A young boy, no older than five, ran outside as the snow began to fall. He stared, wide-eyed, as the little white flakes drifted to the ground, catching in his eyelashes and melting on his nose.

"Hey dad," he asked, running back inside. "What's the white stuff? Are the clouds falling?"

"That, Castiel, is snow," his dad said as he shrugged on his work uniform. "It's like when it rains but it's cold out so the rain freezes and falls down as flakes."

"That's weird," Castiel said, scrunching his nose up. "That never happened when it was cold at our old home."

"That's because it was never cold enough."

"Oh."

"Your mother and I have to go to work now. We'll be home before you know it. Think you'll be alright until your aunt gets here? It might be a while with the weather like it is."

Castiel nodded sadly. "Do you really have to go?"

"Unfortunately yes. It's almost Christmas so people are going to be traveling a lot." He knelt down, putting his hands on Castiel's shoulders. "I'll be back before you know it, don't you worry."

"You said that last time! And then you were gone for a whole year!"

"It was only two weeks, Castiel."

"No way."

"Yes way. We have to go now, Cassy."

Castiel pouted and groaned. "Fiiiiiine."

His dad ruffled his hair a bit before standing and walking out the door, following his mother out to the car.

When his aunt arrived, he was lying out in the snow, watching the sky in hopes of waving to his parents' plane so he could get in a 'goodbye.'

Castiel didn't personally care how cold it was. It must have been at least -20 degrees out, he didn't know. Hypothermia was preferable to learning about the mitochondria for the umpteenth time.

Lysander found him at lunch. He'd been out for maybe an hour, maybe more or maybe less. He hadn't really been keeping track. Lysander looked terrified for him. It was almost funny seeing him get that worried.

"Castiel," he said, trying to pull Castiel into a sitting position, "Castiel, oh god, your lips are completely purple, what are you doing out here in nothing but your leather jacket, come on-"

"No." Castiel shook his head.

"No?"

"No. It's snowing. I want to see the snow."

Lysander sat back on his heels for a moment, wondering as the chill seeped through his clothing how Castiel had stayed out for this long without going back inside.

"Castiel, you're delirious."

"Am I? Am I really? I can't focus in class anyway so why bother going?" He sputtered out between shivers.

"Look, I know Debrah's leaving hit you hard. I know your parents aren't going to be home for Christmas-"

"Again."

"Again. But you can't do this to yourself."

Castiel shook his head again. Lysander sighed.

"We can go to my house. I'll skip with you, but you need to go somewhere warm."

Castiel finally agreed to that.

"Please tell me you're not giving yourself hypothermia again."

Castiel sighed, his breath creating puffs of condensation as he did so. "You're never going to let that go, are you, Lysander?"

"I'm just concerned is all."

"Right. To answer your question, no." He paused, staring off of his apartment balcony. "It's snowing," he said plainly.

"What is it with you and snow?"

"It was snowing like this when my parents left for work one time. I remember because I'd never seen snow before, because I lived somewhere warmer up until I was four or five. I don't remember where, now. Isn't that weird? I don't remember where I was born."

"I suppose." Lysander frowned.

"They were always home for Christmas, you know," Castiel continued. "They stopped coming home that year. My mom and dad were being put on more and more flights and they were home less and less, and now here I am, living on my own because it was inconvenient for them to make it for Christmas. Or any other day. But somehow, somehow Golden Boy manages to get them to come for some stupid school play."

"Oh."

"And now they won't be able to come home for my birthday either, next year, because they had to exchange their time off with the time they were supposed to come home for my birthday. They're going to miss their own son turning 18."

Before Lysander could say anything in response, Castiel flicked something over the railing, sending it to the ground in a trail of smoke. Lysander realized that the condensation clouds hadn't actually been condensation after all.

"Let's go inside," Castiel murmured, ducking his head. "Before I get hypothermia again."