AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hello, everyone, and welcome to this wonderful story! I want to start off by thanking you all for reading the first chapter of my rusty writing as I venture back into the world of fanfiction. I apologize for it being a little jagged at first, but I promise the quality will get so much better as the chapters go on. I plan on this story being fairly long, so stick around for a while, will 'ya? :)

Please keep in mind that this story features some slight plot changes, is AU of course, is Destiel (very heavily Destiel), will contain graphic sex scenes, experimentation, violence, cussing, and other fun gory stuff. Another thing to know about this story is that there WILL be a lot of growth (like age growth) in characters, so time lapses between chapters are going to happen.

The story starts out with Teen!Dean and Human!Teen!Cas, and has a couple of our other favorite characters playing different roles, as well as a fair amount of O.C.'s.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Castiel or Dean Winchester characters and/or any of the original story content based off of the show "Supernatural". This story is merely fanfiction inspired by the show and worked into my own ideas of how things should have, or did, play out in an alternate universe.

Thank you for reading. :)

It was quiet again in the house. Every time the other kids went out to fulfill their daily activities, one was left behind with the burden of an illness contracted from a homeless man who was one of many reported cases infected with a malady that seemed to be popular among the homeless community. It was just another day of solitude, and the house was brisk and damp with cold air and an uncomfortable atmosphere. Dean didn't understand how people could live in places like this, stationed out in the middle of nowhere with so much land to get lost in, but never being allowed to explore it. It was often that he was dropped off at a boarding home, but this time it was different - very different. This time, he was without his younger brother, Sammy, who was his rock, his world, his comfort.

There were plenty of other teens who frequented the home, but none seemed to be interested in acknowledging Dean's existence, especially since he was a lot older than the rest of them. Usually when he was dropped off in a boarding home, it was with his brother and only lasted a short time because his dad's hunting trips didn't take as long as he said they would. A week, maybe two tops, but never more than three weeks. However, this time, he was stuck in this place for over a month and half, nearing two months, and it was driving him insane.

Not only was it hard being away from the only people you can count on, and the only family you have, but it was extremely difficult being in a house full of strangers while being sick and quarantined in the upstairs bedroom with little to no contact with the outside world. The makers of the home were assumed to be a sweet couple, but Dean knew it was all just a fair game they played to parents or agencies that needed a quick place to dump some poor sucker off so they can have a roof over their head for a little while. In all reality, they weren't all they were cracked up to be. The wife was this petite, brunette, little thing who would sing everything she was doing and the husband was just the icing on top of the cake with his rustic demeanor and pompous attitude. It was classic, actually. The wife introduced herself as Bonnie, but insisted that the kids called her "Mother", sort of as a means to make them feel welcome, but Dean repudiated. The husband wasn't much of a character, either, especially with how he introduced himself. 'Hi, I'm Walter, but you can call me Walt', with his shaky, hoarse voice - short and to the point, followed by a furrowed brow and a disappointed glare.

If first impressions were anything to go by, Dean was not impressed. Something about the two just seemed awfully strange, so he made a point to keep his distance. And because of the situation he was in, keeping his distance was fairly easy.

Before he was brought to this place, he and his dad and brother had been sleeping in his dad's '67 Chevy Impala, travelling from state to state on a hunt to exact revenge on a powerful being that killed his mother. But because of being on the road for so long and visiting so many places, there's only so much your immune system can keep out of your body, and there's only so many places where you can park your car and not have it get broken into.

While the Winchesters were stopped at a gas station, John had parked the car in a dark spot around the back of the facility in efforts to keep the car hidden from criminals and other unworldly creatures, so that the three of them could go inside to stock up on food and drinks for the road. However, during their short time inside the gas station, the Impala had been broken into, but nothing except a couple dollars and a lighter were stolen out of it. John wouldn't have minded so much if the windows were an easy fix, but at this point along the way, it was difficult to find a place to get the car fixed, and it was also difficult to scrounge up the cash to get it done by someone who seemed mildly trustworthy. And since they were so low on cash, John figured it would just be best to block the window with a large black trash bag and hope that water didn't seep through the tape when it rained. But it did, and of course it was on the side where Dean usually slept, so it wasn't a pleasant experience for the eldest Winchester brother to be sleeping on a half damp seat during the coldest time of the year.

Along with having an insanely uncomfortable ride and place to sleep, Dean's stress was building up and he could feel himself coming down with some kind of cold or flu. It also didn't help that his brother was always hogging the small blanket they shared, so naturally, Dean would freeze the majority of the night anyways.

