Why do people cry when they're happy? When they're relieved? Joyous? Amazed? How could something that has always been associated with pain, grief, and sadness, also be associated with the opposite emotions? It had always made Castiel ponder. When a man proposed to his girlfriend and she burst into tears, choking out the word, "Yes." When tears fall from parents' faces as they stare down at their newborn. When people cry at weddings as the new couple vow to love each other for the rest of their natural born lives. This had always made Castiel wonder and tilt his head in confusion at the strange reaction. Grief. Loss. Mortification. Depression. Heartbreak. Abandonment. Loneliness. Theses emotions, Castiel understood. These emotions, Castiel had good experience with. These emotions, were good causes for crying. Comprehensible reasons to shed tears.
Castiel had always believed this. That was, until, Mary Winchester pulled over to the side of the road in her old beat up turquoise Chevy Bel Air. Castiel will never forget that night, when a blonde angel stepped out of her car and knelt beside him. It was late December, a few nights before Christmas, in a small town in Kansas. Castiel had his tan trenchcoat wrapped protectively around him as he looked up cautiously at the woman in front of him.
"Sweetheart, are you okay?" She asked softly, slowly putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Castiel looked up at her. Her eyes were so kind, he didn't flinch away like he normally would've. He stared at her, not knowing what to say. His normal response, "I'm fine," was on the tip of his tongue, but he found he couldn't lie to this woman. Though, he had no idea why. He simply shook his head, his blue eyes never leaving her green ones.
She frowned, but nodded as if she understood, "Do you want me to take you home?"
A lump in Castiel's throat almost made him choke, but he spoke steadily and expressionless, "I don't have a home. At least, not anymore."
Mary's mouth fell open slightly and she was quiet for a moment, before she rested both her hands on Castiel's shoulders and gave him a serious look along with a comforting smile, "How about you come and live with me, then?"
Castiel gaped at her, astounded at what this stranger was offering and he felt his heart even stop, "Wh-What? Are you serious?"
Mary nodded, "I have a room you can stay in. So, would you like to come home with me?"
Castiel was still more in shock than anything, but he found himself nodding frantically, "Y-yes. I would," and throwing himself into the woman's arms clinging to her tightly.
She held him with strong arms, "I'm Mary. What's your name?"
"Castiel. My-my name is Castiel," Castiel answered her, leaning out of her arms.
She smiled, "Well, Castiel, let's get home. It's getting cold."
Castiel followed her to her old car and got inside, immediately reveling in the change in temperature from the cold night air to the warm cab. Mary started the car and pulled away from the curb.
"Thank you," Castiel told her, but his voice was so inaudible, he still wonders if she ever heard him.
He gazed out the fogged up window and for the first time in his life, he finally understood why people cried for other reasons than sadness. Mary drove down the street and though she glanced over at Castiel frequently, never commented on the tears pouring silently down his face.
Mary didn't know what possessed her to do it, to pull over that night, to offer a home to this seemingly abandoned child, but she'd never come to regret it. It did occur to her, though, that this wasn't how normal people did things. People didn't just pick up random homeless children and take them home to keep. Many people would look the other way, maybe drop them off at a police station. But that didn't feel right to her. Something told her not to. Something told her she was doing the right thing and she held onto that feeling, even if the situation was a little strange.
Castiel had been silent the majority of the ride. He mainly responded with shakes or nods of his head if Mary asked a question. At a glance someone might say he was shy, but Mary saw a scared kid, lost and alone. There was a hidden reason why he was so quiet. His hair was ruffled, but wasn't matted with dirt. His clothes were nicer than things her children wore; a trench coat, black suit, and dress shoes. Besides a few grass stains and dirt here and there, he was actually pretty well kept. Mary doubted he had been homeless for long and she still didn't know all of what that word meant for Castiel. Homeless. He was too shaken, too frightened for Mary to think he might be a runaway. She didn't get that vibe from him. He just seemed in a panic of how he was going to live his life, like he had suddenly been deprived of a home. Mary wondered what had happened to the teenager she had picked up off the street, but she didn't dare ask. She didn't know how long the boy would stay with her, but maybe, someday he'd tell her what happened.
They were only a few blocks away from Mary's house, when she asked over the quiet classic rock music that was filling the cab, "So, Castiel, how old are you?"
"Seventeen," he replied politely.
Mary grinned, "One of my boys is seventeen, too. Dean and then, my youngest, Sam, is thirteen."
Castiel nodded with an attempt at a smile.
Mary continued, "Maybe you know him from school? Dean Winchester?"
Castiel shook his head, "No ma'am. Does he attend one of the public high schools?"
