Authors note: This is my first fic. Only chapter one! Comments are greatly appreciated!

Title: Out Of The Ashes (1/?)

Disclaimer: I do not own these wonderful men or anything that had to do with Supernatural.

Rating: NC-17, this part

Warnings: AU, so no spoilers that I can think of.

Chapter 1

The scream was one Castiel knew from childhood, but the fear behind it grated his heart.

Anna was in trouble.

Castiel threw his books and backpack to the ground and darted toward where he heard the sound come from. He couldn't see in the dark well enough past the shine of the streetlight to know who the people with her were, but Castiel knew that Anna would not make such a sound unprovoked.

Castiel threw himself at the men holding her, startling them for the few seconds it would take to have her slip from their grasp. The harsh yank on his shoulder gave way to a popping sound and Castiel had to grit his teeth from gasping at the flash of immediate pain.

"Anna, run!" He shouted in her direction as tried to wrestle his way out of his captors rough arms.

Anna yelped as the other man made a grab for her. Her face was swollen from the tears that streamed down her cheeks and her clothes were mud-ridden. She ran toward the town, shouting that she was going to call the police for help to assure Castiel.

"Oh, you really will regret helping that bitch." The man at his back growled as his companion came back and took the leaders' hold so he could come around front and glare at Castiel properly. "You'll wish you hadn't."

Castiel whimpered, he couldn't help it.

Dean rode in the Impala, his baby. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel to the beat of one of his favorite songs as he glided over the roads a smidgen over the speed limit. The music level was high; almost enough to travel to the houses he was passing. He was just taking a left onto the road that lead to the park as the song ended. The next song began to blare to life and he smiled.

Dean was just past the water fountain and getting near the edge of the small patch of woods centered in the park when he heard a disorienting cry. Confused, he turned the volume of the tape down and slowed to a crawl as another hurt shout sounded.

Not knowing whether or not he was needed, he pulled over. Parking the Impala the best he could in the midget space available, he looked out toward the forest and listened.

One more cry and he would go out there. There was some part of him that wanted to help if someone was a victim, no matter if he knew them or not. It was something he and his brother, Sam, had ingrained into their systems as much as having the will to keep breathing.

As soon as Dean had concluded that the screams must have been those of any kid causing a ruckus on a Friday night just having fun, another bellow echoed through the trees, a terrible plea. Without a second thought Dean was out of the car, the door swinging closed harshly behind him. He stampeded toward the trees as fast as his legs could carry him.

Arms pumping heavily at his sides, he turned onto the twisting path of the woods and kept running, his breathing fast and measured. Just as he turned around the second bend he saw something that gave him pause.

The boy that always sat at the back of his writing class was being held against the ground face down. His arms were being held out in front of him, a man's grasp no doubt bruising the pale skin that lay over the fragile bones, while his companion thrust into him from behind. The boy he knew was crying, full on sobbing into the grass, his voice being choked by the grass, snot, and gasps of pain.

Being spurred on by another loud cry, Dean ran towards them.

"Hey! What the fuck is going on?" he shouted as he approached from still a distance away.

Seeing him, the other men jumped and fled, one tugging up his pants as he ran.

Having to decide whether to help the boy or catch the rapists, Dean's heart clenched. He couldn't leave him alone in the middle of the woods while he chased the men; his instincts were to stay. As he neared the boy, he noticed he had curled into himself, shuddering from the force of his silent sobs.

Dean stopped. He could go with him later to make a statement.

Dean made sure the boy's eyes were in sight of him before he nudged his way forward and spoke softly. "Hey. Hey man, let me help you..."

Dean leaned in and rested his hand on the boys shoulder and he screamed.

"Whoa, whoa. I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Dean Winchester. We have writing together with Mrs. Tumell?" Dean tried to comfort him with calming words the best he could, but the boy just wasn't paying attention. He still had his body curled and his arms were not sure where they were needed most, covering his body or his face.

"We should get you to a hospital."

"No! No hospital..." he came around at that. The light that was always in the back of his blue eyes shone bright with fear for a few moments before it died again. "Please, no. I don't want to. They didn't..." He let the sentence hang as he groaned, drawing his knees to his chest further. He cleared his throat a little to remove the mucus from his lungs and tried again. "They didn't finish."

Dean looked away for a moment to busy himself with trying to find something he can give him to clean his face off with better than his muddy arms and clothes. How could someone do this to a person who couldn't put up a fight? Do it at all? The guy never did anything. He sure as hell didn't deserve this for being so quiet.

Finding nothing in his pockets, Dean shrugged off his leather jacket, letting it fall to the grass as he yanked off his shirt and bundled it into a ball. He didn't hesitate from pressing it to the boys face and gently wiping some of the dirt from his face's cheeks.

