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"Dude, I will shove your bed out in the hall way if you do that crap." Dean hadn't even grumbled over the whap to the back of his head. He kind of knew his earlier comment was a little much, he figured if some one said that about Lisa he probably wouldn't be too happy.

"You break them Sammy." Dean gestured towards the table as he eyed Bobby "Might as well make it interestin', since you and the Rookie" He gestured towards Cas with a smirk "Think you can take us."

Dean cocked his head to the side and looked at Cas "Yeah, but you see I am young at heart, I don't act like an old man." Even if some times, he felt way older than he honestly was.

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"Oh you want to make it interesting? One sec," Sam shoved his pool cue at Dean and ambled over to the bar. He returned a few minutes later with two bottles and shot glasses. "We'll play a round of stripes and solids, but with shots."

Sam set down a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of something called Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.

Bobby chuckled. "Jesus, kid. All right, line 'em up. But just remember that line about old age and trickery overcoming youth," he cracked.

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Cas eyed the bottles with interest. He'd seen the firewhiskey before--some wizarding concoction native to this plane, apparently--but hadn't gotten around to trying it.

He turned and studied the arrangement of the spheres on the table, their position in relation to each of the pockets, the nearly-but-not-quite perfectly flat slope of the table's surface, and at least a dozen other variables, performing some very complex math in his head. When Sam lined up for the break shot and struck the cue ball, his eyes darted rapidly from point to point on the table as the balls scattered across it, calculating.

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Dean sipped his beer and eyed Cas, he was getting an inkling he and Sam might have bit off more than they could chew by the way the angel's eyes were darting across the table. Crap he thought to himself. Looked like it might be him and Sammy coming back to the room drunk tonight.

"Alright, line 'em up and let's do this." The hunter poured the shots for the losers as he readied is stick and stepped up to ready himself as he did exactly the same thing Cas had been doing, he watched the table and calculated as best he could. Sam and he had enough experience hustling the game, they might be able to pull it off.

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Sam shrugged a little at his brother's expression. So what if they went back hammered out of their heads? It was a good night to do it, and damn good company to do it in. He picked up one of the shots of whiskey and downed it before lining up his next shot on the table.

The old hunter watched the two boys, a fond gleam to his eye. "Aw what the hell," he muttered and reached over to take a belt of the whiskey.

He watched Sam sink his first three shots before the last one swung wide at the last moment. "Take your shot kid," he said with a grin. "All right Cas, think you can give it a go?"

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Castiel nodded, taking one more moment to crouch beside the table and study its surface at eye-level before he set up for his shot.

He mimicked Sam's posture with eerie accuracy, frowning slightly as he took careful aim and shot, sinking two balls on his first try, three on his second, and missing one on the third by only a hair's breadth.

"My apologies," he said to Bobby, straightening up and reaching for a shot of firewhiskey, "the table's surface isn't quite as perfectly uniform as it appears."

He tossed back the shot, and blinked in surprise. The stuff had a burn to it, much more pronounced than what he was used to. He gave the shotglass a nonplused look and set it down, waiting for Dean to take his turn.

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Dean smirked and downed a shot before the game stared same as Sam and Bobby, he didn't want to lose, but either way he figured going home drunk wasn't a bad thing and honestly this was a night that could have only been made better if it was at the Roadhouse with Jo and Ellen. He felt a moment of nostalgia for the place, but Ravenclaw bar wasn't half bad.

Dean stared slack jawed at Cas "Oh hell, freakin' Rain Man, Cas." Dean chuckled as he stepped up to take his shot.

His first shot was good, but his second went wide and the hunter snorted "Damn.." He grinned as he reached over and snagged another shot, it was no purple nurple but it sure left a man feeling warm and toasty.

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junkyard-hunter.livejournal.com

"You ain't gotta apologize Cas, the point of the game is to have fun and get hammered. Don't matter one whit who wins or who loses," Bobby assured the angel. "Now finish those shots ladies," he said with a smirk at Sam and Dean.

Bobby lined up his shot, and he was pretty pleased to see that both the first and second shots landed with a satisfying click into the pockets. He paused long enough to watch Sam and Dean knock back their shots with a grin before bending to take his third.

