Sometimes Dean wonders when he lost the ability to care about anything. The most logical date would be when he found out that Sam said yes in Detroit. But that wouldn't be true, because he still cared about things when he tried saying yes to Michael. He still cared when the croatoan virus swept the nation, infecting and killing so many innocent people. He cared about that so much that he formed one of the first camps for survivors. He even still cared the first few times his refugees died on supply raids.

It must have been sometime after that when he stopped caring.

What did he have left to care about, really? Whenever Dean would bother to wonder when he stopped caring he would always end up wondering if there was actually anything worth caring about.

Every time he thought that he ended up feeling guilty, and useless emotions like guilt didn't suit him so well anymore. Even though he was no longer capable of caring, he still had enough presence of mind to know that he should. There were still people to protect, and a world to save.

The thing about saving the world though, is that there really wasn't a world left to be saved. All that were left were a handful of camps with a handful of people. The only thing Dean that kept him going was the aching need to kill Lucifer.

Dean didn't tell his refugees about any of that. If Dean Winchester had to pick only one thing he was good at he'd pick lying. So that is exactly what he did. He made them think he gave a damn about whether or not they lived or died, that they had a fighting chance to win a war they'd lost a long time ago. He made them think that the world could still be saved and one day they could go back to their lives like nothing ever happened.

He wasn't sure if they bought that last one, but they pretended to. Most of them anyway. He knew there was one person who knew without a doubt that he could never go back to his old life. Castiel.

Dean still cared for the ex-angel a little, admittedly more than anything else left on this rock, save for killing Lucifer. He'd always believed it was his fault that Cas had stayed, allowing his grace to just be sucked away when all his brothers left, and that belief was not unfounded. He knew Cas could see through his charming façade, knew he could see the way he blatantly lied to these people, how he manipulated them at every turn. But the ex-angel never turned his back on him.

He sometimes scraped a few seconds out of his day to marvel at the fact that Cas had followed him with blind faith through every twist of the road that lead them here. Even though Dean was becoming polar opposite of the man Castiel raised from hell, he had proved to be someone Dean couldn't shake.

Castiel wasn't exactly the man he used to be either. When the angels left his grace went too, and without that Castiel was just a powerless angel taking up residence in a faithful shell. At first Dean had tried to help him fill the void his grace seemed to leave, but that was right around the time Dean stopped caring about anything. Instead of Dean's comfort Cas turned to drugs, alcohol, and women, and as much of each of those things as he could get. The first and the third were pretty easy to get, no one cared about mood stabilizers anymore and everyone cared more about sex, so those were nothing. The alcohol was a bit harder to find though, because everyone wanted that in these hard times. Cas made up the difference by doing more drugs and having more sex.

If Dean still cared he would hate himself for allowing Cas to become a burned out junkie. As it was he did occasionally regret it, if only because Cas was now a strong man made useless when strong men were hard to come by.

Dean still took the ex-angel along on supply raids and other things, even though they both knew he was better off being left behind. Dean needed the extra body, and he cared enough to want him to feel useful.

The upcoming supply raid was no different. There was still an hour to go before the caravan left and Dean was getting antsy. He'd never learned how to sit still, and after the apocalypse it only got worse, less things to bide his time with he supposed. After he checked over the ammo for the fifth time he decided it was high time to make sure Castiel actually had his ass out of bed.

Dean was banging on the door to Cas's tiny house minutes later. "Wake up and open the damn door Cas!" he yelled. He didn't get a response which was not unusual. He went to the window and cupped his hands around his eyes, peering into the dark room. Cas was on the bed, asleep.

Dean rolled his eyes but had the lock picked in less than a minute. He wasn't quiet about slamming the door open, but Cas didn't stir. That's when Dean realized Cas wasn't breathing and there were several completely empty pill bottles scattered around on the bed with him.

"Shit!" Dean swore loudly as he dashed to the side of Cas's bed, scooping the limp man into his arms. He carried him across the room to the bathroom, thankful they'd managed to outfit some houses with showers. He kicked the door open and none-too gently dropped Castiel on the floor of the shower, twisting the knob for cold so hard he thought he might break it off into his hand.

"Cas, c'mon man, wake up!" he yelled, holding Cas under the cold spray, soaking them both, but the frigid water was just yet another thing he didn't care about while the unresponsive man was nearly the only thing he did. "CAS!" Dean slapped him, hard, hoping that would work but Cas still didn't breathe. The very small amount of CPR training someone at the camp had given him kicked in, and he pinched Cas's nose shut, opening his mouth and forcing breath into it. He leaned back, hands pumping Cas's chest.

