I wrote this just as a writing practice a couple days ago, but a few people expressed interest in it. I usually don't ask for reviews, but this is very much a side project and if you want more, I need to know people are reading it.


Castiel had never seen the boy that was standing in the doorway. He hadn't seen a parent drop him off, just that there was now a small boy in ripped jeans and a leather jacket that looked curiously around the classroom.

"Hello!" Castiel called across the room. "Could you come over here, Sir?" The boy seemed suspicious but went over the stranger anyway. "Could you tell me your name, young man?"

"Dean Winchester," he responded in a small voice. "My dad said that I needed to leave early to get Sammy from the nursery."

"Did your dad drop you off, Dean?" The boy nodded. "Well, I can't let you leave by yourself, but I will be more than happy to go with you to get Sammy."

"He is my little brother," Dean clarified.

"I see. Did your father go up to the church service?"

"Probably not, he said that he didn't believe in all that shit."

"Dean, we don't use that type of language here. Why don't you go over with the other kids and play until we start out lesson." Without a word, the kid left and found a box of blocks and began to build, separating himself from the other kids.

Castiel sighed, as he finished reading over the lesson. His sister Anna had dragged him out late to some bar in an attempt to find him a boyfriend, despite adamant attempts to explain that medical school did not allow for that kind of time. He watched Dean closely, not sure if he was going to cause trouble or not, but for now he was busy building some model of a car that the other children had taken an interest in.

After attempting to read the page multiple times, he decided that he was going to take the easy way out. "Who would like to watch a Veggietales?" Instantly, the majority of the class began cheering. Dean paused in his work only to look up and asses the situation before he went back to building. "Okay, we need to clean up then." Never before had Castiel had a Sunday School class that was so easy. Ten pairs of hands immediately went to cleaning up the blocks and play food that was scattered around the room.

"Can I keep my car up? I want to show my Dad when he picks me up," Dean asked standing protectively by his work, eyeing the other students. Castiel just sighed as nodded his head as he ushered Dean to the floor with the other children.

They all sat and watched the movie relatively undisturbed. The only problem came when one boy, Crowley, pulled the hair of another girl named Meg. She quickly smacked back his hand and glared at him, and the situation resolved himself. Castiel was too sleepy to bother correcting their behavior.

It was about halfway through the movie when he noticed that Dean was sitting with his knees to his chest, and his head buried in his hands. The man whispered Dean's name, and the child slowly came back to sit with his teacher against the wall. The boy's green eyes were surrounded by eyes stained red with bloodshot tears, and his freckles were drowning in snot and salty water. Castiel reached next to him to get a box of tissues off of the counter, and presented them to the kid.

"Hey, what's wrong?"He asked quietly. Dean just shrugged, a pile of used tissues collecting in his lap. Castiel handed him a trashcan.

"Do you just miss your brother?" This question Dean considered as he blew his nose again, but eventually decided that that wasn't completely right either.

"Then what is wrong?" He asked softly, getting a tissue and getting a tear that Dean had missed.

"The movie was talking about praying," the child said carefully, glancing back at the television.

"Do you know how to pray?" he asked, but very much doubting.

"My mom taught me," Dean said, starting to cry again, "b-but I don't think it works anymore."

"Why?" Asked Castiel, confused.

"Be-because I pray every night, and I don't think that she can hear me."

Shit, shit, shit… Castiel was not trained for stuff like this. "How do you know that she didn't hear you?"

"Because she doesn't come back," he sniffled.

"Oh," he considered, taking in the new information. "If she died, that means that she is an angel now, Dean."

"Really?" He asked, wiping his eyes on his jacket.

"Yes, but angels can't talk to us; at least, not directly."

"Dad said that angels don't exist."

"Well, sometimes Dads make mistakes," Castiel said carefully. "But angels can talk to us in other ways. Sometimes, you can hear their laughing in the wind or the rain. Other times, you will feel them in your heart. And sometimes they even do little things to tell you that they are there. Every time is different though."

Dean sat there and considered that, "oh," he spoke softly, cheeks red from crying.

The small child stood up, and gave Castiel a hug and, without another word, moved back over to the group of other children watching the movie.

Right as the movie ended just twenty minutes later, parents came in and began collecting their children. Dean was the last one left, and sat on the floor, finishing his car while Castiel cleaned up the room to his standards. He was about to take Dean up to the nursery when he heard someone yell the child's name from the hallway.

"Damnit, Dean, I told you to pick up Sam."

"That is my fault, Mr. Winchester. This church has a policy that we are not allowed to let children leave without their guardian. I was just about to take him up myself" This explanation did not seem to satisfy the large man in the hallway as he held an infant, who he took to be Sam.

"Well, I guess that isn't necessary. Come on Dean."

"Dad, I made a-"

"We are leaving," The man finalized, and began to walk down the hallway. Dean stood quietly for a moment before turning around to look at his teacher.

"Bye," he said, and after some hesitation, ran up to wrap his arms around Castiel's legs.

"Goodbye, Dean," the man smiled.

He watched as the boy ran out of the room, and sat down next to Dean's car, and began putting the blocks away.