Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

No one needed to know that Dean wore glasses. They didn't need to know that he had a perfect 4.0 GPA, or that he could easily run circles around every nerd at mathematics. No one needed to know that he had a mild, okay, enormous obsession with pop culture television shows, and that he could quote entire episodes in one sitting. It wasn't important that Dean got letters from colleges all across the country, begging him to accept their scholarships and enroll in their programs. Dean was oddly pleased when he was called to the principal's office, only to be met by a bundle of letters from said colleges. His teachers begged him to accept. Go to some fancy school like Harvard or Stanford, get a big flashy degree and make hundreds of thousands of dollars. Make his school and family proud. That's what they wanted. But Dean would casually glance over the letters, shove them in his backpack, then promptly reply,

"You should see my brother's grades." Then he would get up and leave, ignoring the stunned look on his principal's face. 

The problem with Dean, was that he honestly didn't care. He didn't have the 4.0 because he broke his back over studying, or was desperate to do something with his life. He got that stupid GPA just to prove that he could. There was no ulterior motive. There was nowhere he really wanted to go. He was content for things to remain exactly as they were: with all his friends and family thinking he had C's and D's, and spent every weekend partying with strangers and causing all kinds of trouble for the 'real nerds' or Lawrence High School. 

Dean didn't try to attract attention. As far as anyone else was concerned, he was a no-brain jock with a fight to pick with anyone who looked at him wrong.

Dean was popular though. No matter how many times he and his family moved over the years, Dean would always find himself being invited to the cool kids table in the lunchroom. He would always be partying at the latest rage, and if some underage idiot brought out beer, Dean would be right there drinking with them.

In the end, Dean decided he may be smart. But he certainly wasn't wise. And he didn't try to be, either. When he was with all those faceless students, at least he felt accepted. There was oblivion there. He didn't have to try to fit in. He didn't have to do anything. All he had to do was smile, make a crude joke, get people to laugh, and play along when the cheerleaders started 'oo-ing' and 'awe-ing' over his face and body. 

Dean knew what they saw in him. They didn't see his grades, his mind, or his personality. They saw a body. They saw green eyes, dark and dirty blond hair, a hard jaw every jock was wishing they had, and a decently toned body that seemed to get a lot of unusual attention from the freshmen girls. 

They thought he was pretty. They thought he was dumb. And Dean let them believe it. It was just easier that way. Even if it meant making fun other nerds like himself, staying up too late on Friday nights, and bending over sideways to read the instructions of his homework because he couldn't read worth a damn without his glasses.

Bobby was the only one who knew about his glasses. It was a comfort, some nights. It gave Dean the time to rest, study, get his life back together when things got too complicated. Bobby was even the one who took Dean to the doctor to even get his glasses. And he never once thought Dean looked stupid in them. Never once called Dean a nerd, or looked at him funny when Dean put the large frames over his eyes. And God, had it helped him sleep at night. The headaches left, his mind was clear. For once, the days stopped feeling like such a challenge. 

But then his Dad saw them.

"Since when do you wear glasses, boy?" John had asked, and Dean swallowed and shrugged, unsure of how to respond. Now that he thought about it, Dean never did answer the man. Not even when John asked if Sam had seen them yet. 

Sammy never did see Dean's glasses. Dean made sure of that. Now, most days, the glasses had made a home in Dean's backpack. At the bottom, in their case, hidden beneath countless textbooks and homework packets. No one knew about them except for John and Bobby. And even then, Dean had a feeling John had forgotten about them.

Dean still wore them sometimes. When it was past midnight, and he still hadn't finished his Calculus homework because of Balthazar's damn rage party. Even though he only got four hours of sleep on nights like those, they were the best hours of sleep he'd get all month. Those glasses relaxed his eyes and stopped headaches better than Tylenol ever could. 

The hardest part was lying to Sam. He didn't outright lie to the kid... but he certainly wasn't being honest either. Sam thought Dean was flunking out of school. He thought Dean was a party kid. That he was a woman pleaser. And all of those things were true. At least, for the most part. Dean definitely partied. He definitely made out with every cheerleader in the school. But he wasn't flunking out of school. He was flying out of school. And no one had a single clue. And that was the way Dean wanted to keep things.

And so far, he'd succeeded. He was in his senior year, and everyone was convinced he was going to be the one student to graduate and die in some freak party accident. And at the same time, he was being offered a scholarship to Harvard University. And no one knew except for him and the school principal. Oh, the irony. 

Dean rubbed his eyes as he rolled over on the couch at Balthazar's house. It had been a long night. His old flame, Cassie, had shown up at around midnight, and she spent the following two hours trying to convince Dean how much she 'missed him.' Dean let her do what she wanted. He knew she wasn't interested in starting up a relationship again. She was more interested in what pieces of him she could get back. And he let her have her fun. But when she took his hand and led him upstairs to the guest rooms, a beer in Dean's other hand, she'd learned very quickly that Dean wasn't interested. She'd then taken Dean's own beer cup and threw what was left of it in his face before storming out. Dean only wiped off the liquid and went downstairs to grab another beer. And another. And another. 

Which brought him to the present. On the couch. With a headache so big it felt like his skull was splitting in half. 

"You passed out around three," a distinctly British voice said after a few minutes. Dean drug his eyes over to the blond senior. Balthazar looked wrecked, but proud. His party suit was twisted and wrinkled in specific areas, and he had lipstick stains on his cheek and neck. His hair was a little messier than it'd been when the party started.

Dean was sure he didn't look much better than his rich classmate. 

"Got you these, no thanks necessary," Balthazar said, flippantly handing Dean a bottle of water and meds. Dean took them silently and washed down the tablets with ease. 

"You know, that Cassie..." The man continued to croon, "she's quite a catch, that one. I'm surprised a man like you turned her down." 

Dean glanced up at him as he took another swallow.

"I guess she finally realized I wasn't her type," Dean shrugged and screwed the cap back on the bottle. Balthazar raised his eyebrows at that, but if he was curious, he said nothing about it.

"Do you need a ride home?"

"No. I got the Impala with me." 

"Fine. Just don't get in a wreck on my watch. I don't need mummy and daddy peeking in on my weekend plans." 

Balthazar was the only student in Lawrence who had an entire mansion to himself. His father was some hot shot writer, and their mother was a mystery by herself. And even still, Balthazar claimed the rest of their family was an enigma. He claimed their family was so bizarre only God could have come up with it. And Balthazar had the entire house to himself. His entire family was away on business, and Balthazar was determined to stay right where he was. Besides, it proved to be a grand idea. Because this was the place everyone came to party ever Friday night, and Balthazar was now the most popular teen in school. 

Dean snorted. "What a tragedy."

Balthazar narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, it would be. And it doesn't help that my dear brothers are coming home."

Dean stood and handed the water bottle back to his... acquaintance? They definitely weren't friends. But they knew too much about each other to be strangers. It was too complicated for Dean to think about. It was too early, and he was too hungover. 

"That hasn't been a problem in the past," Dean stated, stretching and popping his back as he glanced around the hall. Balthazar had picked up most of the mess already. He'd always been a bit of a neat freak. Unlike his infamous brother, Gabriel. 

Dean remembered him. Gabriel had been the ultimate party king. The guy had graduated last year, and he'd been sorely missed... but Balthazar proved to be quite the host himself. And with the stories Gabriel used to tell, Dean was sure having the brothers back in town would be the opposite of problematic. If anything, it would only raise the guest list.

"No," Balthazar bit to himself. "I come from a long line of jokes, and my brothers are no exception. But the brother I'm worried about is the youngest, Castiel. Bless his heart." 

Dean looked to the older teen. Even without his glasses, he could see that Balthazar was biting his cheek in frustration. His scruffy eyebrows were all scrunched up in knots, and Dean suddenly understood that Balthazar was serious. 

"Never heard of him," Dean said finally as he picked his coat up off the floor. "Is he a neat freak like you?"

"Worse," Balthazar laughed bitterly. "The poor boy is buttoned up so tightly you'd think he was the pastor's boy."

"Ouch," Dean winced sympathetically. "That sucks, man." 

"You're telling me." 

Dean pulled on his coat and rolled his shoulders, ignoring the whine in his bones as his body slowly woke up. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and turned back to Balthazar.

"Well, I hope it works out." The funny thing was that Dean meant it. He actually did hope that things worked out between Balthazar and his little brother. Whatever his name was supposed to be. If it worked out, then Dean didn't have to worry about a whiny blond, or have to deal with changing party locations. Dean didn't like change. He'd prefer it if things stayed exactly as they were. Parties, grades, and all. 

Balthazar simply nodded and watched as Dean walked away. His hand was on the doorknob before Balthazar called, "Wait." 

Dean looked back. Balthazar looked nervous.

"Look, Dean. I know we're not friends. But... you're one of the toughest guys I know. A bit weird, but tough. Maybe you could... loosen my brother up a bit. Make him see that it's okay. That we're not the bad guys."

"What, you think he's some kind of tattletale?" Dean asked, but his mind was racing. Was Balthazar honestly asking him for help? He'd simultaneously complimented him and insulted him, and then he asked him for help.

Dean stared, waiting for Balthazar to crack a joke and say he was kidding. But he didn't. He was still, and Dean could see he was deadly serious. 

"I wouldn't go that far. But Castiel... is unpredictable. He could do anything if he thought it was the right thing to do. If you help me with this... I would be in your debt."

"You'd owe me."

"Yes," Balthazar snapped, impatience showing. "Will you do this for me." 

Dean swallowed hard, quickly assessing his options. All he knew, was that he was hungover, his head was throbbing, his eyes were fuzzy, and all he wanted to do was get in his Impala and sleep for the rest of the day. And apart from that, Balthazar had taken a leap of faith. He thought Dean could do this. 

But he couldn't. The last time Dean checked, he was a nerd posing as a jock. He was a geek with glasses, with no backbone, and had no idea how to even talk to people let alone impress them. All he was good at was pretending to be an idiot and jerk. There was no way he could impress some buttoned up kid with a moral complex. 

And yet Balthazar was staring at him, and Dean had been silent for far too long. 

"Look, you don't have to, alright? Stop staring at me like--"

"I'll do it." 

Dean felt like his heart stopped beating. He had no idea what he was doing. This had to be some stupid, screwed up dream. He was hallucinating. He was drunk and imagining all of this. This wasn't actually happening. 

"I'm sorry?" Balthazar asked incredulously, sounding as shocked as Dean felt. 

"I'll... do it," Dean breathed. "No promises though. I don't know the first thing about your brother, and I can tell you right now he'll probably hate me."

"A lot of people hate you," Balthazar rolled his eyes like this wasn't new information, but Dean was stung. "They still hang out with you anyway."

Dean stopped himself from wincing. He could feel his body growing numb. He wanted to leave.

"Sure," he choked out finally. "I'll see what I can do."

Balthazar smirked.

"Brave man, Winchester. There might be a future for you yet."

Dean stared as the young man walked away, suddenly feeling sick in his stomach. He was going to throw up. But he held it down and stumbled his way outside, shuffling over to his baby and climbing inside without a word. It was only when the engine roared that Dean blanched and slammed his fist into the dash. 

He was such an idiot.

Chapter Text

“I want to go to Stanford,” Sammy said a week later, out of the blue. Dean looked up from his textbook, both surprised and paranoid. He’d gotten his latest packet of college offers. Stanford had been at the top of the list.

“Yeah?” Dean replied, casually kicking his backpack to the side and out of his brother’s eye line. Sam remained silent and stared at his own homework.

The two of them had been staying at Bobby’s the past three weeks. Dad was away on business, again. Doing who knew what with people Dean had never heard of, and the man wasn’t expected back home for another two weeks.

Dean didn’t care too much though. He knew how much Sam loved staying at Bobby’s. And Dean enjoyed the silence and comfort. He quietly loved knowing that Sam and John wouldn’t be up all night screaming at each other.

Knowing that Sam was happy and flourishing was all Dean needed. If Sammy was happy, then everything else would take care of itself.

“Why Stanford? Don’t tell me you’re into basketball.”

“What?” Sam huffed. “No, Dean. I’m not interested because of Stanford’s basketball program. I want to be a lawyer.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, a smirk played at the corner of his lips.

“A lawyer? Seriously?”

He didn’t have a doubt that Sammy could be a lawyer. Sam could do anything if he set his mind to it. But it was just so… ordinary. Courts and laws, desk work and God knew how much paperwork. Dean could never do that for a living. Not even if he tried.

And yet Sammy wanted to do it. Why?

Probably sensing his thoughts, his little brother replied, “Yeah. Seriously. I think… I want… to help people. I think it’s a good job, Dean. It’s honorable.”

Dean almost snarked about the dishonesty of lawyers, but held his tongue. Sam was serious. This is what he wanted. And he honestly believed that it was a good thing to do. But even then, Dean couldn’t help but exercise caution.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He asked gently. “I mean, damn Sammy, you’re fourteen. You’ve still got a lot of time to think about it. But if you’re sure…” He left the statement hang in the air for a moment, letting Sam have a chance to jump in.

“I’m sure, Dean. This is what I want.”

Dean grinned.

“Awesome,” he said, setting his homework aside so he could stand and walk over to his brother. “My little brother… off to be the next hot shot lawyer in Cali’. We need to celebrate.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, but his smirk told Dean that it was all in good fun.

“You, and me, are going to celebrate,” Dean said slowly, as though talking to a child. “This is big Sammy! I mean, we should go out. Get ice cream, pie, movie marathon all night—“

“I have a Chemistry test tomorrow,” Sam interrupted, but not unkindly. “Can we ‘celebrate’ some other time?” He asked.  Dean pouted, but ruffled his brother’s hair and smiled.

“Sure thing, kiddo. Whatever you want, you got it.”

“Thanks Dean,” Sam smiled.

The moment was ruined when Dean’s phone started ringing. Sam made a face.

“Honestly, Dean, you listen to Metallica all day. Change your ringtone.”

“You know you love it,” Dean joked, patting his brother’s shoulder before flipping his cell phone and answering it.

“Dean here.”

“Dean you bloody idiot, I’m going to kill you.” Dean flinched at Balthazar’s tone and glanced back at Sam, who had already returned to his homework. His earbuds were in. Dean didn’t take chances and walked into the kitchen.

“What did I do?” Dean asked, swinging open the fridge to look for a beer. Bobby wouldn’t be home till dark... He could snag one bottle without getting in trouble.

“My brothers flew in yesterday. You were supposed to be there with me so you could make a first impression for Castiel!”

Dean bit his lip and popped the bottle cap.

“Bal, no offense, but you didn’t tell me when your brothers would be touching down.”

“I tried to call you Dean. Yesterday. You didn’t answer your bloody phone!”

Dean rolled his eyes skyward and cursed under his breath.

“Look, I’m sorry man. My phone’s crap and sometimes messages don’t get through till it’s too late—“

“I don’t want your apologies. I want you to make up for it. Today.”

He hesitated, his grip tightening on the beer in his hand. He looked through the doorway back to the living room, spotting Sam in the same seat as earlier.

“I can’t leave my brother home alone,” Dean replied after a long moment.

“Your brother’s fourteen. He’s hardly an infant. And you have to come and help me. You promised.”

Dean closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. This. was. the worst.

“Fine,” he snapped. “What do you want?”

“My brothers and I are attending an art festival this afternoon at one. You’ve heard of it?”

“I have.”

“Good. Meet us at the front gate. Don’t make us wait.”

“Got it—“

He heard the phone cut off before he could finish speaking. Dean growled and tightened his grip on the phone. His knuckles had turned white by the time he shoved it in his pocket, and he glanced at the clock. It was fifteen minutes till. He didn’t have time to even get ready.

Bastard, Dean cursed to himself as he grabbed his coat off the rack.

“Sammy, I gotta’ go,” he called, pulling out the keys to his baby. Sam pulled out his headphones and looked at Dean in surprise.

“Where are you going?” He asked curiously.

“Out. Some party downtown and Balthazar wants me there.”

“A party? Dean, it’s barely past noon.”

“Not that kind of party. It’s more of a… set up. Nothing too big or extreme, I promise.”

Sam looked skeptical, but he slowly nodded and sighed.

“How long will you be gone?” He asked finally.

“Maybe an hour or two. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. You’ll be okay by yourself?” Dean stopped by the door. His hand was already on the knob, and his mind was three blocks down the road. But he had to check, just in case.

“I’ll be fine. I’m not five anymore,” Sam rolled his eyes. Dean took that as a yes and nodded.

“’Kay, good. I’ll see you later. Stay safe, don’t answer the door for anyone—“

“I know Dean. Go.”

Dean did as he was told.

***SPN***

The festival wasn’t that big or impressive. It was set up on the football field behind the high school. Tents, tables, and canvases were set up everywhere. And parking spaces were nearly nonexistent. So Dean found himself cursing every God and creator of time as he ran to the front gates of the field.

He spotted Balthazar’s wild blond hair almost instantly. Dean waved when the young man spotted him. But he could see Balthazar shake his head, and he turned away to talk to someone beside him. Dean frowned and slowed down to a walk.

“Hey,” he gasped, patting his chest in an effort to get his breath back. “Sorry I’m late.” Balthazar’s lips tightened to a thin line, and Dean felt his heart drop. He’d disappointed him. Again.

“It’s fine,” Balthazar’s tone was clipped. Dean tried to ignore it. “Dean, I’d like to introduce you to my brothers. You’ve already met Gabriel,” he motioned to the fair haired man vaguely. Gabriel winked at him. Dean blushed.

“Well Dean, you’ve grown quite a bit this last year,” Gabe said sweetly. Dean shrugged and smirked.

“Yeah, but you should see Sammy. He’s growing like a weed right now. He’ll probably outgrow me before the end of the year.”

“No kidding!” Gabe joked, lightly punching Dean in the shoulder.

Balthazar coughed and the two looked at him, instantly frowning.

“This is Castiel, whom you haven’t met.”

The younger man, supposedly Balthazar’s youngest sibling, looked nothing like his brothers. He had coarse dark hair, just as wild as Balthazar’s. His shoulders slouched slightly, and although he didn’t hold himself to his full height, Dean imagined that Castiel imagined himself to be quite tall.

It was in his eyes. His sharp, painfully blue eyes bore into Dean’s and he found it difficult to hold his gaze. Castiel was barely an inch shorter than him. But with a look like that, Dean may as well have been standing next to the Chrysler Building.

“So you’re Dean Winchester,” Castiel spoke finally, extending his hand. Dean flinched. His voice was low, grating. Like it wasn’t his habit to speak often, leaving his vocal chords strained and gravelly.

“Nice to meet you,” Dean replied, shaking the young man’s hand.

A shock on electricity ran through his hand, and Dean hesitated at the feeling. Maybe it was Castiel’s piercing stare, or his disturbingly blank expression. But there was a brief moment of silence, Dean staring at Castiel, and the black haired teen examining him in return. It was several moments before Gabriel coughed, and they both quickly dropped their hands. Castiel nodded to him curtly. Dean returned it. He didn’t know what to think.

“Why don’t we go in? See what this… art festival has to offer?” Balthazar said, and Dean frowned. He’d held Castiel’s hand too long. He’d made things too awkward.

Damnit Dean, he thought to himself bitterly. You’re screwing everything up today. Idiot.

“That’s a great idea!” Gabe replied, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder and leaning on him.

“We should split up! Take over more ground. When we’re done, we’ll meet up at the back of the track field for lunch. Got it?”

“Actually, maybe we should—“

“Great! See you guys later!” Gabriel continued, cutting off Castiel before he could finish. Gabriel then continued to swing an arm around Balthazar’s neck and carted him away, leaving Castiel and Dean behind.

Dean frowned, running a hand through his hair. That had to be Balthazar’s idea. Leaving them alone together. So Dean could ‘impress’ on Castiel and convince him that party kids aren’t that bad. And by extension, parties aren’t bad.

Dean looked over at Castiel. His face was scrunched up in confusion, and his lips were pressed together tightly. Like Balthazar did.

Maybe they were related after all.

“So…” Dean said, trying to sound casual as he cracked his knuckles in front of him. “Where do you wanna’ go, Cas?”

Castiel glanced at him, his eyes narrowing to slits. He seemed to study Dean for a moment, before finally replying, “My name is not ‘Cas.’ We’ll go this way.”

The young man didn’t wait to hear Dean’s response, and he turned and began to walk. Dean cursed himself and quickly hurried after him.

“Sorry man,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Would you like me to just call you Castiel?”

Castiel frowned and looked back at Dean.

“I don’t care,” he sighed. “Call me what you want, Dean. I just don’t expect we’ll be good friends. So I don’t see why you should put much stock into giving nicknames.”

Dean bristled at that, frowning deeply and shrugging indifferently.

“I could always just call you a dick, but I figured I should be polite. You know. We are supposed to be getting to know each other.”

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. Dean mentally slapped himself, biting his tongue and cursing himself for the hundredth time that day. So much for being delicate. He chanced a glance at the young man, surprised to see a look of curiosity on his face.

“No,” Castiel replied slowly. “We’re supposed to be examining artwork. No one said we had to ‘get to know each other,’ as you put it.”

He’d used air quotes. Actual. Air quotes. Dean’s gaze narrowed, but he shrugged away the odd behavior.

“Well, if you want to be unsocial, that’s fine with me.”

“Says the man who spends all his free time partying with my brothers.”

“I don’t spend all my free time with your idiot brother!”

He mentally slapped himself again. Cas looked surprised.

“What?” Dean grouched.

“It’s nothing. I’m not sure which I’m more surprised by. That you consider my brother an idiot, or that you’re offended to be called a partier.”

“I’m not a partier.” Why the hell was he getting defensive? He let Sam call him that. What made today any different?

“And yet you—“

“No I don’t!”

Castiel stopped walking but Dean carried on his stride. He didn’t want to even look at the dude. What kind of joke was this? Why did Balthazar even put him up to this? He freaking told Balthazar that this was a bad idea. Dean wasn’t social. He didn’t know the first thing about making friends. He didn’t even know how to manipulate people. What the actual hell.

This was all Balthazar’s fault. Not Dean’s. Definitely not Dean’s.

It was only when he realized Castiel wasn’t going to follow him, Dean finally stopped and glared back at him. But Castiel was gone. He only saw swarms of students and adults. Cas was nowhere to be seen.

Dean swore under his breath and marched back through the people, trying to be gentle as he kept his head up. Being an inch over six feet suddenly came in handy. Dean spotted wild black hair and made his way toward it. In moments, Cas’s bright blue eyes came into focus and Dean stopped beside him.

Castiel was staring at a piece of artwork. His head was tilted, as though he couldn’t quite comprehend it. Dean looked at it as well.

It was a simple painting of sunflowers. Nothing that special. Just a swirl of blue, gold, red, and brown, pushing against each other in various degrees. Dean narrowed his gaze, trying to sharpen the fuzzy edges of his vision.

He still couldn’t see what made the thing so important.

“I don’t get it,” he finally said, breaking the weird silence between them. Cas returned his head to its original position.

“Get what? Dean?” He asked curiously. Dean shrugged.

“I dunno’. What’s so special about this one? Why stop for this one, out of all the portraits here.”

Another silence fell between them, and Dean started to wonder if the teen would ever speak. But when he did, it wasn’t what Dean was expecting to hear. It wasn’t some long ramble about layers or moral meaning. Or even about the authorship or some deep personal meaning to his childhood.

Cas finally replied, “It’s simple.”

Dean looked from Castiel to the painting, this time tilting his own head to get a better look at it.

“Do you like it?” He asked, honestly curious. Castiel shrugged, but then hesitated, and nodded.

“I… yes. I suppose I do.”

He still didn’t get it. He didn’t pretend to get it. So he just nodded.

“That’s cool,” he said casually.

Another silence fell between them. But this time, it didn’t feel weird. It felt mutual and comfortable. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Both of them just staring at some portrait of sunflowers like the couples of idiots they were.

“We should go, Cas,” Dean said finally. Not because he really wanted to go anywhere. But because Balthazar was going to get mad at him if they took too long. Castiel nodded, and the two of them started walking again. But this time they didn’t bicker. They walked in companionable silence.

They were nearing the end of the field when Castiel spoke again.

“If you don’t like to party, why do you?”

Dean didn’t answer for several long moments. He didn’t answer until they stopped at one of the food carts and Dean had paid for their meals. He didn’t answer until they found a picnic bench to sit in.

He didn’t speak until Castiel was eating his hamburger. And then he replied quietly, “For the same reason you like that painting.”

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Cas wasn’t such a terrible person after all. Balthazar hadn’t been far off the mark though. Cas was pretty stuck up, buttons done up too high and too tight. The poor kid needed to let loose. He needed at least three beers (Dean doubted he’d be able to take more than that without falling over from alcohol poisoning), and get laid. ASAP.

And Dean was determined to fix that.

Dean wasn’t good at making friends. He wasn’t good at much or anything, accept schoolwork, apparently. That and working on cars. That he was good at. Enjoyed it too.

But that was beside the point. He needed to figure Cas out. He needed to find a way to convince Cas that the lifestyle he and Balthazar were living wasn’t a bad one. It had its flaws, sure. But it wasn’t bad. It was simple, easy, and let Dean go through life without having to think too much. Which was a blessing, in his life. And if he couldn’t get Cas to get over his brother’s lifestyle, (and Dean’s own), they were all screwed. Balthazar would have to find somewhere else to throw his parties until Cas left again. And who knew how long that would last. Especially if Cas went to his parents. Then they were really screwed.

Yet at the same time, Dean couldn’t really imagine Cas doing that. Sure, he was a stuck up idiot. But he didn’t give off the tattle-tale vibe. Maybe a tad self-righteous. But Dean had a feeling he could trust the guy. Cas would probably roll over like a grumpy old man, but he wouldn’t just go to the highest authority and rat them out.

But in the meantime, the more Cas was comfortable with the entire thing, the happier all of their lives would be.

So, Dean refused to dwell on Balthazar’s complaints as he spent the rest of his weekend planning ways to get Cas on Balthazar’s side—his side, Dean quickly amended himself. This was about Dean too. Not just Balthazar. Dean needed the parties just as much as Balthazar.

Huh, he thought. He’d never figured he’d actually need that. How pathetic was that. Sure, Dean knew he needed the weekly parties. But it was another thing to actually admit it to himself.

It made him feel sick for the rest of the day. Sam and Bobby noticed, but Dean just excused himself from dinner and spent the rest of the evening hiding away in his room. Neither of them tried to follow or press for questions. Dean was grateful. He already felt like crap. He didn’t need the help of Bobby and Sam prying on his conscience.

When Monday rolled around, Dean was emotionally drained and ready to take on the week, and Cas. He’d already sketched up an idea of all the things he wanted to do, ways he could get Castiel comfortable with his brother’s habits and ideas.

Dean fully expected his mission to be difficult. After the art festival, Dean didn’t really know what to do about Cas. The guy was a freaking enigma. He seemed to bring out the worst in Dean without even trying. He riled him up, made him angry, uncomfortable, defensive, anxious even. And Dean didn’t know what to do about that.

All he knew, was that Balthazar was relying on him. Balthazar expected Dean to help him. And Dean would be damned if he didn’t try.

Dean Winchester doesn’t walk away from a challenge. Or at least, that’s what he told his reflection in the mirror that morning before he left for school.

Pep talks. Since when did Dean give himself pep talks? He didn’t know, and he really didn’t want to find out.

Dean parked his car and watched as Sam jumped out, quickly shouting a, “Bye Dean!” before running away to find his high school sweetheart, Jess-something. It seemed Sam could only talk about three things now-a-days. School, Jess, and complaints about Dean’s lifestyle choices. Dean didn’t pay too much attention to the latter.

He mostly only listened to make sure that Sam was happy, that Jess-something was happy, and that no one was bothering him or causing him much trouble.

