Longer summary: Dean and Cas are 19 and 18, respectively, and have been best friends since Cas moved to Lawrence six years ago. Cas is a senior in high school, but Dean has dropped out. Over the last few weeks, Cas has noticed a huge change in Dean. When he discovers Dean is using heroin, in addition to dealing with an abusive father and worsening mental illness, he struggles to keep Dean afloat while they try to figure out their relationship. This is the story of their first few years together, trying to figure out adulthood as Dean falls apart and Cas has to put him back together again (while maintaining his own sanity).

AUTHORS NOTE:
This is my first attempt at a long fic, so constructive criticism is highly encouraged. :)

If you have an ao3 account, I really recommend reading the story there. I can publicly reply to your reviews, and I provide links to the songs used in the story. My username there is the same as it is here, crazyassCas.

Story completed 12/15/16.
Revisions completed 12/23/16

TAGS:

angst (so much angst) WITH A HAPPY ENDING, adult situations, hurt/comfort, prostitution, explicit language, explicit sexual content

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

graphic depictions of drug use, suicidal thoughts/behavior, graphic violence, homophobia, internalized homophobia, psychological/physical abuse, animal abuse, animal death, alcoholism, addiction, severe mental illness, PTSD and flashbacks, non-violent non-con, rape (one scene), attempted murder (one scene), brief mention of self-harm

Each chapter has it's own warnings, excluding violence and drug use, as I figured it was to be expected, given the nature of this story.

If you have any questions, or just want to discuss the story or any of my other works, feel free to email me at crazyassCas at gmail

I hope to hear from you!

Chapter 1

It was an unusually hot day in Lawrence, Kansas. Waves of heat radiated off of the blacktop and cicadas sung from the trees.

Outside of Lawrence High School sat a black '67 Chevy Impala, waiting to pick up a student. Students walking past the vehicle were wearing as few clothes as possible and still sweating, but the driver sat curled in the fetal position. Despite wearing jeans and a jacket, he was still shivering and drenched in a cold sweat.

Dean jerked up when he heard the passenger door open. "Hey-" Cas started.

Dean looked up and his gaze met the bright blue eyes of his best friend, who peered down at him from beneath the roof of the car. They had been best friends since they were thirteen, when Cas first moved to Lawrence. Dean had barely graduated his junior year, scraping by with the bare minimum, and this year he decided not to return for his senior year. Cas had been disappointed, but there hadn't been much he could do to convince Dean to stay.

As Cas met his eyes, his smile turned into a worried frown. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Dean pulled up his shirt and wiped the sweat off his face. "Yeah, just... not feeling too well. I think I got the flu," he mumbled, avoiding Cas' gaze.

"Looks like it," Cas said, as he dropped himself into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. "Didn't you just get over the flu? You didn't have to pick me up. I could have taken the bus. Just call me and let me know ahead of time."

"Hey, I said I'd be here, so I'm here." Dean smiled weakly and turned the key in the ignition. As the Impala roared to life, Led Zeppelin flowed from the radio, and he peeled off, the brick building quickly shrinking in the rear view mirror.

Cas rolled down his window and hung his arm out, enjoying the breeze flowing through his hair and trench coat after being stuck in the stuffy school all day.

Dean began to feel uncomfortable with the lack of conversation. He didn't like being alone in his own head. "So..." HIs voice came out rough, so he cleared his throat. "How'd your chemistry lab go?"

Cas smiled. "I know I was very worried about it, but it actually went very well. Some other kid's shit exploded though," he laughed.

Dean let out a small chuckle. He'd never made it to chemistry, but he was sure if he did, he would be the one who's concoctions were exploding.

"Are you sure you're okay, Dean?" Cas inquired. He knew Dean said he had the flu, but he felt like something else was going on. "You... don't seem like yourself lately."

Dean swallowed hard, his throat dry and his tongue thick. "Yeah," he croaked. "Just feel like death is all."

Cas frowned. "I'm sorry. When we get to my house, you can grab some flu medicine out of the cabinet if you want."

Dean knew it wouldn't help, but he nodded anyway. "Thanks."

When they arrived at Cas' a few minutes later, Cas headed into the kitchen as Dean stood in the living room. "Grab the DayQuil out of the upstairs medicine cabinet. I think there's a severe cold and flu one in there," Cas called out from the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

Dean rubbed his eyes. "Uh, yeah, do you have any alcohol?"