And just when he thought he was starting to get over his cold, Dean came in contact with a very sick, elderly homeless man who was only asking for a bit of help getting to the homeless shelter for a meal and a warm bed to sleep in. Feeling like it was the right thing to do, and despite the risk of getting sick, Dean urged to help the poor man fulfill his wish so that he would have some place to be safe for a night or two. Luckily, Dean was able to score a nice basket of goodies from the homeless shelter to take on the road. It wasn't much, but at least the food was home cooked and wasn't a processed gas station burrito or a soon-to-be-recycled hamburger from a rundown burger joint.

About two weeks went by on the hunt and Dean was getting extremely sick. So sick to the point where it was becoming very difficult for him to even ride in the car without feeling nauseated. He had a fever that was constantly fluctuating, and leading him to believe many times that he was feeling better, when he was probably getting worse. His head felt swollen and his whole body felt weak from coughing so much, and it was even getting hard for him to breathe sometimes. At this point, John felt it was best to continue his search for the monster without Dean. Having a sick son would not only hold him back from successfully finding the thing that killed his wife, but it would also mean that he wouldn't be able to properly care for Dean and would add onto the stress he already had.

A hospital was out of the question because he couldn't leave his sixteen year old son there for more than a week without them opting to shove him into foster care. So, John's only option was to place his son in a home where he could pick him up when he was good and ready. Unfortunately for Dean, his father was far from ready, and because of his sickness, his time there was prolonged.

The day was going by slowly, as usual, and there wasn't much to do while being cooped up in a secluded room and alone. It was a wonder he'd survived this long without dying of boredom, but Dean always made do with what he had. It was nearing noon and Dean was pretty hungry, but felt too weak to get out of bed and grab something to eat, and neither Bonnie nor Walter was going to be home any time soon.

Frustrated, Dean threw his head back against the hard, wooden backboard of the bed he was given and let out a deep sigh. He sat there in silence for about ten or fifteen minutes before deciding to finally get up out of bed, despite how weak he felt. The only way to get food into his system was to make it himself.

On the way downstairs, he noticed a large white truck in the yard with two people getting out of it - one younger, with luggage, and one older, who was the driver and more than likely a case worker judging by his formalwear. Curious, Dean proceeded downstairs and walked over to the door, opening it to greet them before the older man could knock. He stared out at the two, and then averted his eyes to the younger male carrying the luggage that seemed to be around the same age as him.

"Can I help you?" Dean asked, turning his attention up to the older man.

"Yes, we're looking for Mister and Missus Taylor. Are they home?" The man said, staring down at Dean with a tired, blank expression.

"No, they're out right now, but you can come in and wait for them to get back. M'sure they won't mind." Dean moved a little out of the way to invite the two inside.

The man nodded slightly and walked into the small living room, taking a seat on the plush couch in front of the television set. "When do you think they might be back? It's very important that I speak with them right away." The man urged, his tone becoming somewhat demanding.

Dean walked around the recliner sitting next to the couch and looked at the man for a brief moment, analyzing him before he spoke. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

"I never told you my-" the man was interrupted mid sentence by the other teen in the room. "His name is Richard Hegsman. My mother just died and my dad's a raging alcoholic, and I guess the state didn't like that, so here we are."

Dean's mouth fell open some as he was slightly taken aback by the abrupt interruption by the quiet teen who accompanied the case worker. He gave a quick nod and licked his lips as he took in the situation. "Okay and you are?"

"Oh, sorry, guess I should have included that. My name's Castiel." The teen placed one of his bags on the couch to free a hand and offered it to Dean for a handshake.

"I'm Dean. Just sit tight and the Taylors will be back in a little bit. No need to get your panties in a twist." Dean snarked as he shook Castiel's hand. He then turned around and headed for the kitchen to fix his self something to eat. "Well, I'm going to grab some food. Make yourselves at home."

Castiel proceeded to set the rest of his bags down on the couch next to Richard and quickly followed Dean to the kitchen.

"So, how long have you been here?" Castiel asked as Dean stuck his nose in the fridge.

Dean continued raiding the fridge for something suitable to eat that wouldn't make his stomach churn. "Almost two months now. Hungry?" He said as he pulled out some assorted lunch meats and cheeses from the deli drawer and held them out for Castiel to see.

