"Man," Sam groused, flipping through another series of channels on the ancient motel TV, "I can't wait to get out of Illinois. How many televised sermons and 'bible study' networks does one town need, seriously?"

"But Sammy," Dean turned to him on the couch, face a study of serious intent and concern, "are you aware that there are homosexuals in this great world of ours, Sammy? Homosexuals! They want to have sex with all the little boy children like you, then turn all the little girl children into little tranny boy children and have sex with them, too!"

Sam chucked the remote at him. "And then there's the deviants who want to have sex with all the little boy children and girl children."

"Hey, you know me. Slut of pedophile Babylon up in here."

Sam studied his older brother quietly, thinking back to the sermon they'd had to sit through yesterday. Father Michael Novak had been helping their dad with a mess involving a pair of vengeful spirits, a coven of witches, and what appeared to be an actual demon; in the midst, he had invited them all to his Sunday mass. It hadn't exactly gone well. "It really got to you, huh?"

"I mean, come on!" Dean exploded. "The guy learns that the boogeyman is real and faces down his racist undead predecessors and soccer moms making literal deals with the freaking devil, and all he can do is bitch about the evils of the gays."

"People are morons, Dean, you're the one always saying that. You just gotta ignore the crap sometimes, it's the only way to win."

Dean leaned back against the armrest and smirked. "Nah, I've found the best way to get back at them is to have 'em walk in on their son giving you a blowjob."

"Dean! Gross!" Sam's teenage nose wrinkled, then flared in concern. "You didn't really, did you?"

Dean responded with a downright filthy grin, tongue caught between his bared teeth as his eyebrows shot up.

"Who?" Sam demanded. "When?"

"Father Novak's little nerd. Like, two hours ago."

"What? That's why I had to walk back here?"

"Hey, I showed up for you! He just made it out of the school before you did and asked for a ride." The stress Dean put on the last word, the waggle of his eyebrows, and the suggestive nudge of his elbow against Sam's were all redundant, except in that they each seemed to fill Sam with an exponentially greater disgust.

"So you took advantage of him to piss off his bigot father? He's sixteen, Dean!"

"No advantage was taken! Kid's old enough to know what he wants, and he was totally into everything that happened." Dean coughed and amended, "Until his dad walked in and started raising hell about calling the cops."

"And you just left him there?" Sam's voice was almost squeaky in outrage; it would've been hilarious if he hadn't been so pissed. "He could be in serious trouble!"

Dean waved off his worry. "He's the beloved son of the town's tragic widower-turned-priest, he'll say a few 'Hail Mary's and everyone will have forgotten about it before we even leave."

A soft knock at the door stopped whatever Sam had planned to say in response. The two exchanged a wary look, then Dean motioned his brother into the corner behind the beds and grabbed some bills from the nightstand, stuffing them into his back pocket. "Dad probably forgot to pay for tonight or something," he reasoned quietly as he crossed the room.

But when he opened the door a crack, he wasn't met with management or housekeeping or some random hunter looking for his dad. Standing on their doorstep with most of his face a bruise, one eye swollen shut and his strangely bent arm tight against his chest was Father Novak's little nerd.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Shit. Sammy! Get the kit," Dean ordered, pulling the boy inside with some care for his visible injuries, then quickly scanning the parking lot for anyone who might have noticed the battered kid. No one was apparent, and he slammed the door.

It took only a moment of stunned inaction before Sam ran to the bathroom, grabbed the duffle full of their first aid supplies, and reappeared. In that time, Dean steered their patient to his bed and guided him to sit on the edge, finally staunching his chorus of shaky apologies with a gruff, "Not a problem, Castiel, now shut up a minute and let us look at you."

Unimpressed by his brother's bedside manner, Sam elbowed him aside and held up a damp, off-white motel hand towel. "I need to clean you up a bit so we can see what we're dealing with, okay?"

Cas screamed around the leather belt in his mouth when Dean set his broken bones, but remained stoically silent as Sam stitched three Xs of dental floss through a cut on his ribs and five more on his back.

As Sam wrapped Cas's splinted arm, Dean sat on his other side and tilted his face up gently to wipe the blood from it. "I'm sorry I left you there," Dean said between passes with the pink-stained cloth. "I really didn't think he'd do something like this."

"You shouldn't have run off anyway," Sam muttered, glaring up at Dean briefly before returning to his task. "It takes a special kind of asshole to book it after sex when there are angry parents involved, even I know that."

At Cas's startled, maybe even scared eye twitch, Dean shrugged slightly. "It came up, sorry."

Castiel shook his head as much as he could with Dean's hands still on it. "I shouldn't have come here, I'm sorry for involving you. I didn't even think of what could happen if your father was here, if he'd heard what happened. I once again endangered you with my selfishness."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, no." Dean forced Cas to look at him. "First off, you've got no reason to be scared of our dad. At worst he'd be annoyed at me for pissing off his contact, but he'd never hurt anyone in this room over it. None of us, got that?"