"You really should go to the hospital. But I won't make you." He coaxed the boys hand from his side and began to clean it. "You do need to go somewhere safe. I can give you a ride home if you want."

The word home seemed to drive a silvered stake through the boys already hurt heart. His eyes flashed with such fear and desperation that Dean felt like an ass for even bringing it up.

"Or... I could give you a place to stay for the weekend. Just until you... you know." Dean was such a heel. He worked on cleaning the other hand and arm as the owner seemed to make up his mind.

"Don't bring me home."

Dean paused. He had never really heard his voice before, a dark, rich chocolate that melted as it reached his ears and waves of anger hit him because the taste of it was tainted by pain.

"Okay." Was all Dean said as he waited with his back turned as the boy shimmed his jeans back up and clasped them. When he was ready, the boy came around to Dean's side. Dean draped his jacket over the boy's shoulders and caught him flinching as if he were expecting to get hit. Letting it go, Dean lead the way back to the Impala.

"I need... I need to pick up my things." The guy mumbled as he buckled his seat belt, flinching in pain and adjusted how he was sitting in the seat.

"Where'd you leave it?"

"I dropped it as I was running." He evaded.

"Running from those bastards?" Dean asked.

"No." Was all his companion replied. He gave directions to where they were to go and Dean pulled out of the meager spot with ease.

As they traveled to Dean's, Dean couldn't help but wonder what the hell the guy had been doing. Why did that happen to him? If Dean hadn't happened by, the guy would still be laying there, of this he was sure. The strongest question that flew through his mind and the one he tried his hardest to not look at too in depth was what the hell was he supposed to tell his brother about him?

When Castiel and Dean arrived at Dean's very humble apartment that was shared with his brother Sam, they both still hadn't said a word besides Castiel telling Dean what his name was when questioned. Castiel had no idea what to say to Dean. Dean had saved him from continued abuse from the men who were going to get lucky somehow.

Castiel had interfered partially because he loved his sister and never wanted anything to happen to her, and partially because me would always take the pain for all his siblings. He was used to it. His father was the head parish priest in town. Father Novak. Although his father loved all his children, he always blamed Castiel for the death of his mother. Castiel was the last Novak to be born; his mother died from birthing complications with him. Father also had quite a drinking habit, and he would remind him every time he took in a bit too much that Castiel was a demon sent to him by the Lord to test his patience when sober and ability to cast out spawn from the Earth.

So far, Father hadn't succeeded in either state.

Castiel didn't know how to feel for invading Dean's life like this. He felt entirely uncomfortable and told such feelings in the tenseness of his shoulders.

"I do appreciate this, Dean Winchester, but I believe this is too much. You can just drive me back to my home..."

"Castiel, no. You're here already and there's a warm bed and hot shower here calling out your name. Stay the night at least." Dean's emerald gaze bore into Castiel's blue sapphires, the earnest wish to comfort him a living pulse in his eyes.

Castiel lowered his gaze from the intensity and nodded once. "Yes. Of course." He winced when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Just for one night."

Dean couldn't believe that Castiel was the guy's name. It seemed so old, so important. So noticeable, which was anything other than what the guy really was. Basic shirts and regular jeans created a mirage for him to blend into the crowd. It was such a good disguise that even Dean hadn't really noticed him when he first transferred to this school. Well, that wasn't exactly true. That first day in Mrs. Tumell's class had been enough for Dean to notice Castiel, but only for a moment. Castiel had looked up, his blue eyes piercing in their intensity as they tried to weight and measure him, and apparently Castiel had found him wanting, for he had looked back down at his papers as quickly as he had looked up at the sound of Dean's voice.

Now, a month later, Castiel was looking at him again with those eyes, that intensity. Dean kept his green eyes away from those captivating pools as much as he could. He almost couldn't stand the trust they showed.

"Come on." Dean said, leading the way to the front door, keys dangling noisily from his fingertips.

Castiel followed without a sound. After the doors' three locks were undone, the door was pushed back to reveal a small, cramped, cozy place that was rich with the feel of home. The small apartment had nothing Castiel's house had save one thing; love. It felt like the inhabitants loved each other, and were both alike. A small jacket, almost identical to Deans, sat in the edge of the chair by the entrance. There were missed shots of late night take out wrappers littering the kitchen floor by the trash can and three plates set up for dinner on the small square table.

"Hey Sammy." Dean calls to the mop of brown hair sitting on the couch, glaring at the television.

"Hey Dean." Sam called back, looking just to make sure he's fully intact, doing a double take when he realized there's a man next to him. He just stared for a few moments, almost unbelieving that there was anyone that could stand being around Dean besides him. After a shake of his head to clear his thoughts and blinking twice, he smiled. "Hey! I'm Sam." He waved slightly and smiled again, showing teeth.

Castiel shifted his feet and murmured a greeting.