He grumbled under his breath as he miscalculated and it swung wide. Bobby inclined his glass at the boys. "To family," he said before throwing it back.

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"I don't understand that reference," Cas said automatically, analyzing Dean's technique in relation to Bobby's and Sam's and accordingly changing his own calculations a bit.

Bobby had just missed pocketing the 8-ball, and Sam and Dean had four balls left on the table. He polished off another shot of firewhiskey, waiting for Sam to take his next turn.

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Dean had taken his shot and watched Bobby and Cas, when Bobby inclined his glass to them and said 'To Family'"Damn straight!" Dean snagged a shot of his own and drank to that, he snickered when Cas said he didn't know the reference "Of course."

He walked around the table and clapped a hand to the angel's shoulder as he took a swig of his beer in between the shots he'd already taken, holding a fresh, cold beer out to Castiel as he motioned Sam towards the table "Alright, Sasquatch, your turn." Then he grinned at the angel "Relax Rain Man, it's just a game, y'know, fun."

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"Jerk," Sam muttered with a grin before picking up his cue and circling the table to line up his shot. He managed to sink the remaining three in fairly quick order, leaving just the 8 ball.

It took another circle of the table before he was satisfied with his final shot.

"Any day now kid," Bobby groused good-naturedly. He had a feeling he and Cas were due for a couple more shots in pretty quick order.

There was a satisfying clack as the last ball dropped into the corner pocket.

"All right guys, drink 'em up," Sam said, looking up with a grin as Bobby was already lining up their shots.

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Cas accepted the beer and had to stop halfway through it to take his medicine, then washed the firewhiskey down with what was left in the bottle, effectively cooling the burn.

The thought fleetingly occurred that there might be a reason the whiskey seared such a blazing trail on its way down, and that defeating it with more booze might be counterproductive, but he was feeling pleasantly relaxed and inclined to dismiss such concerns out of hand. He'd survived an entire liquor store with no worse than a nasty headache to show for it, after all.

"Another game?" he proposed amiably, certain he and Bobby would win a rematch. It was childishly simple, really.

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Dean finished his beer quickly "Damn, alright Sam." He grinned as Sammy sank the eight ball and drained the last drops of beer. He sat them aside and despite that they had just won he snagged a shot himself and held it up.

He downed the shot and shook his head slightly afterword "I'm up for it, sure your liver can take it Bobby? You are gettin' old."

Dean walked over and clapped a hand to Sam's shoulder as he handed his brother a shot, win or lose it seemed Dean had decided to just go for drunk and a good time.

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junkyard-hunter.livejournal.com

Bobby gave Dean his own version of The Look and picked up another shot, downing it for good measure. "Rack up the balls, kid. Now that Cas has the hang of the game, we're gonna kick your asses." He was feeling a nice comfortable buzz and intended to keep it going for as long as he could.

Once the table was back in order, Bobby lined up for the break shot. He only took a fraction longer than usual because the table felt a little tilted. The first shot was true, knocking two in, while his second one fell short by a small margin.

The hunter reached for his penalty shot and passed the cue off to Dean. "Let's see what ya got junior."

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"Bobby's liver is in surprisingly good condition," Cas remarked, having checked for that and a number of other issues when he resurrected the man (or would. Whatever.) "But some of his coronary arteries could use some attention."

He snickered quietly at the 'junior,' knocking back another one and then leaning on his cue to watch Dean try his luck. He hadn't worked up a full-blown buzz--not yet--but he was getting there, and quicker than expected.

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"Yeah, we'll see about the Tom.." He snarked, teasing Bobby about the main character from Rain Man, whom he couldn't remember the character's name but he knew had been played by Tom Cruise so that worked just as well "Depends if you taught Rain Man good enough."

Dean stepped up once Bobby was done and his first three shots sank with out a problem, the next one went wide and his stick nearly skipped off the felt of the table "Crap.." He chuckled obviously not bothered by it at all as he knocked back another shot and looked at his brother "Y'know, I don't think I want to even know how Cas knows about Bobby's liver, too much information."