With that out of the way, Dean could happily go back to his business of partying and drowning away all his thoughts and emotions. The world kept spinning, the sun kept shining, so Dean didn’t care. If Sam was happy, then everything else would just take care of itself.

Dean climbed out of Baby and locked the doors before marching up to the brick and mortar building. If Balthazar had told him correctly, then Cas should be in a good number of Dean’s classes. That would make Dean’s life a little easier.

Dean sighed inwardly and made his way to his locker. He thumbed the combination mindlessly and got his things together. God, he was tired.

He tried to remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep. Last Monday…? No, the Wednesday before that… The night before the Chemistry exam… Yeah. That sounded right.

“Dean.” He jumped at the sound of his name, nearly dropping his Calculus textbook on his foot. But a hand reached out and caught it. The person then examined it, sharp blue eyes raking across the cover like it was some incredible discovery.

“You take Calculus?”

“Damnit Cas,” Dean snapped, running a hand over his face in exhaustion. “Cough next time!”

He ignored Cas’s bewildered expression, turning instead to slam his locker door and adjust the books in his arms.

“Will I be getting my book back?” Dean asked, unable to mask the irritation in his voice. He couldn’t help it. He was tired, and damnit he was going to be late for class at this rate.

“Yes, my apologies,” Cas replied, handing the book back, but the wariness in his eyes remained.

“Anyway, what did you need? Why’d you say my name?” Dean sighed, feeling a little better with all of his things safely in his arms. He stared at Cas steadily, surprised to find Cas look uncomfortable.

“I… no, it’s nothing. I have Calculus as well.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Guess we’re headed in the same direction, then?”

“I suppose.”

Dean stared at him. Cas stared back. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Well? Are you just going to stand there and make us both late, or are you coming?” Dean grumbled, not waiting for Cas’s answer before walking away.

Damnit, damnit, damnit! Dean thought to himself, and not for the first time. He’d literally planned to talk to Cas about going to their classes together and making a plan to hang out later…

Damn his social skills. He was only good for flirting with chicks and making an ass of himself. Typical. Cas probably hated him. Thought he was some insensitive jerk—

“Sorry,” Cas said quickly, hurrying to step beside Dean so they were walking shoulder to shoulder. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize so much. It’s weird.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Cas asked, surprising him. Dean glanced down at him and raised his eyebrows.

“Not really. It’s just weird.”

“I see.”

They walked in silence until they reached the classroom, and Dean started to realize something. Cas was steadily growing more and more uncomfortable beside him. He was stiff as a board, and Dean stopped at the door, grabbing Cas’s elbow before he could go in.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Dean asked, unsure why he was so frustrated by Cas’s behavior. “First day jitters or something?” Castiel frowned, his eyes narrowing.

“I have no idea what you mean by that.” Dean believed him. He groaned.

“Dude, have you been living under a rock? It’s just a classroom. You’re stiff as a pole and you look like you’re going to fall over. Trust me, it doesn’t look good to faint on your first day.”

Cas looked offended for a moment, but his gaze flickered and Dean realized he must have struck something.

“You could say I was homeschooled. I’m not familiar with the public school institution.”

Public school… insti… what? Who said institution anymore?

But that was beside the point.

“You’ve never been to a normal school before,” he said simply, ignoring students filing into the classroom as they remained stationed outside, looking like idiots.

Cas shook his head, and damnit if Dean felt a little bit of pity for the guy.

“What, did you have tutors or something?”

“Yes.”

He was struck by the bluntness, but shook his head.

“Fine then. Just stick with me. You’ll figure it out soon enough. The entire system was invented by idiots. Anyone can figure it out.”

“That’s what Gabriel said.”

“I bet he did.”

But Cas still looked uncomfortable, and Dean realized he was still holding Cas’s elbow.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered, dropping his hand quickly.

A slight smirk graced Cas’s lips, and Dean narrowed his gaze.

“What man?”

“Nothing. Just don’t apologize too much.”

He looked way too damn pleased with himself, and Dean wasn’t amused.

“Get in there before the teacher gives us detention,” Dean growled, refusing to notice the smug expression on Cas’s face. Dean felt his face getting hotter by the second, and he kept his gaze on the floor, determined to turn invisible.

Stupid, stuck up idiot. What was wrong with this guy? Dean grumbled to himself and slammed his books on his desk, twirling his pencil in his hands angrily.

He recognized he was taking it too personally. It was a freaking joke. A bad joke, but a joke nonetheless. It wasn’t personal. It was kinda’ funny, even. In a really stupid way… Maybe it was just the way Cas delivered it?

Whatever the reason, Dean was acting like an idiot. As usual. And he couldn’t figure out how to get a hold of himself and act like a decent human being for once.

He was only allowed to fume to himself for a minute before he felt a hand on his shoulder, nearly causing Dean to jump out of his skin.

“Damnit Cas!” He hissed, again, when he saw those stupidly bright blue eyes boring down on him. But when he saw the hesitant look in his eyes, Dean softened and decided to just glare at him.

“What?” He asked more softly this time. Cas removed his hand quickly and looked around.

“I… Where do I sit?”

Oh. Dean looked around. Most of the seats were taken. The only few that were available were in the back, with all the rowdy bubble blowing idiots, in the front corner with the Goths, or right next to Dean.

All bad choices in Dean’s mind.

“Uh,” Dean said after a long moment, but it was a moment too long. The teacher walked in the room, and instantly all the student fell into their seats. Cas looked pale and horrified, suddenly realizing he was going to be the only one standing in half a second.

Dean looked around. Crap. He reacted without a thought.

He grabbed Cas’s arm and roughly pulled him down into the seat beside him. Cas cursed, actually cursed, as his arm accidentally slammed into the desk top, and Dean had to bite back an awkward laugh as Cas glared at him.

But no one had noticed a thing, and the teacher had already begun speaking.

Guess Cas found a seat.

***SPN***

“You know, for supposedly being this stuck up know-it-all, you’re okay, Cas.” Dean said casually as he bit into his sandwich. He instantly cursed himself, hating himself for his bluntness. But Cas only glanced at him over his book and took a bite of his own sandwich.

That was another thing. Who read books during lunch? Dean did, but that was only when he was at home. Alone. Who read a book in the school cafeteria over a stale sandwich that better belonged in the dumpster out back?

Weird. Cas was weird. Dean didn’t get it. He didn’t care to get it.

“And for a supposedly drunk-off-his-ass party heathen, you are surprisingly perceptive and intelligent.”

Cas took another bite of his sandwich, casually watching Dean as though he hadn’t staked him through his ribs. Dean narrowed his eyes and didn’t respond. He chewed angrily.

Cas took that as a lead to continue, however.

“We share many classes. I am in advanced placement, Dean. That means you are as well. I must say, I’m surprised that someone as intelligent as you would spend all your free time partying with my brothers and drinking yourself to unconsciousness.”

“Hey, we talked about this,” Dean snapped. “I don’t spend all my free time partying with your brothers. And who the hell told you that, anyway?”

“I asked around. Apparently you’re infamous in the school community.”

Dean stared. He and Cas had literally been glued together all day. He hadn’t thought about it until just now. But how the hell did Cas talk to so many people while Dean was sitting or standing right beside him?

He ignored Cas’s stare and looked down at his food. He suddenly wasn’t that hungry anymore.

“But that is something I’m curious about,” Cas continued, either oblivious to Dean’s discomfort or apathetic to it, Dean wasn’t sure. “You claim you don’t spend all your free time at my brother’s parties. What do you do? If not that?”

Dean glared at him. Cas stared back.

“Why the hell does it matter to you?”

“Why does it matter to you?” Cas replied. Neither of them were oblivious to the double meaning.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Cas looked comfortable. He looked powerful. Dean glared again and shook his head.

“I don’t know, man. But it’s not like I party 24/7.”

“Then prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Prove it. I only have so much information, Dean. Yet you adamantly deny everything that the school says about you. So prove to me that it’s not true.” Cas looked determined. Dean felt antsy.

He’d royally screwed himself over this time. He was happy with his social status. He was perfectly content to let the world believe he didn’t care, and now here this self-righteous idiot was daring him to prove everyone wrong. The exact opposite of what Dean wanted.

The answer came surprisingly easy, but Dean couldn’t help the pain it caused him to say it.

“No.”

Cas looked shocked. Dean tried not to smirk.

“Look man. I don’t owe you anything. You need to learn that just because people say stuff, doesn’t make it true all the time. Or even true at all, for that matter. Yes, I drink. Yes, I sleep around. And yes, I party till the sun goes down. But I am not defined but just those things. I’m a human being. I have many facets, and just because you’re only aware of the few things I let people see, doesn’t mean that’s all there is to me. So don’t try and get all righteous with me and tell me to prove to you who I am. I know who I am! Don’t you dare try and tell me otherwise, or else you’ll realize the only idiot around here is you.”

Dean was breathing hard by the time he’d finished speaking, and Cas looked stricken. Dean refused to apologize though. He leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He’d just blown everything. He had quite an explanation for Balthazar tonight… Awesome. Dean Winchester, royally screwing everything up as usual.

“I know,” Cas said suddenly, and Dean’s eyes snapped open to glare at the young man across from him. He was surprised to see the determined expression on Cas’s face, surprised to see the boiling emotion radiating from his being.

Dean suddenly felt very vulnerable. He wanted to get up and walk away before Cas could say another word. Whatever Cas had to say, Dean didn’t want to hear it. But before he could stand, Cas growled and Dean felt all the will in his body evaporate. He fell back into his seat and stared.

“I know,” Cas repeated. “You think I couldn’t tell when I saw your Calculus text book? Dean, I’m not an idiot. I saw it instantly. You are a genius, and yet you spend every waking moment attempting to convince the world that you don’t care and that you have nothing to give. But you do, Dean. You’re smart. Very smart. And I can’t believe that someone like you would so easily throw yourself away, and let everyone treat you like nothing. I can’t fathom it. I refuse to believe that that’s all there is to you. No matter how much you want me to believe that this,” he waved between the two of them, “is some stupid, and small thing. I won’t believe it. This is important, Dean. You’re important.”

Dean stared at him steadily, unblinking. He was careful to give away nothing, show no emotion. But he could feel himself crumbling from the inside out. He quietly counted down from ten and took a deep breath. He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, careful not to seethe.

“That’s fascinating, Cas. But I don’t really give a shit. I don’t really care what you think of me. I am happy just the way I am. And I don’t need you to tell me who or what I am. I know what I am.”

“And what are you, Dean?” Cas asked, and damn him if Dean knew.

Dean bit his tongue and leaned away.

“Unimportant,” he finally replied. “Leave it, Cas. All of it. Me. I don’t care. Just leave me the hell alone.”

“No.” This time Dean looked shocked.

“I know why you’re doing this,” Cas said, and Dean went pale. “You want me to approve of my brothers and their habits. I could probably safely bet that Balthazar put you up to this as well.” Dean flinched, and Cas’s eyes flickered.

“I suppose I would’ve won, then,” Cas said softly, and Dean looked away, shame flooding him like a tidal wave.

“But like I said. Regardless of whether you think it’s stupid, I believe it’s important. And I’ll be damned if I can’t prove it to you.”

“What are you saying?” Dean asked quietly, unable to help his curiosity, even if he felt like shit for being found out.

“I’m saying, despite you’re foul personality and rude attempts to throw me off today,” Cas glared when Dean laughed bitterly, “I’m not going to give up on you. I’m going to figure you out, Dean Winchester. Just you wait and see. And if you want my brothers to keep partying, then fine. It’s not like I really cared anyway, regardless of Balthazar’s paranoia.”

Dean stared at him, unsure of what to think. How did they get here? What happened that caused them to enter this situation? One second, they were eating lunch and Dean was feeling powerful and in control. And once again, Cas had completely turned the table and left Dean feeling confused and anxious. Damn, he was like his brothers. All of the Novak’s were dicks, Dean decided.

But Cas was staring at him intently, and Dean didn’t know what to do. Or say. Cas had literally just told him that it was okay. The mission was complete. Balthazar could keep on partying, and Dean didn’t have to fake being friends with Cas anymore.

But that was the problem, too. Cas actually wanted to get to know Dean more. Dean wanted to run away and drown in booze.

This problem was worse than the first. Dean was going to kill Balthazar later.

“What if I ignore you and never speak to you again?” Dean couldn’t help but growl, but the threat behind it was empty and void. Cas seemed to pick up on that fact.

“That would be low. Even for you,” Cas replied. Dean decided to curse the Novak name for the rest of his life.

“Fine. See if I care,” Dean grumbled. Cas smiled, damn him, and picked up his book.

“Okay then,” Cas said, and the two of them fell into silence.

Cas read his book, and Dean stared at his hands in his lap.

“I hate you,” he said simply.

“That’s okay, too.”

Dean bristled and slammed his fist in the table. Cas looked at him, concern written in his gaze.

“Damnit Cas!” He exclaimed, but there were no words. His shoulders trembled, and he glared at Cas, almost wishing the man to fall over dead. But no matter how angry he was, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do a single damn thing.

He was angry. And he couldn’t even explain why.

“You’re not my friend,” he said finally, seething. “I don’t have friends.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize! That’s not a bad thing!” Dean roared, and he was faintly aware that he was drawing attention from the other students near them. Cas didn’t seem to care though, and Dean’s fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said again, and Dean shook his head angrily.

“You’re a dick. What do you even want from me?!”

“To be your friend.”

Dean froze, but his hands continued to shake by his sides.

“You didn’t seem interested Saturday.”

“That was before I decided how I felt about you.”

“Yeah?” Dean laughed, but it was humorless and cold. “And how do you feel about me? Cause I don’t swing that way, dick.”

Cas stared at him coolly, and Dean felt himself beginning to shrink again.

“I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation, Dean.” Dean would have fallen over at how ridiculous that sounded from the gravelly and low voice in front of him, but he was too angry and stunned to care.

“You are a good person, Dean. Whether you believe that yourself or not. And I would like to know more about you.”

“Well, screw you Cas.”

Dean swung his leg over the bench and stepped away.

“Dean.”

He hesitated, glaring back over his shoulder.

“What?” He growled. He almost jumped in surprise when he realized that Cas had stood as soon as Dean moved away from the table, and now the guy was standing only a few feet from him.

Damn him. Damn him.

“I’m sorry for acting the way I did. But I do mean it. You’re a good person. I would like to get to know you more. You don’t owe me anything, like you said. But… I do mean it. I would like to try to get to know you more. And if you don’t want that, then I’ll respect that.”

And damn him again. Dean swallowed hard, suddenly feeling trapped by those bright blue eyes.

His anger evaporated in seconds, and he wanted to leave. Screw school. He wanted to climb in his Baby and drive. Drive anywhere. Anywhere but here. He’d rather do anything than have this stupid conversation.

But Cas looked so honest and open and goddamn vulnerable that Dean couldn’t even speak. He swallowed again and glanced around the room, suddenly painfully aware of the several sets of eyes that have been watching him since he opened his fat mouth and started shouting.

Dean looked back at Cas and frowned.

“I don’t like you,” he said after a moment, meaning it with brutal honesty. Castiel nodded.

“I understand,” he replied, taking a half step back. Dean looked down and to the side.

“But… damnit…” Dean ran a hand over his face. “Fine, whatever. Look, I don’t give a shit what you want out of this. But we already share over half our classes. We’re already sitting next to each other in half of them. We’re going to have to deal with each other either way. May as well deal with it. Preferably without a stink eye involved.”

“I don’t understand that—“ Cas started to say, but then the rest of Dean’s words began to sink in and Cas looked shocked. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Look. I’m not saying anything. We’re not friends. Not even close. We just happen to know each other and share a lot of classes. Got it?”

Cas nodded hard, and Dean slowly felt his control begin to grow again. He sighed in relief.

“Good,” Dean said finally. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and slam my head into a wall a few hundred times.”

He made it one step before Cas grabbed his arm, and Dean almost laughed at the comical look on Cas’s face.

“I would not recommend doing that, Dean,” and Dean actually laughed for once.

“I’m kidding Cas.”

“Oh.”

Cas let go and looked ashamed, but that only served to make Dean laugh harder.

“Wow. Dude, you’ve got a few screws loose up there. You’re hopeless.”

“What do screws have to do with this, Dean?”

Dean shook his head, tears leaking from his eyes as he covered his mouth and tried to stop laughing. Because damn him. Damn Cas and his stupid sense of humor.

“I’m serious Dean. Why are you laughing?”

He had no idea. He didn’t really care either. Because a few seconds ago he was about to cry in anger, and now he’s crying of laughter. And if he had to choose, he'd pick the latter. So he continued to laugh and left the cafeteria with Cas close on his tail. He didn’t bother to point out that Cas left his book behind. He didn’t care that they both left their lunches behind.

Because they were not friends. Not even close. They were never going to be friends, no matter how much Cas supposedly wanted to be.

But Dean knew better. He’d give it a few days. Hell, he’d even give Cas a week. Cas would learn. Dean wasn’t social. And he certainly wasn’t a good friend. He wasn't a friend period. Cas would move on eventually. Just like everyone else.

And even though he told himself that Cas leaving would be a good thing, he couldn't quite crush the hope that maybe Cas actually meant what he said.

Chapter Text

The room was dark around him. There was no sound, and it pressed against Dean’s ears like metal tons. His head was pounding, and no matter how hard Dean tried he couldn’t make it stop.

He was tangled up in sheets. His feet kicked out, he lashed his arms, but he was trapped in his own damn bed. He tried to scream, but the silence overpowered him. It was like the world was a television, and God pressed mute. He felt like he was suffocating.

It was then that the room exploded into color. Fire. It erupted from the walls, licking up the wallpaper and drapes and covering the ceiling in a blanket of red and yellow. Dean screamed again, but still no sound came out. The room seemed to buzz around him, shaking him to his core and only succeeding in terrifying him more.

Dean twisted in his blankets, finally managing to get his arm out. He tore off the blankets one by one, shocked by how many there were, before finally collapsing to the melting floor. His arms burned. He shouted, the room remained deaf to him.

His body felt like lead as he made an effort to crawl from his room. By the time he barely made it to his feet, he was in the doorway of his little brother’s room. The source of the fire.

Sound erupted like an explosion. He could hear the roar of the fire. He could hear the screams of his family.

He looked up and saw a body covered in flames. His stomach flipped. He wished he’d stayed in his bed. Burned and died, instead of coming here.

Two arms grabbed him from behind.

“Why didn’t you scream?”

To his credit, Dean startled awake silently. He covered his mouth, instantly turning over in his bed and curling into a ball, staring wide eyed at the alarm clock beside him. It was eleven in the morning. Saturday.

He looked around carefully, taking in his room one piece of furniture at a time. There was no fire. Only old wooden cupboards and a desk, shag carpet, and curtains that belonged in the sixties. There was no fire.

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his sweaty face. It was only a dream. He stood and stretched, ignoring the way his stiff joints groaned and popped in protest. But by the time he was done, it was well worth it, but still not enough.

He needed a drink.

Dean peeled off his pajamas and redressed himself before dragging off his sweat drenched bed sheets and tossing them in the hamper. There was no way he’d be sleeping on those again tonight. In the meantime, he grabbed an old blanket from the closet and threw it on the bed. It would do for now. It wasn’t like he was planning on sleeping any time soon. Not after that nightmare.

It was only when he was halfway down the staircase that Dean heard voices coming from the kitchen. He narrowed his eyes and hesitated when he reached the bottom step. Since when did Bobby invite people over? Did John come home early? Dean’s shoulders subconsciously stiffened, all the possible things that could have happened to bring his father home early rushing through his mind at lightning speed. He could have lost his job, could have made a poor investment and needed money. What if they had to move again?

What if… No, Dean wouldn’t go down that rabbit hole.

It was Sam’s laugh that broke him out of his thoughts, and it was then that Dean realized the guests sounded like kids. His shoulders relaxed and he stepped around the corner.

Instantly the group stopped laughing, but Dean pretended not to notice. It was Sam, and two other kids Dean didn’t know. They looked familiar, which meant they were from school. The first was a girl with long red hair. The second was an Asian kid.

Textbooks covered the kitchen table, and assortments of snacks were cast around between them. Among the snacks were popcorn, black licorice, poorly made tacos, and popsicles.

“What kind of study snacks are these?” Dean asked, ignoring the wide eyed stares from Sam’s friends.

Sam scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “The good kind. And you can’t have any!”

“Oh come on,” Dean wined. “That’s black licorice!”

The red head at the table narrowed her eyes at him and asked curiously, “You like black licorice?”

“I know,” Sam rolled his eyes. “I told you he was weird.”

“I know he’s weird,” the girl replied casually. “He’s Dean Winchester. Everyone knows him.”

“I’ll try not to be offended,” Dean said as he walked to the fridge, shrugging off the sharp pain in his chest at the comment. “You know I’m awesome.”

“Charlie, he’s not that bad,” Sam said, ignoring Dean’s last comment.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she replied simply. “Yo, Dean-o.”

Dean pulled a beer out of the fridge and her eyes narrowed at it, but she didn’t comment.

“May the force be with you…” She said seriously, her gaze turning dark and serious. Her words lingered, and Dean tried to figure out if she wanted him to finish the quote, or something else.

“I’m sorry, what?” He replied, popping the lid and taking a drink.

Charlie waved her hand at him, as though proving a point.

“See? What kind of guy doesn’t know Star Wars?”

Dean raised his eyebrows at her before smirking and walking over to the table, grabbing a handful of black licorice.

“Well, sorry if I’m distracted by the droids I’m looking for,” Dean grinned, biting into his stolen snack with pleasure.

Charlie stared up at him, her expression a mixture of shock and awe. Sam just rolled his eyes and smiled. Dean felt pride bloom in his chest.

“Told you I’m awesome,” Dean boasted. Take that kid.

Sam’s other study partner, a short Asian kid, still looked the most surprised.

“Who’d have thought Dean Winchester liked Star Wars?” The kid said, sounding as awed as Charlie looked. Sam gave him a look Dean didn’t recognize.

“You’d be surprised how many nerdy things my brother likes, Kevin.” Kevin. The same fourteen year old Kevin Tran who was destined to be in advanced placement? Just like Sam? The same Kevin that Sam couldn’t shut up about, other than Jess?

Dean was impressed. He didn’t think the kid would be so short though.

“I’m going to watch TV. Don’t mess up any of my stuff, got it?” Dean called over his shoulder, shoving another piece of licorice in his mouth.

“You know I can’t understand you when you talk like that!” Sam shouted back.

Dean smirked and plopped down on the living room sofa. He fished through the couch cushions for a moment, looking for the remote before he heard his phone buzz on the coffee table. Dean frowned and picked it up, looking at the message.

It was from Balthazar. Dean cringed.

Ever since their argument in the cafeteria, Dean had been avoiding Castiel. He’d ditched school. He spent all his free time either driving around in Baby, or hanging out in the fields outside of town.

But most of all, he spent his time thinking. He thought about everything, really. But he spent a lot of the time thinking about the blue eyed teen who’d been shoved into his life.

Like, why did that kid want anything to do with Dean anyway? He knew Dean had just been using him on Balthazar’s request. He knew Dean was a jerk, a monster at best. And yet the kid still wanted to be Dean’s friend?

Castiel was insane. It was the simplest answer Dean could come up with. And Dean hadn’t told Balthazar about the cafeteria incident. He didn’t tell Balthazar that Castiel knew the truth. He never told him it was a mission accomplished.

And Balthazar probably wanted to kill him. He’d ditched school for a week, after all. He probably thought Dean had given up on Castiel, backed out on their deal.

Dean was doomed.

He took a deep breath and opened the voice mail message.

“Dean~!” Balthazar practically sang. Dean’s eyes narrowed. Balthazar sounded drunk, or high. Something was wrong.

“Oh Dean, its lovely. I found a solution to our ‘problem.’ I recently overheard Castiel and Gabriel talking in hushed whispers the other day. Apparently, my adorable, innocent little brother is anything but innocent. I learned about his dirty little secret, and now he can’t tell mum or father about my parties without bringing the wrath of our parents on himself as well. It’s wonderful! So, Dean, you’re off the hook. No more pretending or anything. But, I don’t owe you. I got out of this myself, and it turns out you were completely unneeded! See you Saturday.”

Dean frowned and lowered his phone, checking when the message was actually left. Balthazar had recorded that message four days ago, and he was just getting it now? Dean cursed and slapped his palm against his forehead. He stared at the mobile in his hand, processing everything he’d just learned.

He wasn’t in trouble with Balthazar. Hell, Balthazar was happy. Dean should have felt like a million bucks, like he was free and the world was for his taking.

But he didn’t. He felt miserable, and heavy, and incredibly stupid. And not to mention, he felt like garbage.

He’d barely known Castiel for a weekend. Total, he’d only ever hung out with him for an entire day and a half. Barely enough time to call each other ‘friends’ or anything remotely close to that. But Dean had been faking it. He’d only been in it for Balthazar, and for himself. He never really had any interest in Castiel further than getting what he needed.

And now, they had what they needed. But it was worse than that.

Castiel had already told Dean that it was okay. There was no reason for Balthazar to blackmail his brother when Cas already had no intentions of doing anything.

Dean bit his lip and stared down at his phone.

He couldn’t live with that. He had to talk to Balthazar. Make him understand that it was fine, that Castiel honestly didn’t have any intention of telling on him.

Dean couldn’t explain why he cared. But it felt wrong. And he felt sick in his own skin. He wasn’t sure he could live with himself, using some guy to get what he wanted, and then letting the guy live with blackmail over his head for the rest of his school year, or life.

Dean was many things. But he wasn’t that evil.

And that’s what he told himself as he drove to Balthazar’s house at eleven o’clock in the morning on a Saturday. With his luck, Balthazar probably wouldn’t even be awake yet.

Dean parked the car on the driveway and made his way to the door. He rang the doorbell twice before he finally heard cursing from inside, and the door swung open to reveal a very disgruntled Balthazar, fresh from a shower in his bathrobe.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Balthazar grumbled, but opened the door wider for Dean to step inside. “Look, I know I said I’d see you Saturday, but I was expecting it later.”

“I’m here about Cas,” Dean replied bluntly, turning to face Balthazar head on. He didn’t want to talk about parties. He wasn’t in the mood. For all Dean knew, he probably wasn’t even going tonight. He didn’t feel well.

“So you’ve already nicknamed him, eh?” Balthazar yawned and shook his head, motioning for Dean to follow him into the kitchen. “You did get my message, right? That I’ve taken care of things? Castiel won’t bother anyone again. Not as long as I have anything to say about it.”

Balthazar chuckled. Dean’s skin crawled.

“That’s actually why I’m here,” Dean said slowly, carefully. “You didn’t have to blackmail him.”

“Of course I did,” Balthazar replied with a dead smile. He opened the stainless steel fridge and pulled out two beers. He handed one to Dean, but Dean shook his head. Balthazar frowned and set it down in front of him, the offer still standing.

“Cas said he had no intention of telling your parents about the parties. He doesn’t care. I’m telling you, it’s unnecessary,” Dean argued, his voice sounding far steadier than he felt.

“Look at you, defending him. Look, I don’t care if you’re in love with him or just wrapped around his finger. But Castiel isn’t simple. He’s complex, and if he thinks the parties are becoming a problem, I guarantee he will tell my parents about it. And then we’ll all have a problem on our hands. And besides, that boy has been doing whatever he wants all his life. Someone needs to control him. And I finally found a way to. It’s no longer your problem, Dean.”

Balthazar grinned like he’d won an award, and Dean was supposed to congratulate him. But Dean didn’t. He frowned, and shook his head.

“Dude,” he said finally. “That’s messed up.”

“No more messed up than pretending to be my brother’s friend, Winchester,” Balthazar replied. His tone was cold and bitter. Dean tried not to flinch, but Balthazar noticed anyway.

