We Found Love (In a Hopeless Place)

Tomi Sama

Pairing: Pre-Destiel (DeanxCastiel), Pre-Samifer (SamxLucifer), Crowstiel (CastielxCrowley)
Warnings: Slash. Drug use. Language. Violence. Pole Dancing (which I think is a warning, not a promise. Trust me. It's awkward.)
Word Count: 13,100
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or any of the songs.
Beta: Bree (BowtiesAndDeductions)
My Tumblr: talesfromperdition

Author's Love: To Buffyxenaman, Indigoskies7, xlostloonax, and coricidinForte. May your guns ever be filled with salt, may you always have a demon-killing blade at your hips, and may the odds be ever in your favor. I dedicate this chapter to you, with eternal love. Reviews grip me tight and raise me from the perdition known as Writer's Block.


Chapter 3: "Crossing Shadows"

Dean was surprised by the knocking on his door and fumbled around trying to find his cell phone so he could see the time. He had two more minutes until his alarm was set to go off. He laid back down and was almost asleep when the knocking started again.

"What?" He yelled.

Sam peeked in his room. He was already showered and seemed sheepish about intruding on his brother. Dean sat up and buried his head in his hands. The younger boy couldn't really remember the last time he saw Dean without a shirt, but he certainly never had muscles like that before.

Maybe Sam should get into mechanics. Lanky and scrawny wouldn't get him very far with girls.

"Sammy, what?"

The alarm went off and Sam started waking over shut it off. Dean beat him out of bed and smacked the thing. He started searching for clothes on his floor.

Sam opened his dresser drawer and handed him some clothes. Dean shot him a look and Sam shrugged, "Dad did laundry."

"Of course he did," his brother pushed past him to walk to the bathroom.

"Gabriel invited us over for breakfast," Sam called. "Free food."

Sam heard the water start and sighed. He was surprised when Dean's head popped around the door and the steam hit him like a tidal wave. "At what cost? They're going to make us pray or something? They're going to try and convert us?"

"Have they tried so far?" Sam specifically left out that he had been going to church with the Novaks every Sunday for close to three months now. Dean always worked Sunday morning.

"No, but it's not just Cas and Gabe and Balthazar. The older ones were always crazy religious. Even Michael isn't all there upstairs, I think."

Sam scoffed, "Gabriel said that his older brothers are at work. It's just them this morning. Otherwise he wouldn't be stupid enough to invite us over."

Dean rolled his eyes, but made extra certain to take a short shower. He needed help with the algebra homework anyway.


"Can you please add more chocolate chips," Gabriel whined. "We're trying to set up a romantic breakfast here and nothing says 'no thanks, I can't look past the fact that you're a dude to bone you' faster than not enough chocolate chips in the pancakes."

Balthazar actually had to stop, turn, and face his brother to cry out, "Really? I mean, Really, Gabriel?"

The youngest boy shrugged, "That's what I would say if there weren't enough chocolate chips in my pancakes from another boy."

"Really, Gabriel? You'd go gay for someone for chocolate chips?"

The youngest boy wiggled his eyebrows. "Who is going anywhere for anything?"

Balthazar just sighed and turned back to his food. "I'm not even sure I fully understand what that means. But you need to go get Castiel up."

Gabriel didn't even pause as he skipped to his brother's room. He didn't bother knocking – he never did – but Castiel was asleep on his stomach. He had the blankets over his waist, so the younger boy couldn't tell if he had any clothes on.

He stood over his brother's bed for a second. Castiel had both arms out and under his pillow, his head turned slightly to face the door. He had a smile on his face. But even with the rare smile, Gabriel couldn't help but notice his brother's back. He had a decent spread to his shoulder blades and might have been built stockier – more like Lucifer and himself than Michael or Balthazar – but his rib cage dropped off into nothing.

The mass of his stomach, even from the back, was nonexistent. Gabriel wondered what his brother weighed or if he had eaten at all since yesterday morning.

Tentatively, Gabriel reached out a hand and placed it on his brother's bare back. He was really clammy, and the other boy thought he may have a fever. Castiel didn't wake up.

Gabriel shook him. Castiel didn't wake up.

Panic suddenly shot through the younger boy, and he called out to his brother. He still didn't stir. Gabriel was just about to get Balthazar – after a mix of yelling and smacking still didn't awaken his brother – when the alarm went off. Castiel shot upright.

