A/N: This fic has been up on my ao3 since I wrote it several months ago but now I'm finally getting around to adding it on here. This is probably one of my favorite things I've written even though it's fairly short and I wish I could write more for it, but I did my whole plotline and with that, I'm happy. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

Prologue

"Put your faith elsewhere, kids," he said slowly, the gruffness in his voice loud where his words were soft. "All we got here is broken bottles and broken bones. The streets won't be your mom or your pop, and the nights sure as hell won't keep you warm like that sweet girl you're gonna miss out on marrying if you come this way."

"I lived without a mom for as long as I can remember. And my father isn't one to speak of. I don't need a sweet girl when I've got a jacket, a cigarette, and a good view of the moon," one of the boys piped up. He stood to the side of the little gathering, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his leather jacket and his heavy boots holding him steady in the puddle he was standing in, left by rain earlier that day. Dark, damp hair fell over his eyes, keeping the rest of the group from seeing his whole face.

The older man who had spoken first smirked as he looked at the boy. "Then you'll do just fine here." He looked around at the other few figures who weren't too much more than dark shadows in the dimness of the night, streetlights far behind them. "Any of you care to join or am I taking just one back with me tonight?"

The others shuffled around, glancing at each other then at the dark-haired one. After a hesitant moment, they each stepped back and left without another word.

"Shame," the elder man muttered, watching them with shaded eyes as they went, back towards the light of the city. "Looks like it's you and me now. Name's Gadreel around here." He stuck out his hand but the boy didn't take it.

He didn't even look up as he replied, "Call me Castiel."

Gadreel smiled, a genuine and intrigued smile. "Welcome to the Wings."

Part 1

Castiel woke up early in the mornings. He usually didn't get home until well past two a.m., but his body had gotten used to four hours of sleep a night, five if he was lucky. He would wake early, escape before his father woke up, go to school, then he would spend his evenings and nights with the rest of the Wings, helping out around the dank little bar—Afterlife—that Gadreel owned. He spent a lot of time outside at night, sitting on the roof of the bar and looking out at the sprawling city with a burning cigarette in his hand, usually half gone by the time he remembered he ought to be filling his lungs with the smoke instead of the rooftop.

It was a quiet life that he lived. Peaceful even. Until trouble started and his affiliations dragged him into the fray. He'd gotten more than his fair share of bloody noses and broken ribs, but he'd returned the favor more than enough, too. It came with the territory though, literally and figuratively. Castiel sometimes asked himself why he made the choices he did. Why he joined the Wings in the first place. Every time he thought about it, he just glanced at the tattoo of three falling feathers on the inside of his left wrist, and he remembered.

He'd been tired of being alone.

Sure most nights he still spent on his own on the rooftop, but now he had Gabriel who would ask him every night if he wanted to hang out, though Castiel always said no, he had a date with the moon after all. Then there was Anna who always bumped him on the shoulder and gave him a half-smile whenever they walked together to English in the mornings and when they met up after school to go to Afterlife. There was Gadreel who, despite his flaws and rare outbursts, was like a parent to most of the younger Wings, asking how their days went and always happy to lend the shabby kitchen in the back if someone didn't have a meal waiting at home, which ended up being most of the time.

Castiel wasn't very close with many of the other members of the gang. He'd met them all a few times at meetings, but they didn't hang around too much. Many of them were drifters, or loners like Castiel, preferring to be alone even when they finally belonged somewhere. Balthazar was one of the few who stayed around, handling Afterlife when Gadreel was doing other business. They rarely worked together since very few visited but the Wings themselves and the occasional outsider looking for a quick watering hole. They liked it that way, tucked in a little corner of the busy streets of Cipher.

Uriel and Raphael were in and out, always carrying out "business" for the leader of the Wings. Michael himself, the head, was rarely in, only showing his face when meetings called for him, or he called them. His brother Lucifer was mostly in charge in day to day life for the Wings. If Castiel was honest, which he usually was, he liked Lucifer far more than Michael. Their leader was distant and often cold where Lucifer was warm and inviting, though he was definitely not the kind of person you wanted to fuck with. Castiel had learned that the hard way when a few guys from another gang tried to make a deal with him in Afterlife and Lucifer nearly smashed them into a pulp, breaking more than a few bones and leaving them bleeding in an alley back in their own territory.

Still, even with the violence that came with being in a gang, Castiel finally felt like he had a place to go, people to take care of him, and a real home.

So, he continually asked himself, why did he still feel empty when he sat on the rooftop? With a smoking cigarette in one hand, the other braced on the cold, damp concrete, his legs hanging over the edge of the building and into the dark alley below... Something was missing.

. . .

He was walking through the halls of his school when a shoulder bumped his, a lot more forcefully than was really necessary, and Castiel felt a sharp remark on the tip of his tongue. Then, a red mop of hair came into the corner of his view and he visibly relaxed, his words fading away to somewhere in the back of his throat for later, when he really needed them.

"Hey, Castiel," Anna greeted him, her voice lilting as she fell into step.

Castiel replied with the corner of his mouth lifting, the corner she couldn't see. He liked it like that, not letting people see how he was feeling. He rarely spoke, only talking when words seemed important or necessary. Anna saw this, though she generally made up for his lack of words with her own. She was doing it right then, too, even as Castiel was deep in thought.