“Look at you. Honestly, how you live with yourself is a mystery to me.” Balthazar took a long drink and set the beer down on the marble countertop before looking Dean in the eye.

“Castiel knows about what I did. About what you were doing. I would be surprised if he even wants to see you again. But you’re more than welcome to keep hanging out with him. But don’t expect any favors from me. I cleaned up the mess myself, despite your help. So there’s no harm no foul. Do what you want Dean, I won’t stop you.”

Dean bit his cheek hard enough to taste blood. His eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” he replied simply.

Dean already knew that Castiel knew he was being used. But Cas had still been game for them to be friends. Dean didn’t understand it. He understood nothing, and all he wanted was to get out of here.

He definitely wasn’t coming back for the party tonight. He doubted he’d ever be able to get up the energy to face Balthazar again. He’d need a week to sort through his issues, at least.

“See you later,” Dean said after several moments.

“Goodbye,” Balthazar replied back, stiff. Dean ignored his cold stare and turned his back on the young man.

He’d made it to the door and had his hand on the knob when he heard a cough from over his shoulder. Dean stopped and looked back. Castiel stood on the staircase, wearing a grey t-shirt and striped pajama pants. Dean swallowed hard, ignoring the way his wild hair was stuck up in odd angles.

What had Cas heard? Did he hear everything? What did he think? Dean’s hand was frozen on the doorknob. His hands felt clammy and sweaty. He wanted to leave. Immediately.

“Dean,” Cas said, his voice sounding surprised. Dean only nodded in response.

“Cas.”

Castiel moved down the last two steps and started walking toward him. Dean stared at the wall, not at all noticing the way Cas’s pants were too long and getting caught beneath his toes, or the way Cas’s shirt was nearly twisted around backward.

“Give me your phone,” Cas commanded, forcing Dean to look down at the young man before him.

“W-what?” Dean asked, cursing himself for the stutter.

“Your phone. Give it to me.”

“Damn, are manners out of the question?” Dean asked, a little more proud of himself for this answer, but continued to pull out his phone anyway. He handed it to Cas and watched, transfixed, as Cas unlocked it and opened the contacts bar and started punching in numbers.

“This is me,” Cas said after a few moments. “Text me, sometime.” Dean took the phone back, their fingers touching briefly. Dean blushed and shoved the phone into his coat pocket.

“Sure,” he replied, his voice sounding gruffer than usual.

Cas didn’t move. Dean saw movement from the kitchen and spotted Balthazar staring at them.

“Um,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “Did you… I mean, what did you…?”

Cas rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Does it really matter?” He asked, fixing Dean with a stare so powerful that Dean decided melting into the floor and falling into hell wasn’t such a bad idea.

What the hell are you doing Dean? Get your shit together!

“I… I guess not,” Dean replied slowly. Cas nodded.

“Text me. Maybe we could study together sometime? Calculus has been a pain. Maybe you’d have some insights?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean lied easily, but his tone was light; a dead giveaway. Cas noticed, and the corners of his lips twitched.

Is that supposed to be a freaking smile? Dean was uncertain. But he liked it. He’d have to try and get him to do that again. Not that he was considering studying with Cas. At all.

“Goodbye, Dean.” Cas said, breaking Dean from his thoughts. Dean shook his head, suddenly regaining feeling in his fingers. He pulled open the door, taking extra care not to stumble out.

“Bye Cas,” Dean replied, quickly closing the door behind him before Cas could say anything else.

“I’m a goddamn idiot,” Dean decided aloud, when he was finally in his Baby and driving twenty miles over the speed limit. Just fast enough to leave all thoughts of Castiel and Balthazar behind him.

But it didn’t shake the warmth in his pocket away, where he knew Cas’s number was waiting for him.

Maybe he’d text him after all.

Chapter Text

Some odd thirty six hours later found Dean tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep. The red alarm clock beside him read nearly midnight. In just a few minutes, it would be Monday morning. And Dean was exhausted. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t slept since the nightmare, and he wasn’t eager to return to it. But if he didn’t sleep soon, he was going to be a zombie in the morning. Which would suck. He had a test tomorrow. And he hadn’t even studied.

Dean rolled over in his bed once again, punching his pillow two or three times before slamming his head into it with a groan. He needed sleep. He needed to study. Freaking idiot, he thought to himself for the hundredth time that hour as he glared at the clock.

He hadn’t gone to Balthazar’s party the night before. He couldn’t bring himself to, no matter how much he wanted to. Balthazar’s words kept ringing in his head, “How do you live with yourself?”

Dean wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to know either. And he didn’t want to go back to some party just so the blond jerk could smirk at him like he’d won, somehow. Balthazar had nothing on him. Dean was determined to believe that Balthazar was wrong. Dean was a good person. He was hardly perfect, but he wasn’t that bad. No matter what happened, Dean was not as bad as Balthazar. That had to count for something.

He clenched his jaw and rolled onto his back, throwing a hand over his face as he sighed heavily. He needed to sleep already.

His mind wasn’t doing him any favors. As he tossed and turned some more, his thoughts eventually slid to Castiel. Castiel, who Dean hadn’t texted. Castiel, who still wanted to be his friend despite everything. Castiel, the most unpredictable person Dean had ever met, who Dean was surprisingly fond of. No matter how hard he tried to dislike the blank faced idiot.

There was just something about the way he would squint when he was trying to figure out a problem, or the way he’d tilt his head like Dean was the strange one, and not the other way around. Or maybe it was the quiet way Castiel never seemed to judge him. Analyze him, study him, sure. But Castiel didn’t judge. He just asked embarrassing questions and had no social etiquette. He was ridiculous and annoying. But he was nice, too. And he was the first person Dean had met in a long time who just… accepted him.

It felt weird. Dean didn’t like it. He wanted to stop thinking about it.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

Dean rolled over, glaring once again at his alarm clock. Eleven fifty three. He bit his lip and grabbed his phone, unlocking it and flinching at the bright light. He opened his contacts and stared at Castiel Novak’s name.

His thumb hovered over the text button. There was no way he’d be awake. Not at this hour. But then again, that meant Cas wouldn’t see it till morning. That’d be okay. Right?

Dean rolled his eyes and clicked the button, quickly shooting off a text before he could second guess himself. “You awake?”

It took him a full minute before he realized he hadn’t even signed the message. Cas wouldn’t know who it was from. If he was even awake in the first place.

“This is Dean, btw. Sorry,” he typed hurriedly, sending it to join the other. Dean pressed the phone against his chest, taking a deep breath. This was stupid. Cas wasn’t even awake. It was just a few minutes till midnight. They both had a test in the morning. Cas was asleep. Dean would only be waking him up.

Idiot, he thought to himself angrily, right before his phone buzzed. Dean snapped it back up, staring in shock at the returned message.

“I discerned as much.” Dean chuckled, reading on, “It’s Sunday night. Balthazar’s partying downstairs. No one can sleep with that noise.”

“Sorry dude,” Dean texted back. “That sucks.”

“Yes,” Cas replied three seconds later. “It ‘sucks.’ Two drunken teens decided to make out on my bed.”

Dean laughed, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could wake his brother or Bobby next door.

He bit his lip to keep himself from laughing as he replied, “They’re probably not the only ones.”

“You’re very reassuring, Dean.”

Dean snickered and shook his head, staring at his phone as he tried to figure out what to say next. Honestly, he hadn’t expected to get this far. But… if they were both wide awake, with no plans of sleeping anytime soon… Maybe…

Dean texted slowly, staring at it for several moments before he hesitantly pressed send.

“Does your study offer still stand? I know it’s late, but I doubt either of us will be sleeping much tonight.”

There was no reply for five minutes. It was past midnight. Dean rolled onto his side and sighed. He was an idiot. What was he even thinking? Cas would want to sleep. Dean was asking to keep him up even later. Brilliant Dean, just brilliant.

His phone buzzed, and Dean pretended not to notice how quickly he checked the reply.

“It does. Come over. I have noise cancelling headphones.”

Dean beamed and jumped out of his bed in a heartbeat. He struggled to pull on his jeans and shoes, throwing on his jacket and grabbing his keys from the desk. It was only when he grabbed his bag and opened his bedroom door that he remembered it was midnight. People were sleeping.

He bit his lip and stepped out quietly, carefully latching his door closed. He crept down the stairs and made it into the living room. A snore ripped through the air and Dean jumped in shock, spinning around to find Bobby on the couch. His hat was tucked down over his face. He’d fallen asleep reading.

Dean took a deep breath and made it to the front door. Bobby was a fairly heavy sleeper, thank God. He wouldn’t wake up to the sound of Baby’s engine.

He slipped outside and climbed into the Impala, sighing happily as his body relaxed into the leather.

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmured as he patted the dash and turned on the car. “Let’s go.”

The drive was short, even though Dean took care not to speed too much. He hesitated as he grabbed his bag, looking up at the large mansion.

Balthazar was in there. A lot of people were in there. All of them partying, drinking, doing God knew what… and all of them would recognize Dean. And would be wondering why he wasn’t there to party with them. Dean hesitated, biting his lip and clutching his bag tightly.

There was no way he was going in there. Not in front of all those people. With his textbooks to study in his bag. He wasn’t that stupid. No sir.

Dean pulled out his cell phone, ready to text Cas that he’d changed his mind. But as he unlocked it, he saw he had an unread message.

“There’s a side door through the kitchen at the left of the house. No one uses it. I’ll wait there.”

Dean released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Cas. Freaking Cas. He was a life saver, whether he knew it or not. Dean climbed out of the Impala, silently thanking himself for parking a ways down the street. He jogged around a limousine that belonged to the Novak’s before spotting a door surrounded by bushes. A single light was on inside, showing off an oven, fridge, and bar counter. The kitchen.

Dean smiled and knocked on the door, thinking about maybe texting Cas to let him know he was there, but he didn’t have to. The door opened to Cas, smiling at him tiredly through the darkness.

“Hey Cas,” Dean breathed, angry at how relieved he was to see the guy.

“Hello Dean,” Cas replied with a smile, motioning for Dean to come inside.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up or something,” Dean said, even though he knew that hadn’t been the case.

“Well, if you can hear the screaming from here, you should know I wasn’t anywhere near ‘sleeping.’”

Dean nodded casually as a collective roar echoed through the kitchen, the beats of a DJ pounding through the walls. Dang. Had the parties always been that loud?

“There’s a back staircase to my room. This way,” Cas said. Dean nodded and followed his lead, trying not to ogle the paintings that lined the hallways and above the stairs.

“I don’t think I’ve been back this way before,” Dean said quietly, taking special notice in a religious piece. Angels and Demons at war. Blood everywhere. It was gruesome. Dean’s stomach churned, but he oddly liked the design.

“That one is called Civil War,” Cas said, stopping when he realized Dean was no longer following. “Also known as Lucifer’s fall.” Cas pointed to an Angel in front of the Demons, who looked as though he were simultaneously about to flip off God or fall into a burning lake. Probably both.

“It’s kind of dark,” Dean commented idly. Castiel nodded his agreement.

“You should see the Righteous Man.”

“Why do I get the feeling the painting isn’t all that righteous?” Dean asked, resuming their walk. Castiel shook his head.

“No, not like that. The painting is a lot like that one. Only it takes place primarily in hell, and alludes to the idea that good people can sometimes go to hell for the wrong reasons, and that Heaven watches over the damned as well as the saints.”

“That sounds… weird,” Dean said after a moment. Castiel nodded.

“I never pretended to understand it. But I am… fond of it.”

“You’ll have to show it to me sometime,” Dean said, stopping as Cas opened a door and motioned inside.

“Sometime,” Cas nodded with a small smile. Dean grinned at him before stepping inside.

He let out a low whistle. “Damn, Cas. Now this is a bedroom.”

It was huge. Bigger than Balthazar’s, which Dean found oddly amusing. There was a four poster king sized bed, with dark blue bed covers and white sheets and pillows. A bench sat at the end of the bed with light blue cushions, and against the back wall was a sweeping window that took up a large portion of the wall. Against the right wall was a large desk, where scattered papers and books were strewn about. Two doors stood on opposite sides of the desk, one leading to a bathroom and the other to a closet. The floor was wooden, but a white rug was set at the center of the room.

Dean walked up to the window, parting the dark blue curtains and staring outside. There was a great view of the gardens out back. The lights to the room turned on, and Castiel walked up beside him and pointed to one corner of the gardens.

“I like it by the roses most.”

“Uh… yeah?” Dean asked, unsure why Cas felt compelled to share. But Dean narrowed his eyes to get a better look.

“Yes,” Cas smiled slightly. “There’s an infestation of bees. Balthazar hates them, but he can’t get rid of them.”

Dean grinned.

“So it’s the bees you like, not the roses?” Dean asked curiously. Cas’s lips twitched into his usual awkward smile and shrugged.

“I guess I like both.”

Dean nodded, taking in the information silently as Cas walked away and grabbed some textbooks and notebooks.

“So, you wanted to study?” Cas asked, snapping Dean out of his staring trance.

“Yeah,” he replied, walking over to the bed and setting his bag down. “Uh, do you care where I set my stuff?”

“Not at all,” Cas shook his head, moving his things to the bed as well. “We could work on the bed. It’s easily big enough for two, and it’s more comfortable than the floor.”

“Does it have memory foam?” Dean couldn’t help but ask, subtly touching the covers, afraid to press down and look weird.

Cas chuckled. It was a raw, rumbling sound like thunder. Dean liked it.

“All of the main bedrooms have memory foam. Although my oldest brother, Michael, finds the comfort excessive, and ‘incredibly likely to keep you in bed longer than your due.’”

“No offense Cas, but your brother sounds like a dick.”

“I have a feeling you’d consider most of my brothers to be… that.” Cas scrunched up his face and Dean laughed.

“What, afraid of the word ‘dick?’”

“It’s a very… blunt word.”

“But an accurate one. Am I right?”

“…I suppose.”

Dean scratched his nose, trying not to laugh again at the quiet admission.

“So then. Study time.”

“I don’t get it,” Cas said an hour later, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Dean looked up from his own textbooks, ignoring the way his vision swam for a minute as he tried to focus on his… God help him… his friend. Or at least, his temporary friend until Cas finally figured out Dean was a waste of time. Like everybody else.

“Don’t get what?” Dean asked, his voice gruff from their long silence.

“This. Calculus. I don’t understand these equations. I’ve tried them forty times over, and I keep finding different answers. I just don’t…” A frustrated sound escaped his throat, and Dean chuckled at the noise.

“Lemme’ see,” Dean replied, putting his textbook down and waving for Castiel’s. But Cas raised his eyebrows and gave him a skeptical look.

“You claim you don’t know anything about Calculus. Why would you want to help with it?”

Dean frowned at him and snatched the book out of his hands. He ignored the way Cas smirked knowingly, instead turning his attention to Castiel’s careful handwriting yet messy equations.

“Dude, what the hell,” he stated, grabbing his pen and quickly editing out all the mistakes and rewriting the problems. “Where the hell did you get two from?”

“That’s my point Dean. Don’t make me feel worse,” Cas grumbled, folding his hands together and leaning forward to get a peek at Dean’s work.

“Well, maybe if you actually carried the four and squared the seven, then you’d get the right answer. Here,” Dean handed the notebook over to him, watching with a swell of pride as Cas’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” he stated simply, after several moments of gaping like a fish and comparing information from the notes to the text. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Be honest Cas, I’m a genius.”

“You are a genius,” Cas replied seriously, turning to Dean and giving him a heavy stare. “Thank you.”

Dean blushed, turning away and picking at a loose strand on his jeans.

“Dude, it’s nothing. Forget it.”

“No, honestly Dean, I never would have seen that. Thank you.”

“Sure.”

After that, silence fell between them, and Dean spent his time divided between studying for his test, and casting glances at the blue eyed teen across from him.

“So, uh, you ready for the test tomorrow?” Dean asked, watching as Cas rubbed his eyes and stretched. Dean ignored the way his white button down shirt stretched across his chest, and forced his eyes up to meet Cas’s.

“I am now,” Cas replied with a slow yawn. He looked at Dean with a tired smile. “Are you?”

Dean shrugged and closed his text book, looking at his watch. It was past two in the morning. That meant Balthazar’s party had another hour and a half left, at the most, before people started heading home.

He rubbed his own eyes and shook his head.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll ace it, or maybe get two points off because I’m sleep deprived. But whatever.”

“Did you drive here?” Cas asked. Dean nodded, collecting his papers and books and stuffing them in his bag. His eyes felt like they were burning, and his head had been pounding for the past thirty minutes. He needed sleep, or his glasses. One or the other to make the irritation stop.

“It wouldn’t be wise to drive at this hour. Especially if you’re as tired as you look.”

Dean looked up in surprise, zipping his bag shut before tossing it off the bed.

“What? You offering? Cause I ain’t some freeloader,” Dean said firmly. Cas raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“I didn’t mean anything like that, Dean. This house is big enough for all of Balthazar’s guests to have a room to themselves. You can have one of the guest rooms. I’d feel better if you weren’t driving. At least not until you get more rest.” Cas kept his gaze steady, making it hard for Dean to stare him down and argue.

Dean finally broke their staring contest and rubbed his eyes.

“Okay. Fine. But… just this once.”

“Of course,” Cas replied, but his eyes were sparkling. Dean pushed down the bubbly feeling in his chest at Cas’s care.

Dean climbed off the bed, picking up his bag and swinging it over his shoulder.

“Do you care which room I take?”

“No,” Cas replied. “But if you take one in this hall, Balthazar will never know.”

Dean grinned at the silent tip and nodded his head. “Thanks. I really appreciate it. I do.”

“Don’t mention it,” Cas replied.

Dean left the room and closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t believe how nice Cas was. Compared to his brothers, even Gabriel, who’d been one of the nicest people Dean ever met, Cas was a freaking saint. Dean smiled to himself and walked opposite of the hall to the door directly across from Cas’s room, swinging it open and sighing again. Apparently all the back rooms were big.

He put his things on the bench at the end of the bed, not even thinking as he stripped to his boxers and climbed underneath the sheets. The bed had memory foam. He sighed happily, burying his face in the pillows as his body natural relaxed into the bed. It was the most comfortable and relaxed he’d felt in weeks.

That was the last thought he had before he drifted into blessed unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Dean woke up slowly. His body felt warm all over, and sunlight drifted through the cracks of the drapes. The room glowed, and Dean stretched, a smile spreading across his face. This was the best way to wake up. Ever.

He put his hands over his head and his knuckles bumped the headboard, but he didn’t care. He was warm, he was comfortable. He could stay there for a few more hours, just to enjoy the soft sheets a little longer.

Now if only he didn’t have school to get too… Dean groaned and rolled over, looking around for a clock. There was one beside the door, but it was too far for Dean’s poor eyesight to read clearly. All he knew was that it wasn’t nine. Or eight. So it wasn’t like he was late… yet. He’d have to get up and find Cas. Figure out what time it was.

Just as Dean was about to push the covers back, he heard voices out in the hall. He narrowed his gaze and propped himself up on his elbows, trying to hear clearly.

“This, by far, is the most embarrassing thing you have ever done, Castiel,” Balthazar’s voice hissed, as though he were trying to be quiet and failing.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” came Castiel’s reply. His tone was gruff, irritated.

“Of course you don’t. Honestly, this is just like Daphne! Or that other girl. What was her name, April? Love ‘em and leave ‘em, correct?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Says the boy who would have done anything to get back in Daddy’s good graces.”

“Well at least I love my father enough to try and make him happy!”

Dean frowned deeply, sitting up completely at the information he knew he shouldn’t be hearing. Did this have something to do with Castiel’s secret? The thing Balthazar was using as blackmail?

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. He shouldn’t have kept listening, but it was hard not to. It sounded like they were right outside his door.

Balthazar was silent for several moments before hissing, “Father’s gone, Castiel. He’s never cared about us, he never will. The sooner you realize that the better.”

There was a shuffling noise and a gruff, “Balthazar!” But it sounded like the conversation was over. The doorknob of Dean’s room clicked, and Dean realized someone was coming in. Dean quickly lunged down into the bed covers, covering himself and pretending to just wake up.

A voice came from the door, Castiel’s. “Dean? Are you awake yet?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, faking a stretch and sitting up. Castiel was standing awkwardly in the doorway, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to come in or not.

“School is in thirty minutes. I meant to wake you earlier, but something came up. I apologize.”

“Dude, don’t worry about it,” Dean replied with a reassuring smile. Castiel offered a weak one in return. Dean fought away a frown. He didn’t want Castiel to think that Dean had heard anything. Because whatever Dean had heard, he didn’t get. But Dean didn’t feel it was right to cast judgment. Not without knowing more about the situation. And how he’d get that information, he had no idea. But until then, he didn’t want Cas freaking out on him. “I never usually get up till around now anyway.”

Cas seemed to visibly relax, much to Dean’s relief, and nodded. “Oh, good. Would you like me to wait for you downstairs?”

“Sure,” Dean replied, not even thinking about it until after the words were out of his mouth. But it must have been the right answer, because Cas’s eyes lit up in surprise and his awkward, genuine smile returned.

“Alright. I’ll… give you space to get ready.” His sharp blue eyes drifted down briefly, but then his face changed shades of color and he coughed. “Uh… bye.”

And with that, the door closed behind him and Dean was left alone, confused. Until he looked down and realized he was wearing nothing but his boxers.

Oh, he thought, heat flaming his cheeks. Dean, you idiot.

Getting dressed took no time at all. But Dean frowned when he realized he would be wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday. Awesome, he thought bitterly as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his bag. Hopefully no one would notice. And if they did, he’d just have to shut them up.

Dean’s feet padded down the staircase, and when he entered the main room he found Castiel standing alone by the door. Complete with trench coat. Dean shook his head but smiled.

“Dude, what is it with you and trench coats?” He asked.

Cas frowned and touched his overcoat, as though just now noticing what he was wearing.

“It’s quite warm,” he replied calmly, squinting his eyes at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes and adjusted the strap over his shoulder. “Sure man. Whatever you say.”

“Does it look bad?” Cas asked.

“Not at all,” Dean replied honestly as he opened the door. “It works. For you, I guess.”

“Good.”

Castiel followed Dean outside and out to the driveway. But as Dean turned to go find his baby, Cas turned the other way and continued walking. Dean hesitated, staring after him in confusion.

“Dude, where you headed?” Dean called.

Castiel stopped and looked back at him, his head tilting in that stupid way like the answer was obvious. “I’m going to school,” he replied.

“You’re walking?” Dean asked incredulously. “That’s ten blocks!”

“A thirty minute walk. I can make it easily enough.”

“No. Dude, just no.” Dean waved his arm for Cas to follow him, but the guy continued to stand where he was, looking confused. Dean groaned and marched over to him, grabbed his arm and pulling him along.

“You are not walking ten blocks to school.”

“Why not?” Cas asked as they turned the corner, the impala immediately in sight.

“Because no friend of mine is walking ten blocks for school. Now walking ten blocks for a concert is one thing. But for school? There’s no excuse. I’m driving you, man.”

“I walk every day, Dean. I don’t see why today should be any different.”

Dean stopped as they reached the car, and he sighed heavily, turning to face Cas head on. Cas was wearing that confused blank expression again. Dean felt a swell of pride that he was beginning to get a feel for Cas’s expressions.

“Well, you’re the one who wanted to be friends. This is what friends do. They give each other rides sometimes when the other needs it. They help each other out. And that much walking can’t be healthy.”

Cas opened his mouth, as though he were about to retort something about walking being healthy, but his lips shut again and his eyes narrowed. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth and he nodded slowly.

“Alright.”

“Alright,” Dean grinned, opening the door for Cas to get in. Once that was done, Dean jumped into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. Rock music blared from the speakers, making Cas jump and Dean laugh.

“What? Is rock a sin?” Dean asked, pulling out and speeding onto the road. Cas’s face turned pale and he shook his head hard, scrambling to find a seatbelt.

“N-no, of course not. Dean… Dean! There are no seatbelts in here!”

Dean looked over at Cas’s panicked expression, and Dean’s gaze softened, instantly slowing on the speed.

“Yeah, sorry man. This baby has been around for a long time. Back when seatbelts weren’t in every car. But hey! I’m a really good driver, promise. I’ve never been in an accident. Sammy says I should be a NASCAR driver or something.”

Cas watched the speed dial lower and he seemed to relax with it. He looked over at Dean curiously, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Dean tried not to notice it too much.

“Sammy is your brother?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled gently. “But he only ever lets me call him Sammy. And that’s only half the time. You should meet him sometime. Sam would love you. Outspoken nerd and all.”

“I’m hardly a nerd, Dean.” Cas replied, but his tone was light. “I wouldn’t mind meeting him someday.”

“You can meet him now,” Dean replied, reaching into his pocket and tossing his phone to Cas. “Speed-dial one. I’m too far away to pick him up now. Call him and let him know that Bobby’ll have to give him a ride. I can drive the kid home tonight.”

Cas looked hesitant, but nodded and did as he was told.

“Sam and Bobby, right?” He asked for clarification. Dean nodded and turned the music down, listening in on the conversation.

So far, Cas held himself well over the phone. He spoke clearly and precisely. Dean could hear Sam grumbling over the line, and he didn’t miss the quirk of Cas’s lips in amusement.

When the call finally ended, Dean didn’t turn back up the music. Cas put the phone down on the console, and Dean came to a stop at a red light.

“So, who is Bobby?” Castiel asked and glanced at him. Dean tapped his thumb on the steering wheel, nodding along to the beat of the song.

“He’s kind of like me and Sam’s surrogate Dad. But we call him Uncle Bobby. He was an old friend of the family, back when my Mom was still around. Now he takes care of us while my Dad’s away.”

“I don’t mean to be blunt… but did your parents’ divorce?” Cas asked.

Dean frowned deeply, trying not to glare daggers at the red light. “I wish,” he replied finally. “She died. House fire. I was four.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas replied, his voice quiet and honest. Dean shook his head, a smirk plastering itself on his face. It felt fake.

“It is what it is,” Dean replied. There was silence until the light turned green and Dean hit the gas.

“Dad went a little off the deep end though,” he continued after a minute, unsure why he felt the need to explain his father’s absence as well. “Started drinking a little more than was healthy, probably. But he got better when I was ten, Sammy six. It was then that he started getting new jobs. So that’s usually where he is nowadays. Finding new jobs, working wherever he’s needed. Sometimes he sends checks to Bobby, to help with us. You know? But he can’t stay. He’s too busy.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. That’s right, Dean, he muttered to himself. Make it sound nicer than it really is. That Dad visits when he can. He’s busy working, looking out for you and Sammy. Not out conning some poor idiot who doesn’t know what he’s dealing with. That he doesn’t come back sometimes, not to check how you’re doing, but to drag you along and help him get that paycheck. Help Dad out, like a son should. Right?

Castiel nodded along though, his expression serious.

“At least he tries though, right?” Dean added after a moment, scared that Cas might try and apologize for something that wasn’t his fault again.

Cas nodded, “Yes, I suppose so. That is good. That he tries.”

They lapsed into silence once again. The school was only four blocks away now.

“Who’s Daphne?” Dean asked, instantly cursing himself. Where the hell did that come from?! He meant to keep that to himself.

But Cas sighed heavily, as though he’d been expecting the question.

“An old… girlfriend. Of sorts.”

“Of sorts?” Dean asked, unable to help it. “What happened?”

Cas shifted in his seat uncomfortably and looked out the window.

“She was a… friend. I asked her for a favor. I wanted her to pretend she was my girlfriend, to make my parents feel better.”

“Why—“

“I’m gay.”

Dean swerved involuntarily and Cas flinched, seeming to shrink into his seat. His hand tightened on the seat beside his legs, and he looked pale. Like he was going to be sick. Dean stared at him, barely able to glance back at the road often enough not to get in a crash.

“W-what?” Dean asked, unsure he’d heard Cas right. Cas flinched and looked down.