"Cas is gunna stay for the night. Project." Dean explained as he gently persuaded his leather jacket off Castiel and threw it on Sammy's.

"Awesome." Sammy nodded then turned back to his show.

"Do you wanna go shower while I go do dinner?" Dean asked then paused. Housewife much?

Castiel hadn't noticed anything wrong with the statement like Dean had.

"I can make dinner after my shower if you would like." Castiel said quietly.

"No. Cas, you're a quest. There's no way you're making my dinner." Dean tilted his head slightly in question. "Do you like spaghetti?"

"Spaghetti would be wonderful, thank you." Castiel replied as Dean made his way to the saddest version of a kitchenette Cas has ever seen.

As he made his way to the bathroom, he was stunned that he actually felt at home with a complete stranger and the guys brother.

While Castiel was showering, Dean had Sammy quietly enter the bathroom and retrieve Cas's dirty clothes and switch them with some of Dean's. As the spaghetti boiled and bubbled, Dean stirred the sauce and tried his best to remember why he would bring a complete stranger into his ramshackle of a home that he shared with his only living relative.

And why the hell would Sammy not complain for company? Dean could have sworn Sammy was bothered for a split second before his smile, the smile that even Dean rarely gets to see, shone over his little face and greeted Cas like a lost friend.

Castiel just had a traumatizing experience and all Dean could do was admit him entrance into what little home he had and help him any way he could. That's what his family had taught him. That's what his mother had taught him.

Besides, Cas seemed to be in a lot of pain, and not just the physical kind that he experienced tonight. A deep-seated harassment of his soul must have happened to make him so sad and recluse. Something awful and detrimental to any person's mind.

Shaking his head to clear it of someone elses problems, Dean stirred the spaghetti and stole a piece from the pot. Tasting it and finding it to be damn near perfect, he drained the pot and checked the sauce.

Castiel nearly tripped over the pile of folded clothes that sat outside the curtain as he stepped out of the shower, still sopping wet. Castiel picked up the shirt and sighed; Dean was a bigger man than he was, with all those muscles corded around his bones. He dragged it on over his skin. Castiel chuckled once as he tugged the front of it out and saw an immense stretch of fabric. He quickly tugged the jeans on, grunting slightly as pain assailed him as the denim caressed his backside roughly.

Leaving the bath towel on the edge of the hamper, folded, he opened the door and stepped out.

Following his nose, Castiel found Dean hovering over a pot of red. Cas stepped up to Dean from the side and leaned against the counter, careful not to touch the edge with the seat of his pants.

"Were you expecting company?" Castiel asked quietly so he didn't attract Sam's attention.

"Huh? No." Dean replied as he stirred the sauce. "Why?"

Cas tilted his head toward the table, creating a puppy-like appearance to his face. "There were already three places set."

Dean sighed a breath he seemed to have been holding for a few moments too long. His shoulders sagged, resigned. "Our father... left us. He had been happy we thought, but with our mother having left about a year before, he found it to be an easy way to be rid of us. We would have had to go to an adoption agency, but I got a job at the mechanic's shop around the corner and the owner gave me a deal on this place. I needed to keep Sammy safe. I needed to keep Sammy with me." With Cas nodding in understanding, Dean continued. "Sammy still believes that there is a small chance that Dad will come home, so he likes to have a place there, just in case."

Castiel was silent, mulling over the out-pour of Dean's life and sealing it away in his brain. When it seemed there was nothing to say in reply, Castiel asked, "What may I retrieve for the table?"

Dean told him just some salt and pepper and something to drink from the fridge. Castiel saw that there was beer and flinched slightly at what he knew it could do to a person. He set that thought aside and snatched up the bottle of Coke. Setting the pieces on the tabletop, he waited for dinner.

"Dean, this is lovely." Castiel commented after the first few bites. Then, in a lower voice said, "I don't think I've had a meal made for me in years."

Sammy was chomping away at the noodles. Slurping the ends into his mouth as noisily as he could.

Dean nodded his acknowledgment to Castiel as he brought another forkful slathered in sauce to his lips. Awkwardness covered them in a stifling blanket. Castiel dropped his head to avoid making eye contact.

"So, Cas. What classes do you have with Dean?" Sammy questioned between bites.

"Writing. I am rather good at that." Cas replied.

"Huh." Sammy scrunched up his face a moment then took another bite. As another thought occurred to him, he asked another question. "How old are you?"

"Sammy, no more questions." Dean commanded with a slight growl.

"Okay."

Not another minute went by before he asked, "Are you gay?"

"God dammit, Sam!" Dean shouted, then froze. He was blushing slightly, his shoulders tense from holding his position so he didn't cross the table and grab Sam by the shirt and send him to his room.

But he was also curious for the answer.

Castiel was a frightened bird. His eyes were round globes of oceans. "It wouldn't matter if I were or weren't."

They resumed eating in silence.