"Gabriel invited us over for dinner sometime. Well, he's done it before. Says the invitation is always open. His mom usually makes too much food and he says she'd love to have the house full again. I always like when his mom talks about the family, makes me feel like mine's not so bad, you know?"

Tuning her out, as he usually did, Castiel continued walking, his eyes pointed ahead but unfocused. He was so out of it that he didn't even realize he'd bumped into another person until Anna grabbed his arm and pulled him back, hissing out a warning to the kid who was now on the floor, his papers everywhere.

"I said I was sorry, jeez! Maybe your friend should look where he's going next time," the boy said, glancing up at Castiel with a tired expression and incredibly bright green eyes.

Without replying, Castiel turned away, trusting that he would be able to clean up his mess. Anna brushed their shoulders together as she got in line with him again. "What an ass," she muttered. "He must be new here, doesn't know who we are."

"Anna, not many people know who we are. They just stay away because we intimidate them," Castiel told her mildly.

She smirked. "I know that. But it's not my fault! You're the scary silent one." Castiel quirked an eyebrow at her and rolled his eyes when she looked away, her mouth still firmly curved upwards.

. . .

Balthazar was behind the counter when Castiel arrived at Afterlife that evening. He slid into a seat at the bar, thanking the older man with a nod when he placed a soda in front of Castiel. Gabriel, who had been lurking around the pool table in the back corner, suddenly appeared at his elbow, taking the stool next to him. The older boy, fresh from high school, had his ever-present grin stuck on his face and he leaned in close as Cas took a sip of his drink.

"Hey, Cassie. How was your day?" Gabe asked

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" Castiel replied without even looking at him. Instead, he focused on the many bottles that littered the walls behind the counter where Balthazar was cleaning glasses and stacking them. It was astounding how often he did that considering that rarely anyone was ever in the little bar except for the Wings themselves unless it was a weekend.

Gabe sighed dramatically. "Probably a few hundred. But come onnnn, it's a great nickname!"

"I don't like nicknames."

"Lighten up Castiel."

"Hey, Gabey, knock it off. He hasn't let anyone give him a nickname in the two years he's been here, you think you're gonna change that in the next five minutes? No? Then shut it," Balthazar told him. His accent more prominent than usual, which was probably the only reason Gabe actually listened and slunk away to greet Anna, who had just walked in the door. "Jesus, ever since Luce let him in he's been trying to change everything around here. Just because he's the bosses' cousin..." He was mumbling to himself more than Castiel, but the boy felt himself smile anyway, hiding it in his glass. "I mean I like my nickname, but you don't have to like yours!" Balthy—as Gabriel had dubbed him—gestured at Castiel with the towel he was holding.

"What's going on?" Anna asked as she took the seat Gabe recently vacated. Castiel just nodded his head in the direction of the other boy and Anna smiled knowingly. "So, what's on the menu?" She directed the question at Balthazar, who barely glanced up before going back to his work.

"Whatever you want to make, sweetheart, the kitchen is yours."

"Gee, thanks." Anna got off her seat and grabbed a hold of Castiel's arm to drag him back with her. "Come on, let's go find something. Gabe? You hungry?"

"Food? Hell yeah!" Gabriel followed them behind the bar and into the kitchen, a lollipop in his mouth that definitely hadn't been there seconds before. Castiel would never understand him.

. . .

The nights were getting colder and Castiel could feel October on it's way as he sat on the roof of Afterlife, the half-moon telling him it was probably around eleven. If he lay in the middle of the area and held his hands around his eyes, Castiel could block out most of the city light and look up to see a few stars peeking out from deep in space. He heard sirens in the distance and wondered briefly where they were going.

"Hey!"

The shout would have startled Castiel had he not been accustomed to loud noises and learned to not spook easily. There were often strange shouts in the night, and he ignored it like he ignored them all, content to keep on watching the sky.

"Hey, dude!"

The voice felt vaguely familiar and Castiel sat up to glance around quickly. There were some clanks and crashing sounds from his left and he turned to see a figure clambering down the fire escape of the apartment building right next to the bar. He watched as whoever was got to the same level as the roof and climbed over the railing in order to step across the two feet that separated his building from Castiel's. Really he was fortunate that the alley between the structures was so narrow, otherwise he wouldn't have made it. As it was, he safely crossed and began walking towards Castiel, who got to his feet with apprehension.

"Hey, you're that guy from school today, right?"

As he got closer, the moonlight revealed to Castiel's eyes that it was the guy he'd bumped into that morning, those same green eyes staring him down, but with curiosity rather than annoyance like before. Castiel didn't know what to say so he stayed silent, fitting his hands in the pockets of his jacket and fingering the lighter that he kept in the left one.

The guy stopped a few feet away and looked Castiel over once before sticking out his hand. "I'm Dean." Castiel didn't take his hand. Slowly, he lowered it and continued on as if it hadn't even happened. "Look, man, I just wanted to say sorry about this morning. I see you out here sometimes and I thought I recognized you." He laughed a little to himself, running a hand through his short hair. "I'm glad I wasn't wrong."

Castiel cocked his head slightly and looked at him with narrowed eyes. What the hell was this guy—Dean—doing? Did he not know about the bar? Was he new in town or just stupid? Looking past the boy, Castiel tried to figure out where he'd come from and realized he must have crawled through the window of his apartment and onto the escape. What a weirdo.