He was just about to lean in to do mouth to mouth again when Cas finally breathed, a long, shuddering gasp for air, his eyes flying open. Dean was only relieved for a second before anger took over. He grabbed the ex-angel by the shoulders and shook him roughly. "What the fuck was that Cas? How many fucking pills did you take?"

Cas didn't answer until he got his breathing under control. Then he looked at Dean, eyes narrowed. "A lot Dean. Why the hell does it matter?"

Dean's jaw dropped. "Because you weren't fucking breathing Cas! If I hadn't come to wake your ass up you would be dead!" Cas didn't reply, just kept staring at Dean with hard eyes. That's when it dawned on Dean. "You were trying to fucking kill yourself," he accused, shock in his voice.

"Yes, I was Dean. You shouldn't have saved me," Cas replied, attempting to stand up but finding himself too weak. He turned instead and shut the water off while Dean could do nothing but gape at him.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" he exclaimed.

"It's simple Dean, I am a liability and I no longer wish to be that. I know longer want to be on earth." he said simply, a touch of the old Cas coming out with his blunt words.

"What are you talking about Cas, you're not a liability."

Cas laughed at that. "Tell me, how many people have died on raids because we were in a tight spot and you chose my life over theirs? Not that I expect you to know the number, because you don't care about their lives. I'm surprised you cared enough about mine to go to all this trouble to save it."

Dean's mouth opened and closed, unable to form words. "I care," he finally said, but he didn't seem convincing to either one of them.

Cas shook his head sadly, water flying off the tips of his wet hair. "No you don't Dean. You haven't given a damn about anything in years. Me included," he said in a heartbreaking matter-of-fact tone.

"Cas, that's not true," Dean argued, voice taking on a pleading tone that sounded almost unnatural coming from Dean. He hadn't been anything other than cold, harsh, and commanding in years. Cas felt a twinge in his chest, momentarily seeing the old Dean, the one he'd rebelled for, the one he'd lost his grace for. But the image was shattered when Cas looked into his eyes, and he could see the distance between Dean and everything else in their depths.

"Why are you suddenly concerned with trying to delude me? I have been by your side for the better part of the past decade, you should know by now you can't use your charming smile and way with words on me. Any one of these days could be my last. Could be your last, or it could be the last for any of these people in the camp. I can't speak for you, or for them, but I am tired of sitting here, waiting to be attacked and killed. I'm tired of going out on raids expecting any moment to be shot or stabbed, or any number of things, one of which will ultimately happen. I am taking matters into my own hands Dean, and I have made peace with that fact. You should make peace with the fact that you don't care either way."

Dean let out a hollow laugh. "If you think I'm just going to let you kill yourself because you gave a reasonable speech then you're a lot more fucked up than I thought. You're mostly right Cas, I pretty much haven't given a damn about anything in years. And yeah, we do run the chance that we could die on a daily basis. You're even right about me letting other people die because I was saving you. But that's where you stop being right."

Dean leaned in closer to Cas, trying to find a way to show him his sincerity, but even before he'd grown cold he'd never been the best at expressing his emotions. Didn't stop him from trying though. "Do you know why I always save you first? Because you are one of the precious few things that actually still matter to me. I really only have two things left Cas, you and killing Lucifer, and I sure as hell don't plan on letting you go."

Cas studied him calmly and Dean could see a ghost of the always curious angel in his eyes. The ex-angel placed his hand on Dean's cheek, thumb tracing over the corner of his eye, where Cas knew there would be beautiful crow's feet if Dean chanced to smile.

But Cas hadn't seen Dean smile in a very long time, and he wasn't holding his breath for one now. Cas let a small smile play over his face, remembering Dean's smiles. "I used to love you, you know," he said casually. "I still love you, Dean. I just loved the you that wasn't so cold. That would put himself at risk before going with a plan that put an innocent person in danger. I loved that Dean so much I rebelled for him, I stayed for him, and I fell for him," Cas paused, focusing his once crystal clear but now foggy blue eyes on the hunter's hard greens. "I just don't think I love you," he said, voice going soft. He tilted his head to side, searching Dean's eyes.

Dean felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. It took him a moment to realize it could be hurt. Dean had felt something for the angel, once upon a time, when he was fresh from the pit and Sammy was still around. But that was a long time ago and a lot had changed. Every day was a fight for survival, Dean didn't have time to sit around thinking about his pansy ass gay feelings for a washed up angel.

