Just a little something I whipped up to avoid working on my DCbigbang... I really am unsure where its going or if I'll ever even finish it... Also the title makes no sense.

Castiel awoke to a blaring alarm and promptly ignored it, rolling over with a grunt. As the beeps began to increase in volume he sandwiched his head between his two pillows. This continued for ten minutes before Castiel could no longer take it and rolled over and promptly fell off his full size bed. He grunted with the impact. His bed had never felt too small for just him before. He slammed the button on the alarm clock and pulled himself up to prepare for his day of work.

He drank his coffee black because he couldn't bring himself to start his mediocre day with something he might actually enjoy. He sat at his cubicle of 256 Main st. where he worked as a tax accountant for Milton & Brothers. Castiel typed away on his keyboard, filling out endless reports and paperwork. For the first two years he worked with the company he was happy enough to be an obedient worker monkey, or happy might not be the proper word for it, but he was content. Now, however, he was too soaked in the company blood to ignore his own unhappiness. The company rested in the upper east side of the city and it catered to the upper class clientele. Castiel was pulled from his reverie by his secretary, Rachel, tapping her pen at the wall of his cubicle. "Do you have time for a consultation?"

Castiel sighed, "I guess so, send them in."

A few minutes later an older woman with messy dreadlocks and old laugh lines creased between her eyes sat down in front of Castiel. She laid a bunch of folders onto Castiel's desk. "Mr. Novak right? My name's Missouri. Now I've been doing my own taxes for years but I just need a little help now seeing as I can barely read the numbers straight on the pages..."

Castiel bit his lip considering, before even opening the folders he could tell that the woman couldn't afford the pricey surcharges the company forced on its clientele. "Miss Missouri, please, call me Castiel." He slowly opened the folders to examine the contents.

Missouri smiled warmly at him, and he just couldn't do it. This damn job, this fucking company, and his whole god damn life. He slammed the folder shut and returned Missouri's smile, "Please don't take offense to my saying this, but I don't think you belong here." Missouri gave him a startled look but didn't interrupt. "There's this place down on 5th avenue that will give you a free consultation."

Missouri smiled more widely at him, "Thank you son. You're a good man. She took the papers into her arm and stood to go, but stopped on her way out of the cubicle, turning a sly smile on Castiel. "If you want to change it all you gotta do is try." Castiel didn't recognize the smile she gave him, but he returned hers with a wry one.

After work that day Castiel decided he wanted to get drunk, very drunk. The old woman's words kept ringing in his ears as he sat at the bar, a glass of amber before him. He tapped it on the polished wood- change? Change what? How? Isn't that the problem... Castiel didn't begin to question that she had somehow known he was miserable and commanded him to change his life. He was tired, he hated his job, and he was lonely, so fucking lonely. He took a swig from his glass. How does he change it? Where would he even start? Castiel was never good at meeting people. He sometimes wondered if he had a homing beacon that sent out negative messages like 'Do not approach' and 'I am not worth your time.' By the time Castiel crashed back into his bed he was fantastically drunk and expecting a wicked hangover.

Castiel woke in an all too familiar bed, a painfully familiar bed. His head was throbbing from the hangover that was threatening to overtake him. His alarm was beeping, but not the usual insistent increasingly loud chirps but more of a low hum, it too sounded way too painfully familiar. His eyes slowly slipped open to reveal a white ceiling with little green stars scattered throughout it in random patterns. Now his eyes were bugging out. He whipped his head up far too fast, causing a throbbing pain to split down his temple, but it didn't matter because he was in fact in the bedroom of his childhood home. He glanced at the humming alarm clock beside him, the time 6:30 blinked in red letters. TOO FUCKING EARLY. He must be dreaming, he really must be. This wasn't possible. Alcohol induced hallucinations brought on by weird conversations by psychic old ladies promising better things. But even if he could change his life, as the woman had promised, he certainly wouldn't want to be stuck back at his father's house.

He finally slammed a fist onto the old alarm clock, causing it to tumble over. His arm seized in front of his eyes and he stared down at it, holy fuck. It was much thinner, paler, YOUNGER, he suddenly realized, than what it should be. He jumped out of his bed, his CHILDHOOD bed, and ran to the mirror he knew would be posted on the back of his closet. Sure enough his 17 year old self was staring back at himself. He began to hyperventilate, and than wretch, he quickly ran to the very familiar bathroom across the hall and vomited into the porcelain palace. WHY? WHY? WHY! His head was throbbing. He fished some advil out of the medicine cabin and swallowed them with a slurp out of the sink faucet. Of all the places, all the times... How was this possible? He must be dreaming, right? He had made it out of this life, out of this house, HE ESCAPED.

Castiel found his way back to his childhood bedroom and flung himself onto his bed, willing himself back to sleep so he could wake up and everything would be back to the way it should be; crappy job, mediocre apartment with beige walls, loneliness, bad coffee- all of it, just to be away from this painful place, these painful memories. A soft buzzing came from the bedside table, unlike that of the alarm clock. Castiel cocked one eye open, it was a cell phone. Not his, well it was his, but the one he had when he was 18. Out of curiosity he pulled it to himself, maybe it could answer some questions...

He flipped it open and stared at the text on the screen From Dean W: U up sleepyhead? B there in 10.

A lump got caught in his throat. He knew exactly who Dean W was. Dean Winchester, fuck he hadn't thought of that name in years... Fuck that wasn't even true. He thought of it all the time actually. As a matter of fact he'd even looked it up SEVERAL times. He looked it up enough to know that he was now living in San Francisco with his younger brother Sam Winchester. He owned a small autorepair garage and his brother worked as a lawyer. Their father had passed away 6 years ago. Of all the times Castiel had looked up that name he had never ever called. He had even gotten as far as typing the number into his dialpad but could never hit send.

Castiel stared at the text in silent horror, and than made up his mind. He closed the cell phone, quietly putting it on the tabletop beside him and slammed his head back into the pillow with a force hard enough that he hoped it would knock him out. But it was just a pillow, so of course it didn't.

Several minutes later he heard a car horn outside, a horn he was very well acquainted with. Castiel jumped up in shock. There was no way this was just a dream. He felt his heart pounding impossibly fast in his chest as he rushed to his closet for clean clothes to put on. He heard a car door slam shut in the distant outdoors. There was a slow pounding of footsteps, and a door wrenching open (his front door, he realized with dread). He pulled a clean t-shirt on and fished around for a pair of jeans. There was heavy footsteps on the stairs. He shimmied out of his pajama bottoms and pulled his jeans on just as his bedroom door swung open.

Standing in his doorway was a grinning man with eyes too impossibly green, freckles softening his sharp cheekbones, plump lips, all so ageless it made Castiel's heart stop. He wanted to sob with how perfect this young man that he's tried so hard to forget looks. "Ready to go yet Cas?" Dean Winchester asked him with a soft affection he'd always kept for Castiel alone. Castiel just gaped at him, unsure of how he got here, unsure of what to say, unsure of what god to thank for giving him another look at this beautiful man.