When Cas nodded, the fingers holding up his chin slid carefully up, stroking his bruised face on the way to cradling his cheek. Dean continued, "Second, and most important, you haven't done anything wrong or selfish. Not coming here for help, and not what you did before. If anyone was in the wrong there, it was me."

He ignored Sam's self-righteous snort of agreement, but Castiel's flinch needed to be addressed: "I'm not saying I regret it, except the part that got you looking like this. But I shoulda been more careful. I shoulda been less selfish and more worried about your safety. But you're here now, and that's good. We're gonna take care of you. Sammy's stitches are better'n any I ever got from a doctor, and I've broken enough bones to be the freakin' expert on building the strength back up as it heals. We'll make sure you come outta this better than ever."

It wasn't until his little brother's sharp look that Dean realized how permanent that sounded. The case was wrapped, their bags packed. They would leave when John got back from touching base with a few acquaintances.

Cas seemed unaware of the heated eye-debate taking place across him. "My uncle Raphael is a doctor. If I'm able to convince my father to accept me back, he'll see that my injuries are treated."

"Accept you back?" Anger rose above the dread pooled in Sam's gut, but Castiel misunderstood the incredulity in his voice and looked ashamed.

"I know, it's unlikely. He told me he could not support the unholy and not to defile his home or the church again. But if I can convince him I've repented, at least until I'm able to support myself..."

"What?" Sam demanded at the same time Dean nearly shouted, "Fuck that!"

When Cas winced away from them both, Dean said, more softly, "You can't go back there, Cas. You can't possibly think we'd let you."

"I have nowhere else to go." Castiel's good eye shone with barely contained tears, and any fight left between the Winchester boys evaporated.

"Don't be stupid, you're coming with us," Dean told him.

Sam nodded. "We move around a lot, you know that. He can't find you even if he tries. And you can help me with the research and lore."

He stared at them both. "Why should you care about me? My father was the one helping you, I just did a few of the translations he didn't have time for. I barely see you at school, Sam, and Dean..." He blushed deeply enough to show through the discoloration. "I know it didn't mean anything. I'm not that naive."

Dean was about to protest, though he hadn't worked out the substance of it, when John threw open the door, only to stop short at the sight of Castiel.

"Dean, what the hell did you do?"

Dean stood to face him, his body partially sheltering both of the other boys. "Dad, this is Cas. He's got no one lookin' for him, and his Latin's better'n Sammy's."

"Cas, is it?"

"Yes, sir. Castiel, sir."

"You gonna get us into trouble, Castiel? 'Cause I gotta be honest, we get enough of that on our own."

"No, sir." Cas swallowed, clutching his arm close and looking at the floor. "Like Dean said, nobody's going to miss me."

"See, that's what you're telling me, but I have a hard time believing Father Michael isn't gonna want his son back." Castiel flinched. "Yeah, I know who you are. Now I heard the two of you had a disagreement, but that kinda thing blows over, son. Your daddy may be a hardass, but he's a good man-"

"Dad," Dean interrupted, voice sharp. Sam and his father both turned, surprised at the rare show of defiance. "Who do you think did this?"

In an instant, John Winchester's face dropped its gentleness and a hard anger tightened his eyes. "That true?" Cas could only nod, gaze still fixed at his feet. "All right, Dean, Sam, go grab some dinner for all of us. I need to talk to Cas for a bit."

"Dad," Dean protested again, but a look from John silenced him and sent him out the door with his brother.

John settled on the bed across from Cas, waiting in silence until the boy looked up nervously. "You sure you wanna do this, son? It's a hard life you're signing up for. You're in rough shape now, but you're probably gonna see worse with us. The only thing I can promise you is that it'll never come from me or any of mine."

Castiel ducked his chin back to his chest. "I'd like to come with you, sir. I think I can help, like Dean said. In addition to Latin, I can read some Aramaic and Greek, and I learn quickly. But... but I understand if you think I'd get in the way. I'm not good at fighting, like you all, and..."

Breaking off, Castiel carefully rubbed his injured arm above the sling. "And you should know why this happened. You might not want me around."

"You kill anybody?" Startled, Cas jerked a wide eye up to meet John's and shook his head. "Touch a kid? Curse somebody? See, I just can't picture you doing anything bad enough to justify him doing that and you running off with us."

Castiel forced himself not to shy away from the hunter's gaze even as he whispered, voice wavering, "I'm a faggot, sir." As soon as it was out, he flinched as though the very word could hurt him further.

"You're gay," John repeated without inflection; Castiel nodded. "So he beat you, broke your arm, and kicked you out." Another nod.

Dean and Sam pushed through the door, each with two grease-stained paper bags and a nervous expression, in time to hear John say, "Well, son, I'd say it's about time for you to meet your uncle Bobby."