“I’m gay, Dean. My parents… they didn’t understand. I asked Daphne to be my girlfriend to make them feel better. Like their son wasn’t some sort of freak. Or something. April came along later, after Daphne moved away. But she didn’t know about… what I was. So I… pretended to like her. We dated for all of my junior year of high school. But then she found out. It didn’t end well. My parents sent me back to America. That’s why I’m back here, Dean. Because my parents would rather pretend that their son wasn’t anything other than ‘ordinary.’”

Damnit, Dean thought to himself as the school came into sight. He didn’t want to go in yet. This… this was big. Damnit, he thought to himself again. This wasn’t just some kind of confession. This was a big moment. This was the moment Dean would either have to make it or break it. It was now or never. Are you going to be Cas's friend for real, or not?

Dean kept driving. Cas stared wide eyed as the school passed them by.

“D-Dean?” He asked, looking at him with something akin to confusion, or damnit, fear.

Dean ignored it and kept his eyes on the road. He drove four more blocks before he pulled into a diner parking lot and let the engine rumble in park.

“So, that’s it? Is that it? The blackmail Balthazar had on you?” Dean asked. Cas still looked pale, but he nodded slowly.

Dean couldn’t help it. He laughed. He laughed so hard he had to bury his face in his hand and look the other way. Oh God, this was hilarious. It was awful, but hilarious all the same. And it was only a minute later that Dean realized how bad this must look. Cas probably thought he was laughing at him. But he wasn’t. Far from it.

Dean quieted himself and looked over at Cas, who was staring at him like a wounded animal. He looked like he was considering breaking out of the car and running away.

“It’s not funny, Dean,” Cas whispered, his voice dark and intense. Dean shook his head, his smile instantly fading to a frown.

“No, it’s not.” He said. “It’s freaking hilarious.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry man… but that’s it? You like dudes. So what? Who cares what your parents think? If guys make you happy, that’s all that matters right? People should do what makes ‘em happy. If you like guys, girls, or anything in between, fine. I don’t care, Cas. It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

He looked over at Cas, hoping he understood. That he wasn’t making fun of him. He was making a point. Because damnit, did it really matter at the end of the day?

Cas’s face was blank and expressionless. It was like he was in shock. Dean’s eyes widened. Holy shit. What if he’d put the only guy who liked him into shock?

Damn, he must be cursed.

“Cas. Cas! You okay there?” Dean asked, touching Cas’s shoulder. That seemed to snap him out of whatever thought he was having, and he took a shuddering breath.

“It’s… You don’t care?” Cas asked, incredulous. Dean shrugged and nodded, a half smile pulling against his face.

“Not at all.”

Cas sat back, seeming to run that information over again in his mind. Like he wasn’t quite ready to believe it.

“Oh,” he said after a long moment.

“Yeah. Oh,” Dean echoed. “So, can we go to school now? Or would you like to play hooky with me? Trust me, you want to try the pie they got here—“

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, an exhausted and incredibly relieved smile on his face. “We have a test today. Calculus. Please remember.”

Dean huffed a laugh and threw the car into reverse.

“Fine man. But remember what I said about outspoken nerd? That’s what you’re doing.”

“Whatever you say, Dean.”

Dean smiled all the way back to school. And he was pleased to see Cas was in exactly the same state.

Chapter Text

The following week and a half were some of the best days Dean ever had. Castiel was still nervous around him, skittish, like any moment Dean would change his mind and decide having a gay friend wasn’t in Dean’s best interest. But Dean stayed, and with every day that passed and Dean never left, Cas slowly began to relax and grow more comfortable again.

He even started smiling a little more often, much to Dean’s relief. The dork always looked like he was about to pass a kidney stone. Now he looked more… normal. Well, Cas-normal. And Dean liked it. He hoped it stuck.

Dean stopped going to Balthazar’s parties. He was often stopped in the hallways though. Other students, old ‘friends’ who wondered where he’d gone. Why he stopped coming around. Dean just brushed them off and said, “Maybe later.”

He never meant it. He had no intentions of ever going back. He’d been drinking less and less every day. Now he only took a drink in the mornings to wash away his nightmares, and one at night to help him fall asleep. Nothing in between, even when he got splitting headaches because of eyestrain or when he was bored and his fingers twitched from withdrawal.

So it was in those moments he started texting Cas. Anything to distract him from his need, from his addiction. By day three Cas texted him, “Is something bothering you?”

“Why?”

“You don’t seem like the texting type.”

And that was when Dean admitted with only minor hesitation (read: three minutes of trembling re-types), “It distracts me so I don’t hit the bottle.”

“You mean alcohol?” Was the immediate response.

“I think I’m going through withdrawals.”

“Oh,” Cas had replied. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Is it okay if I keep texting you?” Dean asked.

“Of course. Whenever you need me.”

And they never discussed it outside of texting. When they saw each other in real life, their discussions mostly revolved around pop culture, Cas’s lack of pop culture knowledge, studying, and hobbies.

Dean learned more about bees in two days than he’d ever learned in his entire life. Cas probably knew enough about Star Trek to last three lifetimes by now. And they had plans to marathon Lord of the Rings that weekend.

Cas didn’t see why it was so important, but Dean had never been more excited to sit through ten hours of film before. He’d even cleared it with Bobby, and Sam demanded to be included as well. Not that Dean minded. He loved to hang out with Sam. And Cas was all for it too.

Basically, life couldn’t get much better. Dean had his first real friend, ever. He and Sam were getting along perfectly, and Bobby’s auto shop was doing well, giving him more time at home in the evenings.

Life was perfect.

Dean smiled to himself, jotting down another answer on his pop quiz. Cas sat beside him, also slowly working through the sheet. Every once in a while, Cas would chew on the end of his pencil. Gross, Dean thought to himself, but started paying attention whenever Cas would lift his hand to his lips.

He seemed to only do it when he had to stop and think about one of the questions. Most of them he seemed to breeze through. But every now and again, his hand would still, Cas would frown in annoyance, then he’d chew on his lip for a moment, and finally bring the pen to his mouth, and Dean would be staring all over again.

“Dean, focus,” Cas whispered, snapping Dean out of his trance. Dean nodded, his face flushing in embarrassment at being caught as he forced his gaze back down to his own sheet of questions.

The rest of the class continued to work on in silence for several minutes. Dean was proud to admit his stolen glances at Cas had lessened, but he refused to admit that they kept happening.

For a while, Dean was even certain he’d get through this quiz unscathed. Maybe he’d even ace it, hopefully.

The intercom buzzed. Every student’s head snapped up at the sound, listening intently as a shrill voice echoed, “Dean Winchester—Dean Winchester, please come to the main office immediately.”

Dean’s face paled as half the class turned to stare at him, whispers breaking out among the students as the announcement was repeated a second time and went silent.

“Is something wrong?” Cas asked quietly. Dean shrugged and grabbed his things.

“Not that I know of,” he replied and stood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t wait up or anything.”

Cas nodded and Dean went to the front of the room, handing in his (thankfully) finished quiz before going out into the hall. The door closed behind him, effectively silencing all the student’s murmurs inside.

The halls looked different when they were empty. There was no one around anywhere, and all Dean could hear was the sound of his own footsteps on the marble floor.

He adjusted the strap on his book bag and found the office door with no trouble. God knew he’d been there hundreds of times before. Rarely for anything his fault. And now that Dean thought about it, he took a lot of blame for a lot of people over the years. He’d have to work on that—

Dean’s thoughts came to a shuddering halt as he saw a man stand up in the waiting area.

Dad. No, John Winchester. Dean’s eyes narrowed in question, and he chanced a glance at the secretary. But she was staring at her computer monitor, completely ignoring them.

“Dean,” John smiled and opened his arms, like he was expecting a hug. Dean didn’t deny him.

“Dad,” Dean answered robotically, wrapping his arms around his father awkwardly. But whether John noticed it or not, Dean had no idea.

When they separated, John put his hands on his shoulders and smiled down at him.

“You’ve grown since last I saw you,” he said proudly, and Dean smiled weakly.

“Yeah. It’s been a while.”

“Ah, only a month, right?”

And a half, Dean thought to himself, but kept his mouth sealed shut. “You should see Sammy,” he choked out instead. “He’s growing like a week, or somethin’.”

John laughed and clapped Dean on the shoulder.

“I bet,” he replied. His smile faded, and a serious expression shadowed his face. “But I won’t have time to visit Sam.”

Dean’s gaze fell and he swallowed.

“Y-Yeah? Why? Did something happen?”

John nodded seriously and he cast a wary glance at the secretary. But she wasn’t listening. She was engrossed in whatever boring activity she was working on.

“The job went bad. I need some back-up on this one,” John said quietly, keeping his voice low and casual, but Dean didn’t miss the intensity lying just below it.

“Oh,” Dean replied, looking down. “How long will it take?”

“Two days, max, I promise,” John said. “I’ve already made plans for everything. It’ll be a quick in and out. No strings attached, everything will be just fine.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head.

“What about Sammy? And Bobby? You know Bobby doesn’t like it when you take me places. What am I supposed to tell them?” Dean looked at John expectantly, but John only shrugged.

“Tell ‘em whatever you need to tell ‘em. This is important Dean. I’m close.”

I’m close, Dean scoffed in his head. Close to what? Finding some ghost that supposedly killed mom and ruined their lives? Close to making things right? Close to becoming a happy family again? I’m close. Yeah. Just like he was close the last fifteen times he said it.

But Dean pushed those thoughts down quickly, and instead nodded stiffly, “Okay. Just… give me a minute. Please?”

John nodded and went to take a seat again. Dean turned around walked back out in the hallway, feeling like his lungs were shrinking inside of him. It was getting difficult to breathe, and it felt like the school had suddenly shrunk three sizes. Dean felt disturbing small as he made his way back to his class and peaked through the glass, spotting Cas in only a second.

Dean waved to get his attention. He succeeded in getting noticed by four students before Cas finally looked up and his eyes widened. Dean waved one more time and Cas nodded, understanding. Dean ducked away from the door, listening to Cas’s muffled voice excuse himself.

When Cas came out into the hallway, his face was concerned.

“Dean, are you alright?” He asked as Dean pulled him further down the hall towards their lockers. “You look pale.”

Dean laughed, a humorless, empty sound that made Dean feel hollow. “Yeah, I bet.”

“Dean.”

He stopped and turned around, facing Cas square on.

“My Dad’s back home early. I… I have to go out of town for a few days. Two at the most. But… I just have to go.” Dean stared at his only friend intently, begging him to understand and praying Cas wouldn’t ask him why.

Castiel stared at him, not speaking for several moments before he nodded solemnly. “What do you need?” He asked. Dean almost wanted to cry in relief. Leave it to Cas to say exactly what he needed to hear.

“Uh, um… You have Bobby’s number right? I-I need him to pick up Sammy today. I know he’ll have to leave work early. But… just tell him that I unexpectedly left.” Dean’s eyes widened, an excuse popping into his head. He knew it was stupid, but it was all he had. He’d have two days to make sense of it later.

“Um, tell Bobby that I unexpectedly left ‘cause I met a girl and she invited me to this event for the weekend,” Dean said finally.

Cas’s gaze narrowed at him.

“You don’t wish for Bobby or Sam to know about your father’s presence here.”

“Absolutely not,” Dean hissed, but his eyes were pleading. “Please, I just… I really need you to do this for me. Please.”

Cas was silent, but nodded his head. “Alright, Dean. I can do that.”

Dean sighed in relief, ducking his head and running a hand over his face. “Thank God.”

“But please text me,” Cas continued. “If you have time. So I’ll know you’re safe. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on. But… I’d appreciate it if we continued to talk.”

Dean stared at him in disbelief. But Cas maintained his gaze, expression entirely serious.

Dean shrugged. “Okay. I… I can try. I can’t promise, but I’ll try.”

Cas smiled and nodded, seemingly pleased. “Alright then. I’ll take care of it. You’ll be back in two days?”

Dean nodded. “Two days.”

“Okay. I’ll… see you later then.”

“Thank you,” Dean said honestly, touching Cas’s shoulder before his friend could walk away. Cas smiled kindly at him.

“You don’t have to thank me. Friends help each other out, right?” Cas asked, and Dean smiled and nodded.

With that, he let Cas go back to class. And Dean hurried to his locker to get the rest of his things. Just because he was helping his Dad didn’t mean he’d have to fall behind in his studies. Or at least, he hoped not.

When he found John again, he was standing and smiling at him.

“Got everything taken care of?” John asked. Dean nodded and held up his bag.

“Ready when you are,” he replied.

Dean followed John back outside, and was surprised when John spotted the impala and walked toward it.

“Where’s your car?” Dean asked as they came up to his baby.

John patted the hood and looked up at him. “A colleague dropped me off. Besides, we’ll probably need two cars for this operation. Climb in and hand me the keys, son.”

Dean didn’t argue and did exactly as he was told, even if he wished with everything he had that he was driving, not John. But technically, the car had always belonged to John. It was just Dean’s to drive until John said otherwise. And Dean had to live with that.

“So, what’s the job?” Dean asked as the engine rumbled.

John’s face was stony as he pulled the car out of the parking lot. “They call it Hell’s Kitchen, among other things. The ring leader’s a guy named Alastair. He has information on a guy who used to be famous for lighting up people’s houses. I need into his gang. But he only goes after young recruits.”

Dean swallowed hard. “That’s where I come in.”

“That’s right. But first, we need to visit a tattoo parlor.”

“Why?”

John gave him a heavy look. “Gotta’ give you a cover story, right?”

Dean closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat. This was going to be a long two days.

***SPN***

Four days later, a tattoo, and several cuts and bruises that Dean couldn’t account for later, they were finally back home. They weren’t even in the impala. It made Dean’s skin crawl, knowing that some idiot had his hands on her and was out taking her for a joy ride.

But John said it would be well looked after, and they guy’d have the car back in the school parking lot by the next day.

This was all John’s fault. The guy had barely helped with the job, and his only request was that John let him take the car for a day.

John said it was no big deal. The guy was a ‘friend.’ Someone he could ‘trust.’ If that was all the guy wanted, it seemed John was okay with paying it. Even if Dean wasn’t.

But Dean really couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was tired, he was in pain. He just wanted to curl up in his bed and sleep.

But he couldn’t do that. Dean didn’t have to look back at his text messages to remember. Bobby was pissed. Sammy was pissed.

And worse, Cas was pissed.

Cas had texted him for four days straight. And not once did Dean ever text him back. He thought about it. Hell, he wanted to. He couldn’t count how many times he sat in the dark over those four days, thumb hovering over the send key as he tried to tell himself that he was doing the right thing.

The third night, the worst night, Dean had been alone. He had curled up on the floor, back to the bed, and he stared at the text message he’d never send. “Cas. I’m scared.”

He fell asleep staring at that text. When he woke up, his phone was dead, and the message never sent.

And Cas was pissed. By the end of the text stream Dean had received earlier that day, before Cas finally gave up texting him, the messages had grown increasingly tired, but also desperate.

“Damnit Dean. If you don’t text me back by the end of today I’m calling the cops.”

“Please tell me you’re safe.”

“Dean?”

“Text me as soon as you get home.”

Dean was home now. And he still hadn’t texted Cas. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. He was too tired. And ashamed. He always felt this way after helping his Dad out with a job. It would pass in a few days. But it would be a few days too long. And Cas wouldn’t want to talk to him after that much silence.

Dean wasn’t an idiot. People were not that patient. Not even friends. What do you know about friendship? Dean’s thoughts taunted him. You’ve never had any real friends to even know the difference. And now you’ve ruined your only chance at a real one.

Dean closed his eyes, but jumped when John touched his shoulder.

“You said you wanted to be dropped off at the school,” John said seriously. Dean nodded, wincing as he turned to pull his bag out of the backseat.

John watched him worriedly, his eyes bright with concern. But there were no tears in his eyes. John only cried when he really blew it. Like that third night. But he thought Dean was asleep. So it didn’t really matter in the end.

Dean opened the car door and climbed out.

“You’ll be alright?” John asked before Dean could close the door.

Dean hesitated, but he knew what John needed to hear. “I’ll be fine,” he replied. John nodded and Dean closed the door. He watched the rental speed away, and soon, Dean was left in front of the high school. Alone. In the dark.

Dean felt his knees weakening and he trudged over to a nearby bench, collapsing into it with a small grunt of pain. He clutched his ribs with one hand, his chest with the other. The greatest sources of pain. He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to ride through the waves as he thought over his options.

He couldn’t go home. Home, where Bobby would yell and scream and demand Dean to admit that John had taken him. Again. Home, where Sammy wouldn’t understand why it was so bad if Dean was with John. Sam, who would start his own fights because no one would explain to him what the real problem was.

He could stay here, at the school. He knew enough ways to break in, hide out as long as he had to. But he didn’t feel like explaining himself to the janitor, who would inevitably find him at some godforsaken hour of the morning.

And he didn’t want to explain what happened to Cas either. He just needed… damnit, he just needed time. Time to sort out this mess that was his life. Time to pretend that everything was normal and he didn’t just go and blow it again.

Dean reached into his pocket, fumbling for his phone for a few moments before his shaking fingers pulled it out into the cold to join him. He unlocked the device, considering his options once more.

He really needed to call someone. Bobby’s house was too far away to walk. Dean didn’t even think he could move again if he tried. So that also cut walking to Cas’s out of the picture. And it was a Friday night. Dean didn’t want to call anyone for help. He didn’t want to admit he even needed help.

But his headache worsened and his body screamed at him to just rest, and God help him if he ever could again, sleep. Dean finally called the only name that wouldn’t yell at him. Hopefully.

“Dean,” came Cas’s surprised voice only a second later, making Dean jump.

Dean laughed bitterly, self-resentment growing. “What, have you been waiting by your phone all day for me?”

“Yes,” came the blunt reply. Dean’s gut twisted.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said softly, curling an arm around his body protectively. “I… I meant to text you back. I really did. I… I couldn’t…” He sighed and stared at the grass, idly wondering when it was last cut.

A sigh echoed out from the speaker. “Where are you?”

“At the school. John—Dad, he dropped me off.”

“Do you need a ride?” Cas asked.

Dean laughed, ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes as he looked across the street. “Why? You offering?”

“I’ll steal Balthazar’s keys if I have to,” Cas replied darkly. Dean shook his head, a weak smile tugging at his lips.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. But there’s another car I can try first. But I’m coming to get you either way. Just—damnit,” there was the sound of heavy rustling and clunking noises before Cas’s voice came back, “just wait there. I’m coming.”

Dean nodded and hung up, only realizing when the phone was in his pocket that Dean actually hadn’t responded.

Not that it really mattered. There was nothing else to say.

Chapter Text

The silence drifted on and on for what felt like hours before the rumbling of an engine punched through the air.

Dean looked up and frowned at the headlights coming his way. It looked like a freaking pimp mobile. It probably wasn't Cas. So he was surprised when the death trap rumbled to a halt just in front of him and the headlights went off.

Cas climbed out of the driver’s seat and didn’t waste any time coming up to him, not that Dean was watching him. Dean kept his eyes on the ground, determined not to see the disappointment or anger that might be in his only friend’s eyes.

If Cas even still wanted to be his friend. If Dean were in his shoes, he certainly wouldn’t.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice rumbled, and Dean almost flinched at how concerned Cas sounded. “Dean. You’re shaking.”

“Am not,” Dean grouched, wrapping his hands around his arms tighter.

“Are you cold?” Cas asked, but before Dean could reply he could hear rustling, and the next thing he knew Cas’s trench coat was being settled around his shoulders.

Dean stared at it, fingering the material gently. It was then that he could see how badly he really was shaking. But whether it was from the cold or pain, he had no idea. Maybe it was because of something else entirely. Either way, he didn’t want to think about it right now. He wanted to climb into bed, any bed, and try and forget the past four days ever happened.

How well has that worked out for you in the past? His mind bitterly reminded him. Dean tried to ignore it and instead turned to look up at Cas. His lips were moving. How long had he been speaking?

“…are you even listening to me?” Were Cas’s final words when Dean finally tuned in. Dean only blinked at him in reply. Cas sighed and his eyes dropped. He looked tired. And something else Dean couldn’t quite describe. It looked familiar, but Dean had no idea why. All he knew was that he’d clearly disappointed Cas. Again.

“Can you stand?” Cas finally asked. Dean frowned and grabbed the railing of the bench, pushing himself up slowly. About halfway up his midsection started screaming and he gasped, stumbling forward just to be caught in Cas’s arms.

Cas’s grip was tight, and it was all Dean could do not to wince as his friend’s elbow’s dug into his sides.

“I… I’m good,” Dean said after a moment, his head spinning a little faster than it’d been earlier. Cas made a sound of disagreement, and suddenly Dean’s head was spinning again as Cas manhandled him into a better position. Dean’s arm was now over Cas’s shoulder, and Cas’s arm was around his waist, and before he could even process this information they were already halfway down the hill towards Cas’s car.

“F’ckin pimp m’bile,” Dean tried to say, but it sounded slurred and heavy. Damn he was tired. When did his legs stop working?

Cas set him down in the passenger seat and buckled him in, not seeming to care or notice that Dean’s arms were trapped under trench coat and seat belt. Not that Dean cared. It felt oddly… secure. Maybe he should get seat belts for baby.

When he turned his head, Cas was already sitting in the driver’s seat and the engine was rumbling. But the car wasn’t moving. Probably a good thing, Dean thought. This freaking crap on wheels would probably kill them faster than his Dad. He almost started laughing, but his lips only twisted into a grimace.

“Where’d you get this?” Dean asked, nodding his head slowly, forcing his eyes to stay open.

Cas’s thumb drummed against the steering wheel. He wasn’t looking at Dean. He seemed lost in his own thoughts. But still he replied, “It used to belong to Uriel. Our old body guard. He quit after Gabriel became too much for him. Ran away too many times.” His voice was gruff and clipped. Dean ignored it and stared out the window.

“Dean,” he said again after a second. Or was it a minute? Dean couldn't really tell anymore. “Where are we going?”

Dean frowned and leaned his forehead against the passenger window. The glass was cool to the touch. It made his head pound a little less.

“Anywhere,” he replied quietly and closed his eyes.

He wasn’t sure if Cas ever replied or not. But when he opened his eyes again, Cas was shaking his shoulder and all Dean saw was blue eyes and that familiar look he couldn’t place.

“Dean,” he said, his voice high and airy.

“What?” Dean groaned, stretching his arms and realizing the seatbelt was off. The trench coat was bunched around his shoulders too, and he felt sticky with sweat. He looked at Cas’s face again and understood.

“You were crying out in your sleep,” Cas said, making Dean flinch. “But we arrived. It’s okay.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him and tried to look over his shoulder. “Arrived where?” He asked dumbly. He couldn’t remember telling Cas any specific place he wanted to go. He only knew one place he didn’t want to go. Home. He couldn't face Bobby or Sammy. Not yet. Not like this. He just needed some time to work things through. Figure things out. Preferably without an angry Cas trying to get answers either.

“We’re a block away from your house.”

Instantly, it was a like a stone dropping into the pit of his stomach. Horror gnawed at his insides, and he barely was able to hear Cas continue, “Please don’t be angry, Dean. Bobby called me nearly a hundred times the last two days. He knew, Dean. He knew that it was your father who took you, and he was going to call the cops. I never told him anything, but he knew. I was able to hold him off on it. Told him to give you a little more time. I’m not sure if you even saw my texts Dean, but this is serious. Bobby needs to know you’re alright. Sam too.”

Dean snarled, “You had no right—“

“No Dean! I didn’t,” Cas shouted, and Dean immediately pulled back into his seat. Cas hesitated, his lips drawing into a thin line as he grabbed the steering wheel and looked out front again.

“I need to take you home Dean. I’m sorry,” Cas said finally. His tone left no room for argument. Dean looked away and rubbed his eyes. He was too tired for this. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Bobby right now. Not like this. Why couldn’t Cas have just taken him to his house?

Well, the answer to that was obvious.

As the car pulled out onto the road again, Dean finally spoke. “I… understand. You know. If you don’t want to be friends anymore. I get it. I really do. I mean, I’m not the easiest guy to know—“

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted me to stay over tonight,” Cas interrupted. He glanced over at Dean. “I want to help.”

Dean scoffed. “There’s nothing to help.”

“Like hell,” Cas replied and pulled into Bobby’s driveway, right alongside Bobby’s old truck. A light shone from the living room, and Dean stared at it. He felt numb.

“Dean?” Cas asked. Dean jumped when his hand touched his shoulder, and he looked over at Cas.

An unspoken question hung heavy in the air between them. Dean wasn’t stupid. He could see it. Feel it. Cas’s eyes held a thousand words, but at the moment they only seemed to express one thing. Let me help you.

And Dean was terrified of everything tonight. He was terrified of what Bobby would say. He was terrified of what Sam would think. He was terrified that Cas wouldn’t think he was worth it.

He may as well just get it over with then. Because if Dean had to take one more minute of this, he was going to start screaming.

“Okay,” Dean finally replied.

A faint smile seemed to cross Cas’s face, but it disappeared quickly when light flooded the driveway and Dean turned to see Bobby standing in the doorway of the house. Dean flinched and looked down as Cas climbed out of the car to talk to him. Dean didn’t want to listen, but he stared wide eyed when Cas called over the hood, “I think he’s hurt.”

Dean didn’t have to see Bobby’s face to know he was probably beat red angry. Dean shrunk farther into his seat as Bobby’s silhouette drew closer and closer to him. His car door swung open and Dean ducked his head, not wanting to see the disappointment in Bobby’s face, just like Cas.

“Dean?” Bobby’s gruff voice said, and Dean felt him kneel down so Bobby was just a bit shorter than him, forcing Dean to look at him. Bobby didn’t look mad. He just looked… tired. And sad.

It was even worse than disappointment.

“I’m sorry—“ Dean instantly said, ready with every apology he knew in the book, but Bobby touched his shoulder and Dean went silent. There was a wetness in Bobby’s eyes that made Dean feel sick.

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” Bobby replied. Dean’s shoulders hunched and he covered his eyes with his arm. Bobby didn’t say anything else as he gently pulled Dean out of the car and held him against the car. Dean didn’t want to cry, but his shoulders shook regardless.

“How well can ya’ walk?” Bobby asked. Dean shrugged and buried his face in the older man’s chest.

“Anything I need to know about?” Bobby asked.

Dean shrugged again, but replied stiffly, “Got a tattoo. Got a few cuts. Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

“Like shit, boy,” Bobby grumbled and wrapped an arm over Dean’s shoulders. “You’re pale as a ghost and shaking harder than a blender. What you got?”

“Cut on my leg,” Dean finally replied, keeping his eyes down. “Nothing serious, but it hurts like a bitch.”

“Can you walk on it?”

Dean nodded and Bobby seemed satisfied. Bobby kept a firm grip on him as he led him up to the house.

“You comin’ boy?” Bobby called back over his shoulder, and Dean released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as Cas hurried up next to them.

“Is it alright if I stay?” Cas asked hesitantly, and it was all Dean could do not to reach out and grab Cas’s hand in thanks.

“Sure thing,” Bobby grunted. “We got a spare room upstairs if you don’t mind the mess.”

“Not at all,” Cas replied with a smile. Dean started to smile too, until they reached the first step leading into the house. He gasped in surprise as pain shot up his leg into his side, and he nearly collapsed in Bobby’s hold.

“Shit,” Bobby grunted, trying to pull Dean back up completely. Cas stood close beside them, his arms out like he wanted to help, but didn’t know how. Bobby finally cursed again and reached down, putting a hand under Dean’s legs and picking him up fully. Dean grumbled into Bobby’s shirt, but it was unintelligible.

“Help me get the door, would ya’?” Bobby asked, and Cas quickly scurried to push open the front door wide enough for them to duck through.