"No, we just ate - so, how is it here? Do you like it? I've-"

"You sure ask a lot of questions." Dean said as he slapped the packages on the counter and reached for the loaf of bread, untwisting the tie, and taking out two slices to place on the counter separately.

Castiel paused for a moment after getting cut off, and just watched Dean prepare his sandwich before continuing with his comments. "I'm just curious. I've never been to a place like this before."

"And you think I have?" Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Well, have you?" Castiel looked at Dean for a long moment while Dean put the meats and cheeses neatly on his bread.

Dean looked back at Castiel, studying his blue eyes and analyzing the soft features on his face. He pursed his lips a little and went back to the fridge to grab some mustard for his sandwich. Returning to the counter, he squeezed the mustard container, complementing his sandwich with just enough of the bitter condiment so as to not scratch his throat upon consumption, but still enough to get a good taste of it. He placed the remaining piece of bread on top to complete the sandwich and picked it up, holding it while he replied to the interrogator in the kitchen with him. "Hm?" he shoved the sandwich in Castiel's face, offering him a bite, but when Castiel refused, he shrugged and took the first large bite.

"I've been to a few foster homes, boys' homes, or boarding schools in my life. My dad travels." Dean said between bites, now almost half way done with his sandwich.

Castiel watched uncomfortably while Dean practically inhaled the sandwich, arching a brow at the messiness of the mustard dripping on the floor. Dean looked down at it as well and shrugged again, walking past it and out of the kitchen. "Come on, I'll show you around, since you'll probably be staying here."

Castiel nodded slowly and followed Dean out of the kitchen and into the living room where Richard still was. "He's just going to show me around." Castiel informed, continuing to follow Dean up the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Dean wiped his hands on his pants as he finished his sandwich and pointed down the hallway. "Up here, you'll find all of the bedrooms. There are four bedrooms. At the end of the hall is a bathroom - it's pretty good size. There's also a schedule on it for shower times so the water has time to heat back up and everyone gets at least one shower a day." Dean turned around and pointed to the door leading right off of the stairwell and continued on with his tour. "This is actually my room. It's the only room on this side of the hall because I'm sick, and they've quarantined me to this secluded room. Sorry if I get you sick."

Castiel let out a small breath and nodded along to Dean's words, making sure to take mental notes on all he was saying. "How many of you stay here?" Castiel asked.

"Well, right now, there are eight. Two to a room, but recently, one of the younger kids had to move out of my room, so it's tight quarters right now. But I think one of them is actually leaving soon, so you might be in luck for a bed." Dean explained, walking into his room to grab the cup he was using for water.

Castiel nodded again and looked at Dean, raising his eyebrows at Dean's messy room. "Is your room always that messy?"

"Like I said, I've been - " Dean was cut off for a second by a couple of hard coughs, but continued on with his sentence. "Sick." He drank the last remaining bit of water still left in his glass and coughed a couple more times.

"Maybe you should go lie down. I can get you some more water." Castiel offered, hoping to seem helpful and make a good impression.

Dean drew in a breath and stared at Castiel for a moment before accepting his offer and handing him the glass. "Just wash it first and wash your hands. This is a pretty bad flu. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

Castiel gave a slight smile and headed downstairs to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water for his new acquaintance. He passed by Richard and stopped for a second to speak with him about the arrangements he planned on making with the Taylors. "Dean said that there are already eight, including him, here. How am I supposed to fit here?"

At this point, Richard had definitely made himself comfortable, considering he had already flicked on the television and was lounging back on the couch with his feet up on the available ottoman. He looked up at Castiel who had asked him about his arrangement and cleared his throat. "Well, I've spoken with Missus Taylor prior to bringing you here, and she said she would make room for you, so trust me, you'll be fine."

Richard's tone came off as though he was irritated and unwilling to converse with the teen. Castiel puffed his lips out and rolled his eyes, continuing on to the kitchen to refill Dean's glass with water.

"Don't worry, kid, they'll take care of you!" Richard called from the living room, and Castiel shook his head in dismay at his case worker's reluctance to care much about his situation.

Castiel turned on the tap and filled Dean's glass up completely with water, and then went into the freezer to add a couple of ice cubes to make it nice and cold, figuring it would be a nice treat for someone who's sick. He headed back through the living room, exchanging glares with Richard, and then up the stairs to Dean's room where he was fluffing some pillows and stacking them on his bed.

"Here, I put some ice cubes in it." Castiel said, handing the glass to Dean.

"Thanks," Dean took a couple of slow sips of the water and set the cup down on the side table next to the bed. He leaned back against the mountain of pillows he built to help him sit up comfortably and turned on the television.

