Cas waits for me by the backdoor while I finish up closing. I set the alarm and lock the door behind us before we walk over to my truck. "Where is this place?" I ask him.

     "Over on the avenue. It's called Birch."

     "Oh, I know Birch."

     Cas goes, "You're not going to be able to drink if you drive us there, though."

     "That's okay, you can still drink."

     He nods. "That's true. That's what really matters."

     I laugh quietly, pulling out of my spot and taking us there. I get a park down the block on a side street. When we walk up, there's a line but Cas knows the bouncer. That's unexpected. "Josh, sup, you got me?" he says.

     Josh dabs Cas and says, "Yo, my man. Go ahead."

     "He's with me," Cas says as he walks inside. I nod at Josh, even though I have no idea who the hell he is or how he knows Cas, which bothers me. Cas is a few feet ahead and stops, glancing back at me.

     "So I can't say what or how or why because confidentiality, but I can say people are wild and kinky and Josh owes me a very large debt," Cas says as he grins. He grabs my hand and tugs me through the crowd in the direction of the bar. He orders himself a whiskey sour and I get a beer, passing my card to the bartender before Cas notices.

     Cas gets his drink and then turns to look at me. "Are you going to dance?" he asks.

     I smile, remembering how Cas can't dance. I take his free hand, tugging him in the direction of the dance floor. He tries to stop me but doesn't have the strength, or maybe he isn't trying all that hard. "I asked because I was just going to stand off to the side and watch."

     I shake my head. "You dragged me here, now you have to dance with me."

     "So many rules," he mutters as he pushes the straw in his drink out of the way with his pointer finger and then downs the glass. They're playing some synthy techno music. There's no uniform dance going on, some people are jumping and gyrating, others are shaking and grinding. Cas finds the beat better than I expect him to, shaking his shoulders side to side.

     We dance through the song and on the next one, Cas slips a finger through my belt loop, pulling me closer till our hips meet. He looks at me innocently, which usually means his motives are far from it. If we were out at the club Jack and I had gone to, this would be fine. He could slip his leg between mine, run his hands wherever wants, but in a small bar in Aurora, there's certain decorum we should maintain.

     I step back and he pouts. I give him a warning look. "Don't be inappropriate," I say after I've leaned down towards his ear.

     "I would never," he says dramatically.

     "Mmhmm," I say.

   The bass drops and Cas throws his arms in the air, dancing wildly. I take the empty glass out of his hand before he drops it. He hardly notices, his eyes closed as he tips his head back and rolls it in a circle like he's stretching. His shoulders are low and he shuffles them as he bounces. He's hands down the worst dancer I've ever seen but I'm also mesmerized by it, can't stop watching him. Can't stop thinking this is the sort of thing I never want to forget. It's wild to me how something that looks so terrible can look so perfect when there's feelings involved. Based on the way the crowd around him as made space for Cas, I know his dancing isn't impressing them so much as warning them to maintain a distance for safety.

     I slide behind him, tipping my head back, too, enjoying the heat radiating off of his body onto mine. I circle my arm across his chest, just because I need the touch, something connecting us. I follow his movements, however offbeat they've become.

     We dance through a few more songs before I stop. Cas is still going, jumping and rocking, smiling at nothing. I shift the empty beer bottle to my hand with his glass, leaning over towards Cas. "I'm going to the bathroom," I say and he nods.

     "I'll be here," he responds.

     "Okay, don't move," I warn him before I start pushing through the crowd. I drop our empty drinks at the bar before I head towards the bathroom. There's a line of ladies outside their door but the men's room is virtually empty. I step inside, walking over to the long basin acting like a urinal.

     There's a guy at the end of it but, otherwise, it's empty. He glances at me but does't stare long or hard so I don't think anything of it.

     Then I hear him laugh. It's a near impossible task to stop peeing mid-stream so I don't but I tense up. "Oh, I know you," he says after a moment.

     I glance at him, uncomfortable with making eye contact with someone I don't think I know while I'm going to the bathroom.

     When I don't say anything, he goes, "Oh, you know me, too." His words are heavy and slurred. He steps closer and I've just finished, so I zip up quickly. When I turn to look at him, I think I maybe recognize the guy. He's blocking the way to the sink. I don't know why he looks familiar but he does.

