Disclaimer: I don't (sadly) own Dean, Cas, Sam or any of the characters.

Author's Note: This is my first Supernatural fic so be nice :P Reviews are very much appreciated and encouraged!

Lawrence, Kansas

April 6th 1986

Dean stood in the doorway, twisting his fingers anxiously. He wasn't allowed in his father's study. That was rule number one in the Winchester house. But this was important, right? Sammy hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was already way past supper time. Well, Dean hadn't eaten since yesterday but that hardly mattered. Sammy was only four years old. He'd been crying for the past few hours while Dean had tore apart the kitchen looking for something, anything, to feed his baby brother. But the fact was they were all out of food.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, Dad?"

His Dad didn't respond. He didn't even flinch. He remained motionless in his lazy chair, an empty beer bottle resting in his hand and a half dozen identical ones strewn across the floor. Dean couldn't see his Dad's face, but he knew wasn't sleeping. No, his Dad never slept. Unless you counted passed out on the bathroom floor sleeping. In that case, John Winchester did an awful lot of sleeping.

"Dad!" Dean crossed the room and shook his father's shoulders. John's eyes flashed open quickly. Dean winced as he noticed how bloodshot they were.

"What?" John snapped.

"I, um, we're out of food." Dean said quickly. "Sammy needs to eat. If you give me some money and can go get something from the grocery store."

"Why would you have to go get it?" John snarled, standing up. His tall form loomed over Dean, who backed up a few paces but stood his ground.

"You just don't really seem up to going anywhere. Plus, you haven't gone shopping in weeks."

"The Hell I don't! Are you saying I can't take care of Sammy, my own child? Don't you fucking say that!" He roared.

"I wasn't!" Dean exclaimed, trying to fight back the tears stinging his eyes. "I swear I wasn't! You're a gr-great Dad!"

"Damn right I am." John huffed, seeming to calm down. He pushed past Dean roughly. "I'm going to the store, watch Sammy while I'm gone!" He called as the door slammed shut.

Dean glanced around him at the beer bottles littering the Study. "Yeah," he muttered to himself, "Cause I only have to watch out for Sammy when you're gone."

He ran a hand through his blond hair, staring idly at the framed picture of his mother on his father's desk and trying not to notice how much Dean looked like her. He was only eight years old, but it didn't take much to realize what his father saw when he looked into Dean's bright green eyes. He saw Mary, and it broke his heart. It was Dean's fault his father got angry with him, Dean told himself. His dad was just grieving, as any person would. Dean just wished the rejection didn't hurt so much.

"Is Daddy coming back?" A soft voice said.

Dean turned around, forcing a smile onto his face. "Oh yeah, Sammy, he's just getting you dinner. Go watch TV or something, he'll be back before he know it."

Sam nodded and padded off to the living room, his teddy bear trailing behind him. Dean smiled softly. He may not have much, but he had his brother and that was enough for him.

He grabbed a trash bag and began cleaning up the study. The bottles rattled together in the bag, and God did Dean hate that sound. He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed out the back door to the trash bin. It was nearly full, Dean noticed. And they still had another few days before the garbage truck came. John was drinking more than ever now. Dean slammed the lid down hard, giving it a good kick too for good measure.

And then before he knew it he was kicking the bin again and again, releasing all his pent up anger. Tears welled up in his eyes as he pounded his fists onto the now fallen bin. Dean hated it, he hated his father's drinking, he hated having to go without food. He hated always having to stay home and watch Sammy while his friends went to soccer practice, and most of all he hated that he missed his mom so much and could do nothing about it.

"What are you doing?"

Dean froze, looking around quickly. He frowned, the yard was deserted.

"Up here."

Dean glanced up to see a pair of bright blue eyes peering down at his curiously from the other side of the fence.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked harshly, embarrassed at having been caught at such a vulnerable moment. "And what are you doing here?"

"I'm Castiel, and I live here." The boy said simply, sweeping his dark hair out of his eyes. Eyes, that Dean noticed, never left his face. Dean squirmed under this boy's stare.