After a long moment of silence and staring intently at Dean, Castiel finally worked up the nerve to ask him about his sickness. "What is it?"

Breaking his focus on the show he was watching, Dean slowly turned to Castiel with a confused look on his face. "Huh?"

"Your illness. What is it?"

"Uhm, I don't really know. Just know that it hurts when I cough and I've had it since before I came here." Dean answered, and then grabbed his water to sip at it some more.

"Does talking make your throat dry?" Castiel asked, watching a small droplet make its way down the glass in Dean's hand.

Dean put the glass back down again and nodded some. "Sometimes, but it's mainly my chest that hurts. I've been coughing a lot; and more recently, too."

Castiel nodded and turned to look at the television to see what show Dean was watching. "Cartoons? That's your past time?" Castiel shook his head and lowered it a little to hide his growing grin.

"Yeah, man. Nothing else to do and this is the best thing to fall asleep to."

"But it's bright. Doesn't it bother you when it's night time and you're trying to sleep?"

"Nah, I lower the brightness." Dean said, grabbing his water and taking another few sips. "Why, you got any better recommendations?" Dean gave a slight chuckle and finished off the rest of his water.

"Well, I usually just play video games." Castiel said blankly and stared at Dean, waiting for an assumed surprised reacting.

"Oh, yeah?" Dean said playfully, arching an eyebrow, and allowing a grin to tease the corner of his mouth some.

"I brought my system. I can do down and get it."

"Do that, and can you get me some more water?" Dean held out the now empty glass to Castiel.

Castiel accepted the the glass and walked out of the room to retrieve another glass of water for Dean along with his game station. As he made it downstairs to the living room, he noticed that there were more people in the living room than just Richard and the television.

"Oh, here he is. We were wondering where you were, son." Richard said, waving his hand in a gesture to call Castiel over to where he and the Taylors were standing.

Castiel's brow furrowed some as he walked over to the couple and his case worker who were now at the door finishing up the discussion of the details regarding his stay.

"Cas, you'll be staying here permanently until someone files adoption papers for you. We're going to put you on the list of older teens that need homes, so hopefully someone will take interest soon. We'll keep in touch." Richard was very brief with his explanation and something about his tone struck Cas the wrong way. Something wasn't right about this. Cas turned to look at Bonnie, who offered a polite smile and patted his back with one of her petite little hands. He faked a smile and nodded some to Richard who was now on his way out the door to leave.

"We don't have very much room left in the house, so we're going to be splitting up Dean's room and we'll get a bed for you in just a little while...Castiel, was it? I'm Bonnie, and this is my husband, Walter." Bonnie said, her voice was sweet and welcoming, much like the way she tried to present herself.

"Uh, Cas for short." Castiel answered, his tone seeming a bit skeptical of her mention of his full name.

"Don't be late for dinner." Walter commented, his grungy voice tying into his boring and adamant presentation.

Cas let out a soft sigh, nodding to Walter, and giving a short wave to Richard when he honked the horn for one last "adios". He turned back to Bonnie and studied her for a moment, then proceeded off to the kitchen for Dean's second glass of water he promised.

Cas met up with Walter in the kitchen as he filled the glass with water and figured it would be a good idea to strike some small talk to somewhat get to know this man who would be serving as the father figure in his life for now. "So, when is dinner?" Cas asked, turning the faucet off once the glass was full.

"Six o'clock. Sharp." Walter stated bluntly, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and quickly leaving the kitchen to avoid the new family member's small talk.

"Okay, heh, I'll let Dean know." Cas said, following him out into the living room.

"Dean already knows." Walter's voice was scratchy and dry and very, very monotone. He didn't seem like much of a person to Cas, and it was already starting to get under his skin.

"Okay, then." Cas lowered his head, his eyebrows both shooting far up his forehead. His eyes wandered awkwardly around the room, trying to think of something to say to this grumpy old man.

"What are you waiting for?" Walter asked dryly.

"I'll just go back upstairs." Cas decided it was best just to leave it at that and headed back upstairs and into Dean's room.

Dean turned his head to look at Cas who was finally back and smirked at him. "Took 'ya long enough."

"Bonnie and Walter are back, and they're putting me in your room. They're going to separate the room, I guess." Cas said, handing Dean the glass of water and sitting down on the foot of Dean's bed.

Dean's brows shot up in surprise and he set down his water and sat up more. "What?"