“Wait here,” Bobby said. Dean wanted to grunt in protest, but Cas quickly replied, “Yes sir.”

Damn your manners Cas, Dean thought in annoyance, but then decided he probably didn’t want Cas to see what a mess his room was after all. Wait, why did he even care if Cas saw his room at all? Man, he must have been really screwed after all.  

When Dean looked up again he was in his room and Bobby was setting him down on his bed and helping him out of Cas’s coat, then Dean’s own jacket.

“You gonna’ tell me where you’re hurt?” Bobby asked, setting the coats over Dean’s desk and chair. He came back to Dean and started undoing his shoe laces and Dean shook his head.

“Dad got someone to take care of it,” he replied. Bobby gave him a stern look.

“That’s not what I asked boy,” Bobby replied, pulling off Dean’s socks and shoes in one go before tossing them across the room. “Tell me now so I don’t hurt you. I’m getting a look at you whether you like it or not.”

Dean frowned and held up a hand, stopping Bobby from continuing. Bobby crossed his arms and watched as Dean pulled of his shirt slowly, wincing all the while. After that he pulled up his jeans to his knees. Bobby’s eyes widened and his jaw tightened. Dean kept his gaze down.

He knew it looked bad. It didn’t feel much better. The cut on his leg was from his ankle to his knee, and he had bloody bandages on his sides and chest, probably from where the stitches came undone. He had some dark bruises, but nothing serious. That, John had been sure to reassure him of. No matter how dark or purple they looked.

And then there was the tattoo. A star or something. When John had shown it to him in the catalog, Dean had barely had time to read ‘demon’ before he was in the chair and the needle was going in.

It’d been painful, but minor compared to the following four days of hell. Literally. Apparently, there was a very good reason that place had been called ‘Hell’s Kitchen.’

But Dad had what he wanted. Dad had what he needed, and that was all that mattered. Dean had done a good job. No matter what his body looked like. He’d done good.

“Balls,” Bobby muttered after a long moment. “Let me get my things. I’ll fix this up a bit. Then you’ll get some rest. And we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

***SPN***

It was about an hour later and Dean was wrapped up in his sheets and blankets. They smelled familiar and his entire body felt warm inside and out. He couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

Bobby didn’t yell at him once. He’d been quiet and gentle, and for some reason that felt even worse than if Bobby’d been angry and demanded to know everything. But instead, he’d dealt with the immediate problem, and simply promised that they would talk tomorrow. A talk Dean was definitely not looking forward to. A talk he definitely wouldn’t be answering honestly.

No matter how much Dean loved Bobby, he couldn’t bring himself to say. Whatever happened, it happened between Dean and John. No one else needed to know. And Dean preferred to leave it in the past. Where it belonged.

He sighed and buried his face deeper into his pillows. He could almost hear Bobby and Cas talking downstairs. He couldn’t understand the words they said. But it sounded like they were trying to be quiet, like they didn’t want to disturb him or something.

Fat chance of that. He was disturbed plenty. Whatever they had to say probably wouldn’t change that.

Dean carefully rolled onto his side, frowning and pressing a hand against his tattoo. He wished he knew more about it. What it meant. John hadn’t really explained. He’d only said it made him look like a rogue, someone anti-society. Someone Alastair and his gang might want.

That worked out perfectly, Dean thought to himself angrily, even though it wasn’t the tattoo’s fault everything went wrong. Everything went wrong because Alastair wasn’t an idiot and saw right through John’s plan and exposed it for what it was. There was nothing else to say.

Except that Bobby didn’t feel that way. Cas probably didn’t either. And Dean didn’t plan on explaining anything to either of them. They didn’t need to know. It wasn’t their problem. They just needed to let it lie and be done with it.

There was silence for several moments before Dean heard footsteps in the hallway and his bedroom door creaked open.

“Dean? Are you awake?” Cas’s voice whispered. Dean frowned and waved a hand at him, not at all ready to move any time soon. Cas entered the room and walked around the bed, grabbing Dean’s chair and moving it a little closer to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” He asked quietly. Dean shrugged and looked up at him. Cas looked tired. Dean had no idea how late it was, but he was sure it was well past everyone’s bed time. He felt bad but remained silent to the fact.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Why’re you whispering?”

Cas looked nervous and shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “Bobby thought it would be wise to leave you alone to rest. But I wanted to check on you.”

“Damn rebel,” Dean smirked. Cas smiled back tiredly and shook his head.

“Hardly,” came the soft reply. “But… if it means anything, I think you should tell Bobby what happened. He really cares about you, you know.”

“That’s why I’m not going to,” Dean said calmly, playing with the fold of his blankets distractedly. “There’s no point in talking about stuff that’s already over and done with.”

Cas shook his head and Dean stared up at him.

“It may be done for you, Dean, but for him, for us, it’s new. We had no idea where you were Dean. You were missing for four days. You didn’t text me. You didn’t call. For all we knew, you were dead in a ditch somewhere. Bobby was convinced—“ Cas stopped himself there, looking away to the door like he was considering leaving.

Dean narrowed his gaze. “Convinced what?”

Cas chewed at his lip, glancing between Dean and the door before replying, “Bobby was convinced John had done something awful to you. He said that this kind of thing has happened before. And every time you come back it’s a little bit worse. Either you’re hurt more, or depressed. No matter what happens you always get hurt Dean. Bobby just assumed the worst when you never called back. He… We were going to call the cops.”

Dean looked down and frowned, keeping his gaze away from Cas’s.

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Dean replied finally.

“Maybe,” Cas shrugged. “But you did get hurt. And he was the one who took you away. Either way, that’s—“

“Don’t you dare say it,” Dean growled, his eyes snapping to meet Castiel’s. Cas frowned down at him, but his lips remained shut.

“What do you want me to say Dean?” Cas sighed. “That he’s a saint? That he had every reason to put you in harm’s way?”

Dean shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Then enlighten me,” Cas snapped.

Silence fell between them for several moments. Dean played with his blankets, Cas sat and stared at the wall.

Finally, “He had a lead on the guy who might’ve killed my mom.”

Cas looked down at him, but Dean ignored him and continued, “John… he’s a con-man. He’s been travelling across the country for years. He thinks someone killed mom cause there was some serial arsonist at the time that lit up houses like bonfires. I guess technically, our fire could have been one of his… but it was out of the way of the guy’s usual attacks. So the cops decided not to pursue it. So… my Dad did instead. And… Yeah, if he asks me to help every once in a while, I’ll be damned if I say no.

“Cause what if it really was that guy? What if it wasn’t an accident and Mom really was killed because of some jerk who liked house fires? If I said no… I don’t think I could live with myself.”

Cas remained silent while Dean spoke, and now that he had no words left, Dean returned to playing with his blankets. He wanted to get up and walk away. This was already more than he wanted to share with anyone. He didn’t like to talk about what happened to his Mom. He didn’t like to talk about how messed up he and his Dad were.

He just wanted to have a normal life and make sure Sammy was okay. Was that too much to ask?

Cas reached out slowly and put a hand on Dean’s arm, causing him to look up at his only friend. Hopefully still friend, Dean thought to himself as he stared up into bright blue eyes.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Cas said gently, the last words Dean expected to hear. “And… I understand. At least, I think I do. I can respect your desire to want to help your father, to try and find the truth of what happened to your family. But if it costs you your own safety, I don’t believe it’s worth it.”

“That’s not for you to decide Cas,” Dean replied gruffly, shaking his head in anger.

“I know,” Cas replied. “But just think about it. Would your Mom want you to sacrifice yourself for something that may or may not even be true?”

Dean stared at him, his eyes wide. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to scream, to be angry with Cas for even talking about her. But at the same time, the words stung, and Dean just wanted to sleep. Forget everything that happened. Please. Just let me forget already.

“You don’t have to answer,” Cas continued. “But… I hope that you’ll consider it, at least.”

Cas looked uncomfortable and moved to stand, but Dean shot his hand out and wrapped it around Cas’s wrist.

“Thank you,” Dean mumbled. “For everything. I mean it. Thank you.”

Cas nodded and touched his hand with his own. “It’s okay, Dean. I’m just glad that you’re safe now.”

Dean didn’t let go though. He looked intently at Cas and asked, “How much does Sammy know?”

Cas smiled gently at him and shook his head. “It’ll be fine. Sam was worried, but he doesn’t know about your father coming back. He even went to stay with a friend tonight. A boy named Kevin.”

Dean released a small laugh, smiling into his pillow in relief. At least Sam was okay. That was all that really mattered. Sammy was okay, Bobby was probably still a little mad, no matter what he said. And Cas was still being nice to him, which meant he still cared. Or at least, Dean really hoped so.

“You don’t think I’m hopeless, do you?” Dean asked, withdrawing his hand slowly. Cas shook his head.

“Absolutely not,” Cas replied. “I think you’re a righteous man.” Cas then rubbed Dean’s shoulder and left the room, leaving Dean to try and figure out what on earth Cas meant by that.

It was only a few minutes later, when Dean was nearly asleep, that he suddenly remembered that painting Cas had told him about the first time they studied together.

Heaven watches over the damned as well as the saints.

Chapter Text

Cas fell into a restless sleep that night. It had taken hours just to even get comfortable. Not because of the new place, or the new sleeping arrangements. But because of Dean just across the hall. His best friend, who was usually so bright and passionate, was now reserved and silent. And it terrified Cas to imagine what could have darkened Dean’s spirit so much that he would draw into himself in such a way. It was more than Cas could imagine.

So he spent most of the night tossing and turning, before he was finally able to close his eyes and drift into unconsciousness. And even then Cas considered going downstairs to ask Bobby about sedatives.

When his eyes opened the following morning, his entire body ached. He stretched his arms over his head and stared at the ceiling, considering what he’d do next. He had no idea if Dean was awake yet or not. And from talking with Bobby last night, Cas was left to assume that Dean would be asleep for the next several hours.

“Dean always turns into a rock when he gets back. Late to bed, and won’t get up again unless you make him,” Bobby had said as he downed a shot glass. Cas only nodded and glanced at the stairs, at the time considering visiting Dean.

But Bobby had continued and said, “I wouldn’t go up there just yet. Times like these, Dean’s not right in the head. You should give him some space to sort things out and decide how he wants to go about things. Until then, he’ll need his rest. Tomorrow won’t be pretty.”

Cas decided not to ask Bobby what he meant by that. He had a feeling he’d figure it out for himself sooner rather than later.

He didn’t heed Bobby’s advice. He’d visited Dean. While it had been a depressing visit, it had also been enlightening. He felt he better understood where Dean’s frame of mind was. He felt that he was closer than he ever was to Dean. But he’d also never felt farther away.

He wanted to help Dean. More than anything. But if Dean didn’t want to be helped, Cas didn’t know what he’d do.

Cas swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, rubbing his face with one hand as he considered what to do next. He may as well visit Dean. Just to check in on him, see if he was still asleep or not.

He stood and shuffled out of the room, crossing the empty hall to Dean’s room. The door was still slightly ajar from the night before. Cas pushed it open and peeked a look inside. The shades on the window inside were slightly parted, letting in gorgeous sunrays to bathe the room in golden light. Clothes littered the floor, and old toys and knick-knacks were cast about the room in various places. The entire scene looked like it belonged to a young boy’s room.

Cas smiled at that. It seemed right for Dean. It looked warm and cozy. Home.

His eyes finally came to rest on the young man he was looking for. He was still bundled under his blankets, only the tips of his hair visible from where Cas stood. He stepped into the room quietly and walked over to the bed, looking down at Dean’s sleeping face. His hair was wild and sticking up in odd directions.

A warm feeling flooded Cas’s chest. Dean looked peaceful when he slept. All the hard lines Cas had come to associate with Dean’s face were nearly nonexistent now, leaving his face young and childish. His long eyelashes fluttered in his sleep, probably due to a dream he was having. Every once in a while his lips would twitch, either into a smile or frown, Cas wasn’t sure. But with the blush highlighting Dean’s cheeks, and his hand curled up by his face, Dean looked incredible. At ease. The way he should always be.

Cas looked away, suddenly feeling guilty for just entering Dean’s room while he slept. And then watching Dean while he slept. It was strange and oddly unnerving. He should leave. He’d checked on Dean, and he was fine. He should go now.

As he turned away, he was stopped by the sound of a phone chirping. Cas flinched, quickly looking down at Dean. He hadn’t woken, but a hard frown had found its way onto his face. The old hard lines Cas knew were back. He wished it away in his mind, but turned his attention back to the phone by Dean’s bed, which was still chirping away with some notification.

And it would not shut up. Cas frowned, concerned that Dean would wake up with the noise, and made a quick decision before he could second guess himself. He grabbed the phone, quickly looking for any outside button that would make it silent. But he saw none except for the power button. He turned on the screen and quickly unlocked it, rushing to turn off the volume.

Silence settled over the room again and Cas sighed in relief when Dean remained asleep. He looked at the back of the phone again for the power button. But he stopped when the notification in question caught his eye. It was a text message. From ‘Dad.’

Cas’s lips twitched. He didn’t even have to open the message to see the text. The first sentence and a half was already given.

“You did a good job Dean. Your work paid off—“

Cas bit the inside of his cheek and turned off the phone, setting it down where it belonged. He looked at Dean’s face and sighed.

He wished Dean didn’t follow his father. He wished Dean didn’t take a single word of his father’s to heart. Dean deserved so much better than this. And for some reason Cas couldn’t understand, Dean didn’t believe that. Dean didn’t even have to say it. Cas could see it on his face, plain as day.

Last night when he’d picked Dean up, the physical pain he was in was obvious. But the pain in Dean’s eyes alone made Cas want to cry. Whatever happened to him, Dean thought it was necessary. He’d accepted it, was okay with being hurt for the sake of a mission that shouldn’t even exist.

It made Cas’s stomach twist in knots. He didn’t want to dwell on the situation any longer. But they were still stuck in the middle of it, and he had the rest of the day to look forward to. He had no idea how Bobby planned to handle this. He could only hope that Bobby would know what to say. Because Cas definitely didn’t.

A sound escaped Dean’s lips and his body curled in on itself. Cas looked down, horrified when he saw Dean’s face twisting into something that could only be described as painful.

“Shhh,” Cas whispered, not sure what to do, but knowing he had to do something. He grabbed the loose quilt over the top of him and pulled it back up to better cover Dean’s body, tucking it in over Dean’s shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe, Dean.”

Another small sound left Dean’s lips, and his fist tightened near his face. But his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and his long bow legs stretched out once again.

Cas rubbed his shoulder and sighed.

“You’re safe, Dean,” he echoed softly. Dean pushed his face into his pillows and his sleeping gaze softened.

“Cas,” Dean mumbled, making Cas freeze. But he relaxed when a small snore followed shortly.

Asleep, Cas thought in amusement as he smiled, fixing the quilt one more time before standing upright and turning to leave. He needed to go now. He’d stayed long enough.

He closed the door behind him once he was in the hallway. His fingers lingered on the doorknob, but the sound of beeping downstairs distracted his attention.

He could smell coffee. That meant Bobby was up.

Cas cast one last glance at Dean’s door before going downstairs to find the source of the smell. Sure enough, Bobby stood at the counter, a nearly full pot of coffee just to his side.

Bobby looked up at him with a tired smile. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he likely slept as well as Cas.

“You a coffee person?” Bobby asked, raising a mug in Cas’s direction.

Cas smiled back and nodded. “Very.”

“Good. Get over here and get some.”

Cas nodded and entered the kitchen, coming to stand by Bobby as he poured the dark liquid into a dark blue mug and handed it to him. Cas accepted it gratefully and took a long drink, sighing as the heat washed down his throat.

“How’d you sleep?” Bobby questioned, walking away to sit at the table. Cas shrugged and took another drink, staring out the window.

“As well as I expected to, I guess,” Cas replied. His fingers twitched around the mug. He was tired and anxious. He wished Dean were awake and downstairs with them. If Dean were his usual self, he’d probably laugh at them for worrying. He’d probably even crack a joke, just to spite them. Cas had no idea what the joke would be about. But knowing Dean, he’d find something.

The thought made him ache in his chest, and he took another drink. He couldn’t help cursing John’s name, at least in the safety of his own mind. If John had never come, Dean would’ve been fine. None of this would have ever happened.

“You better not be over there wallowing in misery and cursing John Winchester.”

Cas’s eyes snapped over to the older man, his gaze narrowing. He wasn’t sure to be shocked, angry, or impressed by Bobby’s ability to read minds. But his emotions were warring, and he was working on less than four hours of sleep. His mouth ran away from him.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Cas replied, anger bubbling at the audible mention of the man who’d caused Dean harm. No matter how directly or indirectly.

“Cause John ain’t the only problem here. He’s a problem, son. But getting him away from Dean ain’t the solution either.” Bobby’s gaze was dark and intent, as though willing Cas to understand some unspoken feeling. Cas wasn’t sure he could.

“Then what is?” Cas asked, walking over to sit at the table. “You said it yourself. Whenever John comes, Dean gets hurt. One way or another, it always happens when John takes him away. How is he not the problem?”

“You misheard me,” Bobby rumbled. “John is a problem for Dean. But he’s not the only problem. Dean’s a problem too. John doesn’t kidnap Dean. Dean goes with him willingly. John’s a bastard for asking. Dean just can’t say no to him.”

Cas bit the inside of his cheek and stared down at the warm mug in his hands.

“You like him, don’t you?” Bobby asked. Cas shivered and looked up at Bobby, studying him carefully to try and figure out what Bobby was insinuating.

“W-what?” He asked, unable to help the stare. “Of course I like him.”

Bobby rolled his eyes and fixed Cas with a pointed look. “Like him, son.”

“I care for him,” Cas quickly tried to run around, but Bobby raised an eyebrow and Cas knew he wasn’t getting out of this one. “Did he tell you?” If Dean had told Bobby that Cas was gay… Cas didn’t know what he would think. It was private. A secret that Cas had only told Dean, with the full expectation that Dean wouldn’t speak a word to anyone else. And as far as Cas knew, over the past two weeks, Dean hadn’t. Or at least, that’s what Cas thought.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out,” Bobby grunted, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over his gut. “But it doesn’t matter much. It just matters if you’re happy. So if you and Dean ever got it on, I wouldn’t care. But don’t go telling me if it does. I don’t need to know those details.”

Cas blushed crimson and shook his head, his hands tightening around his mug. “I… I care about him, very much. He’s one of the kindest people I know. But I strongly suspect I’m not his type anyway.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t place too many bets just yet, son.”

Cas sat back in surprise, unsure of what Bobby was getting at. He couldn’t possibly be insinuating… could he?

“What do you mean?” Cas asked slowly, cautiously. Maybe he was mishearing him. Maybe he’d gotten something wrong.

“Let’s just say that Dean’ll need you if he’s going to get through his latest round with John. Somethin’ tells me this wasn’t the usual in-and-out con’s John likes to run.” Bobby leaned forward and took a drink from his own mug. He sighed and shook his head.

“Do you think Dean will be alright?” Cas asked, suddenly concerned with Bobby’s caution. He’d noticed it the night before, but he’d been hoping it was a trick of his imagination.

Bobby opened his mouth to reply, when a scream ripped through the air. Dean. Cas immediately jumped to his feet, but Bobby raised a hand.

“Wait here,” he ordered, causing Cas to only hesitate a moment as Bobby lunged around the table to run up the stairs. Cas, stunned only briefly, shook himself out of it and was quick to follow.

When he reached the top of the stairs, the door to Dean’s room was flung open wide. Cas hesitated, uncertain if he should even look. But his heart was pounding out of his chest, and Dean was still screaming inside.

“Don’t touch me!” Dean seemed to roar, and Cas heard Bobby grunt in pain. Cas didn’t waste a second to enter the room, just in time to see Dean’s fist connect with Bobby’s jaw.

“He’s still asleep,” Bobby shouted, snapping Cas out of his trance. “Help me get him down, or else he’ll hurt himself!”

Cas moved forward quickly, but hesitated again when he reached Dean’s bedside.

The sheets were thrown everywhere, and Dean was writhing and shaking uncontrollably on the mattress.

“Stop it!” Dean shouted, clenching his fists and lashing out again, even though Bobby hadn’t even moved to touch him yet. His eyes were shut tightly. He was having some kind of night terror, Cas realized.

“What do I do?” Cas asked, hypnotized by the frenzied movement of his friend.

“Gotta’ secure his arms and legs. Last time this happened he nearly broke his arm against the floor,” Bobby growled, pulling away from a stray kick.

“I’ll get his legs,” Cas said firmly, waiting only to see Bobby’s nod before lunging down on them and wrapping his arms around Dean’s shins.

“Careful of that cut,” was Bobby’s only warning as he wrapped his bear like arms around Dean’s chest, pulling him close until Dean could only spasm in his grip.

“Please… please just stop,” Dean whimpered, shoving his arms forward to try and push himself away from Bobby’s hold, but the older man wasn’t budging.

“Dean, wake up!” Bobby commanded, shaking Dean firmly. After a good few shakes, and three more attempted breakaways from Dean, he finally gasped awake.

“Dean?” Cas asked hesitantly, his hold still strong on Dean’s legs.

Wide green eyes darted to meet blue, and Dean only shuddered again in Bobby’s arms before shaking his head hard.

“You were having a nightmare,” Bobby explained when Dean remained silent. “Worse than usual.”

“Y-yeah,” Dean grimaced, his voice sounding hoarse. Cas flinched at the sound, carefully setting Dean’s legs down onto the mattress.

“What happened, Dean?” Bobby asked, still holding Dean in his arms, but there was no intensity behind it. Now it just looked like he was holding a frightened child. The sight was awful to Cas.

Dean should never look that small. Or afraid.

But Dean shook his head and pressed a hand against Bobby’s chest, righting himself and sitting up straight. “I-I’m fine,” he muttered, looking down at his hands.

“Like hell you are!” Bobby growled. Cas glanced at him, but the older man’s eyes were kind. He was scared. Just like the rest of them.

“I’m not gonna’ talk about it!” Dean bit back, keeping his eyes down. “So stop it!”

Without warning, Dean threw his legs over the side of the bed and was across the room in a second. Bobby jumped up, but by the time he was on his feet, Dean was gone. The sound of a door thudded in the hallway and Bobby ran a hand over his face.

“Idjit locked himself in the bathroom,” Bobby muttered.

“What are we going to do?” Cas asked, still staring at the open door.

“We’re gonna’ wait for him to come to us. Dean knows we’re not going anywhere. We’ll just give him some time and he’ll figure it out.”

“What if he doesn’t come back out?” Cas asked. The idea was ridiculous. Dean couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. But Bobby was silent, and Cas looked back at him in surprise. “He wouldn’t actually stay in there, would he?”

Bobby shrugged and scratched his head. “He’s done it before. But never longer than twenty five hours. It’s a waiting game now.” He looked down at Cas curiously. “How long can you wait?”

Cas’s gaze narrowed. “As long as I have to. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Well then. How ‘bout some breakfast?”

***SPN***

It wasn’t until after lunch that he finally heard movement from upstairs, and heavy footsteps made their way down to the living room. Cas looked up in time to see Dean just as he came around the corner. His hair was still just as messy as earlier, and his face seemed unusually pale. He was barefoot and wearing an oversized white t-shirt and jeans. Overall, Cas was resisting the urge to walk over and hug him to death. Dean looked far too miserable.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said after an extended silence. Bobby had gone out to the garage an hour previously, mumbling something about fixing up a generator. Cas wished he was back. He didn’t know what to do by himself.

“Heya’ Cas,” Dean replied, a small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. It prompted Cas to smile in return as Dean’s feet padded against the carpet toward him.

“Uh, is this seat taken?” Dean asked, motioning to the rest of the couch beside him. Cas nodded and scooted over, even though there was plenty of room. But the smile was worth it, and it was a relief when Dean finally sat down beside him.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asked softly, as though afraid if he raised his voice he might spook him somehow.

Dean shrugged and frowned. “I’m… okay, I guess. Better than earlier.” He chanced a glance at Cas before adding, “Sorry about that. I didn’t… hurt anybody, did I?”

“No,” Cas quickly replied. “We’re both alright. No serious damage was done.”

Dean nodded seriously and looked at the blank TV across the room from them.

“What have you been doing?” He asked. Cas could hear the attempt at changing the subject. He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.

“Mostly reading,” he replied. “But mostly waiting for you.”

“Where’s Bobby?”

As if to answer that question, the door rattled open and shut as Bobby stepped inside, wiping his hands on a rag cloth. His eyes lit up in surprise when he saw the two boys on the couch, but his gaze softened a moment later.

“How you doin’ son?” Bobby asked genuinely. Dean shrugged again, watching Bobby closely as the older man moved to sit across from them.

“You ready to talk about what happened?” He asked.

Dean shook his head, causing Cas to frown.

“At least a little, Dean,” Cas said softly. “We just want to help Dean. Help us understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand,” Dean grumbled, playing with his fingers. “You both know Dad. You know what he’s like. It was a con. It was no big deal.”

“You’ve never come back this busted up,” Bobby commented. Dean winced and looked away.

“It’s not like it was intentional,” Dean muttered.

Cas shook his head, watching as Dean continued to play with his fingers. It was an ongoing nervous habit of his, Cas noticed, among many other things. It bothered Cas for reasons he couldn’t really explain. It was tempting to reach other and take Dean’s hands, force them apart. But he felt that it would somehow make things worse. Make Dean angry somehow. And that was the last thing Cas wanted.

“How did it happen at all, then?” Cas asked quietly, surprised by the bluntness of the question. He didn’t even feel right speaking. He felt like an imposer, and outsider breaking into something incredibly private and vulnerable. This was something that had been going on for years before Cas ever met Dean. All this secretive con business and other issues. Dean and Bobby were, unfortunately, in familiar waters. They were used to this happening. Cas wasn’t. And he couldn’t feel more isolated and meddlesome if he tried.

But Dean didn’t ask him to leave. Bobby didn’t either. So maybe a few questions couldn’t hurt. Or at least, he sincerely hoped they wouldn’t.

Dean was silent for several moments, continuing to stare at either his hands, the floor, or something in the corner, before he finally spoke. “A gang leader named Alastair. He… he had information on some guy who was famous for setting people’s houses on fire. The guy’s name was Azazel. Dad had me put in the gang so I could learn more about it. Who the guy was, where he was. That sort of thing. But as soon as I found out, Alastair realized who I was and all hell broke loose.”

Dean wiped his palms on his jeans, casting a nervous glance at Cas. He took in a sharp breath at the brightness in his eyes. The sharp, biting green. It was in that moment that Cas finally understood that look Dean seemed to be giving him ever since this started. And it was so incredibly simple, Cas felt blind for not realizing it sooner.

Please don’t judge me.

Like Cas could ever do that.

“Alastair’s the one who hurt you?” Cas asked. Dean shrugged, then nodded and looked down quickly.

“Dad broke me out before it could get too bad. I mean, he was there. Just upstairs. It only took him a couple of hours to realize I was missing.”

A couple of hours. Cas’s jaw tightened and he refrained from clenching his fists.

A cold laugh broke through the heavy silence. The sound made Cas flinch. He didn’t dare look at Bobby to try and see what he was thinking. Cas was in a world of his own.

“I, uh, I guess I had it coming. I didn’t even know what I was doing. It’s not like I had any prep before going in. I think Alastair knew I was a fake from the beginning. He was just playing around to see how long it would take before he could catch me in a real lie. And, well… he did.”

“When did that happen?” Bobby’s voice finally joined the conversation. Dean’s eyes were trained on the ground.

“Day three.”

“But you were gone four days, Dean,” Cas argued, hoping that he’d gotten the date wrong. “Why did you stay another day?”

“I was only able to get Dad a name. He needed the actual files on where to find him. So I snuck back in the next night and caused a huge distraction while Dad broke in back to get the info. And it worked out pretty well. Then we were driving home like nothing ever happened.”

