Castiel stands against a wall, looking out at a sea of strangers. Well, not entirely strangers. He can see Sam's head sticking out above the crowd, Gabriel no doubt attached to his hip. Cas sighs and drains his glass of champagne.

He hates New Year's Eve.

It's not like other holidays, where there's a sense of family or patriotism attached to it; New Year's Eve only exists with the obligation to have fun. Everyone is trying so hard to have a good time and they are usually failing at that endeavor (that is unless they are three sheets to the wind, in which case everything in entertaining). New Year's Eve smacks of desperation. It's always treated as if it is the holiest of party days, but more often than not the end result is sitting on the couch, watching the ball drop on TV while in the wrong time zone. New Year's Eve is the Las Vegas of holidays: Everyone talks about how much fun they are going to have, but it always ends with wasted money, stilted conversations, and bad selfies.

Castiel has never enjoyed it. In his 30-plus years, he has not had one enjoyable New Year's… Well, that's not entirely true.

Last year's was fun, sneaking up to the roof with Dean, splitting a bottle of champagne between them and screaming classic rock songs into the sky at midnight. Dean had tried for hours to teach Castiel to whistle with two-fingers, but they had just dissolved into peals of laughter as Cas ended up drooling all over his hands. That had been a good New Year's. Castiel wishes the rest of the year had been that good.

Things were different now, though.

All at once, the large room seems too crowded, the air too stuffy, Castiel's suit too restricting. He spots the balcony on the other side of the space and immediately crosses the room to get to it, snagging two more glasses of champagne off a passing waiter.

He steps out onto the balcony, assaulted by the smell of smoke and ozone. Cigarette butts litter the patio, the 'no smoking in the house' rule no doubt Sam's influence on Gabe. Castiel quickly chugs both glasses; frowning at the taste and remembering that he doesn't actually like champagne. He leans over the rail, gripping it tightly, enjoying the feeling of the icy metal numbing his fingers.

He just needs a few minutes to breathe and not… think about anything. He lifts his head and looks out over the horizon, the city skyline lit up beautifully and casting a purple haze into the clear winter sky. Sam and Gabe's new condo lies on the northern edge of the city, not downtown like Gabriel's old apartment. Castiel can admit he likes it better, especially if this is the view that they get to enjoy every night.

He rubs his hands together, trying to regain feeling in his fingertips and glancing through the glass door to the party inside. He grimaces at the faces in the crowd with strained, gleeful smiles. Castiel is in no mood to enjoy himself tonight, he realizes.

He looks at his watch and checks the time. 11:58. He knows if he leaves, Sam and Gabe will give him hell about not staying until the New Year, but Castiel doesn't think he can handle this much forced cheer right now.

He slips back through the patio door, warmth rushing through his extremities. Gabriel is standing on a table, belting out "Let It Go" at the top of his lungs; at least he and Sam are both distracted enough so that they won't see Cas go.

He maneuvers through the crowd, but just as he gets to the entry way he stops dead in his tracks.

There stands Dean, looking the same as he's always looked: leather jacket, worn jeans, untucked flannel shirt and a beanie (the one Cas made him, he notes) pulled down over his ears. Cas swallows hard, wondering if the uncertain look in Dean's eyes mirrors his own.

Why was he here? Gabriel had made it very clear to Cas that Dean said he wasn't coming; that is the only reason he had decided to come at all.

Castiel's shoulders drooped. If anyone was going to show up to a party unannouced, it would be Dean.

It had to be Dean.