Another AU with human/teenage Cas and teenage Dean this time around and even though Sam's in the summary he's not really in much of the story. I'd love to know what you guys think of this. Title comes from Crash into Me by Dave Matthews Band.

Sweet You Rock, Sweet You Roll

He remembers the summers in Kansas are always hot.

They're sticky and uncomfortable, nights spent tossing around in pools of sweat that stained his sheets and thin t-shirt and left his hair sticking to his forehead as he whimpered and kicked at his covers. When he was little his mother would come in and sit on the edge of his bed, watching him struggle against the heat and humidity before she smoothed back his hair and her cool skin would offer him the tiniest bit of relief.

Today it's just as hot as it was all those nights ago but now his mother is long gone and he's since taken over the role of watching Sam when the nights prove to be suffocating and he can hear his little brother's muffled groans through the thin bedroom wall that separates them. He'll tiptoe down the hallway, bare feet sticking to the scuffed hardwood that's cool against his skin. Sam was never awake when he entered the room but he was always moving, small jerky movements and fists curled up tightly against whatever dream he was having.

Sometimes Dean would let his hand hover over his brother's shoulder, wondering if he should shake him- wake him up and save him from whatever was terrorizing him in his dreams but he seldom did. He knew once Sam woke up he'd fear closing his eyes too much to go back to sleep and Dean couldn't bear to listen to the colored retellings his brother would bring with him to the breakfast table. Instead, he opted for brushing back Sam's long locks and turning on the fan above his head, hoping it would offer him some comfort before he slunk back to his own room and stared at the ceiling.

Last night had been no different than the ones from long ago although now Sam was thirteen and Dean knew if he woke up and saw his older brother watching over him he would glare and mutter something about not being a child before he rolled over and Dean would be left staring at his brother's sweat soaked back. Still, when he had heard the whimpers coming from the room next door he had scrambled out of his bed, feet smacking against the floor as he entered the room and saw Sam fighting against whatever memory had decided to invade his mind. This time though as he approached the bed Sam's eyes were already open, wide and staring ahead of him, chest heaving as he struggled to draw in deep breaths. Wordlessly Dean had stood beside the bed and Sam looked up at him before offering a half smile that tried it's hardest to hide his tear filled eyes and the obvious ache in his chest.

"I saw Mom," he whispered, voice cracked and strained. Dean pretended not to flinch at the mention of his mother, instead patting Sam on the shoulder and trudging out of the room without opening his mouth. He can still hear Sam calling out to him, wondering why he was leaving him all alone and he had swallowed back the lump in his throat and kept walking.

He tries hard to push the memory away, plunging his hands back into the body of the smoking black car he was working on and wiping his hand across his sweat soaked face. He leaves behind a thick black stripe of grease but he shrugs it off and keeps his eyes on the mess in front of him. He grips the sides of the hood tightly, knuckles turning white beneath the layer of grease coating his skin and he curses under his breath. He only looks up when he hears the soft voice behind him and the smile that tugs at his lips is involuntary.

"You're supposed to be at geek camp," Dean calls out and the dark haired boy standing on the other side of the dirt yard scowls, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his blue jeans.

"It was band camp, genius, and I got home yesterday." He approaches Dean and hands him the can of soda in his hand, condensation staining the sides and soaking Dean's palms when he grabs it eagerly. He flips back the tab and takes a long drink.

"Thanks man." He sets the can on the empty crate beside him and eyes Castiel out of the corner of his eye, turns back to car and doesn't say anything else.

"You shouldn't be working out here," Cas comments finally. "Too hot." He looks at Dean pointedly and sits on another crate to Dean's right.

Dean shrugs the words off, wipes his hands on his jeans that are riding low on his hips and have a tear in the left knee. Cas let's his eyes sweep over the rippling muscles in Dean's arms, the raggedy cuffs strained against the taut, grease stained skin.

"Someone's gotta get this done and you know it isn't gonna be my old man." He lets the words fall bitterly from his lips, tosses the wrench in his hands to the ground and it clatters loudly. Cas jumps and Dean grins, wipes his hands on his jeans and nods his head towards the driveway.

"Let's take a walk… I'll finish this later." He turns his back on the once sputtering car, offers Cas a lopsided smile and they walk in synch away from the beat up house, shoulders bumping occasionally.

