Chapter One: Fifteen
Dean Winchester was fifteen years old when he met Castiel Novak. He knew from the first time that he saw Castiel that he wanted him in that dark, grown-up way that his father and Bobby told rude jokes about when they were drunk. He wanted to be close to Castiel like his father had been close to their mother. He wanted to be intimate with him.
Castiel was unlike any man he'd ever met. He was nothing like his father, who was obsessive and neglectful, or Bobby, who was gruff and although caring, deeply bitter. Castiel was quiet and graceful, and he always wore a pensive expression, as if he had to think about everything in minute detail. Dean wanted to be one of the things that Castiel thought about in minute detail, but he knew that that was just a daydream.
They had met Castiel at Bobby's house when John had needed help with research on a particularly elusive creature. They had been driving for hours, and when they finally arrived at Bobby's house, Sam had fallen asleep from hunger and boredom. Dean was awake and careful not to speak to his father, who was in a particularly dark mood that day.
When they entered the house, Dean felt positively drained and frustrated. They had had to leave yet another school, and he did not look forward to the reality that he and Sam would have to be the new kids yet again in the future. His gloomy thoughts dissipated, however, when he saw the man who was sitting next to Bobby in the kitchen.
A pair of clear blue eyes that seemed to stare into your inner most workings captivated Dean. They were in a beautifully intelligent face that seemed to belong to an artist long ago. The man's skin was like porcelain, which was accentuated by his dark brown hair. His hair was slightly messy, as if he had used his fingers to comb the thick strands into place. He wore a white round collared t-shirt under a plain black button up shirt, with a pair of black jeans and buckled biker boots. A delicate gold crucifix rested against his chest, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal some kind of complex tattoo.
"Heya John," Bobby nodded, rising from his chair.
"Good to see you, Bobby," John smiled slightly, as he clapped Bobby affectionately on the back.
Bobby gestured towards the man sitting at the kitchen table, "This is Castiel Novak. He's been huntin' for about five years now."
"It's good to know you," John greeted, shaking Castiel's long fingered hand.
"Pleased to meet you," he replied in a sexy, gravely voice.
"These are my boys, Sam and Dean," John said rather absently, as he walked toward the fridge to get a beer.
His cerulean gaze rested on Sam and then Dean, and his mouth rose slightly in a smile.
"It's good to meet you, Sam and Dean."
Dean's stomach did a funny little flip-flop at the sound of that rich voice drawling out his name. He had a sudden, vivid thought of Castiel saying his name during climax, and he could feel heat rising in his face.
"So what can I do you for, John?" Bobby asked, as he and John walked towards his overstuffed study.
Dean didn't listen to the rest of their conversation as he tried to surreptitiously gaze at Castiel, while making he and Sam ham and cheese sandwiches.
"Get some Cokes out of the fridge, Sammy," he said, as he walked towards the table and set their plates of food down.
"I hate it when you call me, Sammy," his younger brother groaned, as he opened the fridge.
Dean did not rejoin with his usual insults, because he was trying to look unaffected by Castiel's immediate proximity.
"So how old are you boys?" Castiel asked, leaning forward slightly and giving his gentle smile again.
"I'm twelve," Sam replied easily, and then bit into his sandwich.
Castiel turned his brilliant gaze on Dean expectantly, who felt like his throat was suddenly lined with sawdust.
He managed to compose himself, however, and replied, "I'm fifteen. How old are you?"
Castiel seemed to be momentarily surprised by the question, and then his soft smile returned, "I am twenty five."
"Wow, so you've been hunting solo since you were twenty?" Dean marvelled after swallowing a large mouthful of sandwich.
"That is correct."
"How come?" Sam asked.
Castiel's beautiful eyes became sad, and he softly replied, "My family was killed when I was a teenager, and so I became an orphan. It took me some time to figure out what had killed them, but I eventually came to understand, and the vengeance of their death made me a hunter."
Dean wanted to reach out and touch that beautiful face, and take all the sadness away. He wanted to kiss Castiel's gorgeous mouth, and make him forget all the suffering he had known. Dean understood what it felt like to loose someone and have the spectre of their loss engulf your life.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Sam replied in his kind way.
Castiel smiled again, "You both seem quite grown up for your age."
"You have to be when you're on the road," Dean shrugged, and finished his sandwich with a slug of Coke.
Castiel frowned and looked as if he was about to say something, but then John and Bobby re-entered the kitchen.
"We'll sleep here tonight boys," John announced. "Bobby and I have a lot of research to do. Dean go and get your and Sammy's bags out the car, and take them up to the spare bedroom."
"Yes sir," Dean replied, placing his plate in the zinc.
Castiel got up from the table, too, and turned to John and Bobby, "Well, I'll be on my way then, Bobby. Thank you for all of your help. I'll be in touch. It was nice to meet you, John."
He fluidly put on his black leather jacket, and smiled at Sam and Dean once more.
He walked up to the two boys and extended his hand to them in turn, "It was nice to meet you, Sam and Dean."
Castiel's grip was cool and firm, and Dean's hand tingled with the contact.
When Castiel got into his Boss 302 Mustang and roared away, Dean wondered if he would ever see the mysterious, and surprisingly gentle, hunter again. He felt a strange feeling blossoming in his chest, and it would take him a full year to realise that it was longing.