When I was little, no older than six, I remember that my mom had to work two jobs. In the mornings and afternoons she babysat some neighborhood children, and at night she worked shifts at the diner. My dad was always wasting our money with beer, he couldn't hold down a job to save his life. Along with me, my older sister Anna and my even older brother Gabriel, my mother would take care of other annoying kids.

There was this one little boy, maybe a little younger than me; he always came over with his baby brother. He would walk up to our house and hand my mom thirty dollars. A black car would drive away and the baby would be placed in a crib. The older brother would sometimes lie down on the floor and fall asleep; his eyes looked much too old for his small body. But other times he would be energized and he'd tug on my arms and we'd play heroes in the backyard. He taught me how to fight, and sneak through the house and steal cookies. I remember that his last name was odd, and I remember that he called his younger brother Sammy. My mother would scold him when he got into fights with other kids.

The little boy never talked about his mother, he even punched me one time for asking about her. But then one day he told me all about his dad. From his point of view his dad was invincible, he was a hero who saved innocent people and punished the monsters. I never knew exactly what his father did, but I remember thinking that none of what he did was legal.

Then one day the two brothers didn't show up, for three whole weeks there was no words from their father, then one day he called and said that they had moved towns and that they wouldn't need my mom to take care of them anymore. I ran away for a week when my mom told me they weren't coming back.

When I came back my mother was dead. She was hit by a car coming home one night after a late shift at the diner, the driver didn't even slow down. Anna didn't talk to me for a long time after that, she blamed dad. And to her I looked like him. Gabriel tried to make everyone feel better, but when no one would laugh at his jokes he tried for a cry for attention.

The neighbor's dog was mysteriously shaved in the middle of the night and the picture of mom on her wedding day was tapped against dad's liquor bottles. Dad never even looked up from the floor.

For a while things got better, dad was home more, and he actually brought home food for us to eat, and he smiled once at Anna when she showed him her missing tooth. But one night I went to the kitchen for a glass of water and I saw dad crying and clutching a picture of mom that was taken when I was in diapers. In the morning he dropped off some eggs and left to go God known's where.

I really didn't know how I handled my mother's death, I was six and I didn't understand what death was. Not until Anna screamed at me that mom was never ever coming back. I cried all night, Anna found me in the backyard curled in on myself, asleep under the stars. After that we became close again, but then dad started to drift away again and things got worse and worse. He stopped bringing home food and Gabriel was forced to get a job, and soon dad was only here once a week to see if we were still alive.

I never talked to anyone but Anna and Gabriel, everyone I just stared at. Anna said I would start school in the fall and that I would be in kindergarten. She said I would like it because I'm already so smart. Gabriel made me promise that I would never work while I was in school. He wants me to make good grades and do well in life, he wants' me to make something of myself. And all I want to do is make my mother proud.

"Mr. Novak, a word please," My Spanish teacher called up to me as the bell rang, signaling that his class was over. "I hear you're a brilliant student." I really don't like him; he's snotty and stuck up. He looks away from the blank stare I've mastered. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind tutoring a new sophomore in Spanish one," he smiles at me like he already knows I'll say yes.

"Sure I can." I grit my teeth, "Who is it?"

Mr. Jones smiles and pulls some kid into the classroom, "This is Dean Winchester." He's taller than I am, with broad shoulders and short brown hair. I look up into bright green eyes and my stomach clenches, "Dean, this is Castiel Novak, you're new tutor." Dean's eyes go wide and for a brief moment I see something flicker inside them. We leave the room at the same time and when he tries for small talk, I interrupt and tell him when and where to meet me.

I leave him standing awkwardly in the hallway; that was the little boy who carried a knife in his right boot. He was the older brother who pushed me down the stairs because I said that Sam didn't look like him, he was my first friend and the only person besides Anna and Gabriel that knew my mother. He cannot be here. I almost run right past my locker, when Anna grabs my shoulder and looks at me worriedly, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the lie comes easy, "just have to get stuff to tutor this kid after school." I leave before she tells me I need to focus on my own studies, and not some random kid. She tries so hard to protect me, and I feel bad when I brush her off, but I'm just tired of being smothered.

I get home at 4:30, thirty minutes before Dean's going to be here; I gather all my old Spanish notes and clean my room. I also prepare the lie I'll use when he asks where my parents are. My stomach twists when I think of it; I hope Dean doesn't ask too many questions. I might not have all the right answers.

There's a knock on the front door and Gabriel get's it before I do, "Well hello-"

"Gabriel, stop bothering him, we have to study." I brush past my brother and pull Dean into my house and up the stairs, slamming my door behind us. I hope Dean didn't hear the noises my brother was making. I'm just not ready for him to know that I'm into the home team.

Dean's stretched out on my bed, like he's done it a million times before. But I don't think he remembers me, but then, "Didn't your mother use to babysit a bunch of kids? I think she use to take care of me and my brother."

I push down the rising tide of fear and nod my head, "Yes." even I notice the break in my voice, quickly I change the subject, "What kind of Spanish are you covering at the moment? Mexican/Spanish?"

Dean throws his arms in the air and his eyes are hard, unconsciously I scoot further away from him, "How would I know? I've been here for a total of three weeks and they already think I'm stupid."

"Well prove to them you're not."

Dean stares down at his hands, then he looks up at me, "I am dumb though, all I know how to do is work on cars, and take care of my baby brother and live in the real world. I manage to save enough money to feed Sammy and make sure he's happy, and I can balance a job and school, but if I can't fucking tell what shit is in Spanish then I'm the base of every blonde joke." I stare at him; I wasn't expecting any of this. I just keep staring, unable to respond to that. And the weird thing is, he doesn't look away, everyone looks away when I stare at them too long. "Cas," he says the old nickname he gave me such a long time ago. I've dreamt of a hot guy sitting on my bed with eyes like that. But I'm 99% sure he plays for the other team, "I'm only here so Sam will stop bothering me about my grades."

Oh, "So does that mean we're actually going to study?" Any reason to talk to Dean Winchester will be good enough for me.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Dean ignores me, and stares at the blank walls of my room, "I guess not, it doesn't look like you do. There's no pictures or random junk lying around. I've seen you around school since I transferred, the only person you really spend a lot of time around is that red head. Anna right?" I nod, I can't believe that he has been paying attention to me, or maybe he just notices everyone. "I remember a lot about this house actually. It was the best place Sammy and I had for awhile. Is your mom around?"

The silence around us stretches as I try to wrap my mind around what I was going to say. "She's dead, actually, for eleven years now." Dean looks away from me, and I want to comfort him, even though it's my mother we're talking about. "I remember her enough, and we have some home movies, so I don't miss her that much."

"My mom's dead too." for a moment my breath catches when he puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes reassuringly.

I move away from his touch, before I forget who he is, and who I am. I think, for a moment, he looks upset. Then he opens one of my folders and hands it to me, "I think we're doing something like this in class." Its basic verbs and I set the papers in my lap and lean against the wall.

My nose itches as I smell the dust, I look up and Dean's looking up at me expectantly, "Tell me a favorite phrase of yours."

I see him cock his head at me, but he doesn't question it, "Son of a bitch." he grins at me, and I stifle a laugh.

"Now say it in Spanish."