and dry. Cas simply nodded before taking the can and going, leaving the door open him a crack. He waited to hear the click of the door closing behind him.

There was none.

ooooOOOOOOooooo

Cas emptied the can into the large trash can before leaning against the wall. What was he going to do?

He'd ran into on the way out. The younger Winchester had been leaving on a supply run. One look at the can and he'd stopped short. Cas simply nodded to him that yes, he had been with dean.

"How?" Sam fumbled around the question. The fight with Dean making it hard for him to show the concern leaking through the edges of his mask. He was still concerned for Dean no matter how much he wanted to distance himself or how hurt he'd become.

"Not well," Sam tried not to flinch at the words, his fists clenched. Trying not to let Cas, or himself, notice the truth here. "But," Cas continued, "He will get better. I know he will." He wished he could know. He wished he could make it so. It had to be so.

"Okay." Sam breathed. "Okay, then I'm gonna go." And with that he was grabbing the keys and heading past Cas to the garage. Leaving him and Dean alone in the bunker.

When Cas finished with the trash he let himself sink down the wall until he was mimicking Dean's position. Now was not the time to be falling apart, and that was exactly what he felt like now.

Like everything was falling apart. His friends were hurting and fighting and he couldn't go back home and he couldn't fight the demons that plagued them. Not that kind. He just wanted to be able to snap his fingers and fix it. All of it. Although, he had learned the hard way just where that path lead. And boy did he just want to give up. But he couldn't.

He had to keep it together for them.

So Cas picked himself up. He gripped the can in one hand and clenched the other as he made his way to Dean. Upon reaching the door he took one shaky breath, opening his hand, and pushed past the door, shutting it behind him.

He was shocked to say the least. Dean had cleaned up considerably. The bottles were lined up on the dresser in neat little rows. Everything else had been sorted in to little piles laid out by the front of the bed ready to be disposed of.

Dean was sitting on the bed again, cradling the coat in his arms. "I tried to help, but, I think I made everything worse." His voice was barely audible. He looked like he was folding in on himself, staring half-heartedly at the piles.

Cas took the bait. "You did your best though. That's good enough." He set to work on filling the can again.

"It wasn't though." Dean sighed, uncurling himself. "Just look at this mess I've made. I can't…" He trailed off, looking to Cas. "I can't fix this."

"It isn't as bad as it seems. Trust me Dean." He stood up, crossing over to sit next to Dean. He wasn't quite sure where his confidence was coming from, but he wasn't about to question that now. "It is never as bad as you think. It's never as bad as it looks. There are people to help you clean up the messes. You can't let yourself take on these things alone.

"Also, you did a really good job with the room." Cas smiled at him, a small smile but full of affection. One of those warm smiles only he could pull off.

Dean looked at him. Like really looked. Then he nodded and started picking up trash. It wasn't much but it was progress. And that was a lot.

They got the room clean in record time after that. Both of them set to work silently, packing the piles into the trash and straightening crumpled bedding. The more Cas cleaned in the room the more he saw. A few shards of glass, a beer stain, a broken lamp in the corner. Things were everywhere. When he cleaned one mess two more popped up in its place.

In fact, that was how he saw it. He went to pick up a pillow and noticed something strange. The angel didn't want to believe it. He looked over at Dean, the jacket hadn't even registered as odd. He knew from his time as a human the room was uncomfortably hot though. Bordering on sweltering even.

Dean noticed right away that he'd seen. That Cas had put two and two together. "Out."

Cas held out his hands, hoping to calm his friend "Dean it's okay I–"

"I said out. Now Cas." Dean wouldn't meet his eyes. Just pointed to the door as Cas set the pillow down on the bed, leaving the red stain behind him.