"Uhh." Dean's halt in speech drew Castiel's attention back to him. "You're not deaf are you? Or mute? I feel kinda like I'm talking to a wall here. Or a cat. You look kind of kitten-ish."

With a flat tone, Castiel replied, "No. I am not deaf, nor mute. Neither am I a cat."

Dean raised his brows and smiled widely. "Woah, dude, just a joke." He looked around the rooftop. "So, I've noticed you come here often..." he paused, as if waiting for Castiel to laugh. He didn't. "Anyway, I just moved in a few weeks ago, my dad wanted to find a job in the city."

Well, that answers one question, Castiel thought to himself. He had gauged this strange guy to not be a threat, and so he decided to sit down again, this time a little closer to the edge of the bar, so that his feet stuck out over the end and he could look down into the street below. He didn't look up when Dean sat beside him.

"What's your name?" the boy asked him after an awkwardly silent few seconds of getting comfortable.

"Castiel."

"Cool. So what are you doing out here? You live in the apartments too?"

Castiel pursed his lips and turned towards the other boy. "You shouldn't hang around here."

"You're one to talk." Dean grinned playfully but Castiel just remained stoic.

"It's not safe."

"'Cause we're on a rooftop? Yeah, I noticed."

Castiel shook his head and said, "No. You should go home. It's late and there's school in the morning."

The look Dean gave him was incredulous. "Really? Dude, I'm seventeen, as long as I get up in the morning who cares when I go to bed."

Castiel was silent for a long minute or two before he made his decision. Standing, he pulled a cigarette from his jean pocket and his lighter, lighting it up and taking a deep drag. "Don't come here again," he said, walking back towards the back of the bar, where a ladder would allow him back into the alleys and away. He didn't really want to leave so early, but he didn't have much of a choice with this guy hanging around. He figured he'd just go inside and see if Gadreel needed any help.

"Hey, wait!" Dean called from behind him. Castiel ignored him, took in the last rays of moonlight for the moment, then headed into the shadows and through the back door of Afterlife.

. . .

Three days later Castiel was sitting in his customary seat at the bar, soda in front of him and Anna and Gabriel arguing about something across the room. The bell on the front door jangled and Castiel glanced over to see Luce entering, walking tall in a leather jacket just like the one Castiel had. It wasn't surprising considering the older man had given it to him long ago one cold night for the walk home and let Castiel keep it.

"Hello, hello, how is everyone?" Luce greeted the gathered members, which included just Gadreel besides Anna, Gabe, and Castiel himself. He got a few mumbled responses and went up behind Castiel to grab hold of his shoulders. "How was your day, Castiel?"

The boy tilted his head towards him and replied, "Good," before looking back at the drink in front of him. Luce gave his shoulders a squeeze and smiled, seemingly pleased, and continued on towards the back room.

That was the nice thing about Luce, he was easy to please and understood Castiel's silence, always showing a little bit of happiness when Castiel did say something. When the boy had first joined the gang, it was Luce who had taken the most immediate liking to him and had respected his quiet watchfulness. Of the brothers who led the gang, Luce was also the one around most often, and he and Castiel had had many a time to sit with each other considering how much of his time Castiel spent in the bar. Sometimes Castiel even thought to himself, though he would never say it out loud, that he might even have been better friends with him than with Anna.

Speaking of the redhead, Anna sidled up at that moment, Gabriel just behind her. "Hey, Castiel, how do you feel about dinner at Gabe's tonight? His mom's making lasagna."

Castiel turned his eyes to look at her and the hopeful grin on Gabe's face. He shook his head slowly. "No thanks. Not tonight."

"Aww, come on! You never come to dinner! I can't even entice you with lasagna?" Gabe pleaded, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

"He's got a date with the moon tonight, isn't that right?" Luce said as he breezed back into the room, a manila folder in one hand.

"He sits out there in the cold and looks at the moon every night. Don't you think you could try to convince him, cuz?" Gabe asked, turning his face towards his cousin.

Luce just sent a smile towards Castiel and leaned against the counter. "Let the man do what he wants to do. Maybe someday he'll change his mind and come to dinner, but don't pressure him."

Castiel blinked gratefully at the older man and looked back at Anna. "Sorry."

"That's okay. Some other time. See you tomorrow, then," she told him with a smile.

Once the duo had left, Luce sat beside Castiel and asked Gadreel for a beer. "You know," he started, turning a bit towards the boy, "I'm the one named Lucifer, but Gabe can be a real little devil sometimes."

Castiel had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, but he couldn't stop the twitch of his mouth or huff of a laugh that left through his nose. Luce clapped him on the back and grinned before taking his beer and his folder and heading out.

. . .

Castiel thought he might have been shivering, but he lit a cigarette anyway, holding it to his lips and pulling the smoke into his lungs, letting it out slowly. Half of it burned out by the time he remembered to take another drag and he thought it might have been a good thing. It was the coldest night of the week so far, but it was only a Tuesday. Castiel was bundled up with his leather jacket and had his knees pulled up to his chin, looking out over the city with half-lidded eyes.