The hunter stepped back from the table to give Cas some room to take his next shot. He was feeling warm and a little more than buzzed as he drained the last of his beer.

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junkyard-hunter.livejournal.com

There was more pool, more drinking, and a significant amount of shots shared between the hunters. Soon it wasn't clear who was winning, but they didn't really care. When it became a little too tricky to aim the pool cue, the hunters retired to a table where the beer and even a few more shots continued to flow as easily as the stories, jokes and cracks at each other.

Bobby sat in one of the comfortable leather chairs, head tilted back, snoring. His liver might be in decent shape according to Cas, but he wasn't exactly a kid anymore.

"Bobby," Sam looked over the table and the vast number of empties stacked there and nudged him. "Go to bed, man."

The old hunter sat up with a start before nodding somewhat blearily at the remaining boys. "Right. 'night boys."

He got to his feet, somewhat unsteadily and clapped a hand on Cas's shoulder. "S's a good lady Cas. Figured she'd like purple. Don't know what the hell John was thinkin with blue.." he muttered before wandering towards the door.

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"Thank you, Bobby," Cas said, smiling hazily at the old hunter. Who was almost to the door by the time the implications of his statement penetrated the angel's befuddled mind. "Wait...what?" But Bobby had already gone.

He shrugged, slammed yet another shot and kept on smiling, somewhat aimlessly. If any of them were in any condition to notice (which they weren't,) he was oddly further along in sloshedness than previous experience suggested he should be at this point. If anything, he might just be drunker than his human friends, though whether that was a function of downing about three times as much as any of them had or of the unfamiliar Hogwartsian whiskey (or both) was difficult to say.

"She is a good lady," he slurred, slouching comfortably in his chair and spinning an empty shotglass idly on the table. "I am very...very fortunate to have such a lady. And blessed in the friends that I have found."

The smile faded slowly as his thoughts meandered back over the incredible series of events that had brought them to this point. "I never would have guessed, with everything that happened, that one day we would all find ourselves in such a place as this," he said distantly.

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Dean was a good bit past drunk, feet propped up on the table in front of him the hunter wore a large happy grin. Considering they had continued to take shots after sitting down it was a wonder any of them remained upright and when Bobby snored Dean laughed hard enough he nearly fell out of his chair.

It got better and the hunter's chair thunked to the floor as Bobby made his slurred confession and the drink of beer he had just taken sprayed out of his mouth "Old perverts, that was Dad and Bobby? I didn't think they had it in them." Dean cracked a grin over at his brother, then he heard Cas and the hunter cocked his head. "Yeah, you know, I would love to kick the guys ass that let Sam out the panic room. We had him stopped...."

And to Dean from that point on Fate was unavoidable, even if he didn't believe in it and had fought it every step of the way and forged his own path. The end results had been far from perfect and he had to wonder, how different things would have been if Sam had never gotten out of there that day to free Lucifer.

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Sam snorted at his brother’s chuckle. He had a pretty pleasant drunk going on. It had been a good night, he and Cas had each found someone, they were all there and whole and safe. Death’s promised intervention also meant that while he wasn’t looking forward to his inevitable departure from the school, he at least wasn’t facing it with such dread. He finished his beer and reached automatically for another, completely disregarding the fact that he was going to regret overdoing it come morning.

“She is Cas,” he said in agreement, throwing back another shot before washing it down with a beer. “Gonna keep me outta the Cage,” he slurred.

He blinked at his brother, confused. “Panic room? ‘m not goin back in there am I?” It took a moment for his scattered thoughts to piece together what Dean meant. “Oh. Right. I don’t remember, Dean. I didn’t see anyone. Always figured it was Ruby or.. or someone.” He took another long drink and slouched down further in his chair, his good mood dampened.

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Castiel went very still at their exchange, wondering if some agent of fate had arranged for that topic to finally come up at this particular moment. If he couldn't admit to what he had done right now, thoroughly plastered with a gut full of enchanted courage, he'd have no hope of ever confessing when he was sober. So it had better be now. He'd be damned if he would take it to his grave a third time.