     He smiles, and it's not very friendly. He looks like bad news, in a worn letterman jacket and torn jeans. He's a smoker. There's a pack in his front pocket and he reeks of cigarette smoke. His dark hair is greasy and pushed away from his face. He's jogging a memory but its catching up with me slowly. Despite all of the unfortunate choices, he has a golden boy look about him, in the quirk of his smile. Like he's used to being the center of attention. He looks like the result of peaking in high school.

     "Still don't remember, huh?" he says after a moment. "You should get your little Twink. He'll be able to remind you."

     My heart rate has jacked up and heat rises in my chest. "You're his old teammate," I mutter finally. "James."

     "Ding, ding, ding," he says, grinning like there's some kind of joke in it.

     I think about how I felt five years ago. How many times I wanted to knock this kid out. How I had to reason with myself not to fight him because it'd be unfair. It wasn't my place. But here, now, there's literally nothing stopping me from giving him what he deserves.

     He's stepped closer, entering my space. He's smaller than me and he's drunk. I don't know if that's making him more ballsy or stupid. Either way, I've got a perfect opening to punch him. "You and I have something in common," he says voice overly sweet, speaking in a tune like this is a song lyric. He reaches out, dragging a finger across my cheek. I flinch away from him, my fists clenching. "We both fucked your fairy."

     "Excuse me?" I spit out before I've even fully processed what he's just said.

     His grin is sharp, taunting. "I fucked your fairy. He didn't tell you? He's a sweet little thing, huh. A bit fragile, I'm afraid. But I'm sure you already knew that."

     I am not really in my right mind when I throw the first punch. The second one, that lands with a satisfying crunch, though, yeah that one is definitely all me. I'm not looking for a fight and dodge his almost reflexive hit, shoving him back so he trips and falls near the sink. I'm starting to hyperventilate and I need to get out of there.

     James spits at my feet, blood splashing the floor. "You're going to fucking regret this," he says bitterly, but he doesn't move to get up. "He begged for it like a fucking bitch," he says. "Such an eager little fuck, huh. He can really take it, though. I can see the appeal."

     Part of me wants to stand there and hear it. I want to know every detail. I want this to be as much my experience as it is James's. Because that'll change something, right.

     I get my feet working and I walk out. I walk past the line of women waiting, past the server carting a tray of dirty glasses to the back, past the crowd of people. My head is buzzing, drowning out the real noise for this one that isn't real but feels real. It feels like I may be at risk for imploding. Death by emotional incapacitation. My vision blurs as I burst through the crowd at the door and get outside. The cold air smacks at my face, forcing air out of my lungs.     

     Someone grabs my arm and I swing around, my fist ready to strike. I nearly hit Cas. I halt, unsteadily, freezing the force of my arm so that it stutters in the air. He gives me this shocked expression, flinching away. I drop my hand immediately, this horrible mix of anger and shame coming up my throat. My breath chokes up in me again.

     Cas recovers before I do. "What happened? What's going on?" he asks. "And where are you going?"

     I've started walking again, moving us down the sidewalk. "Dres, talk to me," Cas screams, running to get ahead of me. He stops in front of me, putting his arms out.

     I shake my head so hard it hurts. "James," I bark. "Fucking James, Cas?"

     Cas's face goes white. "What did he — when did you..."

     His response tells me there's no doubt it's true, that James wasn't just saying that to start some shit. I raise both my eyebrows, shaking my head at him. "James," I repeat, disgusted. I can't even look at him. Have to look away.

     "Don't even," I snap. "He fucking told me. James, of all people. And after everything he did to you?" I can't stop myself from visibly gagging.

     Cas is flushed, stutters on a response. And there really isn't a response for this one. I was mad but I understood when he'd fucked someone else. But this, this is not something I'm equipped to handle. I don't understand. James.

     That's a perfectly aimed blow. Knowing how much I hated him, how much I wanted to hurt him for hurting Cas. Knowing how much Cas wanted to hurt me, this makes sense. I can see it now.

     My breath eases and I nod my head, even though Cas has said nothing. "James," I repeat just to really make it clear to myself. "Fucking James."