It was only because he recognized the distinct clanging noise to the side that Castiel looked over and saw Dean once again clambering over to Afterlife. Castiel felt the urge to roll his eyes, but he looked away and back at the city instead, debating if he should light another cigarette or keep warm. He didn't even look up as Dean got comfy beside him.

"Hey, Castiel."

"Hello, Dean."

"You know it's like one in the morning right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, man."

They were both quiet for a long moment before Castiel managed to open his mouth again. "I thought I told you not to come back."

"Guess I don't listen very well." At that, Castiel did look over, and he was unsurprised to see a smile playing on Dean's lips. "You're out here every night though." Castiel quirked his head, prompting Dean to continue. "I just wanna know why."

Looking away, Castiel didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked out over the lights and the buildings before him, eyes tracing the streets of Cipher, streets he knew well from the years he'd spent wandering them each day and finding new ways around. "I wait until I can go home," he finally said.

Dean seemed to think about that for a moment. "Why do you have to wait?"

"So it's safe."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to." Castiel didn't really want to say more, either. He was feeling oddly okay with talking to Dean, something that was strange as he normally had to try hard to get even a word or two out, especially with a stranger. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

"Huh, okay then," was all Dean replied.

They say in relative silence for another few minutes before Castiel got to his feet. "I mean it this time. Don't come back."

"Why?" Dean asked, standing, too.

"You don't want to get mixed up in this."

"In what?"

Without giving him an answer, Castiel turned and started walking away, escaping the conversation and brilliant eyes in just a moment. His breath left his lungs a little bit easier with every step away he took. And he took many. It was a couple of miles from the bar to his house and Castiel steeled himself for the long walk, deciding to take a little bit of a back way to spend some extra time in the night air.

He wasn't happy with Dean. The boy kept cutting his nighttime date short and messing up Castiel's schedule of equal time inside and on the roof each day. It was already getting colder, which would put a dent into his outside time when winter finally hit, but now this? Castiel sighed to himself as he walked, mind turning over the events of the past few times he'd encountered Dean, and how strange the boy was. He didn't seem to get it, or maybe he was just terrible at listening to warnings.

With still no idea what to do about Dean if he did end up coming back, Castiel made it home and slipped quietly through the backdoor. He was met with the kitchen light on and his father standing with the paper in one hand and a cup of what was probably tea in the other. Castiel froze in place, watching carefully as the man noticed him and set his mug down.

"You're home." Zachariah's voice was quiet, but loud enough to almost make Castiel wince. "Where have you been?" he sneered, placing the paper on the counter beside his tea. His hands rested on the counter and Castiel glanced at them quickly before looking back at his father's face. When he didn't answer, the older man took a step towards him.

"I said, where have you been?" he reiterated slowly.

"Out," Castiel uttered, trying to think of the easiest route out of the house that didn't involve his father catching him.

"Out? Out where?" Once again, Castiel didn't answer him, and suddenly Zachariah was right in front of him. "Say something, damn you!" He clenched his fists and his jaw and attempted to stare his son down, but Castiel didn't budge. "You're always silent. Not like your mother, she was always blabbering on about something. But you never say a fucking word."

The slap came out of nowhere, though Castiel felt like he should have been expecting it. Still, it turned his head and whole body, making him take a step back, arm lifting to protect his face. Zachariah raised his hand again, but Castiel was too fast, darting away and ripping the back door open, letting it slam behind him on his father's angry shout.

He ran. He didn't know how far, but he ran until he couldn't breathe. Or until he could breathe again, he wasn't sure. Eventually, he stopped, leaning against a wall somewhere and heaving asphalt tainted air into his lungs. He stood there for a long time, leaning his cheek against the cold stone after a while and letting it take away the ache that had started up along the entire left side of his face.

When he could finally breathe normally again—in, out, in, out—he started walking, finding street signs and making his way as quickly as he could to Afterlife. He just hoped everyone had gone for the night.

. . .

"I swear it Castiel, one of these days I'm just going to murder him."

Castiel gave Anna a sideways glance and shook his head. "Don't."

"And why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't he pay for what he's done to you? He's an asshole and a shitty goddamn parent and he certainly doesn't deserve to live," Anna argued heatedly.

They were standing by Castiel's locker as he was trying to decide if it was worth it to lug his history book to class when there was a good chance he would just sleep through the lecture and absorb the information anyway. He pointed a look of private disdain at his friend that probably came off as just apathetic. "He's not worth killing either."

He turned away as she countered with her usual, "Just because he's your dad doesn't mean shit."

Castiel tuned her out, the conversation one they'd had many times and one that he would never back down on except to say he was tired of talking about it. He was about to say just that when he heard his name called out in a freakishly familiar voice and glanced to the side to see Dean walking towards him, half a smile on his face. Castiel sighed silently to himself and tried to keep the now purple and green stained side of his face pointed towards Anna.

"Hey, Castiel," Dean said as he stopped beside them, effectively shutting Anna up in the middle of her sentence. The older boy decided not to give him the satisfaction of an answer other than just the nod of his head, still facing away. "Uh, well, I wanted to ask you something real quick. As long as I'm not interrupting."

"Who the hell are you?" Anna asked, her voice sharp and her anger from the previous conversation bleeding through.

Dean looked at her as if he had just noticed her. "I'm Dean." He returned his attention to Castiel and continued, "Look, I just, I didn't mean to make you mad at me or anything. So, are we cool?"