Meticulously peeling the label from his beer bottle, he said in an undertone so low it hardly carried to their ears, enunciating each word with elaborate care, "I know who did that."

He swallowed, struggling to just bring it out and have done, but the simplest words somehow eluded him. I did it. It was me. I let him out. So he resorted to a more oblique reference that he knew without a doubt Dean would understand, and threw in another painful admission while he was at it; one he knew they'd already heard, but not from him, and not the full story. "The same spineless, soulless son of a bitch who turned Anna in when she came to berate him for it."

Edited Date: 2011-03-12 08:09 pm (UTC)

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"Hell no, damn Sammy, you think I'd..." Then Dean stopped, he heard the first undertone from Cas. The angel knew who did it and hadn't told him "What the hell Cas, you should have told.." And for the second time in as many seconds he was cut off.

Baffled was one to describe his expression, then hurt, betrayed, which in Dean Winchester took only seconds to manifest itself in to anger, because that was one emotion he was good at expressing. "You..." it was low at first, of every one he had possibly thought it could be, Dean had never considered it being Cas, not once had he suspected the angel.

"You did it?! You let him out, why cause your bosses told you to? Huh? How long, Cas, how long did you plan on dickin' me around and hidin' that from me?" He was out of his chair, unsteady on his feet so that when he rose the chair crashed to the ground and the beer bottle near his hand was sent to crash to the floor "Of every one...I never thought it would be you."

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Sam turned at Cas’s quiet words, his surprise cutting through the haze. Cas? But he was their friend. Granted while he was under the influence of his addition to demon blood, Sam hadn’t earned the right to call anyone friend; but he really thought Cas had been on their side that summer. He turned to the angel with wide and somewhat confused eyes. “You? But .. Cas.. why? It started the Apocalypse..”

There was some kind of connection he needed to be making, but his alcohol infused brain stubbornly refused to cooperate. He was still sitting there, staring at Castiel in open confusion when Dean wobbled to his feet. The chair hitting the ground sounded like a gunshot and Sam was on his feet a second later, looking between his angry brother and Castiel, who hadn’t moved.

Sam knew firsthand how Dean’s anger tended to flare up before eventually petering out and he wasn’t sure how much of that Cas was prepared for. The angel was drunk and probably more than a little vulnerable to what Dean might say. He angled himself between the two, ready to intervene if need be.

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Castiel flinched in the face of Dean's anger, and set the bottle down on the table with a quiet thunk. "I was under orders, yes. I hadn't yet...been shamed into disobeying."

He couldn't look at either of them. "The ways that Heaven has of inflicting pain...there are no words in any human language," he said tonelessly. "Zachariah never scrupled at employing any of them. But that wasn't what..." He rubbed at his face, wishing he could erase these memories so he'd neither have to relive nor recount them. He'd returned from that 're-education' broken in more than one sense, and nothing that had followed had made things any easier.

"It wasn't how he--broke me. I'd already decided to cast my lot with you and he knew it. So he--he held Jimmy and his family over my head." His mouth thinned into a bitter line. "Made me listen as the man begged me to keep my promise. To protect the people he loved. Zachariah wouldn't free me to answer. He would have left them all to the demons if I hadn't sworn to obey."

Dean had broken the first seal, and Sam the last, with no clear idea what they were really doing. Cas had understood all too well the consequences of his actions, and he'd not only withheld an important truth from them, he'd allowed them both to believe all this time that their culpability for Lucifer's release was greater than it was. He was just as much to blame.

"I preserved my vessel and his family and kept my word, in exchange for...everything else. Maybe it wasn't technically a Seal, but for practical purposes, it might just as well have been number sixty-five and a half." The sixty-sixth could not have been broken if not for his act of treachery.

They both had every good reason to be angry. He wasn't even trying to defend himself; only to give them the whole truth at last, so he could stop feeling that he'd been taken into their family under false pretenses.

"I've wanted to tell you for a long time. I was ashamed, and afraid," he concluded, voice hollow. The thought of what Dean would say to all this was terrifying, but there was also a certain relief. Whatever happened now, at least his conscience was finally clear. "I need a bigger word than 'sorry' and...I haven't got one."

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