Dean looked up again, this time his eyes dark and intent. “And I’d really, really like to keep it that way.”

Silence settled over the room once again. It seemed Dean was done with his story, or at least, the overview of the story. And Cas had no idea what to say. Or do. So he looked at Bobby, whose face was as blank as Cas’s thoughts.

It took a few minutes before Bobby grunted, “Doesn’t change the fact that it happened. But you told us. And that’s the important thing. We can let it lie for now. But don’t think that we’re done with this for good. This doesn’t change what John did. This doesn’t change that you went with him. You can’t do that Dean. He knowingly put you in harm’s way. That ain’t gonna’ fly around here. So next time you see him, you tell him to pack his shit and go without you. Is that clear?”

Cas stared. Bobby didn’t honestly believe Dean would do that? He’d said it himself. Dean couldn’t say no. How was one speech supposed to dissuade him of ever going with John again?

Bobby looked at Cas, his gaze still purposeful, and realization dawned on him.

“He’s gonna’ need you.”

Cas frowned and nodded slightly. Bobby nodded in return before casting his gaze back onto Dean, who was staring at the carpet.

“Did you hear me?” Bobby grunted. Dean nodded.

“We’re clear,” he replied stiffly.

“Good. Now. Sam’ll be home in a couple of hours. Lunch is packed in the fridge and I’m pretty sure there’s no snacks in the bathroom. So I’m gonna’ feed you lunch. Sound good?”

Dean smiled slightly at that and nodded.

“Yes sir.”

Bobby grinned a little and stood, walking away to get the lunch sandwiches out of the fridge. But not before stopping by Dean to ruffle his hair. Dean laughed softly at that and watched Bobby disappear around the bend.

Only when he was gone did Dean frown again, and turn to look at Cas.

“The offer still stands you know.” His face was stony and serious, and his words were hard enough to make Cas stop for a moment before replying.

“W-what offer?” He asked.

Dean’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened into a firm line. “You said you wanted to be my friend. You don’t have to. Seriously, I’m messed up man. You have every reason to back out if you want too—“

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, making Dean sit back. His eyes betrayed his hesitation, his fear that Cas would actually consider letting him go. It made Cas’s stomach flip to think about. “I’m not backing out on you. Friendship isn’t supposed to be about what you can offer, or how cool the other makes you. I don’t care where you’re from or what kind of messes you get into. I value our friendship. I value you. I think you’re an incredible person, and I really don’t care what kind of mess you or your father find yourself in. I want our friendship Dean. And no matter what you say to make me change my mind, it won’t work. I need you to understand that.”

Dean stared at him, his green eyes wide and uncertain, like he wasn’t quite ready to believe it. “Are you sure? Seriously man, I wouldn’t judge you.”

“I mean it, Dean. You’re my friend. I won’t give up on you. Ever.”

Dean smiled weakly at that, nodding slowly.

“Yeah. Uh… sure. Okay then.” He wiped his palms on his jeans once more and then clapped Cas on the shoulder. “Now how about that lunch?”

Cas smiled, watching as Dean stood to walk away. He’d changed the subject again. But this time, Cas didn’t mind so much. He was confident the most uncomfortable part was out of the way now. The hardest part, making sure Dean stayed true to his promise about not going with John, would be the true test. And Cas was determined to help Dean, no matter what. As much as Dean was willing to let him.

Chapter Text

“I think I have an addiction to these fries, man,” Dean moaned as he stuffed another golden fry in his mouth. Cas raised an eyebrow and shook his head. But Dean grinned when he saw a small smile grace his friend’s lips.

It had been a month since the incident, as Dean liked to call it, with John. His Dad never texted him again since his first day back home, and Dean didn’t text him either. But he’d gotten his car back, true to his Dad’s word, and fortunately for the life of the man who took it, there wasn’t a scratch to be found on his sacred impala.

Life had finally returned to some semblance of normalcy, and Dean was determined to keep it that way.

However, Bobby and Sammy hadn’t let the issue drop. Bobby continued to check on Dean’s injuries, monitoring their healing progress and providing ice packs when his muscled ached more than usual. He also continued to ask questions about the trip, fishing for any extra details of Dean’s attacker and which city they’d been in. But Dean knew why Bobby was looking for information. He wanted justice. He wanted the person to go behind bars for what they did to him. But Dean wasn’t going to give that to him. He wanted the events of that trip to stay firmly in the past where it belonged.

It didn’t help that Sam was fighting with him, trying to get Dean to explain everything that’d happened. But Dean remained silent with him also, and Sam was bitterly giving him the silent treatment.

Sam knew that John had taken Dean. It didn’t take a genius to figure out. So Dean could understand why Sam was so angry about the secrets. Sam already harbored some resentment toward their father about their abandonment, and he knew about John’s mission to find the man who could have been responsible for their mother’s death. But what Sam didn’t know was how far John was willing to go to find the guy. It was an unspoken agreement between Bobby and Dean that they weren’t going to tell Sam the truth. Maybe someday. But not any time soon. Not when the wounds were too fresh and the memories too vivid.

“Does it still hurt?” Cas asked quietly and nodded toward where Dean was scratching over his tattoo.

Dean shrugged and shook his head. “Not really. It’s healing along with everything else.”

Everything else happened to be the scars settling across his body. Some of the injuries had long since faded, and would soon be gone from the face of existence. It would be like they were never there.

But some of the deeper cuts, the one on his leg and the few on his chest and back, were taking much longer to heal. Already a long, thick red line stretched from his ankle to his knee, and Dean always had to refrain from scratching at it too much. Bobby said it was a sure way to make the injury scar, but it was well on its way there. So Dean didn’t see the point in holding back from the itch. But he did anyway, for Bobby’s sake. Also, as long as he didn’t scratch, he limped less.

Cas nodded along, looking down at the book in his lap. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Dean only grunted in response, taking a sip of his soda and looking out the window. They were sitting in some burger joint that had just opened near the school. The entire place was practically a diner, and Cas seemed hesitant to visit. But Dean felt right at home, and Cas liked the burgers so Dean considered it a win.

“You reading up for that test on Tuesday?” Dean asked, picking up another fry and dragging it through ketchup before plopping it in his mouth.

Cas shook his head and smiled slightly. “No. This is a novel Gabriel lent me. He said I would like it for the gay romantic subtext, and then eventual context.”

Dean laughed when Cas grimaced. “But hey, you can’t complain that he’s supportive, right?”

Cas shrugged, but still looked uncomfortable with the entire thing. “I suppose not. But he could learn the art of subtlety.”

“Gabe? Subtlety? Never,” Dean joked, raising his plastic cup like a cheer. “To Gabe and his innuendo’s.”

“Heaven above, let them end,” Cas grumbled, but tapped his drink against Dean’s and took a sip.

A comfortable silence settled between them. Dean continued to devour his french fries, and Cas sipped his drink while reading his gay smut. Although, it probably wasn’t smut, Dean reasoned. But he could pretend, right? For some reason that thought was funny to him. Quiet, serious, socially impaired and innocent Castiel, reading gay porn that his brother gave him.

Dean chuckled, despite himself, causing Cas to look up in confusion. He tilted his head and squinted his eyes, making Dean laugh again.

“Is something funny?” He asked, and Dean shook his head hard, pretending that his face wasn’t nearly as red as it felt.

“Not at all,” Dean replied. “But I am curious. How exactly is your entire family homophobic, but you and Gabe are the only sheep of the lot that turned out vaguely okay?”

Cas frowned, closing his book once more and setting it on the seat beside him. Dean watched him carefully, waiting for his friend’s answer. But with the time it was taking to speak, Dean wondered if he should have just kept his mouth shut.

Finally, Cas spoke, “My entire family isn’t exactly… homophobic, per say. They’re just very… stern. Traditional. Some of my siblings don’t care one way or the other if I’m gay, or if someone else they knew were homosexual. Anna, my sister, was one of two siblings that actually supported my free choice to be myself.”

“Gabe was the other?” Dean clarified, sipping at his soda. Cas nodded.

“Yes. They were both very involved in helping me become who I am today. They didn’t judge me or hate me for trying to hide behind fake girlfriends and pretending to be our parent’s perfect child. I felt like a soldier most days. But Anna and Gabriel… they honestly didn’t care at all. And they were the reason I finally broke up with April and started telling the truth. But obviously, that didn’t end as well as I’d hoped.”

Cas stole a fry from Dean’s plate. Dean didn’t stop him, and instead stared at him sadly.

No, it didn’t end well at all. Being kicked out of the home, sent back to America, and left with a homophobic brother who hated his guts. That didn’t sound ‘well’ to him.

“At least Gabe got to come back with you, right?” Dean offered, trying not to stare at the way Cas nibbled on the snack.

Cas shrugged, finally tossing the fry past his lips. Dean blinked and shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze and focusing on Cas’s eyes instead. Yes, his eyes. Focus Dean, he grumbled to himself.

“I suppose,” Cas replied. “It’s definitely removed some of the stress of moving back. If I’d come back alone, I don’t think I would have handled the transition as well.”

There was a darkness lacing his voice that caused Dean to hesitate. “You don’t mean that you might’ve…?”

Cas shook his head and stole another fry. “I don’t know, to be honest. I try not to dwell on it too much.”

When Cas reached over to take another, Dean grabbed his wrist. Cas’s eyes snapped up to meet his. Dean swallowed hard and glanced around the room. No one was looking at them.

“I just need you to know that I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly, his grip tightening. “I mean… honestly, I think you’re the best guy I ever met. And if I never met you, I probably wouldn’t be doing so hot either.”

Cas lips twisted into a small smile and he nodded. “I’m glad I know you as well, Dean,” he said. He then looked down, where Dean was still holding onto his wrist. Dean looked down too, blushing when he saw. He let go immediately and pulled himself back against his seat, poking at his fries distractedly, appetite gone.

He coughed awkwardly, then said, “So, how’s the gay smut?”

Cas choked on his drink and Dean bit his lip. A smile tugged at his face, but he forced his face to remain neutral. Not at all betraying the way he loved how Cas’s face turned cherry red in three seconds flat.

Cas hit his chest twice before spluttering, “It is not smut!” The last word he hissed, his eyes darting around the diner like someone might smite him from across the room. But no one was looking or paying any attention. Except for maybe the waitress, who was glancing at them with some concern. Dean waved her away and turned back to his friend.

“But it’s a romance novel, right? It has ‘context.’” He made an ‘o’ with his fingers and was about to raise his finger for a visual aid, but Cas smacked his hand away.

“We are in public,” Cas growled, but he was smiling. Dean laughed and nodded.

“So?” He asked, winking conspiratorially. Cas blushed again and shook his head, grabbing his beverage and taking a long drink.

Dean continued to laugh for another few moments, but finally quieted and returned to his food. He was thinking about ordering another burger when Cas asked, “Dean, do you need glasses?”

“What?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes. Cas was watching him with that damn curious look he got when he was thinking too much about something. And for once, Dean didn’t really care for the subject matter.

“Do you need glasses?” Cas repeated, crossing his arms and leaning forward against the table. Dean tried not to glare at him, and instead tightened his hand into a fist.

“I don’t need stupid glasses,” he muttered, refusing to look at the bag just by his feet. The same bag that had his wide framed glasses nestled beneath textbooks and car magazines.

“Read this,” Cas said simply, passing his book to Dean.

Dean huffed. “I’m not reading your gay porn, man.”

“It doesn’t have—oh forget it,” Cas grumbled, opening the book to the second chapter and pointing at the page. “Just read me a line or two.”

Dean rolled his eyes and picked up the book. Fine, if Cas wanted to play games, Dean could play along. But not because he thought he had anything to lose here. He could read just fine, thank you very much.

He brought the book close to his face, but a grunt from Cas stopped him.

“Too close. Read it from the tabletop.”

Dean held back a growl, and set the book down a little harder than necessary before turning down to look at the pages. From this distance the words were all smudged together. They looked like someone had spilled coffee over the paper, and he couldn’t tell one letter apart from the other.

Dean shook his head, narrowing his eyes and turning a page. It was the same on both sides.

Another silence fell over them, this one heavy and tense. Dean tried to think of some crack joke to fill the air, push the feeling away and get back to joking over Cas’s sex paranoia. But he couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, Dean continued to glare at the paper, willing the words to make sense of themselves. He was too far away. If it was just beneath his nose it would have been no big deal. But this was giving him a headache. Literally.

“Dean—“

“Shut up,” Dean growled, tossing the book back at Cas and crossing his arms. “It’s not important. Why are you even mentioning anything anyway?” He didn’t mean to sound so bitter. But he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. His glasses were stupid. They made him look like an idiot, or one of those damn hipsters, which he absolutely was not. It was nothing against them, but it just wasn’t him. They made his face look too wide and he always felt like an old man wearing them. He was eighteen years old damnit, not a geezer.

“I’ve noticed during our studies you hold the book directly beneath your face as you read. And you have difficulty reading my notes over my shoulder unless you grab the notebook and pull it closer. I was concerned that if you needed glasses, you might be causing unnecessary eye strain to yourself. Do you suffer bad headaches?”

Dean frowned, his crossed arms tightening against his chest. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you have glasses?” Cas suddenly asked, his eyes widening. Shit, Dean thought. That was the look when he’d figured something out. “You… do you?”

Dean glared daggers at him, but leaned down and started rummaging through his bag. He ripped out the glasses case and opened them, pulling out the frames and shoving them on his face with more force than was necessary. But he was mad, damnit. He was entitled to be a little aggressive, at least with himself.

Dean glared at Cas again, waiting for his reaction. He’d probably laugh, find the look funny or damn freaking amusing. Or he’d snip at Dean for being so moody. Dean wasn’t in the mood for either of those reactions.

Cas stared at Dean quietly, his eyes still wide, but his posture relaxing in surprise. His expression was… weird, in Dean’s opinion. It looked calm, even happy? Dean didn’t get it. At all.

“They complement your eyes,” Cas breathed suddenly, leaning forward to get a better look. Dean blushed, pulling back in embarrassment.

“They make my face look fat,” Dean grumbled back, but Cas seemed disinterested in his comment.

“Not at all. I think it evens out your facial structure perfectly.” And damnit, why did he look so happy? He seemed in awe, taking in every aspect of Dean’s stupid face like it was some freaking marble statue of the gods.

“Did you hit your head today? Trip down some stairs? Run into a wall, maybe?” Dean asked, moving to take off his glasses when Cas’s hand brushed his. An old feeling, one Dean hadn’t felt in months, rushed through him suddenly. That electricity, that spark he’d felt the first day he met Cas and shook hands with him. It was like a burst of connection, and Dean went still immediately.

Cas pushed his hand, and the frames, back against Dean’s face.

“No, keep them on. They look very good on you.”

“You’re a damn liar,” Dean said, but lowered his hand slowly and didn’t touch the frames again.

Cas smiled. “I mean it. I hope you wear them more often. They do look very good on you, Dean.”

Dean shook his head and looked down at the table. He could see the book, still open between them. The words were clear as day, even brighter than if he were to hold it an inch away from his eyes. It was just one sentence. But they had Dean blushing like a child.

“And I loved him despite every flaw, and saw in him the beauty of every sun.”

Chapter Text

The drive home was the most nerve-wracking trip of his life. He dropped Cas off at his house, then went straight back to Bobby’s. Sam would’ve been home by then, and Dean’s hand twitched against the steering wheel, desperate to take off his glasses and hide them before he got back home.

Sam didn’t know about his glasses. He’d never seen them before, heard anything about them. But Cas really liked them, and he wanted Dean to wear them. And for some reason, even while Cas was gone, he couldn’t seem to take them off. It felt wrong somehow. Like he’d be committing a crime or breaking a promise. But he hadn’t made any promise. Cas just said he hoped Dean would wear his glasses more often.

And for some reason, Dean was determined to do just that. He tried not to read too far into his decision as he pulled up in front of Bobby’s and went inside.

Sammy had gone bug-eyed when he saw him.

“Where did those come from?” He exclaimed, muting the TV he was watching to turn his body towards him.

Dean shrugged off his jacket and shook his head. At least Sam was talking to him. He’d been holding out the hope that Sam would just ignore him, maybe not even notice. That wasn’t going to be the case here.

“I’ve always had ‘em,” Dean replied, hanging his coat on the rack and kicking off his shoes.

“But… No, no you haven’t,” Sam argued.

“Yes I have,” Dean snapped, glaring at his brother as he marched to the kitchen. “I just never wear them.”

Sam followed him in, watching as Dean pulled a beer out of the fridge and cracking it open.

“I thought you were trying to cut back?” Sam said quietly. Dean hesitated, staring at the bottle in his hands.

For the past month since John, he’d been trying to drop his drinking habits. The first few days, Dean was certain if he even touched a bottle he would drink himself to death. It was too much of a risk, so he stayed back as much as possible. Except for one night, and a particularly bad nightmare ripped him a new one. Bobby had found him downstairs with six empty bottles on the floor, a seventh half empty in his hand. Bobby had locked away all the alcohol for three weeks and only put a few bottles back in the fridge a few days ago. Dean hadn’t made a single move for them until just now.

Dean bit his lip and put the bottle back in the fridge, ignoring the way his hand shook.

“If it makes you feel better, I think your glasses look kinda’ cool.”

“Don’t lie Sammy, it’s a bad habit.”

“I mean it, Dean!” Sammy exclaimed, following Dean out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Why are you even talking to me?” Dean snapped, his hands clenching at his sides. He itched to take off his glasses, throw them away and forget about them. He was uncomfortable enough as it was, and talking about it only made it worse. It didn’t help his already turbulent relationship with Sam. “You haven’t said a word to me all week. And you only talked to me if you had to before that! So what, I start wearing my glasses for once and now you wanna’ talk to me again? If you wanna’ make fun of them you should just get it over with already, ‘cause I don’t care!”

Sam bristled, his shoulders rising in anger. Dean bit the inside of his cheek angrily. Sam was getting taller. He was only fourteen and he’d already sprouted to 5’9”. In just a year he’d easily be six feet tall. And who knew how much taller he’d get from there? But now, looking at his brother practically smoking, Dean almost felt bad.

It was so easy to forget his brother’s age when he looked at him. Sometimes Sam looked like little Sammy, the kid Dean literally pulled out of the fire as children. And other times, Sam looked like a grown up. A kid who had a messed up life and a messed up family, and was just barely making it through like Dean. Hell yes, Sam was smart. But that didn’t make life any easier for him. Just like it wasn’t any easier for Dean.

“I’m not trying to pick a fight, Dean,” Sam growled, his voice low and intent. He was trying not to yell.

Dean had to give him more respect for that. Dean wasn’t good at keeping his emotions so closely intact. “Could’ve fooled me,” he bit back, but his voice was quieter. At least that was an improvement.

“You know, I really wish you’d shut up every once in a while and actually listen to me for once!” Sam snapped, but Dean didn’t flinch. “I really care about you Dean. I wasn’t talking to you cause I was mad, and sure that’s a dick move, but you gotta’ understand where I’m coming from! You disappeared Dean. It’s not the first time either. Every time Dad comes back he takes you away and I don’t see you for days. Last year Dad took you away for an entire week, and when you got back you didn’t talk to anyone for days. And this time, you came back injured. I know Dad’s doing something to you. And you won’t say anything about it! I just wish you’d talk to me. I’m your brother! I love you and I just want to help you.”

Dean felt a snarl building up in his chest, but when he saw the softness in his brother’s eyes, the desperate and vulnerable stance, he backed down. Dean turned away and huffed out a breath, running a hand through his hair irritably.

“I’m not gonna’ talk about it, Sam.”

“I know,” Sam said, surprising him. Dean looked back, and his brother was watching him intently. “I know you won’t. But… I just wanna’ say I’m sorry for ignoring you. For not talking to you. I get that you’re trying to work through things in your own way. So I won’t ask, okay? I won’t. But I want you to know that I’m here. Bobby is too, even though he’s a gruff old guy on a mission. But… we’re here for you Dean. I hope you remember that.”

Dean stared at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. But Sam didn’t seem to need him to answer, and turned to walk back to the sofa, and the TV that played on silent.

But Dean couldn’t leave it at that. He didn’t have anything to say to Sam, but he had to let him know that it was going to be okay. That he understood. How he’d say it? He had no idea. But he had to say something. Anything to make sure Sam knew that everything was going to be okay.

“Sammy,” Dean grunted, causing Sam to hesitate and look back. Dean waited a moment, mind and heart racing, before he grumbled, “Don’t forget to do your homework, bitch.”

Sam smirked and shook his head, but his eyes were gleaming. “You either, jerk.”

Dean had a feeling that maybe things would be okay.

***SPN***

The next few days were a blur. Going to school proved to be more problematic than Dean thought. Balthazar took one look at his glasses, pointed at him, and laughed so loud the entire hallway of students stopped to look at what was going on. Dean’s face had flamed in embarrassment, and he nearly dropped his textbooks twice before making it to class.

Within the hour, half the school was talking about Dean’s glasses. A group of students, all old party friends of Dean’s, were determined to call him every nerd name in the book, and Dean bitterly shoved past them every time.

Cas made it better though. He ignored the jerks and would always pat Dean on the shoulder and say, “They’re the ones that need glasses. Yours are awesome, by the way.”

Dean would roll his eyes and mutter, “Shut up,” every time. But Cas didn’t seem to care, and continued to boost his spirits for the rest of the day.

The following morning was harder. Balthazar tripped Dean in the hallway and Dean cut his chin on the floor. When Cas rushed to help him and pick up his things, Balthazar did the worst thing imaginable.

“Oh look, your boyfriend came to the rescue.”

Laughter erupted from the group behind him, and Cas stared up at him in shock, his jaw dropping in stunned silence. Dean’s blood roared. Some of the students probably didn’t even get what Balthazar was saying. Balthazar was literally making a statement about Cas’s sexuality. But how many people would read into that statement or not was another matter entirely.

Dean shook his head at Cas and tugged at the arm of his trench coat. “Ignore him,” Dean muttered, picking up his textbooks and frowning when a few drops of blood hit the covers.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, wiping at his chin and staring when his hand came away with a smear of red. Head wounds were the worst.

“I’ll take you to the nurse’s office,” Cas said quietly, helping him to his feet as a few students jeered at them.

“Maybe you should kiss it better!” One student called. Cas’s face was pale, and Dean felt ringing in his ears.

“It’s okay,” Dean growled, grabbing Cas’s arm and storming away. “They’re a bunch of idiots. You’re awesome and you know it.”

Cas hadn’t answered, and instead turned to take another book from Dean’s arms. “Your chin is still bleeding. You’ll need to have it looked at.”

“Yeah,” Dean responded, not fighting when Cas took his bag too. “You good on your own? Or you wanna’ come with me and make fun of the kid who always has that bloody nose?”

Cas looked tempted to take him up on his offer, but shook his head. “No. I’ll save your seat in Calculus. I’ll be fine.”

Dean frowned, but blood dripped on his shoes and he swore. “Shit… okay, fine. Okay. You go on. I’ll be back soon, promise.”

Cas only nodded and watched Dean hurry away. Dean tried not to think about Balthazar, or his old party friends. He tried not to think about the way the color seemed to drain from Cas’s face the moment Balthazar had opened his stupid mouth. But his brain didn’t seem to care, and that was all he could focus on as the nurse, a fierce and short woman named Meg, poked and prodded at his chin until the bleeding stopped and a fat bandage was pressed over his jaw. If Dean stuck out his tongue, he imagined he’d probably be able to feel the bandage just below his lip.

But he only nodded and said a quick thank you to Meg before grabbing his jacket and rushing out the door again. He’d been out for thirty minutes, longer than he’d wanted, and it was all he could do not to run down the halls back to class.

He slipped inside, quickly finding his seat next to Cas and slid in quietly. Cas didn’t look up at him. Instead, he turned his scratch paper so Dean could easily read, “I tried to explain your absence. Crowley wanted to give you detention anyway.”

“Bastard,” Dean muttered, but Cas tapped his pencil lower on the page.

“You owe me hamburgers.” Dean looked up at Cas in surprise, and Cas’s eyes sparkled.

“You got me out of it?” He whispered, ducking his head low so no one would hear. Cas smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. Dean read the silent message easily. Of course I did.

Dean grinned and lightly punched Cas in the arm. He turned back to his own papers and flinched when his chair squeaked.

“Shut it, Winchester!” Crowley barked from the front of the room. Dean covered his mouth to hide his smile. Cas kicked him in the leg, only making Dean’s shoulders tremble from silent laughter. Dean kicked him back, accidentally catching his leg around Cas’s. But Cas didn’t move away, and neither did Dean. He pretended not to notice how their legs remained comfortably tangled for the rest of the hour.

Chapter Text

Fag. It was spray painted across Cas’s locker in bold, huge blue letters. Cas stared at it mutely, unmoving in the face of it. Dean looked at him worriedly. He’d never seen Cas like this. Hesitant, scared. It looked wrong. Cas had always been big to Dean. Cas had been the image of a tower, something big and unmovable and so freaking stubborn it made Dean mad sometimes.

But this was ridiculous.

“I’m gonna’ buy some spray paint,” Dean said firmly, earning a wary glance from Cas.

“Why?” He asked, and Dean hated how defeated he sounded. He sounded tired. It had only been one day since Balthazar practically out-ed him to the entire school, and he’d done nothing but fan the flames of the rumors once it was picked up by the other students. What had started as pretty stupid jokes the day before had now grown into a full out attack.

The night before, Cas had texted Dean and asked, “You don’t think it’ll get worse do you?”

Dean had promptly replied, “If it does, then some heads are gonna’ roll.”

And now, here they stood. To Dean, this was all out war.

“I’m gonna graffiti a bunch of dicks to Balthazar’s locker.”

“Dean!” Cas hissed, grabbing his arm and pushing him away from the locker. “You can’t do that.”

“Why the hell not?” Dean demanded. “This is practically war, man. He’s doing this on purpose to hurt you! You think I’m just gonna’ let that slide?”

“Yes,” Cas growled, letting go of his jacket and walking back to the painted locker. “Leave it alone Dean. It’s not worth it.”

Like hell it isn’t, Dean thought to himself, but remained silent as Cas pulled out his things and locked the door.

“Nice locker accessory!” Some jerk sneered. Cas stared blankly ahead and marched away, leaving Dean to glare daggers at the other student.

“It’s better than your accessories, bitch!” Dean snapped at him, privately enjoying the way the kid paled and looked away.

Dean rushed to catch up to Cas, unable to help smiling proudly at his epic comeback.

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” Cas said quietly, making Dean frown again.

“Damnit Cas, let me stand up for you! If you’re not gonna’, then what else am I supposed to do?” Dean asked.

Cas stopped and groaned, grabbing Dean’s wrist and pulling him into a more empty hallway. Most of the students were quickly disappearing into their classrooms, and Dean knew that they were risking tardiness. But he didn’t care. Cas was way more important than that.

Cas stopped walking when they were out of earshot and crossed his arms. “Has it even occurred to you that you standing up for me might bring some unwanted attention towards yourself?” Cas asked sternly.

Dean blinked. “What do you mean?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Dean, I honestly find it hard to believe that you haven’t even considered what it might look like for you to stand up for me.”

“I’m your friend. I’m supposed to stand up for you.”

“No, you aren’t.” Cas growled. Dean frowned at him, angry at Cas’s tone. It was completely unlike him. Hell, the entire day was already a shit storm. He didn’t need a fight with Cas right now. He needed Cas to let Dean support him.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because then they’ll start calling you a fag too!” Cas hissed, dropping his fists to his sides.

Dean felt like a freight train slammed into his face. “Wait, that’s what you’re afraid of? Them spray painting my locker? Them making fun of me?”

Cas frowned at him. “Of course. I don’t want you to get hurt Dean. My sexual orientation is not your burden to bear.”