With slightly sinking shoulders, Castiel turned to him and dipped his head as he said, "You did not upset me." He could tell his movement was a mistake as soon as he made it because the other boy's eyebrows pulled together almost immediately and his eyes traced the dark bruising that covered Castiel's cheek.

"Jeez, that's nasty. What happened?" Dean asked with a grimace. He reached out a hand as if to touch Castiel's face, and while he himself did not flinch, Anna suddenly reacted from his side and slapped the inquisitive hand away.

She stepped forward slightly and put on her angry face that Castiel knew was not being faked. He was too late to reach out and stop her from saying, "I don't know who you are or what's going on, but don't touch him."

Dean backed down without a fight but he looked indignant as he replied, "Okay, fine. I didn't realize nobody else could give a shit about your boyfriend."

Anna didn't correct the assumption and Castiel couldn't find the right words fast enough to rebuke the comment, so he couldn't stop Dean from walking away a couple of seconds later. He did, however, turn a glare onto his friend after a moment and shut his locker with one hand as he chose to forego the textbook.

"Who was that kid?" Anna asked, returning his gaze with her own glare.

The bell rang above their heads and Castiel turned away, walking towards their first class without a response for her.

. . .

It was midnight by the time Anna finally left Castiel alone on the rooftop, the other Wings having already said their piece about the mark on his face and heeding the boy's words on staying away from his father. Anna had always had a protective streak through their friendship, and while Castiel often appreciated it, it could also get incredibly frustrating. So he was glad to have his rooftop alone for a while before he would inevitably have to go find a bed to sleep in.

Still, the moment felt bittersweet and Castiel had been left with a bad taste in his mouth since that morning and the little fiasco with Dean. Earlier, he had considered seeking the boy out, but it was impossible with Anna breathing down his neck the whole day. He glanced towards the apartment building where Dean lived, his eyes easily finding the window he'd seen Dean come from before. Without thinking about it too hard, Castiel got to his feet and started walking across the roof towards the fire escape.

He easily crossed over, pulling himself over the railing and attempting to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible as he traveled the few flights up to Dean's window. Kneeling outside of the apartment, Castiel debated for an entire minute before he reached out and let his knuckles rap against the glass. He couldn't see inside, the interior shrouded by a curtain, and Castiel waited, not taking his eyes off of the window.

A few moments later, the edge of the curtain was pushed to the side and Castiel got a glimpse of an unfamiliar face. He worried for a short second that he had the wrong window, but then the curtain was pushed out of the way and the glass was sliding up noisily in the quiet night. A young boy, no older than twelve or thirteen, looked at him in the low light and stuck his head through into the open air.

"So I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and say you're Castiel?" the boy asked, eyes unreadable.

"Yes. Is Dean in?" Castiel managed to get himself to say clearly.

The boy nodded and smiled for a moment. "Yeah, I'll wake him up."

"You don't—"

"He said he was expecting you."

Castiel was confused into silence and the boy disappeared inside. He sat back on his heels to wait. He didn't have to wait long and after just a minute he had to move back because Dean was clambering out onto the fire escape, clad in flannel pants and with a winter coat hanging off of one arm. Dean poked his head back inside and said something to the boy to the effect of, "I'll be back later," before closing the window and turning to Castiel with a flushed face and a smile.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Castiel had to stop the laugh that threatened to leave his throat and instead just smiled slightly. "Are you going to put on your coat?"

Dean looked down at himself and examined his coat before realizing he still had one arm out and quickly shoved it into the empty sleeve, zipping it up and looking away, embarrassed. "So, uh," he started awkwardly. They were standing very close to each other, trapped by the confines of the railing and Castiel noticed it after a moment of silence.

"Will you come sit with me?"

With a sudden and relieved smile, Dean nodded and started leading the way down the steps. "I didn't think you'd come by, but it seemed like you wanted to say something earlier so I was hoping," he said as they went, crossing over to Afterlife and finding a good spot near the edge, though Castiel sat with his chin on his knees, bruised side of his face towards Dean.

"I'm sorry for how Anna acted. She is very protective." Castiel could feel the other boy's eyes on him, but he kept his own gaze on the city streets.

"Yeah, seems like."

"She is not my girlfriend."

Dean made a noncommittal noise. "Yeah?"

"We have been friends for a few years. We have a familial bond." Thinking briefly back to when he joined the Wings, Castiel let his breath out from between his lips, fogging slightly in the chilly air. At least, he thought, he saw their friendship as very familial with their ties, but maybe Anna thought differently. He made a mental note to bring it up sometime.

"Was she angry about what happened to your face?"

Castiel huffed an annoyed laugh. "She always is."

Dean shuffled his limbs around slightly so he was leaning back on his hands, legs crossed, but he turned his head towards Castiel. "What do you mean?"

Frowning, Castiel didn't quite know how to answer. Part of him wanted to confide in this almost stranger, but part of him was saying that he was an idiot for even seeing him again and sitting beside him when he should have been spending the night with just the moon for company. He was caught in this strange battle and when he looked to the boy for guidance, he found Dean simply staring off into the distance, looking for all the world as if he could wait forever for Castiel's answer.