After Mary nodded, he looked back out the window watching the street lights flicker by, "I attend - well, used to attend St. Michael's Christian Academy."
A moment passed by, before Mary said, "You know, Castiel, you are welcome to stay with us as long as you want to. But I don't think I can afford to keep you in -"
Castiel cut her off, turning to her with wide eyes, "I could never ask you to do that. You're kind enough just taking me in. Please, don't worry about that."
Mary chuckled, "All I was going to say, Castiel, was I'll help you transfer to the school Dean attends when the new semester starts."
They were quiet the rest of the way to Mary's, with only the sound of Mary humming along to the radio to fill the air. When they arrived and Mary turned off the engine, she turned to Castiel, "Well, this is it. I know it's not the Ritz, but it's home."
"No, it's perfect," Castiel assured her getting out of the car, gazing up at the small two story house.
Once Mary let them in, she showed Castiel where to put his coat and then, led him to the kitchen. She gestured for Castiel to sit down at the table and went straight for the fridge. Castiel now noticed Mary was in scrubs. Well, that explained why she had been out so late. It was nearing one in the morning. She must work at the hospital.
She looked over her shoulder at him, "Hungry?"
Though Castiel's stomach ached at her offer, he shook his head, "No, thank you." He couldn't take any more from this kind woman after all she had already offered.
Mary raised her eyebrows and gave him a pointed look, "Really? Not at all?"
Castiel's stomach betrayed him and growled. He looked down at the table, "No, it's fine."
He heard Mary sigh, but he didn't look up. Minutes later, there was a bowl of chili in front of him. He looked up, then, and Mary's expression was warm, "Really, Castiel, it's okay. Just eat. It's leftovers from last night, but I warmed it up for you. Should be fine."
Castiel mumbled, "Thank you," and without grace dug in. Mary sat across from him, nursing a beer as she sorted through the day's mail. With how quick Castiel finished, Mary reconsidered her theory of how long he had been on the streets. Without a word, she got up and retrieved him seconds, placing the bowl back in front of him.
Castiel didn't dive into the bowl like he had done the first. He merely stared at it, his expression unreadable. Mary's face wrinkled in worry, and then he looked up at her with a scared eyes, "How can you do this? Invite me into your home for an unlimited stay? And give me food? You don't even know me. How can you be so kind?"
Mary smiled and her eyes held a warmth Castiel had never seen before. She turned and retrieved him a glass of water, before answering, "Castiel, honey, I - I frankly, can't really give you a direct answer. Don't paint me in a saint's light. I am far from it. I just saw this little boy curled up in trenchcoat shivering in the cold December's night and I couldn't just keep driving. How could anyone just turn a blind eye to that? Castiel, I may not know your story or can even claim to know you, but you're a good person. I can tell. You deserve better than what life has dealt to you. I want to give you what you deserve. I want to welcome you into my home and take care of you if you'll let me. Why do I feel that way? An easy answer? Probably, simply, because I'm a mother. I don't really know, Castiel. But maybe, you can learn to not question when good things happen. Because they do, Castiel. They do happen, even to you, even if you don't believe you deserve it. Just accept it and don't argue against it."
Tears gathered in Castiel's eyes, but they didn't spill over. He didn't think he could reply without choking on his held back sobs, so he just nodded and picked up his spoon.
After Castiel finished eating, Mary led him up the stairs and showed him where he could sleep. It was a small room with a full bed. The colors were simple blue and white. The room looked uninhabited and Mary told him, "This is the guest bedroom, but you can stay here. I only keep it for when family visits and that's not too often. It's your's now. I'll go get you something to sleep in."
Castiel stepped wryly into the tidy room. The room felt so untouched, Castiel worried he disrupted it by merely standing there. He took his shoes off and placed them neatly in the corner. Then, shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over the nearby desk. Mary soon cam back with a pile of clothes.
She handed them to Castiel, "These are Dean's. They'll fit you better than anything of Sam's. I swear that kid grows five inches every night."
The fabric of the sweats and band tee were soft under his fingers and smelled like fresh fabric softener. They were worn out and painfully belonged to someone else. He looked up at Mary, uneasy, "I - Are you sure?"
Mary scrunched her eyebrows at him, confused, and then glanced back down at the bundle of clothes. She waved her hand dismissively, "Oh, hon, don't worry about it. Dean won't miss them. He has plenty others."
Castiel smiled at her, but it came out a little forced. Mary didn't seem to mind, though, and she returned it, "Well, miraculously, I have the day off tomorrow, so you won't be waking up alone in a strange house. You'll get to meet the boys, too."