“Like shit,” Dean argued back. “You’re my best friend, Cas. You’re family to me. Your problems are my problems. Besides, Balthazar already has it out for me too. Remember this?” Dean pointed at the bandage covering his chin. Cas flinched at it and looked away.

“Look man, this entire day has gone to shit already. I want to fight for you, okay? I don’t care what they say about you or about me. It doesn’t matter because it isn’t true anyway.”

Cas stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“It’s true about me,” he muttered. Dean narrowed his eyes angrily.

“Don’t you ever say that,” he growled. “You may be gay, but you aren’t a fag. A fag is trash, and that is the opposite of what you are. Capiche?”

Cas looked like he was about to argue, but Dean glared at him and Cas shut his mouth. He nodded mutely.

“Yes, I capiche.”

“Good,” Dean sighed, running a hand across his face. “Now can we go to class already? Crowley already has it out for me and I can’t be late two days in a row.”

Cas sighed and smiled tiredly. “Alright, Dean.”

As they hurried back before the bell rang, Dean wondered what Cas meant by ‘alright.’ He decided he’d just have to find out in the morning. After he graffitied Balthazar’s locker.

***SPN*** 

The next morning brought exactly that. It was some of Dean’s best work, in his opinion. He was glad that his usual break in entrance hadn’t been blocked off, making it easy to sneak in last night and get to work. Balthazar’s shriek of rage had been music to Dean’s ears, and he’d never felt prouder.

He felt even better when he saw Cas’s locker shiny and clean, the words washed away forever. It had taken an hour to scrub out, and Dean’s elbows were sore. But Cas looked relieved when he saw the shiny, blank grey surface of the locker. Dean had never felt happier, and Cas looked more relaxed than he ever had since the week started.

The rest of the day passed smoothly in Dean’s opinion. Only one or two kids tried to make a jeer at Cas, and Dean only had to shut one of them down. Cas beat him to the other one, and had promptly told the kid to ‘screw off.’ It was a bit gentle as far as Dean was concerned, but he was proud of his friend for sticking up for himself. Cas deserved to be treated with respect. He also deserved to respect himself.

They went to Dean’s house that night to study. Neither of them wanted to be anywhere near Balthazar, especially after the stunt Dean pulled with the dick locker. Bobby and Sammy had welcomed Cas back warmly, and they all spent the first two hours decidedly not studying and watching Star Wars instead. Cas had whined about it for the first thirty minutes, but he did cheer with Dean when the Death Star was destroyed.

Afterward, the two found themselves upstairs, both of them sprawled out on Dean’s small bed with their books spread out between them. Cas’s back was against the headboard, while Dean had propped up his feet against the pillows and was reading on his back.

“I heard Naomi is planning a pop quiz on Friday,” Dean said as he turned a page.

“You heard?” Cas asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Dean grinned despite himself and rolled onto his side.

“I may have spotted something in her work binder after class.”

“The work binder is locked in her desk.”

“It wasn’t locked when I opened it,” Dean replied casually, turning to look back down at his homework.

Cas sighed heavily and closed his book. “I’m concerned, Dean.”

“About Naomi? You know that chick never checks—“

“About Balthazar. About your… prank.”

Dean looked up at him, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose when they slipped. “Come on, Cas. It was harmless. What’s the worst he could do to me? Or to you? The worst is behind us, right?”

Cas bit his lip, and Dean tried not to stare as the red of his lip disappeared briefly before appearing again when Cas shook his head.

“I’m not sure,” Cas replied hesitantly. “Balthazar isn’t the type to let things go. I fear you may have started something you’ll regret.”

“But he can’t hurt you.”

“I wouldn’t place bets on that, Dean. He enjoys getting his way. He likes rubbing it in people’s faces. I just… I don’t want this to end badly. Enough bad things have happened already.”

Cas looked down at Dean’s legs, which had been resting comfortably by Cas’s waist. Dean refrained from curling them back, knowing Cas was thinking about the ugly, rigid scar just beneath his jeans.

“I’ve been through worse,” Dean muttered, pulling his legs back as he sat up. “I’ll be fine.”

Cas stared at him, his eyes soft and gentle. That look usually made Dean uncomfortable. It made him feel like Cas was looking into his soul, could see just how much every word really meant to him. That no, he wasn’t really fine. He was rarely just ‘fine.’ But it annoyed Dean most because when he was with Cas, he honestly did feel fine. With Cas, he felt stronger, safer, and damn closer to okay than he’d ever be without him.

Sam made him feel safe too. Sam and Bobby were family and home. But with Cas, the entire world felt warm and the days started out brighter somehow.

And when Cas looked at him like that, Dean was afraid he might look right through him and see that. He didn’t care if Cas was gay. He just didn’t want Cas to love him as much as Dean did. Because Cas deserved to love someone who was actually worth it. And when Cas looked at him like that… he worried that Cas might like him already.

Dean felt his face grow warm and he looked down. He didn’t like to think about his relationship with Cas for this very reason. In the past two months of knowing him, Dean had never felt more at peace. It was only when he got back home after the incident, when Cas didn’t push for him to talk about what happened between him and John, when Cas continued to hang out with him and study with him, when Cas got flustered and frustrated when Dean made innuendos, gay or not, Dean knew that his feelings for Cas were deeper than friendship. He hadn’t been lying when he said Cas was family. But he didn’t say in what way Cas had become family to Dean.

Dean didn’t consider himself to be a typically shy person. But with Cas, he’d never been more cautious. He would never tell Cas about his feelings. It was better for Cas to meet someone else. Someone else who probably had a real future. Someone as beautiful as Cas was.

“What are you thinking about?” Cas asked suddenly, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. It was then that he realized he’d been staring too long, and Cas looked worried.

“Nothing,” Dean lied, even though he knew Cas wouldn’t buy it for a second.

“You had a… expression. It usually only happens when you’re worried or nervous about something.”

Dean picked at the corner of the bedspread and shook his head.

“I was thinking about Balthazar,” he said, hoping Cas would buy that excuse. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings. He wasn’t a feelings kind of guy. He was an action guy. Cut to the chase, deal with the issue. Or in this case, the other issue.

“You said that you’ll be fine. Do you not truly believe that?” Cas asked, setting his book down on his lap and looking intently at Dean.

Dean shrugged and looked up at Cas through his glasses. Damn his eyes were blue. And wide. Dean felt like he could get lost in there if he looked too long.

“I don’t know,” he muttered honestly. “Every time I come back home, I always think that this is it. This is the worst it can possibly get for me. Nothing can top this. And then life gets normal and I feel… normal. But then something crazy happens and then it all just spins out of control again. And I just hate it. So, yeah, I’ll be fine. But what else can go wrong? What can possibly top what’s already happened to me?”

Dean looked away from Cas and rubbed at his leg through his jeans, knowing that he should leave the scar alone, but the paranoia was getting to him.

“You’re talking about John.” Cas stated it like a fact, not a question. Dean glanced up at him and frowned.

“I… no,” Dean took a deep breath and looked down. “Yeah. I… I guess I am.”

“So it’s not what happens to you here that hurts the most. It’s just what John does that hurts. That ‘spins everything out of control.’”

Dean couldn’t answer audibly, and instead nodded slowly, too ashamed to admit it out loud.

“It’s okay to admit it,” Cas said softly. It was an inviting tone, the tone he used when he wanted Dean to look at him. But Dean didn’t feel like he could. He didn’t want to. If he looked up, then he’d probably tell Cas everything. And he didn’t want that. Cas didn’t deserve to have to deal with that kind of baggage.

So Dean kept his gaze away and shook his head.

“No. He’s my Dad. I owe it to him to help him. So what if it messes up my life a little.”

“Your father is supposed to look out for you. He’s not supposed to put you in harm’s way. He’s not supposed to let this,” Cas’s hand brushed his over his leg, causing Dean to jolt. But Cas didn’t move away. “He’s not supposed to let this happen to you.”

Dean finally looked up, instantly trapped in Cas’s gaze. Cas looked so damn earnest. With one look Dean felt like his heart was breaking into pieces, only to be held together with just a simple expression. Dean wished he could have a heart attack right there and die. But Cas wasn’t having that, and his gaze kept Dean locked firmly in place, unable to move or run away.

“You deserve so much more than what your father ever gave you, or expected of you,” Cas said firmly.

Dean nodded slowly. He didn’t quite believe it, but looking at Cas now, he really wanted to. He never wanted anything more in his life.

Dean swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry and scratchy. Cas’s hand still rested on his own, and his fingers itched to move up and lace his fingers through his friend’s. But he couldn’t move, and his heart was racing a thousand miles an hour.

“U-Um,” Dean stammered, unsure of what to do or say. Even though Cas had leaned back slightly, his gaze was still intent, like he was waiting for some kind of audible confirmation that Dean either heard him or believed him. Or even a little of both. “I… Okay,” he said finally.

Cas nodded, a small smile pulling across his face. Dean wanted to fall forward and just hug the guy for the rest of the night, but he stayed still as Cas pulled back, his hand moving away from Dean’s slowly.

His fingers felt cold without the contact, but he bit his cheek and did nothing to stop him.

“So,” Cas said finally. “You want to study for Naomi’s pop quiz Friday?”

Dean barely held in a sigh of relief.

“Hell yes.”

Chapter Text

Dean gave Cas a ride home that evening. Cas didn’t believe it would be good to leave Balthazar to his own devices, lest he plan to do something in retaliation.

Before Cas had climbed out of the impala, Dean had grabbed his wrist and said, “Are you sure about this? You can stay at my place, if you want.”

Cas had been tempted to take Dean up on the offer. He’d looked so intent, like he wanted Cas to stay with him instead of going home. But Cas didn’t feel it was right. Even though Cas had stayed at Dean’s two or three times during the past month, Cas worried that his feelings for Dean might become more obvious. It was already hard enough spending so much time together without Cas saying something completely embarrassing, like complementing Dean’s glasses and always letting him know how much Cas valued him.

Cas also couldn’t afford to stay at Dean’s tonight. Someone had to watch Balthazar. He had to be sure that he wasn’t planning anything. And if he was, Cas could text Dean and warn him. Or at least, that’s what Cas planned to do.

“No, but thank you Dean,” Cas had replied, patting Dean’s arm and climbing out. He leaned back down and said honestly, “I’ll text you tonight.”

Dean had looked worried, but nodded. After that, Dean drove away, leaving Cas in the driveway of his home.

Lights shone through all of the windows, but Cas was surprised by the lack of cars lining the streets. It was nearing the end of the school week, so usually there was some kind of party going on. But there were no cars in sight as Cas trudged up to the door and opened it.

Inside was clean and well ordered. There was no sign of any plastic cups or food trays. The stereo system was silent, and the rooms were all devoid of life.

“I’m home,” Cas called, taking off his trench coat and hanging it on the rack. He stepped further inside, looking around but continuing to see no one. Odd.

He was about to go upstairs to find Gabriel, when his older brother in question came flying down the stairs.

“Cassie!” Gabe exclaimed, sweeping him in an excessive hug. It was a bit much, even for Gabriel.

“Gabriel, what’s going on?” Cas asked, looking around the room and pushing his older brother away. “I thought tonight was a party night?”

Gabe’s eyes shifted nervously and Cas frowned. “What happened?”

“Balthazar called it off. Contacted a few guys, had them contact everyone else. There’s no party tonight.” Gabriel slung an arm over Cas’s shoulders and tugged him towards the kitchen. “You hungry? I bet you are. You were at Dean’s a long time kiddo! Did you get the hinky-dinky on under the—“

“Gabriel!” Cas snapped, but his face was already turning red. Gabriel laughed and ruffled Cas’s hair before picking up an apple from the counter. He tossed it to Cas, who caught it easily and turned it over in his hands. “Where is Balthazar?” Cas asked.

Gabriel scratched his chin, his eyes hard and calculating. Ah, Cas realized. Balthazar was probably secluded in his room. He probably came home and ranted about Dean’s prank. Cas knew Balthazar couldn’t have let it go.

“Kid’s locked up in his room. Probably stewing about whatever happened this morning. What did happen by the way? I heard something about dicks?” Gabriel grabbed a banana off the fruit shelf and climbed up on the counter, peeling away the skin and taking a bite. Cas stared at him for a long time, wondering if Gabe had picked out the banana on purpose for the conversation, but shook himself away from that thought quickly. The answer was probably yes, unfortunately.

“Balthazar informed the entire school of my sexual orientation. It hasn’t been going well the past few days.”

“Aw, shit Cassie—“ Gabe started, but Cas held up a hand.

“I’m not sure how he did it, but Dean got back at him by painting dicks all over Balthazar’s locker. Balthazar didn’t take it very well.”

Gabriel snorted and took another bite of his banana. “Score for Dean-o. I’m proud!”

So am I, Cas thought idly, but kept his opinion to himself. “Yes, I suppose so. But Balthazar doesn’t let these things go,” Cas said, finally taking a bite of his apple and sighing. “I’m concerned he might try to get back at Dean for standing up for me.”

“I’m sure Dean can take care of himself.” Gabe’s voice was surprisingly gentle. Cas gave him a wary glance, but Gabriel wasn’t looking at him. He was studying his banana carefully instead. Cas shook his head.

Gabriel didn’t know about the things Dean had gone through the past several years, or about the recent event last month. Everyone noticed when Dean came back to school limping and sporting several dark bruises. Dean had excused them all away with some story about a girl’s boyfriend showing up at an inopportune time. It had been painful for Cas to watch. Dean had struggled for a little while, desperately trying to go back to normal but unable to. There were too many wondering looks, and Cas could tell he was still in some physical pain. Ibuprofen clearly wasn’t doing enough for him.

Yes, Dean could hold his own. But there were always symptoms. And Dean was finally getting back to normal. Cas didn’t want Balthazar to blow that apart. Dean deserved to be happy. Cas wasn’t sure if he could stand Dean getting hurt because of such a trivial little thing. He didn’t want Dean to hurt over something that was Cas’s problem to begin with.

“Do you have any idea what Balthazar might do?” Cas asked before taking another bite from his fruit.

Gabriel shrugged and picked at the skin of his banana. “I dunno’ Cassie. Balthazar’s pretty fickle. But his comebacks are pretty harsh and hard to walk away from. Remember Christmas last year?”

Cas shuddered at the memory. The entire family had come back to the states for only a few days of the Christmas vacation. Balthazar and Anna had been pranking each other harmlessly for the first day, until Anna went a little too far and dyed his hair neon pink. Balthazar responded by giving a Christmas present to their parents, addressed from Anna. Inside were photos of her having an extreme make out session with her boyfriend at the time. Cas hadn’t seen the pictures, but apparently there had been clothes missing. Anna was grounded for a month, and Balthazar was unbearably smug.

“I remember,” Cas mumbled. Gabriel nodded and tossed the now empty banana peel in the garbage before wiping his hands on his jeans.

“So, I guess the important thing to worry about, is Dean’s closet history.”

“I’m sorry?” Cas asked, squinting his eyes in confusion.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Balthazar’s good at digging up information. He has his fingers in everything. How do you think he got those pictures of Anna? Is there anything in Dean’s history that might embarrass him? Ruin his life, temporarily or for the rest of the school year? Because if there is, Balthazar’s gonna’ find out about it. I guarantee it.”

Cas sucked in a sharp breath. What wasn’t there to find? There was the situation with Dean’s father, there was Alastair, there were immediately a hundred things Balthazar had at his disposal, apart from the immediate information Cas had. And Balthazar had known Dean much longer than Cas did. Who knew what else there was? Blackmail or otherwise.

Cas felt sick. There was no point in asking if Balthazar had the guts to do something truly awful. The answer was already obvious. Of course he would. And he had all the reason in the world to fight Dean back for the locker graffiti.

He needed to text Dean immediately.

“Anyway, it’s late,” Gabriel said, probably reading the expression in Cas’s eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sport.”

“Goodnight, Gabriel.”

Cas soon found himself alone in the kitchen. The clock next to the microwave ticked slowly, but Cas still didn’t make any move to grab his cell phone. Information was swirling through his mind, all the things Balthazar might try to do. And Cas couldn’t make a single guess as to what any of those things might be.

He pulled out his phone and unlocked it, quickly firing off a text of warning. “Balthazar is definitely planning something. Will you be alright?”

The return text came only seconds later. Cas hoped Dean wasn’t waiting by his phone. Although knowing Dean, he probably was.

“I’ve handled that midget for years. Tell him to hit me with his best shot.”

Cas snorted and typed back, “You might not feel that way tomorrow. Balthazar will likely do something especially awful.”

“Aw Cas. I love it when you get all linguistic on me.”

“Says the man who swears every few words.”

“Damn straight.”

Cas rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone. He knew, without Dean even having to type a word, that Dean was taking the threat seriously. He’d deflected, but Cas expected as much. He wouldn’t have to worry about this taking them by surprise, at least. The only question would be what Balthazar would choose to do.

Cas breathed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hoped all hell didn’t break loose tomorrow.

***SPN***

When Cas and Dean walked into school the next morning, they instantly knew Balthazar had made his move.

All of the students in the hall were whispering to each other, and several of them were staring at and pointing at them. Cas felt Dean swallow next to him.

“You okay?” Cas whispered as they made their way in. Dean nodded sharply.

“I’m fine,” he grunted back. Dean shrugged his bag up higher on his shoulder, and Cas tried not to notice the way Dean was carefully avoiding the eyes of every student they passed.

“Do you think it’ll be on your locker?” Cas asked, ignoring how people were slowly parting in front of them, watching them carefully. Cas kept his eyes forward, only chancing a glance at Dean when he felt Dean wasn’t looking.

Dean didn’t respond. His pace quickened and Cas hurried to follow him. It was only moments later that they went around the corner and Dean thundered to a halt that Cas saw the damage. It was even worse than he imagined.

The locker had scorch marks all across it. Severe burn marks that could only have been inflicted with some kind of torch moved from the base to the tip, and red and orange streaks covered the base and edges. Across the front in awful, burning yellow read the words, “You should have burned too.”

Dean’s breath hitched and Cas looked over at him. Dean had dropped his bag, and his eyes were wide and shiny. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

“Cas…” He finally muttered. His hands twitched at his sides, and Cas’s heart hammered in his chest.

Balthazar was going to pay for this. But how could he have known? How was it that this, a house fire from when Dean was only a child, four years old, could affect Dean so strongly? How could Balthazar have known that this would be the harshest blow?

Cas struggled to find words, but none came. It didn’t seem Dean was waiting for it anyway. He turned and walked away, leaving his bag lying on the floor.

“Dean!” Cas called. He grabbed the bag off the ground and hurried after his friend, shoving people out of the way until he could spot Dean’s head through the crowd. “Dean!” He called again before Dean could disappear. He rushed around a corner and nearly ran into him. Dean grabbed him by his coat and dragged him further down the hall until they came to an old wooden door. Dean threw it open with one pull and pushed Cas inside, following close behind and slamming the door shut behind them.

Cas took a moment to look around the small room. It was probably the janitor’s closet. Shelves lines all of the walls, and different cleansers and boxers sat against them. But overall, the room was wide enough for the two of them to stand comfortably and talk.

Cas looked back at Dean, who was leaning against the door still. His forehead was pressed against the wood, and his shoulders were high and tense.

“Dean,” Cas breathed, reaching a hand forward and placing it on his friend’s shoulder. Dean shivered at the contact and shook his head.

“How did he know, Cas?” Dean asked softly. “I never told him. No one knows about it. Nobody. How did he know?” He looked at Cas, his eyes wary and far too tired. Cas wondered if he’d even slept the night before. The odds of that were low. Cas tried not to think about it.

“You’re the only one I told that to, Cas. I only mentioned it to you.”

“I didn’t tell him anything, Dean. You know that.”

Dean looked away, nodding slowly, and his shoulders sagged. He leaned against the door again, but his body faced Cas. “I know,” he muttered. “I just… yeah. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“But it was so long ago,” Cas replied softly.

Dean shrugged and sniffed, running a hand over his face tiredly. “Still hurts though.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said honestly. But the words felt empty and stupid. But for the life of him, Cas couldn’t understand why it had affected Dean so strongly. The fire… Dean said it killed their mother. And the words on the locker, you should have burned too… It didn’t make sense. “You don’t blame yourself for what happened, do you?” Cas asked, fear clenching his chest.

Dean shook his head and stared at the wall. “It’s not like I could’ve done anything at the time,” he replied. “I was just a kid, man. I was four. But… yeah.”

Silence settled between them for a few minutes. The bell rang outside, but neither of them moved or said a word about it. Cas didn’t feel it was right to go to class yet anyway.

Dean sniffed again. “I saw her burn.”

Cas shivered, looking at Dean warily. But his eyes were distant and glassy, like he was reliving a distant memory. Cas wanted to shake him out of it, wake him up and remind him where he was. But he feared that would only make things worse.

Cas remained silent as Dean continued, “The fire started in Sammy’s nursery. The police blamed it on the wiring, but the actual origin of the fire couldn’t be pinpointed. All I really remember was that the fire spread into my room before I woke up. Dad was downstairs. I didn’t scream or anything. I just got up, ran out of my room to find Mom and Sammy. I found them both in the nursery. Mom’s clothes were on fire, and she was lying in front of the crib. I could hear Sammy crying. I was just… I was so scared. I couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything. Just stood there and stared like an idiot.”

Dean laughed coldly and wiped at his nose, his eyes glistening. “Dad came charging up the stairs, grabbed me from behind and pulled me away from the fire. I… I remember all he said was, ‘why didn’t you scream?’” Dean shook his head and frowned. “For the life of me, I don’t know why I didn’t. I should’ve. Should’ve done something. Anything really. But I was just four. I didn’t know what to do.”

He took a deep breath and glanced at Cas before continuing, “Dad charged in there, pulled Sammy out of his crib and threw him in my arms. Told me to take my brother outside and not look back. And I did. I ran out to the front lawn, holding my baby brother. Dad couldn’t get Mom out though. He tried, he really did. But by the time he came out and the firemen showed up, she was long gone.”

Dean fell silent and didn’t speak again. Cas stared at him, his fists clenching at his sides. Emotions warred inside him, all of them threatening to take over. He couldn’t decide what he felt more, sadness for Dean, anger at Balthazar, or confusion about what all of it meant.

“You don’t think Balthazar was right? About the locker? You don’t believe that, do you?” Cas tried to hide the desperation in his voice. But Dean stared ahead. He didn’t even react to his question.

“Dean, answer me,” Cas pressed, reaching out and grabbing Dean’s shoulder. He flinched, but didn’t pull back. Green eyes met blue, and Cas swallowed hard. “Dean. You don’t believe that, do you?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean… maybe a bunch of crap wouldn’t have happened if I just went in. Maybe if I screamed Dad would have come sooner.”

“Don’t you ever say that,” Cas growled, his hand tightening on his friend’s shoulder. “There was nothing you could have done. You said it yourself. You were a child! You can’t hold yourself responsible for something that happened when you were only a toddler. You have to understand that.”

“But my Dad—“

“Screw your Dad.” Dean startled backward, but Cas’s grip remained firm. “Your Dad’s expectations for you are entirely unrealistic. Even as a child, he expected you to be a certain way, act a certain way, and do whatever you had to do. Whether that was his intention back then, the way he treats you now is no better. I understand you don’t quite believe that, but I need you to understand that you are worth so much more than that. You deserve so much more than this. And it breaks my heart that you had to go through that. I’m so, so sorry Dean.”

Dean glared at him, but there was no real venom behind it. “It’s not your fault Cas. Don’t apologize.”

“It’s not your fault either, Dean,” Cas said, his gaze softening. Dean shifted uncomfortably and looked away, but turned back to Cas a moment later.

“I’m sorry Cas,” Dean mumbled. Cas smiled gently.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Cas replied. “Are you going to be okay?”

Dean nodded firmly, a smile tugging at his lips. “I think so. I just… I don’t think I’ll be using my locker today.”

“I can get Gabriel to help me remove it. I don’t think the janitor cleans the lockers until the weekend.”

“You don’t have to do that—“

“I want to,” Cas replied with a smile. “Besides, it’s the least I can do after you cleaned mine.”

Dean blushed, but Cas tried not to read too far into it. Because when Dean looked at him like that, it almost looked similar to… But no, that couldn’t be right at all. Dean was straight, and he was Cas’s best friend. There was no way Dean could feel like that for him.

So Cas only smiled and patted Dean’s shoulder. Dean winced and grunted, looking down at his shoulder suspiciously.

“Oh, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Cas asked, suddenly concerned. Dean didn’t answer and tugged the color of his shirt down, revealing a five star handprint against his shoulder.

Dean huffed a laugh and smiled. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. You left your handprint on me!”

Cas blushed and stuttered, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to grab you so hard. I just wanted to get your attention—“

“Cas, no offense or anything, but shut up,” Dean grinned. “It’s actually kind of awesome. And it definitely got my attention. So… it’s all good, right?”

Cas laughed nervously, but nodded along. Dean lightly smacked his arm and picked up the bag Cas had dropped on the floor.

“So, I think I heard the bell ten minutes ago. How about you and I do some goofing off before next period?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Do I look like I care?” Dean asked, opening the door a crack and sneaking a look outside.

Cas sighed heavily and took a hard look at his friend. Dean still looked a little rattled, still a little tense. But there was an ease to his shoulders now, and face seemed a little less strained. Dean was still upset about what happened, but Cas was confident that Dean would be alright.

And besides. There was no way Balthazar would get away with this. He hurt Dean, and that was crossing a line. Cas was going to have some firm words with his brother later.

“What do you have in mind?” Cas finally gave in. He didn’t miss the smile that lit up Dean’s face, or the crinkle of his eyes behind his glasses.

“Victor and Gordon leave their skateboards out in the third hall. You ever boarded?”

“Never.”

“Good. Prepare to learn.”

Chapter Text

“Oh my God, Cas, seriously, you don’t have to get back at Balthazar. I’m serious,” Dean said into his phone, flipping pancakes in the kitchen the next morning. He’d woken up unusually early, and he planned to make the most of it. Bobby had an early morning as well, due to an accident downtown that brought in five cars that needed repairing at once. Even though Bobby had all his hands on deck, the old man still needed to go in early and stay late.

Dean didn’t mind that much. He liked cooking breakfast in the mornings, and he got to spend more time with Sammy in the evenings. But he couldn’t hang out with Cas unless his friend came over, which Dean was sincerely hoping for. Any excuse to get Cas over was a worthy one.

“I’m still angry, Dean,” Cas replied, his tone gruff over the receiver. “Gabriel assured me that all the damage was taken care of, but Balthazar should not get away with this. We have to do something—“

“Look, Cas,” Dean interrupted, moving over to check the eggs. “I already feel bad enough that Gabe went and took care of that for me. You guys shouldn’t have to worry about that stuff. Seriously, I’m perfectly fine. I just had a little reaction, big deal. I’m much better now.”

Dean stared at the pancakes in front of him, remembering how he’d tried to convince Cas and Gabe to leave the lockers alone and not to fix anything. He’d even threatened to break into the school himself and make sure they didn’t show up—that Dean would take care of it himself.

Instead, Bobby had come home early and declared that they were having a fun night. They ended up going out to eat, catching a movie, and walking around downtown for an hour. It was only when they got back home Dean realized Cas must have called Bobby to make sure Dean didn’t go anywhere. When he brought it up to Bobby, the look had been an answer in itself. But by the time he called Cas it was too late. He could almost feel Cas’s pride that his friend had gotten one over him.

“I know that Dean,” Cas sighed. “But this isn’t the first time Balthazar’s done something like this. I’m concerned that if we don’t confront him, he’ll always believe that this is something he can get away with.”

Dean didn’t reply. He pulled some plates out of the cupboards and set them on the counter, quickly moving the finished pancakes onto the dishes and turning off the stove. The eggs were definitely done, but Sam liked them dry as the desert. Dork.