"You don't have to tell me, you know," Dean eventually said. "I know you're pretty quiet, plus you don't really know me, how could you trust me?"

Castiel thought for a long time, minutes passing like the airplanes overhead. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a train making its way through the city. "I joined the Wings at sixteen, two years ago. We're small but we're family and we take care of each other. I didn't have a family before."

Dean didn't reply for a few minutes, as if waiting to make sure he was done speaking. "They didn't give you the bruise," he muttered, not as a question.

Castiel shook his head slowly. "I stay here until I know my father is sleeping, then I can go back. Last night my timing was off."

"It was me wasn't it? I threw you off last night," Dean said slowly. When the elder boy turned to look at him, he was surprised to see the horror on Dean's face and leaned to the side slightly, towards him.

"No, it was my mistake. Not the first time." Castiel felt something in him that wanted to get rid of that look on the other boy's face. It wanted to make sure he knew that it was not his fault. He refrained from saying any more and instead gazed at him long and hard until Dean relented and let out a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees, back curving forward. The silence that enveloped them felt like an old friend that had joined in whom they were listening to, waiting until the right time came to speak again.

Castiel found the moment first and asked quietly, "Who was the boy?"

The hint of a smile touched Dean's lips. "My kid brother, Sam. Our apartment is kind of shitty so we have to share a room." Dean paused. "He's a good kid. I take care of him mostly."

"Why?"

"My mom works at the hospital during the day and my dad's got night shifts as security so most of the time it's just Sammy and me. Been like that for years, though, ever since he was a baby he's been mine to look after." He sounded proud as he spoke of his brother, but there was a sadness in his voice that Castiel latched onto.

"I'm sorry," he said honestly, those two words soft but meaningful in the air, carrying around with them a heavy weight.

Dean looked over and smiled. "Thanks." He sighed and tilted his head back to look up at the sky, where the moon was making her usual rounds.

But her pure light had absolutely nothing on the view of Dean's eyes soaking up the stars that lay deep in the recesses of the galaxy. Castiel couldn't tear his own eyes away and neither did he want to. It was the strangest feeling, watching a boy who had such an invisible burden on his shoulders and yet he barely let it show. He wanted to know more, he wanted to know just how deep Dean's feelings went, just how strong his love was for his brother and if he was the same with his friends. He wanted to know all the questions Dean had to ask and answer them all so he'd never have to wonder about anything ever again. He wanted to pull the moon to the earth and set it behind Dean so that he would forever be bathed in light that matched the beauty of his soul.

"You should go back to bed. We have class tomorrow," Castiel said, blinking himself back into reality.

The yellow glow of the city lights framed the side of Dean's face when he looked over and snorted. "No way. I'm not leaving you alone up here tonight, so I'm staying until you can go."

"What if that takes all night?" Castiel couldn't stop himself from asking.

Dean grinned. "Then I'll stay all night. Even if my ass freezes off."

With a returning twitch of his lips, Castiel rested his chin back on his knees and let his eyes rove over Cipher. Thank you, he whispered silently to no one in particular.

. . .

Almost a week later it was the setting sun that watched Castiel as he made his way through the streets and heading towards Afterlife from Anna's house. His mind was on Dean, who he hadn't seen since the night the boy had stayed with him until the wee hours of the morning. Neither had slept much that night, but the next day brought them into a flurry of schoolwork. Anna kept dragging Castiel along with her, making sure he was never far from sight and had coerced him into spending the entire weekend at her house and away from everyone, including the other members of the Wings.

But the new week came and that night, Castiel had plans to nab something from the kitchen for dinner and see if Luce was in, then he would return to the roof for his fix of the moon and hope that Dean would join him as well. The boy had waved to him several times passing each other by in the hallway, but with everything keeping them separated for a week, Castiel was feeling a bit emptier than usual. He enjoyed his companionable silence with Dean, just as much as he had actually grown to miss talking to him, which was an odd thing for Castiel.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a second extra than usual to see the dark shadow lurking around the alley he was about to pass. A sickeningly familiar face stepped out into the light and smirked at Castiel, arms crossed and leaning against a old and rusty blue mailbox. Steeling himself, Castiel put on his most neutral expression and kept moving closer, a dark feeling coiling in his gut.

"Fancy seeing you here, Clarence." Meg's voice grated on his ears as he stopped an appropriate length away and watched her with hooded eyes. "Still the same old, same old, huh?" She shrugged and lifted herself from her stance against the mailbox, a smile present on her face that was sure to spoil milk.

"What do you want?" Castiel asked plainly, not moving, even as she stepped closer.

Suddenly, with the quiet shink of metal, a small blade was in her hand and pressing ever so gently to his cheek, metal warm against his wind chilled skin. "Oh, Clarence, you actually speak!" she cooed, slowly slinking around him, knife trailing across his throat and to the back of his neck before she stopped back in front of him, the tip of her blade pushing into the skin just under his jaw. The top of her dark haired head barely reached his chin, but she was looking at him as if she was miles taller.

Castiel had to hold himself back from lunging at her, but he clenched his teeth. "What do you want?" he asked again, the words a hiss from his throat.

She took her knife back, spinning it around in her hand as she told him, "Nothing in particular. I just wanted to warn you, I guess."