Dean didn't recognize the boy, who couldn't be any older than he was, but that didn't surprise him. The old couple who lived next door had a dozen or so kids, ranging from infants to college kids. They never really left the house other than to go to Church or the yuppie private school on the other side of town. Dad said they were crazy religious and thought everything was a sin. Dean had heard his Dad arguing many times with the father of the house over his loud and "unlawful" music. Dean had only ever caught glimpses of the kids that lived there. Even in the dead of summer the yard next door was empty. It gave Dean an uneasy feeling how deathly quiet the house was, despite the number of people that lived there. When he'd voiced his concerns to his Dad, he'd only been told to mind his own business. "You never really know what goes on in the minds of people like that," John had said, "And you definitely don't want to find out."

"Why were you attacking the trash bin?" Castiel pressed.

"I wasn't attacking it, it's a trash bin for god's sake, I was just, you know, practicing."

"Practicing what?"

God, did this kid know anything about minding his own damn business, Dean thought bitterly.

"Fighting. Self defense, you know." Dean said in an attempt at bravado.

"Oh."

The two boys stood there for a moment, Castiel never once taking his bright eyes off Dean. Dean had to admit, as unnerving as it was, a part of him didn't want the other boy to leave. There was something intriguing about him. But of course he couldn't let him know that.

"Is this what you like to do, spy on little boys?" Dean sneered. "Isn't that kinda like a pedophile?"

"What's a pedophile?" Castiel's eyes were wide and curious.

Dean gawked at him, he was as clueless as Sammy! Hadn't Castiel's Dad told him all about the dangers out there? Dean's sure had.

"It's a creepy old guy who gets turned on watching kids and stuff."

"Oh. Wouldn't that exclude me from being a pedophile since I'm not a 'creepy old guy'?" Castiel said simply.

Huh. So the kid wasn't quite as stupid as he looked. Dean just shrugged, glancing back at the house. Through the window he could see Sammy curled up on the couch watching cartoons. He probably had a few minutes, maybe he could see if this kid knew how to play soccer or something. But when he turned back to the fence, the kid was gone.

"Hey, Castiel!" Dean called. No reply. He climbed on top of the garbage can and peered over the fence. The yard was deserted, not a soul in sight. But as he was climbing down something caught his eye. Castiel was waving down at him from the attic window. Dean waved back hesitantly before he jumped down. Maybe he'd see the kid around again.

Dean couldn't figure out why, but as he walked back into the house he had a new sense of calm. He collapsed onto the sofa next to Sam feeling almost happy.

Eight Years Later:

June 5th 1994

It had only been one kiss, one simple kiss! It had lasted barely a few seconds, and had done nothing for Castiel either than confirm what he'd known all along. But it had ruined his life.

How was he supposed to have known his brother, Michael, would be let off work early? How was he supposed to have known to check for Michael's car in the lot? Nothing about today had been ordinary, and now Castiel was going to pay the ultimate price. If he didn't kill himself he knew for sure his family would. Or worse.

James was a boy in this class. He'd approached Castiel one day with a proposition.

"Look," James had whispered to him, even though the hallway had been completely deserted. "I know you're gay, I can tell- and hey don't look at me like that, I'm not going to tell anyone! I am too, okay, but I just want to know for sure."

So they'd agreed to kiss. One simple kiss out behind the school after class. Nobody would be around to see, nobody would know. Except for them. Castiel had gone back and forth between going and not going. It could all be a stupid prank, for all he knew. But the truth was Castiel needed to know too. So he'd gone. And while his body had definitely liked it, Castiel didn't feel any different afterwards. He supposed it was because James had meant literally nothing to him.

So he'd said goodbye to James, after both profusely agreeing this had never happened, and had began walking around front to wait for Michael. But then he'd noticed it, Michael's blue truck. It was sitting in the back lot today. And it the front seat, was Michael, glaring right at him.

So Castiel had run. He'd run blindly through the town before resting in an empty playground. He'd been here for hours, running every possible scenario through his mind. He knew whatever would happen if he chose to move forwards would be nothing but bad. He already knew how his brothers would react. They'd shun him, hate him, for being the piece of filth he was. And his father, he'd bring the fear of God down on Castiel. His father had never been hesitant about using force and pain as punishment before, so Castiel didn't feel tonight would be any different. If he survived tonight, it wouldn't be for nothing. He'd be shipped off to one of those horrible camps for healing, that everybody knew about but nobody talked about.

And that was just what would happen if his family found out. Castiel knew how the world would see him. They'd see him for the sin that he was. He'd be lucky to ever get a job or apartment, let alone get into university. His life would be over before it had even begun.

