Their relationship was falling to pieces. It was right in front of them, yet neither Dean nor Castiel was willing to admit it. That was before the night Dean came home drunk.
He barged through the front door with a bottle in each hand, and a mind only for destruction. He had no distinction of what he was wrecking--only that it felt good to break something.
"YHHH... YOU'F NEVURR GIBBIN ME ANYTHHING BUT PAAIN, CASSS," Dean ranted drunkenly, throwing one of his precious beer bottles against the wall. Shards of glass fell over Cas, who was huddled against that same wall.
"Dean, stop... please. The alchohol you've consumed is clouding your thoughts and--" Cas stopped short when Dean gripped him tight and raised him to eye level.
"Oh Castiel," he chuckled, "if only there was someone out there who loved you."
With that, he cast Cas aside, screamed something that sounded like "GET OUT. I SAID OUT," as if he were banishing a nasty animal from his home.
Cas left without gathering his meager possessions. Dean would probably be destroying them at the moment, anyways.
He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans (where his ring finger caught the nasty surprise of a piece of beer bottle) and turned his back on the apartment building, never taking even a glance backwards.