"About?" A slow malicious smile spread across her face and Meg turned away, sauntering off in the other direction. With a frustrated huff, Castiel reached out and grabbed her, spinning them around so that her back was pressed into the mailbox, his hands holding her down by her biceps.

"Wow, Clarence, I didn't know you had it in you."

It was a lie, of course she did. Their meetings, though irregular, always ended in her teasing of Castiel until he was forced to make a move to get her to talk. It was a weird sick game she played, but it was to be expected from one of the Shades. "Tell me why." Allowing all of his anger and disdain show through his eyes, Castiel stared Meg down.

She relented with a curl of her lips and a laugh. "Things are changing sweetie pie. They wouldn't want me to tell you, but I figure I owe you a little bit of a head's up." Castiel let her go and stepped back, watching carefully as she rolled her shoulders and put her little switchblade into her pocket. Moving fast, she swung a fist towards his face, which he easily deflected, but he couldn't stop her quick jab to his stomach.

With a huff, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned away, leaving him clutching at his gut with one hand. "That's for grabbing me. Don't do it again." With that, she slipped into the alley and out of sight.

Castiel straightened and let a sigh pass his lips, eyeing the dark corridor she had disappeared into for a moment before continuing on his way. He knew he would need to seek Luce out now, let him know what happened. It was part of the rules, to always let someone know when meeting a member of the rival gang, and unfortunately it seemed to always happen to Castiel. Meg was a strange woman, several years older but she had some odd fascination with him and continually sought him out for no reason at all except to raise the tensions with her gang.

The Shades were a wild band of misfits and dark souls. They were known for their violence and cunning, lead by Abaddon, widely known as the cruelest bitch around, and seconded by a man named Crowley who was as oily as the gasoline Luce filled his car with. Most of the gangs around their part of Cipher knew not to mess with the Shades, especially after their decimation of a smaller gang a few years back that had spent just a little too much time inside Shade borders. Unfortunately, they were the territory right next to the Wings and tensions had been running high with them since before Castiel joined. Secretly, he worried there would be a fight soon.

Castiel attempted to shake the uncomfortable feeling inside his chest and the fading pain in his stomach as he continued his way towards Afterlife. The sun was long gone when he arrived, though the moon had yet to show her face above the horizon. It would be another hour or so before then. Castiel entered the bar with heavy feet and moved to lean against the bar, catching the attention of Balthazar, who seemed to be counting bottle caps for some reason.

"Why the long face?" he asked, turning towards Castiel.

"Is Lucifer here?"

Balthy gave him a strange look but nodded his head towards the back. "Yeah, he's back there. Go on back."

Castiel dipped his head and pushed himself from the bar, making his way towards the back rooms, where he knew Luce and Michael's offices were, though Michael rarely used his. As Balthazar had said, Luce was sitting at his desk, papers strewn in front of him and a pen tapping against his forehead in one hand. He looked up when Castiel entered and gestured to the only other chair in the room which sat in front of his desk.

"Come sit, Castiel." The younger man did as he was told and ran a hand through his wind-ruffled hair. He waited as Luce scribbled something down on one of the papers before him before setting his pen down. He sat back as he said, "What's on your mind?" With clasped hands he watched Castiel with expectant eyes.

While Castiel normally would have taken a long time, or at least some time to find what he wanted to say, he felt the sounds leave his throat almost immediately as he told his leader, "Meg stopped me on my way back."

Luce's eyes darkened slightly and he rested his elbows on the desk. "Did she hurt you?"

"Nothing bad. She had a warning."

"What did she say?"

"Things are changing. The Shades didn't want her to tell me but she felt she owed me something."

"Changing? And what does she owe you for?" Lucifer asked, his brow furrowing.

Castiel shrugged. "I'm not sure what she meant."

Luce sat thinking for a long moment before sinking back in his chair again. "Thank you for telling me." Castiel nodded and he continued, "Next time she tries anything, don't worry about the Shades, you just take care of yourself. Kick her ass."

Castiel did not answer but stood and left the room, the gears in his mind turning around on Luce's words as well as his encounter with Meg. He retired to the roof then, not wanting to eat and ignoring Balthazar's call to him. He surmised that Luce would tell the rest what had happened and most of them knew well enough to leave Castiel alone once he reached the roof. So he took his customary spot and tried to let his mind wander, even pulling out a cigarette to get the creative juices flowing.

But, inevitably, his thoughts kept turning back to the evening's happenings. He felt as if Meg's knife was still pressing against his throat, but when he conjured up Luce's words, he couldn't see himself actually hurting the woman, at least not too badly. He was good at threatening, and he could easily hold his own in a fight, but that didn't mean he actually liked fighting, or that he wanted to. He didn't like violence, and that was the one downside of being in a gang. Violence was very nearly a requirement.

"You're out early." Dean's voice startled Castiel into whipping his head around to see the boy walking towards him, hands buried deep in an old brown leather jacket's pockets.

Castiel followed his movements as he sat down and looked over to meet Castiel's gaze. "I... have a lot on my mind."

Dean seemed pleased. "Yeah? Like what?"

Looking away, Castiel debated how much he wanted to actually say. Eventually he took a breath and said softly, "A rival gang member caught me on my way back today."

"Are you okay?" Dean wasted no time in asking.