Castiel nodded, relieved, though, he hadn't realized he had even had the worry Mary would leave him. At the moment, she was all he had.
Mary pointed to a door on the far right of the room, "You have your own bathroom. You can go ahead and take a shower. I'm sure the hot water will feel really good after being out in that cold. I'll be downstairs catching up on some bills if you want to come say goodnight." Mary touched Castiel's arm lightly, before leaving the room.
Mary had been right, the water felt amazing on Castiel's sore muscles from sleeping on park benches. Before he had lived on the streets, he had never appreciated how it feels to be clean. He had taken it for granted and never would ever again.
Once Castiel stepped out of the shower, he got a look of himself in the steamed mirror. It was the first time, he had seen his reflection in a while. He hadn't been homeless for more than two weeks, but his skin had sunken in slightly from his hunger. There were dark circles under his eyes and Castiel wondered how much sleep it would take for them to go away. His face had slight stubble and he found a razor on the counter of the sink. After he shaved and cleaned up after himself, he felt a lot better.
Dean's clothes sagged on him a little, but he wasn't going to complain. It still felt weird to wear someone else's clothes, let alone someone he didn't even know. Though the clothes were obviously previously washed, the owner's scent still lingered on the fabric. There was a small hint of cologne that smelled woodsy. Even though they were cotton, Castiel could smell the faint scent of leather.
Castiel didn't know this Dean. He had no idea what he looked like, what his voice sounded like, or what kind of books he liked. But, strangely, the clothes were comforting. They gave Castiel a sense of home, a sense of belonging. Castiel had no possessions other than his name and the clothes he had worn on his back. Though Castiel would give the clothes back to Dean the moment the guy asked, in the moment, they felt like his. They were something Mary had given him and that made him feel stable for the first time in a long time. The simple black sweats and AC/DC tee made Castiel feel like his stay at Mary's was more than temporary. Even though he'd probably never be able to shake the feeling of intruding, Castiel was oddly comforted by the thought.
Castiel looked back to the mirror and saw tears running down his cheeks. But the strange thing was that the tears were accompanied by a smile. He reached up shocked and felt the wetness on his fingertips. He wiped them away, feeling ridiculous, and splashed his face with cold water. He walked out of the bathroom, promising to never question someone crying ever again.
Castiel padded down the stairs, hearing them creak under his bare feet. Mary was still in the kitchen like she had said, sorting through papers at the table. She looked up when he walked in and a grin split across her face, "Oh, Castiel, you look so much better. Do you feel better?"
"Yes, very much. Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me anytime I do something for you, Castiel, let alone just simply taking a shower," Mary chuckled.
Castiel walked over to her and stopped in front of her, "Mary, I really appreciate all that you have done for me. So, please, let me say thank you. It's all I can give back. I don't want to live completely off of you, though. I'll look for a job soon and I'll help out around the house and-"
"Castiel," Mary interrupted him with a serious voice, "You do not have to get a job. I am not taking any money from you."
"Then, at least to buy my own clothes, lunch money, and other things. I don't want you to have to give me money, either."
Mary sighed, "Okay, but don't be in any rush. School doesn't even start for another two weeks. You can borrow some of Dean's clothes until then."
"Alright," Castiel gave in, though he wanted to pay back this kind woman as fast as he could in any way he could. He looked over at the sink and saw a few dishes. He went over and without a word, began to wash them.
Mary argued, "You don't have to do those. I'll get them."
Castiel didn't respond and Mary just shook her head in awe.
A few minutes passed and Mary just had to ask. It had been plaguing her mind, since she picked up the homeless teenager. "Castiel?"
"Yes?"
"Is...is there someone who may be looking for you? Or waiting for you to come home?" She asked cautiously, watching Castiel's muscles tense.
He went still for a second, before continuing washing the dishes. He didn't turn around as he responded, "No, there is not anyone like that."
Mary's heart broke at the acceptance in Castiel's tone, but she had expected much when he had heard him speak for the first time. I don't have a home. At least, not anymore.
Mary didn't ask anymore questions and when Castiel finished the dishes, she turned off the light and walked with him upstairs. She stopped by his doorway as Castiel wandered over to the bed. She watched him crawl under the covers like she had so many times before with Sam and Dean.
Once settled in he smiled at her, "Goodnight, Mary. Have pleasant dreams."
She chuckled and walked over to the bed, placing a kiss in his messy hair, "Goodnight, Castiel. Sweet dreams."
Mary went back to the door and turned off the lights. She glanced back at Castiel to see he had already fallen asleep. She whispered softly, "Sleep well, Castiel. You're home, now," before closing the door behind her.