But he realized belatedly that maybe he should have made time. Maybe they could've held each other together if he had.

"I loved you too Cas," Dean said, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Cas's. This was something he could still do, and he knew Cas needed it. They both knew he couldn't put anything real into it, but they could both pretend he could.

Cas parted his lips to give Dean more access and their tongues intertwined. He let Dean lower him onto his back on the cold wet tile floor of his shower. He let his eyes fall shut because the cold distance in Dean's eyes made his heart break.

Dean started methodically unbuttoning Cas's shirt, and Cas wanted to stop him but he couldn't. They both wanted to be here with someone else, but those people were long gone. Dean finished the shirt and pulled it open, sliding it down his arms but leaving it between Cas and the floor. He started on Cas's pants then, and the ex-angel got the hint, pulling the hem of Dean's shirt away from him muscular body and up over his head.

Their movements were precise, the endgame being nudity, the act of getting naked meaning nothing to either of them. They were both hard, and Cas took a moment to realize that may be a miracle considering their disinterest.

Even though he didn't care Dean knew what he was doing. He splashed his hand down in one of the remaining puddles, getting his fingers wet, and slid two of them into Cas without preamble. Cas gasped, more surprise then pleasure, although it did feel good. Dean worked his fingers, twisting and scissoring, stretching Cas out. Dean hovered over him, and Cas pulled him down for a kiss so he wouldn't have to look into those empty eyes.

Dean ground his hips against Cas in a smooth rhythm, his shallow breaths the only sign that he was feeling anything. He pulled his fingers out and in lieu of lube used the puddle treatment to slick up his cock. He didn't ask Cas if he was ready, just assumed if he wasn't he'd stop him, lined himself up, and simultaneously pushed in while pulling Cas down by the hips.

Cas gasped again, louder this time, because it hurt a lot more than he thought it would. Dean stopped, waiting for Cas to adjust, silently hovering until he felt the muscles surrounding him relax. He didn't ask if Cas was ok, he just started thrusting. He had enough courtesy to be what Cas supposed he thought was gentle, but Cas had to bite his lip, keeping his groans of pain inside.

He slowly adjusted to the unfamiliar feeling of being filled and found it wasn't so bad. He had imagined this many times, he and Dean, together, but he'd never imagined it would be so cold, both physically and emotionally.

He wrapped his legs loosely around Dean's waist, urging him forward. He let his head fall back against the cold tile, focusing his eyes on the ceiling instead of on Dean. Their bodies were pressed together, and Dean was inside him, but there was more distance between the two of them than Cas felt could ever be crossed.

Dean slid his hand between them fingers closing over the ex-angel's hard cock. Cas's breath quickened and he realized that there was almost no sound in the shower, only their heavy breathing and the sound of skin against skin.

Dean's fingers tightened, and he pumped Cas slowly, rolling his thumb over the head and sliding the precum back down as he went. He applied pressure in all the right places, but to Cas it felt surgically precise, just like everything else they were doing.

Both Cas and Dean could feel like they were close. Dean thrust into Cas, deep and hard, coming without so much as a moan on his lips. Cas followed suit moments later, hips pushing himself up into Dean's hand, not making any noise other than a deep breath.

Dean held himself over Cas until their orgasms subsided, but then he stood, wiping Cas's come off his stomach. He pulled his wet clothes on, not speaking or looking at Cas until he was finished. He finally met the ex-angel's eyes, and Cas numbly noted that they hadn't changed.

"You should clean yourself up and get dressed. Skip the raid though, you're not in any shape to help," he turned and headed out, but Cas spoke up, stopping him in the bathroom door.

"You still can't lie to me Dean. But I appreciate that you tried. It was a beautiful lie," Cas said, staring at Dean's back.

He looked at Cas over his shoulder like he had something to say, but instead of saying it he turned and walked out the door. A moment later Cas heard his front door open and shut. Not slammed, like the old Dean would've done if he had something on his mind, just shut, because this Dean couldn't feel enough to worry about.

Cas sighed. He briefly considered crying, but Dean had left him empty and numb. He laid there on the wet tile, the cold seeping into his skin to the meet the cold Dean had left in his heart. He listened to his heart beat as the erratic pattern slowed to it's normal pace, and he wished he had more drugs he could take, but he'd used them all in his suicide attempt.

He knew he should do what Dean said, clean himself up and get dressed, but he couldn't find the will. So he just lay there, growing colder and number, desperately hoping he could get as numb as Dean.