Chapter Two

Cas's POV

Flashback (Castiel age 7, Gabriel age 17)

I sat on my bed, making my way through a stack of picture books. Mom and Dad were both at work so Gabriel was babysitting, which for him meant sitting in his room reading porn and periodically checking up on me.

Halfway through my fifth Arthur the Aardvark book there was a shooting pain in my back. I shifted into a more comfortable position on my bed, hoping that would make it stop. It didn't help. In fact it got worse.

"GABRIEL! GABRIEL HELP!" I shouted.

Gabe rushed into my room.

"CASSIE! CASSIE, WHAT'S WRONG?!"

I couldn't speak, just doubled over screaming and clutching my shoulders. It felt like someone was stabbing red-hot needles all up and down my back. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped, the pain dulling to a slight ache.

Slowly, I uncurled from the fetal position to look up at Gabriel. His eyes were wide in shock.

"W-what's wrong?" I asked.

"Cassie you…you've got wings."

End of Flashback

Dean Winchester is the bane of my existence. He's a slob, an idiot, and a complete egomaniac. Stumbling into the room at all hours, drunk off his ass, complaining about his Dad, then waking up the next morning and bitching about hang overs. I hate him.

"Mornin Cas!" Dean yelled, crashing into the room.

I grumbled, rolling over and glancing at my alarm clock. Three AM.

"I realize that you are incredibly inebriated at the moment and yes technically three am is morning, but it is too early for me to be awake. Now, I am going to go back to sleep and you will cease talking and pass out."

"Pfft, party pooper. Why don't you pull the stick out of your ass and have some fun?"

"Shut up and just go to bed."

"Make me," he said, sticking his tongue out childishly.

I threw the covers off and marched right up to him. There was actually a flicker of fear in his eyes when I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. That certainly shook him.

"Wow Cas, never pegged you for a hitter," he slurred.

"That was an attempt to snap you out of it. I did not take pleasure in it," I said quietly.

"I feel funny."

"I am led to believe that is what alcohol does."

"No, really I—

He swayed, stumbling forward. On instinct I reached out and caught him.

"Dean? Dean, hey!"

I brought my fingers to his forehead. He was slightly warm and there was sweat across his brow. Probably had to throw up. I slid an arm around his back and held his arm securely over my shoulders. Somehow I managed to get him to the bathroom. Luckily we had one in our room. I would imagine it would be more of an uncomfortable situation if I had to bring him to the floor wide bathroom.

I sat him down of the floor and he slumped against the wall while I got a cold cloth for his head.

"Dean! Dean, come one!" I urged, as I dabbed lightly at his forehead with the cloth.

He groaned, shoving me out of the way and leaning over the toilet. I rubbed his back while he emptied his stomach. It was strange how easy caring for someone came to me, as I'd never done it before. I just wanted him to be okay. Must be an instinctual thing.

When he was finished he forced himself to his feet, wobbling a little.

"Let me help you."

"M'fine. Leave me be," he grumbled.

I glared at him.

"Look, I don't like you any more than you like me, but you're sick and I am here. So, like it or not I'm helping you."

He looked taken aback by my outburst, but nodded, allowing me to support him and get him back to his bed. I turned to finally curl up in my own bed, but he caught my wrist.

"What do you need?"

"Clothes. Need help," he managed.

"You…you want me to help you undress?" I asked, just to make sure.

"C'mon man, don't, ugh this sucks. Don't make it weird."

I didn't reply, just got to work on his shoes and socks, as they seemed the easiest and least awkward place to start. Once I got the laces untied I removed both his shoes and socks quickly. I tried to fight my shaking hands as I undid his belt. Dean shifted slightly to help me slide his jeans down his legs. His boxers were blue plaid and it took all my will power to look away from his boxers and quickly peal off his flannel, leaving his black t-shirt.

"Cas?"

"Yes Dean?"

"I don't like you very much but—

"I know."

"Lemme finish, God you're annoying."

"My apologies. Continue."

"Thank you, for taking care of me."

His speech was still a little slurred, but I could tell he meant it.

"You're welcome."

"Not used to being taken care of."

"What about your parents?"

"Mom's dead. Dad…" he trailed off and I noticed his bottom lip was trembling.

"I'm sorry. You're drunk, just go to sleep," I said, starting to get up.

"No! No, don't go!" he begged, clutching at my shirt.

"Calm down, I'm not going anywhere."

"Why Cas, why?"

I was started to realize he was crying. His shoulders were shaking and his grip on my shirt was so tight I thought he was going to rip it.

"Dean what's wrong? I don't understand."

"Why doesn't he love me?" he cried.

"Who?"

"My Dad."

That's when it clicked. The way he had acted the first day, two months ago now, when his Dad wouldn't come say goodbye. The way his looked scared and called me a "hitter" when I slapped him, and all the times he bitched about his Dad while he was drunk. The reason he drinks so much. It's all because of his dad.

I patted his shoulder awkwardly, not really sure what I should do.

"Why doesn't he—

"Shh. Dean it's okay. I'm here, shh," I soothed.

He hid his face in my chest and cried harder, his whole body shaking against mine.

"Hold me. Please Cas. Hold me," he pleaded.

I hushed him again and pulled the blanket back. Hesitating slightly, before he tugged my shirt, I slipped in next to him and pulled the blanket over us.

He let his head rest on my chest and draped an arm across my waist. I wrapped my arms securely around him, listening as his sobs quieted and his breathing steadied. I waited until he was sound asleep before running a gentle hand through his hair and allowing myself to drift off.

-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-

When I woke the next morning Dean was already awake, shoving his books into his bag.

"Good morning," I said, climbing out of his bed nervously.

"Oh, uh, hey."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. I took aspirin a little while ago for my headache."

"Dean—

"You don't have to say anything. Last night's a bit of a blur, but I remember enough. So let's just never talk about it again, okay?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Cool. I gotta go."

He practically ran out the door.

I sighed, sitting on the edge of my bed. Great. Now that I'd seen a softer side of him and he had successfully given me butterflies and an accelerated heartbeat, he had to got and make things awkward.

I shifted my shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension. No luck.

I pealed off my shirt. May as well take advantage of Dean not being here. I took a deep breath and allowed my wings to spread out from my back. It had been a while since I had stretched them. It felt nice.

"Holy shit!"

I spun around to face the door. Dean.