"Yeah, Bonnie just told me downstairs. We're going to get a bed soon, too."

"You can't stay in here, I'm sick!" Dean coughed out, and then reached for the water to soothe his throat.

"Do you not...want me to stay in here? Or is it just because you're sick?" Cas asked, a hint of concern growing in his tone.

"No, I don't - " cough. "mind, it's just - " cough. "if you're in here, you'll risk" - cough. "getting sick." Cough, cough, cough. Dean held his hand to his mouth as he let out a few more hard coughs. His face was starting to get a little red due to the constriction on his throat, and the water wasn't helping as much as he'd hoped.

"Are you going to be okay?" The concern in Castiel's voice was more prominent, and he leaned forward for a little bit of support.

"I'll be fine." Dean waved his hand at Cas and downed the rest of the glass.

Cas nodded and stood up, starting towards the door. "Well, I'm going to go get ready to go to the store. I guess I'll pick out a bed similar to the size of yours so it can fit in here..." his voice trailed off as he walked out of the room and down the stairs to meet up with Bonnie.

Dean sighed and looked at the clock next to him. Almost 2:30 p.m.; could this day get any longer? He turned back to the television and turned it up a little bit more and sunk back down into his mountain of pillows, covering himself up some. He stared blankly at the television for a couple minutes, and then kicked the covers off of himself and got out of bed.

"Castiel - wait! I'll come with you." Dean mentioned, following quickly behind Cas as he walked into the kitchen.

Cas turned around and gave Dean a sheepish grin and looked him up and down, mentally commenting on his not-so-appropriate attire to go out shopping in. "You can just call me 'Cas'."

Dean narrowed his eyes a bit, noticing what Cas was trying to tell him about his clothes, and he gave him a light shove to the shoulder, knocking him back a little. "I'll get changed in a minute." Dean wandered off into the kitchen and opened the fridge, searching for something else to drink that will help his cough a little more.

"You're sick, get back to bed!" Walter called out to Dean from the recliner in the living room.

Dean pulled out the small remainder of orange juice still left in the fridge from the other day and opened the cap to quickly down the rest of it. After hearing Walter's comment, he walked into the living room and stared at the man for a second, fiddling with the damp cardboard of the orange juice carton. "I'm just going to go with them to get a bed."

"No, you're going to get back in your own." Walter came back with a stern tone.

"I haven't actually been out of this house since I got here, so let me just -"

"Bed. Now." Walter just wasn't going to give in, especially since he didn't want to risk anyone else in the house getting sick.

"That's bullshit. Absol-" Instead of getting cut off this time, Dean paused in the middle of his sentence as soon as he saw Walter stand up from the recliner with his hand on his belt.

Walter gave Dean a menacing glare as he began to undo his belt buckle.

"Fine." Dean sighed, giving in and slowly making his way back to the staircase. He turned around before going upstairs and glared at Walter, shaking his head as his glare grew harder and meaner.

Walter continued his glare as well, now starting to pull his belt out of the loops.

Dean's jaw clenched tightly, understanding that Walter was completely serious, and decided it wasn't worth the battle this time around. He was just too tired and weak to deal with Walter's attitude. He shook his head again and made his way up the stairs to his room, and climbed into bed. He put the empty carton of orange juice on the floor next to his bedside and pulled the covers up over himself so that he can actually get some rest.

As soon as Dean was almost comfortable enough to fall asleep, he was accompanied by Walter's stocky presence. His eyes trailed up to meet Walter's face, which was showing no expression other than exhaustion and anger.

"What?" Dean barked harshly, the anger in his voice causing it to crack a little.

"What side of the room do you want?"

"Why are you all of a sudden giving me a choice?"

"I asked you a question, boy, now answer it." Walter snapped, advancing towards Dean and kneeling down in front of him next to his bedside.

Dean was now staring at Walter straight in his face, and he could feel his body temperature rising with anger. "The one I'm on. That's what I want." Dean spat out, his voice shaking somewhat.

It wasn't usual for Dean to fear someone as much as Walter made him feel like he had to. Walter was a tough crowd to please, especially if you didn't answer with 'how high' when he instructed you to jump.

"Get some rest, kid." Walter said, a smug smirk inching across his wrinkled, gray face. He reached a hand out to Dean's face and gave him a couple soft smacks on his cheek for endearment and walked out.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned over to face the other wall in the room. At least this one wasn't crowded with people itching to bother him. He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes, quickly drifting into a light slumber - finally able to rest for a little while.