Dean tapped the counter with his pointer finger and looked out the kitchen window. “I get that Cas, I do. But I don’t think it’s worth it. He’s a jerk. Always has been. But it’s almost the end of the school year anyway. It’s not like we have to live with him that much longer anyway, right? We should just let it lie. For now at least. Please.”

Cas was silent for a few moments before Dean heard an exhausted sigh.

“Alright,” Cas replied finally. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Dean laughed, finally turning off the heat and tucking the phone between his chin and shoulder. He scraped the eggs onto a plate just as he heard a thud from the ceiling. Sammy was up.

“I’m glad,” Dean said, picking up the plates and moving them to the table. “But hey, I gotta’ go. My dorky little brother’s awake and probably steaming for some food.”

“I understand. I’ll see you at school.”

“See ya’ Cas.”

Dean hung up the phone just as Sam came tumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hey’a Sam,” Dean grinned. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” Sam replied, instantly diving for a chair and tearing into the pancakes.

Dean chuckled and grabbed two mugs, filling them with coffee before bringing them over to the table.

“Have you grown another inch?” Dean asked, looking over the beanstalk his brother had become. “Cause I swear if you grow any taller than me, I’m gonna’ have to cut off your ankles. Nothing personal.”

“Yeah, sure Dean,” Sam grumbled through a mouthful of eggs.

Dean only grinned and took a sip of his coffee. It was bitter and dark, different from the heavy scratching that came from drinking beer. But after drinking nothing but coffee for nearly a month, Dean was starting to feel he could get used to the difference. Besides, a caffeine buzz beat a hangover any day.

Dean felt his phone vibrate beside him and he answered it without looking.

“Anything else, Cas?” He asked lightly, taking another sip and watching Sam roll his eyes.

“When are you two not talking?” Sam asked after he swallowed. Dean rolled his eyes and stood, smacking Sam’s head before getting out of the kitchen.

“Cas, what’s up?” Dean continued once he reached the living room. Silence held the other end of the phone, and Dean’s brow furrowed. “Cas? You there?”

“…Who’s Cas?” A gruff voice answered, and Dean’s blood ran cold.

“D-Dad,” he stuttered, glancing back to make sure Sam was still in the kitchen. “What’s up?” He hurried past the kitchen and made his way up the stairs. He bolted himself in the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. “What happened?”

“I… found him. Azazel. I found that son of a bitch.”

Dean bit his lip and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You did,” he whispered, unsure why his chest was constricting.

The weight of his father’s words was hitting him harder than he thought. He’d found him. The guy he’d spent their entire lives looking for, John had finally found him. But was he truly responsible? Was he really the reason their lives were ruined? Was Azazel the reason his mom was dead?

Dean swallowed hard. “Did he do it?” Dean asked after a moment.

“The son of a bitch gloated. I just thought… I thought I should let you know.”

Dean felt a tremor start to take over his arm. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” He wasn’t sure why he needed to know. But it felt wrong not to ask.

“Yeah. Bullet between the eyes. Showed him a picture of Mary. It was the last thing he saw.”

“Good,” Dean choked out, taking off his glasses so he could wipe his eyes. He couldn’t see straight anyway. His face was wet. “But he definitely… he definitely did it?”

“Yes Dean, he did it. He won’t hurt anybody again. I promise you that.”

Dean nodded solemnly. “Uh… so… what happens now?”

Silence covered the line, and Dean covered his mouth. He didn’t want John to hear his ragged breathing.

“I’m… going out for a while. Clear my head. I… I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Sure,” Dean replied. He ran a hand through his hair. He knew what that meant. You’re not coming back. He heard John sigh on the other end.

“For whatever it’s worth… I’m sorry Dean.”

“It’s okay, Dad.”

“No, it isn’t,” John stated. Dean listened intently, staring hard at the floor tiles.

“I pulled you through a lot of crap Dean. You took care of Sam, even though that was supposed to be my job. And you took care of me too. Even though I sure as hell didn’t deserve it. You did good Dean. And I just want to tell you that I’m proud of you.”

Dean sniffed and wiped at his face again. He set his glasses down on the sink and shook his head.

“You don’t have to say that, Dad.”

“I do. I don’t know when I’ll be seeing you again Dean. But I love you.”

Dean took a shuddering breath. His body felt unnaturally heavy. He wanted to sink into the bathtub and never climb out again.

“You too,” he finally replied, unable to think of anything else. Because what else was there to say? It was over. Dad was leaving him, alone, forever. Not only that, he was leaving Sam. He was leaving all of them behind. Dean knew this would be the last time he ever heard his father’s voice, no matter how much he wanted to believe his Dad might call some years in the future. But it was unrealistic. This was the freaking end. Eighteen years. Eighteen years of hell and it was finally over. So why the hell did he feel so damn miserable?

“Goodbye Dean.”

The phone clicked in his ear, signaling that John had hung up. Dean stared numbly ahead. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore, and he wasn’t sure if he was still breathing.

His next moves were on instinct, not by any conscious decision of his own. He texted Bobby to come home. It was selfish of him, but Dean had a feeling Bobby would need to know what happened. That trumped any selfish need Dean had to be comforted by the entire stupid thing.

But it wasn’t just Bobby Dean needed. His next move was hitting the first number on his speed dial. The phone gave three rings before his best friend answered.

“Dean?” Cas sounded confused, surprised even. Dean took a shuddering breath.

“Uh… Can you come over, Cas?” Dean asked, swinging his legs over the bath and climbing in. He needed to lie down, and the floor didn’t look comfortable. Bath it is, he thought tiredly.

“Of course. What happened?” Cas asked. Dean heard the sound of shuffling and a door slamming closed.

“My Dad called,” Dean replied.

“Shit,” Cas replied, making Dean laugh, albeit a nervous, cracking laughter. Cas never swore. It sounded foreign to Dean’s ears. He wasn’t sure if he approved of it or felt even worse.

“I’m sorry—“

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Cas growled. “I’m coming over immediately.”

“You really don’t have to,” Dean said. “There’s school, and I don’t want you to get a detention.”

“No, Dean,” Cas scolded. Dean heard the sound of an engine revving. “You called me for a reason. What was the reason?”

Dean’s thoughts swam for a moment, desperately trying to figure out why he’d actually called him. He hadn’t even been thinking. It wasn’t even a conscious decision. He just… did it. Why the hell had he done that? He was just making things more complicated.

But the answer was there. Dean just didn’t want to look at it. It was too painful.

“Dean, answer me, please. You called me for a reason, didn’t you?”

Dean wiped at his eyes, even though it was entirely pointless now.

“I… I need you.” I really love you damnit. I just want you here right now.

He listened to the sound of Cas’s breathing on the other end of the line. He wondered if Cas could see right through his words. If he knew what it meant for Dean to say something like that. Dean wasn’t the type to admit love easily. It didn’t come naturally. That was about as close as it was going to get for him. He half hoped Cas would never come to understand what those words meant.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Would you stay on the phone with me?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed. “Sure.”

“Good. Just keep talking to me. Tell me anything. Talk about your car, or Sam, or even that stupid hospital drama you’ve been trying to get me to watch. Just keep talking.”

So Dean did. But not about those things. He told Cas about John. He started at the very beginning. From when he was four, when his Dad first started drinking. He told Cas about the time he went to the bar when Dean was eight, and Dean followed him and saw his Dad get into a fight with bikers who’d discovered his con. He talked about how he put an icepack to his Dad’s head and told him everything was going to be alright. How he never stopped saying those words, both to Sam and Dad. He talked about raising Sammy, who didn’t understand himself until he was nearly ten. He talked about when he first started helping his Dad with cons when he was twelve. He talked about the first time he got hurt on the job. A dog had gotten a hold of his arm and dragged him to the ground. His Dad had gotten there before anything could get too serious, but Dean could’ve sworn he could smell that dog for weeks afterward.

And he told Cas about Alastair. He told Cas about getting the tattoo, and how the whole ‘demon thing’ freaked him out, and the morbidness of Alastair’s gang. He told him about getting Azazel’s name. And then he told Cas about the phone call.

“He’s not coming back, Cas,” Dean cried quietly. “He killed Azazel, and he’s never coming back.”

“I’m outside the house,” Cas replied. And Dean could hear the sound of the car door slamming outside the house. He heard Sam open the door, and heard them talking briefly before footsteps thundered to a halt outside the bathroom door.

“Dean, let me in,” Cas called. Dean couldn’t give the effort to move.

He heard another engine rumble into the driveway. Bobby. Dean slowly pushed himself up. He felt like he’d gained a thousand pounds. He felt like hell.

“What happened?” Dean heard Bobby’s voice from down the stairs. He heard hushed voices, Cas explaining what was going on.

“Balls,” Bobby growled. “Move over. I got a key.”

Soon enough, the door swung open. Cas was the first one in, and the next thing Dean knew, arms had wrapped around him and were pulling him into the tightest hug of his life. It was too hot and too close, but Dean fell into it like he was drowning.

“Cas,” he mumbled into his friend’s trench coat before he pulled back on his friend, dragging Cas even closer.

“I’m here Dean. It’s going to be alright.”

“Like shit it is,” Dean grumbled back, ashamed when the tears weren’t stopping.

“It will if I have anything to say about it. It’s going to be okay, Dean. I’m right here, and I’m not leaving.” Cas’s tone was firm and resolute. Dean pushed his head into Cas’s shoulder.

“Can you promise me that?”

“Absolutely,” Cas replied.

Dean nodded with a small smile, and finally felt his body begin to relax.

Chapter Text

“I think Bobby might have been right,” Dean said after a few minutes. “Maybe… Maybe I should talk to someone?”

He and Cas were sitting in the kitchen. They sat side by side, legs touching but neither of them commenting on the closeness. If anything, it was a comfort. That and the new pot of coffee that Bobby had made for them an hour ago. It was turning room temperature now, but Dean could care less. He wasn’t drinking it anyway. It was just something to hold onto.

Cas continued to drink his, however. He would sip at it, listen quietly as Dean talked, and sometimes offer thoughts or questions of his own.

It was an hour later after the phone call. Things had calmed down for the most part. Bobby drove Sam to school and came back, mostly bustling around to make himself busy. But not after hearing Dean’s story and what John said (and did.) Dean assumed Bobby was still digesting the information, deciding what he was going to do about it. Or not do. Dean genuinely had no idea what Bobby would do next.

But he knew what Bobby thought was right. And for the past few weeks, the occasional conversation for therapy came up. Dean didn’t think it was necessary. He’d coped just fine on his own for years. But after the phone call, and after seeing Cas’s face, he was starting to rethink his decision about avoiding the problem. Maybe it was time?

Cas nodded slowly, taking a long drink of lukewarm coffee. Dean didn’t know how he could stomach it.

“If you’re searching for my opinion,” he said slowly, carefully, “I do see how it could help you.”

“Yeah,” Dean stated. He rubbed his hands around his mug and stared ahead. Damn he was tired. Would it be too much to sleep for a week straight? Sometimes he wondered.

“How are you feeling now?” Cas asked quietly. Dean felt their feet brush against each other under the table and his shoulders relaxed.

“Tired. Like I could sleep for a year and be okay with it.”

“Well that wouldn’t be fair,” Cas said. “Then I wouldn’t get to talk to you for a year.”

“Like that would be such a tragedy.”

“It would be,” Cas replied so firmly that Dean bit his lip to stay silent. If he spoke he might say something he regretted. Like tell Cas how he really felt. That Cas probably wouldn’t like him as much if he knew that his best friend had the hots for him. And not just that… but actually… kind of… maybe, more or less… loved him. Definitely more, Dean thought to himself, but kept biting.

“Hey, Dean?” Cas asked hesitantly.

“Yeah Cas?” Dean replied, looking up at his friend.

Cas looked nervous, running a ringer around the rim of the mug like he was trying to distract himself.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, turning his body to face Cas more. “I… I’m really sorry I took you away from school today. It’s probably not too late to get you there.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Cas said and looked up. “But I do appreciate your concern. Although you and I both know our grades couldn’t be safer.”

True enough, Dean realized, mildly comforted. “Then… what is it?”

Cas looked down again and sighed heavily. “I… I was wondering about what you said to me earlier, on the phone.”

“About my Dad?” Dean asked.

“No. About me, actually.” Cas seemed to grow more nervous by the second. Dean’s heart beat overtime. What had he said to make his friend so anxious? He tried to wrack his brain, but nothing came up. Nothing could explain this. Unless… But no, that didn’t make sense. There was no way Cas could see through Dean’s words so easily.

“You… I asked you why you called me. You said something that surprised me. Something I never imagined you the type to say.”

“Y-Yeah…?” Dean swallowed hard, but found himself unable to turn away. Cas looked up slowly. He looked uncertain, second-guessing himself. Dean wanted to wipe that look off his face and replace it with a smile, or a laugh. Something much more relaxed.

“You said you needed me. Now… I’ve only known you for two months. But I feel that because of our friendship, both usual and unusual aspects aside, I know certain things about you fairly well. And during the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve never expressed words of affection or need, or even love, for the people around you. At least, not in the typical normal ways. Because you show your love for Bobby and Sammy in other ways, and I’ve seen it. But I just… I wondered what you meant by that. I know whatever it was; it couldn’t have been natural or easy for you to say. Because you just don’t say things like that. Not explicitly, anyway. So… what did you mean by that?”

Cas stared at Dean intently. Dean squirmed under his friend’s gaze. The answer was obvious in Dean’s mind. And by the look Cas was giving him, Dean was almost scared that Cas knew the answer too. But he was waiting quietly, and Dean wished he were hiding up in that bathtub again. He didn’t want to be having this conversation.

“I… It was exactly what it sounded like,” Dean lied. “I just needed you. With me. I felt alone and I wanted you there.”

“But you had Sam, just down the stairs. And Bobby told me you texted him. But why call me? I was scared, Dean. When you called me, I thought there’d been some kind of accident and someone died.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. Someone did die. Cas realized his mistake quick enough and his face turned red.

“You know what I mean!” Cas exclaimed, flustered. Dean almost grinned at the sight, glad that at least some of the earlier tension was dissipating. But sure enough, like a dog with a bone, Cas was back on him with that old pinning look. “Dean.”

Dean swallowed and shook his head, looking at his coffee. “I dunno’ man. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I’ve had other friends in the past… but none of them were like you. You’ve always been there for me, even when I was a wreck and lying straight to all of your faces. You’ve been so good to me, and I don’t deserve it. But… I knew if there was anyone I could call without fear of judgment, it was gonna’ be you.”

He looked back up at Cas, who was still staring intently, but his blue eyes had widened significantly. He looked… surprised.

“You think too highly of me,” Cas replied softly. Dean smirked.

“I could say the same to you.”

Cas laughed. It was bright and clear, and Dean couldn’t help but join him. But the weight of their current conversation fell back all too soon.

“You mean a lot to me, Cas,” Dean finally said after a moment of silence. “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Cas sucked in a breath. “In a friendly way…?” He said cautiously, “Or…?”

Dean’s eyes widened at the implications of what he said. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He hadn’t meant to say it like that.

He stared at Cas. His eyes were equally wide, and Dean couldn’t tell what his friend was thinking. He looked hesitant, but there was also a glimmer of something else. Hope, maybe? Or was that just wishful thinking?

Dean tried to swallow, but his mouth was suddenly too dry. His fingers twitched towards his coffee mug. But the movements were stalled. He felt pinned, and the silence was stretching on too long. With every second of unanswered silence, Cas’s eyes grew impossibly wider.

Dean coughed into his fist and looked down. “I, uh… I mean, if you maybe… wanted? We could?” Shit, his words were everywhere. This was an absolute disaster. He was messing everything up.

This was all Cas’s fault. His stupid freaking mouth and his stupid freaking eyes, and that stupid freaking way he looked like he was about to fall out of his chair in joy… wait.

Before he even had time to realize what was happening, Cas had grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward, and their damn lips were touching.

Dean sucked in a breath, too stunned to react. Cas was kissing him. Oh God, Cas was kissing him. But he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even react. But damnit, this was exactly what he wanted! But he couldn’t react, couldn’t do a thing.

It couldn’t be real. He had to be dreaming. Because Cas was leaning over him and kissing him so endearingly that Dean felt like crying. But instead, his arms finally snapped into motion and he grabbed Cas’s arms, pulling him back slightly to get a good look at his friend, and dear God possibly… lover. Heaven above, wouldn’t that be something.

“Cas,” Dean gruffed, his vocal chords clearly disagreeing with him. His lips tingled and his face felt hot. Damn he wanted those lips on him again. ASAP. But he wanted to be sure. He couldn’t mess up this one thing. This was too important. Out of all the things in his life he’d gotten wrong, this could not be one of them.

“Oh, God, Dean I’m so sorry,” Cas was saying above him. “I shouldn’t have—“

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed, shaking his friend to get his attention back. Blue eyes snapped back to meet his, and Dean swallowed hard, trying very hard not to look down at those lips again. Cause then he’d never get the next words out. “Are… are you sure you even want me? I mean, you know I come with baggage and I’m really not perfect—“

“Shut up,” Cas growled, and Dean obeyed instantly. “I want you more than anything else. And I don’t want you for perfection, or for only the good parts. I want you for you, all the difficult parts included. Like the way your car doesn’t have seatbelts, and how you only listen to classic rock.”

“By my count, only one of those are actually bad,” Dean only half-argued, but he was beaming like the sun. “You’re serious? I mean, I sure as hell know I am, but are you sure?”

“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life.”

“Awesome,” Dean grinned, and he promptly pulled Cas back down and reunited their lips.

And if Bobby walked in on them making out against the table, he didn’t say anything about it. Not until later that evening when Cas got to stay over for dinner and they announced their relationship officially. It was then, and only then, that Bobby stated, “About damn time, sons.”

***SPN***

The next morning felt like bliss. Dean was sure he was dreaming. Cas stayed over for the night, and Dean was still grinning ear to ear when Cas had stayed in Dean’s room. They didn’t do anything though. Not that Dean was complaining. If Dean believed in heaven, he could easily imagine it was like holding his boyfriend all night long. It didn’t matter if they were kissing or just holding hands. That was heaven to Dean.

Sam couldn’t seem to decide which he preferred. Making gross kissing faces at them, or complaining when they did start acting cute. Dean decided that for every time Sammy tried to make a joke about his new relationship, Dean would just grab Cas and kiss him there on the spot. Sam freaked out every time, and Cas didn’t seem to mind. So Dean made no effort to stop.

The drive to school was perfect. He and Cas held hands the entire drive, and Dean may or may not have gotten a little handsy with his boyfriend as soon as Sam was out of the car and into the school building.

“Dean, maybe we should be cautious about our PDA levels when in public,” Cas said as soon as they were out of the car.

“That’s fine,” Dean replied, linking their hands as soon as they were close again. “How about when we’re alone?”

Cas blushed, but replied, “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Dean beamed and tugged his boyfriend into the school. When he made it to his locker, sure enough, it was sparkling clean and like new again. Dean squeezed Cas’s hand in silent thanks before opening the locker and grabbing his things.

“I still feel we should do something about Balthazar,” Cas grumbled when Dean closed the door again and locked it.

“Dude, we should just let it lie. If it’s all the same to you, I don’t exactly enjoy shining off lockers every other night.”

Cas still pouted though as they made their way to class. Dean tried squeezing his hand in reassurance, but Cas would only smile a little and move on.

“Okay, fine,” Dean grumbled, throwing his books onto his desk. Cas watched Dean carefully but didn’t say anything about the outburst. Dean sighed again, “We’ll do something.”

“Does that mean you have something in mind?” Cas asked. Dean grinned.

“Of course. But that doesn’t mean you’ll like it.”

He explained his plan quickly. And he was right. Cas stared at him skeptically, but after a few moments, a small smile graced his face and he nodded his acceptance.

“Alright,” Cas decided. “However, if it doesn’t work, then I plan on having words with my brother later.”

“As long as I’m invited to that conversation, I’m good with that.”

Balthazar was remarkably easy to find. A good number of students always seemed to follow him and made him out to be like some kind of school celebrity. Which he was, but now that Dean was seeing his old ‘friend’ from the outside, Balthazar honestly looked ridiculous. Dean felt sick remembering he used to be a part of that group.

But he pushed away those thoughts. He had more important things to do first. Like make sure Balthazar never bothered them again.

“Hey, Balthazar!” Dean called, walking up to the group with Cas close behind him.

Balthazar took one look at him and plastered a fake, shit-eating grin on his face. “Ah, Dean! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” He practically drawled. It made Dean’s skin crawl.

“Not long enough,” Dean had to remind himself not to growl. “But I thought I should thank you.”

“For what?” Balthazar replied, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

“For introducing me to Cas. You know, without you, I never would have known him, or ever would have made such a great friend in my entire life.”

“Well, I’m glad your black-mail friendship worked out so well,” Balthazar sneered. Dean made an effort not to snarl back as Balthazar’s friends cast him curious glances. Damn Balthazar and his subtle gossip tricks.

But that wasn’t going to matter soon, anyway. If Balthazar wanted to be a bitch, Dean and Cas had a cure for that. Hopefully it would shut him up for good. Because not only would it piss him off, he would look so good that breaking his silence would make him look like the biggest dick in the school.

Cas spoke next. “It worked out very well,” Cas said finally, earning a sharp glance from his brother. “Dean and I have entered into a relationship. I wanted to thank you as well, for introducing me to Dean and then later revealing my orientation to the school. You made it very easy for us to announce our status.” Cas put his hand in Dean’s, intertwining their fingers comfortably, like a perfect fit.

Dean grinned like an idiot as he watched Balthazar’s eyes widen. His eyes darted down to glare at their hands like they were something foul. But he didn’t dare open his mouth. Already his minions were whispering to each other, making faces and trying to figure out what was going on. Some of them offered their congratulations, some of them smiled kindly and nodded. A small number looked anxious and grimaced. They seemed to be waiting for Balthazar to say something, but he only fumed.

“I must say,” Dean grinned, continuing, “It worked out pretty well. Thought you should know, considering you’re the one who helped us get here. So… anyway, see you never.”

Dean then tugged Cas away, leaving behind a visibly pissed off Balthazar and his hoard of now very curious ‘friends.’

Cas pulled Dean closer to him and whispered, “Do you think that even worked? He might retaliate.”

Dean shrugged and leaned down, kissing the top of his boyfriend’s head. “Doesn’t matter. His reaction was priceless. And we’re awesome. If he says anything or does anything to try and hurt you, or me, it’ll only look bad for him. There’s nothing he can do without sabotaging himself.”

“I’m glad you’re confident,” Cas replied, still glancing back just to make sure Balthazar wasn’t following them. Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’s shoulders and pulled him close.

“Well, it’s easy when I’m with you.”

“I feel the same.”

***SPN***

Epilogue

A few years passed. Dean accepted Bobby’s wishes to at least try therapy. While he’d originally been reluctant, his counselor was pretty cool. Lisa Braeden, and while she’d been blunt and sharp tongued, Dean found himself enraptured by her personality, and he found it was a little easier to talk with her than he’d originally thought. If he hadn’t been in a committed relationship with Cas, Dean probably would have dated her in another life.

It took a year and a half before Dean felt he was at some level of peace with his past. And it took several months of reminders from Bobby and Lisa that what happened to him wasn’t his fault, but just the result of a tragedy and a man blinded by grief. Dean understood that, but even now, two years later after John’s last call, Dean sometimes still questioned himself.

Cas was patient though. He took Dean’s bad days and good days in stride, and was a constant support and reminder that those days were behind him. That it was okay to have doubt sometimes, but to remember that in the end, there wasn’t anything Dean could have done to change what happened.

And damn did Dean love him for it. Cas was great. Dean didn’t like to toss the ‘L’ word around easily, but he found it was getting easier and easier with every day that passed. When he got his first apartment with Cas, he started to work on telling Cas how he really felt. Before Cas left for his college classes, Dean would kiss him at the door and force the words out of his mouth, even if some days it felt like it killed him.

“Love you,” Dean had barely mumbled the first day. Cas’s wide, bright blue eyes had been so surprised that Dean swore he was going to say it every day.

Lisa said Dean struggled with the words because his definition of the phrase was twisted by his father. Dean didn’t pretend to understand what that meant. But he was determined to get it right.

Dean ended up working for Bobby at the auto shop, Singer Salvage. He remembered Bobby grunting to him one day, “A man who loves his work, never works a day in his life.” Dean felt he could relate to that when he was arms deep in engine grease and car parts.

He never could have imagined two years ago that he would be this happy. That he’d have a boyfriend that loved him unconditionally, that his little brother was finally getting that college offer to Stanford.

Dean himself never did accept any of his own college offers. It wasn’t for him. He was content knowing that he really was smart, not that he’d ever say so. He liked knowing about all those unread letters hidden in a bag under his bed at Bobby’s house, knowing that no one would ever know about them except for himself, Cas, and the high school principle. It was a good feeling. Not that he’d turned them down, but because he got the opportunity to.

Cas accepted his own offers though. He thought about going to a prestigious university, but in the end decided to go to a smaller college for the sake of staying close to Dean and his practically adopted family. Dean had been upset, but when Cas showed him the courses he was taking, and the bill he would’ve had to pay if not for the scholarship, Dean decided that maybe Cas didn’t make that big of a sacrifice after all.

Cas wanted to be a teacher, a professor. Someone who could pass on knowledge to the next generation. Dean loved his passion, and he enjoyed helping Cas get through his homework. He especially enjoyed the nights when he did the opposite of getting Cas through his work. Sometimes Cas didn’t mind, other days he minded a lot, which left Dean to mope around and make an apology snack for his boyfriend.

Although, fortunately for Dean, as soon as Cas finished his homework for the evening, the night after was usually pretty spectacular.

And as the months continued to tick on into years, Dean’s life progressively got better. He stopped seeing Lisa as a therapist, but they did remain in touch as friends. After Sam graduated high school, he moved away to California on a full ride at Stanford. Dean couldn’t have been prouder of his brother, but he was gonna’ miss him like hell. But he always had the holidays to go and visit. But Sam said not to bother, since he’d come back instead.

When he did come back for Christmas, it was with his new girlfriend Jess. Dean loved her. She was like a fire sprite, quick as a whip, and totally smitten with Dean’s little brother. Dean gave Sam a thumb’s up as soon as she wasn’t looking.

But the good times didn’t always last. A year through Sam’s college experience, Dean got a call from a hospital in a place Dean had never heard of. John Winchester was dead. A car accident, drunk driver. It wasn’t even John’s fault. It was at night, and the death was instantaneous.

Sam took the news better than Dean did. But that was probably because Sam hardly ever saw him, the last time being when Sam was nearly fourteen. For Dean, it was a little too real, too sudden. Dean was the last person in their family to even see John alive. And that fact settled strangely in his chest for weeks.

Cas recommended calling Lisa to talk about it, and Dean only agreed when the anxiety started getting to be too much.

They attended the funeral. It was awkward, meeting John’s second family that none of them had ever heard about. But they parted ways on good terms, the wife even leaving them her number if they ever wanted to talk, learn more about the life they’d missed with John. But Dean looked at the little boy at her side, Adam, and decided he didn’t want to know. He didn’t care what Cas, Sam, Bobby, or even Lisa thought about it. Dean didn’t want to know. And if they did, that was their business. Not his.

This caused more than a few fights between Dean and Cas. But they eventually pushed through. Cas accepted that Dean wanted to move on, and Dean respected Cas for just trying to help.

Life never got too easy, but Dean felt he wouldn’t have it any other way. Even with all the things John did to him, all the things that went wrong at school, with the parties, and the lies he told to his own family… it all worked out pretty okay in the end. Even though it was far from perfect, it was his life. And Cas held his hand through all of it, and Dean was grateful that he’d always have him.

And when he heard Cas say the words, “I do,” the world was never brighter.