"I'm not hurt. She and I have met before." Castiel thought for a long time, not looking at Dean as he planned his next words. "She is violent. I don't like her." He was surprised to hear a low laugh from Dean. "Why is that funny?"

Dean shook his head slightly. "It's just, you're part of a gang and if I'm getting anything from this, it's that you don't like violence. So why are you in a gang?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, turning his face away. "There is more to being in a gang than violence. Yes, I have to deal with it often, but I did not choose this life for that."

"But?" Dean asked quietly.

"But... I sometimes wish I could leave it behind, not have to deal with fighting or violence or my leader telling me to hurt someone just because she may hurt me. But I know that wherever I go this is something I will see." Castiel felt a sigh leave his lungs.

Dean took a moment before responding. "I just don't see why you're upset. Yeah, there's a lot of violence in life, but there's also a lot of good that happens."

"There's so much wrong with this world, how can you not see that?" Castiel asked hotly. "There is so much pain..."

"I do see it, but I focus on the better things. Like how smart my brother is and how good it feels to laugh with my friends and how much I love my mom's pie and her hugs." Dean spoke slowly, his mouth curled in a faint smile.

Castiel didn't know what his mother's hug felt like. He didn't know if she ever made pie and he didn't have a little brother to be proud of or friends to laugh with. He knew the hard slap of his father's hand and the cold concrete underneath his feet. He knew the harsh words and sneering glances of other students and other gangs. How could anything about people be good, feel good, when all the ones he knew only hurt?

He was about to say as much when a thumb brushed across his chin and the words died on his tongue, his eyes widening. Gentle fingers moved up his cheek and a palm cupped his jaw. He forgot what he was going to say when he looked at Dean's face.

Dean's lips were parted, his expression genuine and calming, silent as his hands were doing the talking. Fingertips traced the shell of Castiel's ear and the curve of his brow, touch slow and steady. Without meaning to, all of Castiel's defenses shattered. His eyes fell shut and his shoulders slumped down. The fight in his chest unraveled when the hand that wasn't holding his cheek curled around the side of his neck, not tight at all, but simply resting there. Castiel's own hands were limp at his sides and his knees felt the tension leave him, his whole body coming to rest as putty at Dean's caresses. He leaned his head into Dean's hand.

"See?" Dean asked, breaking the relative silence of the night and their breaths with one quiet word.

Castiel couldn't reply. His lack of words was different than usual. He wished he could speak, wanted to tell Dean how much this meant. Dean was touching him, holding him, like he was some fragile statue, something to be treasured and given gentle care. In that moment, that was what Castiel felt like. He didn't feel like part of a gang, he didn't feel like someone intimidating or someone who would throw a punch if you looked at him wrong. He didn't feel cold, or distant, or angry like he usually did.

There were warm hands on his skin and he felt whole. The emptiness that not even the moon could fill was gone.

It could have been an hour or it could have been just a few minutes that they sat there before Castiel opened his eyes, meeting the bright green ones that were watching him with curiosity. Castiel wanted to speak, but when he opened his mouth his tongue refused to form words. Instead, his breath slipped out from between chapped lips and suddenly into Dean's as those green eyes closed along with the space between them.

Dean kissed with lips as languid as his hands, easy and slow and better than anything Castiel had ever felt. There was something about the movement of their mouths that was as strong as a hard kick to the ribs and felt similar in his chest. It wasn't painful, though, it was the kind of hard-hitting feeling that satisfied something deeply human within him. Castiel never knew he needed it until Dean's tongue brushed against his bottom lip, tender as all of his other motions were. He knew it was a feeling he could easily get addicted to even as he reached across the remaining space between them. His hands landed on Dean's thighs, grip tight enough to let him know he was there, but loose enough not to intrude upon the soothing slowness of their kissing.

He had no idea how much time they spent, lost in each other with fingers caressing and lips continuously pressing together as if they were physically unable to separate. Eventually, Dean pulled away, breathing hard but slow, like his lungs were filled with honey. Castiel could relate. Their hands were still locked on each other, afraid to move and feel the cool sting of air. Dean was smiling and Castiel had no idea what his own expression was, so lost was he in the lingering tingles in his lips, eyes trained on Dean's.

"Dean..." Castiel finally spoke, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"Not everything is so bad, right?" Dean asked hopefully.

Castiel didn't know how to find the words to agree so he just leaned forward and buried a hand in the hair on the back of Dean's head, pulling him back into a kiss that was everything it was before and more. More passion, more heat, more... something. Castiel couldn't name what it was, but he felt it deep in the back of his throat, tingling through his lungs and crawling its way through his veins. It was heavy and warm and he felt sluggish, intoxicated. It was the best drug anyone could ever have and when he broke the connection to breathe, filling his lungs with the air Dean was breathing out, he knew he never wanted to give it up.

He stood, untangling himself from Dean, almost wincing when his skin was exposed to the cold air, no longer protected by Dean's touch. The other boy was still sitting, his face falling into a frown that made Castiel's heart clench even as he turned and escaped quickly and wordlessly.

"Wait! Cas!" He heard Dean shout behind him, but he was already jumping down the fire escape and running off into the shadows, praying for the first time that the moon's light would fade long enough to hide him away from that soul-searching green gaze.

He didn't even realize Dean had used a nickname until he was safely across the city and slipping into his silent, dark house.