He could feel his life slipping out of his control. Everywhere he turned he saw pain. So Castiel knew what he had to do. He was going to take back control of his life, and make sure that if he's going to go out, it's going to be on his own terms.

Dean had been coming to the cliff more and more often throughout the last few weeks. It used to be just every once and awhile, but now he found himself here almost every night. He'd stand by the edge, looking down at the crashing waves. He'd close his eyes and think about how easy it would be if he could just jump there and now and end everything. But he never did, and he knew he never would. At least not while Sammy was in the picture.

His Dad had only gotten worse in the past few years. Not for nothing, Dean knew he messed up a lot and his Dad needed to keep him in line. But it didn't mean he wasn't miserable about it. Sammy had been shutting him out more and more. Dean knew he was just growing up, that it was just hormones and what not. But seeing Sammy's rejection didn't hurt any less.

School was another thing entirely. He used to be okay with school. Sure he wasn't a brainiac like Sam and definitely didn't impress anyone there, but he'd done okay. He'd had lots of friends, and even more girlfriends. But lately he hadn't found himself to be interested in any of that. And after a probably too harsh break up with the top cheerleader he'd found himself shunned and ridiculed. And even worse, rumours were starting to circulate about him. Rumours he wasn't even sure were false anymore. But God did he hope they were.

Everything around Dean was falling apart. Everywhere he looked he saw rejection. He was searching desperately for something to cling on to, to pull him back to the surface. But there was nothing. The only time he ever felt at peace anymore was behind the wheel of his car. But even that just wasn't doing it for him anymore.

Dean told himself he'd never jump, that it would hurt Sam too much. But lately he'd begun to wonder if that was even true.

As Dean climbed the familiar path to the cliff he noticed he wasn't alone. This was strange, in all the time Dean had been coming up near not once had he ever met another person, especially at this late hour. Glancing down at his watch Dean noticed it was pushing eleven o'clock.

Dean sank back in the shadows, getting a good look at the dark figure standing much too close to the edge. It was dark, so Dean couldn't really make out his features, but he could tell this was a teenage boy. He was slim, and probably a bit shorter than Dean. Dean watched quietly as the boy shuffled closer to the edge, his sobs growing increasingly louder. A sudden realization dawned upon Dean and he jumped out quickly.

"Don't jump!" Dean shouted. The boy halted, whipping around quickly.

"Go away!" The boy called, his voice desperate. "Just- just get out of here!"

"No!" Dean slowly moved closer to the boy, holding up his hands as he did so. "Just, get away from there okay? The fall could kill you."

"I know."

The two boys stared at each other. Dean's mind was working quickly. Truth be told, he was having a hard time figuring out what to say to this kid. What was he supposed to say? You should stick around, this world is great? He knew that was a load of crap. Truthfully, Dean was a bit jealous of this boy. He wanted to just be able to throw everything out the window and jump. But for some reason Dean didn't want this boy to jump.

"Look," Dean threw up his hands, "Life gets pretty shitty I know, but uh, you can't do this, man. You gotta lot ahead of you, you're young, you're full of potential and stuff.." Dean sighed. "God, I'm sorry, I'm no good at this. I sound like some cheesy fifty cents greeting card." He grinned sheepishly at the boy before smacking himself mentally. Who was he to laugh? They were only dealing with this kid's entire life here!

"Seriously," Dean began again, "If you don't like where your lifes at it you can change it, I'll even help you. You can't say you're ready to just go overboard and throw it all away. I mean, you're a kid, you can't tell me you've done everything you want to do? You can't say there aren't still things you're looking forward to, things you like to do? I don't know what happens after, I don't know if you'd be going to a better place or not. But I know this place can be pretty great, just sometimes you have to search a little harder?" Dean paused, giving the boy a pleading look.

"Can you just come away from there, please?" Dean asked earnestly.

The boy glanced down at the waves, his face blank. He turned back to Dean, nodding numbly. "Yeah, okay." He muttered, walking over to Dean.

He grinned, relief flushing over him. He hadn't realised how tense he'd been until the threat was gone. The boy turned away. Dean could see him wiping his eyes. He supposed if he'd just been seriously considering suicide he'd need a moment too. Hell, he could imagine the feeling all too well.

The boy turned back to him, smiling slightly. For the first time Dean noticed his bright blue eyes. Well, if this kid had one thing going for him it was his looks. He held out his hand awkwardly to the boy.

"I'm Dean."

"Castiel."

To be continued...