They're quiet at first, something Castiel finds odd because as long as he's known Dean Winchester, he's never been quiet and that's something he admires. Cas wasn't much of a talker, he prefers to observe and he likes that Dean talks enough for the both of them, but there's something about the emptiness in his eyes and the tension in his toned shoulders that has him gnawing worriedly at his bottom lip. He nudges Dean's ribs with his elbow, green eyes flashing up to look at him.

"What are you so quiet for?" There's a shrug and a grunt that Cas can't decipher, knows it's a warning sign that Dean doesn't want to talk about it but for some reason Cas doesn't care. He wants- needs to know what's wrong because for as long as he can remember Dean has watched over him and it's only fair that he does the same.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm not gonna judge you, man; I don't see how I could." He lets the truth sink into the words, wants Dean to know that there was no way he could ever think any less of him.

Dean huffs out a breath and stops walking, looks over at the lake and the rippling water that seems to be hypnotizing him and he just looks so lost. Cas remembers all the days they used to jump in, come home soaked to the bone and listen to John complain about the water they trailed through the house. He wishes things were as simple as they were when they were seven.

"Sam dreamt of Ma last night," he mutters, catches Cas' attention and he runs a hand through his dark hair and sighs. "Had me thinking about that day… couldn't get the pictures outta my mind. He wanted me to stay with him but I just walked away, couldn't listen to him talk about her." He kicks at a rock next to his foot and turns away from Cas.

"That… sucks," he finally manages to say and it's the most pitiful answer he's ever come up with. Dean's shoulders start to shake with a laugh that sounds slightly deranged. Cas groans and takes a step forward.

"Don't Dean. Don't start this crap because I don't know how the hell I'm gonna drag your ass home if you lose it here." His voice falters and he curls his fingers into his palms, feeling the nails dig into the flesh and he's almost sure they'll bleed.

"Relax, princess, I'm fine." Dead drops down to the ground, pulls his knees close to his chest and pats the dirt next to him. Cas sits down and feels the sweat starting to drip down the back of his neck, his white t-shirt sticking to his skin. He tries to push back the memories of watching Dean the day after his mom had died, sitting on his front porch with an expression that showcased so much pain, yet there were no tears on his face.

Now he watches Dean reach into his pocket, pulling out a packet of worn cigarettes that isn't even open. His eyes widen slightly.

"Since when do you smoke?"

Dean chuckles. "I don't, but there's a first for everything Castiel." He sings the other boys name, likes the way it rolls off his tongue. He pulls out one of the cigarettes and catches it between his lips. Pulling out the lighter he took from his dad's bedroom almost a week ago he lights it and watches the end burn bright orange. Cas watches him take the first drag, listens to him sputter and break off into a fit of coughing and he can't help but laugh at the expression on his face. He grabs the lit cigarette from Dean's hand and puts it to his lips. It's only seconds until he's coughing to and they're rolling around in the grass and dirt, fighting for breath and laughing like they're children.

"You and your stupid ideas," Cas finally groans, voice raspy against the smoke that has just assailed his lungs. Dean glares at him, likes the feeling of Cas' head suddenly resting on his chest. He runs his fingers through the soft curls.

"Nobody made you try it," he retorts, flicking his ear gently. He closes his eyes and listens to their synched breathing, smells the cut grass and the heat rising up from below them and for a moment he's in a different place.

"Dean?" Cas' voice floats up to him and he cracks an eye open, sees the other boy with his eyes shut too but his eyebrows crinkled together as if he's worried and Dean feels a pang of guilt run through him because it's probably his fault.

"Yeah?"

"I just… want to know if you're alright. I mean, if you need anything…" He trails of and leaves the uncertainty that was so evident in his voice hanging in the air and it's so like him to worry.

But Dean just smiles and lets his fingers curl around Castiel's, feels the warm skin and the flash of his pulse beneath his fingertips and regrets every time Cas has seen him breakdown, all the screaming and the anger and the broken dishes that would litter his kitchen floor when there was no one else around and he remembers being able to be so open around him that by now he's realized all he'll ever need is him.

And when he thinks about it, it's all he'll ever want too.