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Dean and Sam pulled back up to the bunker later that night. They had said nothing to one another for the entire drive back, instead riding in tense silence. Sam's eyes were red-rimmed and glazed over, completely unfocused as he stared blankly out the car window. Ever since he had watched the life leak slowly from Sarah's eyes Sam's brain had been set in a feedback loop, replaying the deaths he and Dean had experienced throughout their dismal lives. Every death that flashed before Sam's mind pulled him deeper into himself, until the pain and overwhelming misery began to slide into numbness.
On the other side of the car, however, Dean was mentally ripping himself apart. His anger moves like lava, oozing slowly through his veins and burning his heart and veins to ash. He can no longer feel the fingers that are white-knuckling his Baby's steering wheel or his teeth that are clenched together so strongly they might as well be a solid wall of marble. In his mind's eye all he can see is ravenous fire, self-destructive anger, and bloody torture and it reminds him of Hell, of the moment when Alastair handed him his first knife with a sick gleam in his eyes and a wicked smile on his lips. Dean would normally use Sam as a rock, an anchor against this overwhelming self-hatred and seething anger, but he's checked out; as empty and vacant as Castiel had been right after taking on Sam's demons from The Cage.
They both clamber out of the car on autopilot, slamming the car doors a little more harshly than normal and the noise seems loud as thunder in the unrelenting silence. Dean opens the door and it's a good thing they live in a bunker or else they'd probably have to patch up the hole where the doorknob slammed through the wall (sometimes having concrete walls is a good thing). The boys walk towards the main room, carefully making sure not to look at one another, as though that would be the spark that starts the atomic bomb that's appeared in their lives. They're so preoccupied in their eye-dancing that they don't even notice Cas standing at the bottom of the steps until Dean nearly walks straight into him.
For a moment, they all just stare at one another, Cas unsure of what to say and the brothers still reluctant to break the silence. After a few moments Cas clears his throat and, looking more nervous than Dean has ever seen him, moves out of Dean and Sam's view so that they can see the jumble of grocery bags on the table. Dean feels the anger ebb from his mind as he wanders over to the bags on the table and begins to pick through them. Sam looks at Castiel, confused, but joins Dean in going through the assorted groceries and random goods.
Dean can feel himself letting go of that burning hatred that had been eating into his soul as soon as he begins digging through the bags. Cas had gone out and done the shopping for them, and had actually done very well. He remembered toilet paper and jerky, as well as picking up eggs and some other various foods that the boys could toss together for meals. Not only that, Cas had gone out of his way to get him his favorite beer, Busty Asian Beauties, and, best of fucking all, a fresh apple pie (which still felt a little warm in his fingers). A smile slipped onto Dean's face, wide and open, making him look years younger. Dean hadn't felt this happy in months, definitely not since Cas had asked them to leave him behind at the old folks home.
"Cas, is this what I think it is?" Dean hears Sam say from behind him. When he turns around he sees Sam leafing through a leather-bound journal, his face a mixture of curiosity and cautious hope. When Dean turns back to Cas again, a wide smile has taken over Cas's face and he's looking straight into Dean's eyes as though this gift is for Dean, rather than Sam.
"Yes, Sam," Cas replies, his eyes never straying from Dean's wide, intensely green ones, "I spoke with Metatron and those spells should help you feel more like your normal self before the next Trial." Dean's eyes widen even further till he's practically gaping at Castiel. He realizes that Cas provided the information to Sam partially because they are friends, but it's also a present for himself. Cas is helping Sam because he's seen the anxiousness in Dean's eyes, the worry lines across his forehead when he looks at Sam.
"Thanks, Cas," Sam smiles back. He only needs himself for these spells and Dean hasn't stopped looking at Cas with that gross, lovestruck look since he discovered the Busty Asian Beauties skin mag. Honestly, Sam thinks, Dean is the only man that would fall in love with another man because he bought him his favorite porn. Sam rolls his eyes, good naturedly before disappearing into his room.
Dean can't stop smiling. He's trying. Attempting to force the corners of his mouth down into a neutral expression instead of the completely smitten one he knows he's wearing right now. Cas looks hopeful, glancing from his hands and back up to Dean. "Come on, Cas," Dean smiles, grabbing the remaining bags, and moving towards the kitchen, "Let's introduce you to the wonderful art of pies." Castiel follows with a small smile playing around his lips and his steps lighter than they have been in months.