In the kitchen, Cas rolled his eyes as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet. "Maybe water would be better."

"Yeah," Dean agreed half-heartedly, heading into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and locked it. He stood in front of the sink, staring into the mirrored cabinet. He looked like absolute shit. His hair was soaked and plastered to his head with sweat, his underarms were soaked (almost through his jacket), and his eyes were bloodshot. He sighed and ran the tap, splashing his face with cold water. He had been hiding this addiction from Cas for nearly four weeks, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. He certainly wasn't stupid; quite the opposite, in fact. As far as Dean was concerned, he had only even made it as far as he had in high school because of Cas' help.

He opened the medicine cabinet and the DayQuil was front and center. His eyes were immediately drawn up to the next shelf, which was lined with small orange bottles. Before he could stop himself, he had scanned the labels. Of course one of them was Percocet, and the bottle was full. It wasn't heroin, but it would help with these damn withdrawal symptoms. Dean clenched his jaw and tore his gaze away. While it was certainly tempting, Cas was his best friend. He couldn't steal from him. He closed the medicine cabinet, splashed his face again, and dried himself off before heading back out into the living room.

Cas was sitting on the couch with Dean's glass of water. "Did you find it?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," Dean replied. "Thank you."

Cas nodded. "Of course. Would you like to watch TV?"

Dean hesitated. "I appreciate the offer, Cas, but... I should really go home and crash."

Cas nodded. "Yes, you need rest. Thank you again for the ride. Text me when you're feeling better... or if you need anything."

"Will do man, see ya later."

Back in the Impala, Dean cranked up the radio, drove, and thought about Cas. He was such a good friend, always looking out for him and always there when Dean fucked up. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure what he would do without him, or what he even did to deserve having him in his life. His nausea was only getting worse and now he was sick to his stomach thinking about Cas finding out about what he was doing, about how he was hiding it from him...

His mouth started to water and he quickly pulled over onto the side of the road, flung open the door, and started dry heaving. Not much came up, as he hadn't been eating much lately. He leaned back in his seat, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and grabbed his cell phone. He started frantically texting Crowley, the local supplier. He had been trying to reach him since eleven am, and it was now going on three-thirty. He couldn't stand being dope sick for much longer. Three minutes went by with nothing. He threw his phone and lit a cigarette. This was bullshit, why be a drug dealer if you weren't going to respond?

Another two minutes went by before the familiar ding of a text message alert could be heard on the passenger side floor.

Dean dived down, scrambling to find his phone amid an array of fast food wrappers, empty cigarette packs, and baggies. The text simply read 'come by'.

He threw the car into drive and peeled back out onto the road. A ten minute drive was completed in five and before he knew it, he was again standing in front of the door that had suddenly become a daily sight in his life. He knocked on the door in the pattern he was always told to, and the door opened a crack, with the chain still locked. Once Crowley confirmed it was him, he closed the door, opened the chain, and let Dean in.

Crowley sat down at the table, leaned back in his chair, and fiddled with an unlit cigarette.

"I have twenty dollars," Dean muttered.

Crowley smirked and nodded towards the table. Dean reached into his pocket and rummaged around for a few seconds before withdrawing his hand with a crumpled ball of bills. He stepped forward towards the table and smoothed it all out before dropping a ten dollar bill and two fives onto its surface. Crowley snatched it up with his left hand and tossed a baggie onto the table with his right. "Enjoy," he crooned.

"Thanks, peace!" Dean exclaimed, swiping the baggie off the table and heading out the door. He clambered into the car, threw it in reverse, and peeled out. Ten minutes later, he had just passed Cas' house again and was nearly home when he couldn't wait any longer. The body aches and nausea were just too much. He pulled over, down an old dirt path in the woods he and Cas often walked down together to smoke. He pulled the baggie out of the chest pocket of his jacket, opened it up, and tapped a decent amount of the brown powder on the back of a CD case. It wasn't the same as shooting up, but it would have to do. Looking around quickly, although he knew no one would be back there, he held it up to his face and snorted it. He then threw the case to the floor, but not before scraping any remaining powder together and attempting to snort that as well.

Almost instantly, a wave of warmth and comfort washed over him. He leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the ride. In that moment, everything was gone- his fathers abuse, his self-loathing, the guilt of lying to Cas and Sammy.

He was so out of it that he didn't even respond to the knock on his passenger side window.