     Cas's expression draws tight. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth like he just drank something bitter. Finally he says, "You don't get to be fucking pissed at me."

    "You don't get to tell me what I get to be pissed at," I respond just as quickly. "It was fucking James, Cas. The asshole who bullied you all through high school. A homophobe. How could you do that to yourself?"

    "You're not going to make me feel bad about what I chose to do to fix what you broke," he snaps. "I'm not the bad guy here."

    "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Know what, better yet, go tell James that. You guys can have a nice life together."

    "Fuck you, Dres," Cas screams at my retreating form,

     "Yeah, fuck me, alright," I yell back at him. "And fuck James, too."

     I don't know how it is that I get home. I'm a jumbled mess of feelings. When I park in the driveway, I have to throw my door open quickly so I can vomit on the concrete. I can't stop thinking about James, which makes it impossible to stop thinking about Cas, and underneath it all I'm still worried that he got home okay.

     The whole of it is really pathetic.

     I eventually get inside, find my way to the liquor cabinet, and pour the darkest thing I've got. Some kind of whiskey. I don't realize I'm shaking until I try to lift the glass, and can't. I should've hit James harder, should've knocked some teeth out of his mouth. I'd like to see him try to use that shit-eating grin again without a front tooth.

     No, that's not right, I don't want any of that. It's not like this was solely James, anyway. This was Cas, choosing James, choosing someone has belittled him, made him small, acted like he meant nothing. It takes a truly awful person to push you into James's arms. I am a truly awful person.

     Last night, I'd looked Olivia in the eyes and thought, yes, I'd fixed him. He's back. Maybe he is, but god, where the fuck was he? To choose James — he was farther than I ever realized. It's a wonder he made it back to himself.

     This is what Ashley meant, I suppose. About stopping before Cas does something I'm not going to forgive, that he won't be able to forgive himself for — this may be that thing. It's not, I know that. But now I understand what she meant when she said I needed to stop doing this before he becomes someone I don't like. But, more importantly, somebody he doesn't like anymore. I saw the look in his eye, this splintered, sort of watered down, regret. I know he knows it was wrong, I know that he probably feels awful about it.

     Yeah, so this is over.

     It's getting late, so I toss the last of my drink in the sink, and get up, letting the dogs outside before I head upstairs to bed. I'm waiting by the backdoor for them to finish, but Delta's run off to the fence and Charlie's exploring some of the bushes in the back. The longer I'm standing here, the more I'm thinking, and the more I think, the more it hurts.

     The ring goes off, just the motion detection. Charlie's run over to where Delta is by the side of the fence. I walk to the front, anticipating Cas, and it is. But his mouth is bloodied. He swipes at his lips, smearing blood, and says, "You broke his nose."

     I'm not going to apologize for that but I am sorry Cas had to be on the receiving end of it. I grab his shoulder, pulling him inside. I lead him towards the downstairs bathroom, where I keep a first aid kit.

     Cas doesn't say anything. It's for the best because I can't imagine what kind of conversation we can have about it right now. I'm not angry, anymore, just disappointed.

    He rinses his mouth with antiseptic, and then I clean the cut above his lip. We walk back out and Cas takes a seat on the couch. I go to the kitchen, grab a towel and some ice, bundling in before I bring it over to him. He's lying down now, eyes mostly closed. He reaches out a hand for the ice, says thanks but it's a low rumble of sound.

     "It was a bad idea," he says after I've started for the stairs. I stop, one foot on the step. "It was a bad idea but I wasn't in the business of making good ones at the time."

     I go up to bed, not expecting Cas to be there in the morning.

     But he is, sitting at the island with fresh coffee. His lips a bit swollen, but he otherwise looks fine. He stands when I come downstairs, walking into the kitchen.

     "Didn't think you'd still be here," I say after a moment, when he's made no move to start the conversation.

     "I have to head out and get ready for work. But I want to say," Cas pauses.

     I nod my head. "I know."

     He walks over then, closing the space between us, wrapping his arms around my back. I cup his face, tipping his head back. His eyes are wet. "It's okay. I know."

     When Cas leaves, I know it's the last time he'll be walking out on me.