"Are you serious?" Gabriel whispered, placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder. The younger boy was too busy examining his brother for damage to see the look on his face. His eyes grew wide and confused, trying to focus the other boy, before he settled in focus and gave a small, strange smile.

Castiel didn't seem any worse for wear. The younger brother couldn't help but thumb the circular scar on his collarbone. "Go get in the shower, Castiel. You'll be late for school."

The other boy shook his head and tried to lay back down. Gabriel grabbed him by the arm and dragged him up. "Oh no, sir. The Winchesters will be here in like ten minutes and you expect us to help that idiot with his homework?" Castiel groaned, which Gabriel was sure was the first sound he had heard from his brother since his scream the night their mother died other than the hushed conversations he had with Dean.

Somehow, Gabriel was able to half drag-half carry his brother to the bathroom. He waited outside until he heard the shower start, then went inside the room again to see what he could find to sexify his older brother.

With no luck, (Castiel only seemed to own Sunday bests and typical jeans and t-shirts,) he returned to the kitchen. Castiel could pick out his own damn clothes for today. They had other, more pressing matters to discuss. "Should his hair be spiked up or flat down? Who's Dean gayer for: Michael or Lucifer?"

Balthazar smiled at his brother, "Why would you assume Dean Winchester would go gay for either of them? That option has been on the table somewhere around twelve years and he hasn't taken the bait yet."

"Oh, young Balthazar, allow me to rock your world. Every human in the history of the world falls into either Team Michael or Team Lucifer. They are perfect opposites. For example, let's focus simply on the hair…"

Unfortunately at that moment, there was a knock at the door. Gabriel yelled to allow the others to enter. They heard him and walked in. He was kind of upset that he wouldn't get to share his Twin Theory with Balthazar until the other boy decided to be a jerk.

"How great to see you!" Balthazar exclaimed as he sat pancakes in front of both boys at the kitchen's bar. They sat on stools and started inhaling the food. "Gabriel was just about to rock my world. Care to listen?"

Sam laughed aloud at the ugly look the youngest boy shot toward his brother. It must have been about Operation Let's-Get-Our-Brothers-To-Go-Gay-For-Each-Other-Fo r-No-Apparent-Reason. It was a working title.

"Well fine, Balthazar. If you insist," Gabriel sat down and started eating his pancakes. "Basically, this will in no way rock anyone's world. We were simply debating whose hair was better. For instance, would girls be more likely to sleep with a guy if his hair was down or if it were spiked."

"You somehow related it to the twins, I believe, Gabriel?" Balthazar smirked.

"Right, thank you, bro," Gabriel ran his hand through his hair. "Would girls go for Michael's hair or Lucifer's hair?" Balthazar shot him a look, so Gabriel sighed. "Okay, let's just assume that you were gay for a moment, Sam. Which of my brothers would you sleep with?"

Dean finally broke eye contact with his pancakes at the pathetic squeal Sam made. Dean shot an amused look at Gabriel, as if he appreciated the teasing. Sam continued to stammer for a few more seconds, his voice crossing what sounded to be several octaves.

The color of Sam's face was the same shade of red as the cherry Gabriel dangled to his mouth, and likewise, the color of his tongue as he licked the whip cream from the fruit. When it became apparent that Sam was unable to answer, the youngest boy bit the cherry from the stem and asked Dean his opinion.

"The question is do girls like short hair or long hair on a guy?" Dean clarified.

"Yeah. That." Gabriel quickly added, "Or, which of my brothers would you be willing to have sexual relations with. Whichever you feel more comfortable answering."

Dean smirked, "I see what's going on, trickster." Gabriel shot a worried look at Balthazar. "One of you has hair like Lucifer and the other has hair like Michael. I'm not getting involved in your petty argument." The oldest boy tried to put the last bit of pancake in his mouth at once, but it dropped off his fork and landed on his shirt. He picked it up like it wasn't a big deal and popped it in his mouth.

"Where's your bathroom?" Dean asked.

Well aware it was occupied, Gabriel said, "Down the hall, first door to the left."

Dean got up and started walking to his destination.

"Though as a completely objective third party who happens to have short hair and wild success with ladies, I'd have to say Lucifer has nicer hair," he winked back at them. "Sorry, Gabe."

Balthazar grinned, "Told you I'd get laid before you."

Once facing away, Dean brought his shirt to his lips, licking the syrup from the material before it died and became impossible to clean. He reached out to grasp the bathroom's doorknob at the same time that the door swung inward and away from him. His eyes had been at hip level, so he couldn't help but give his friend the once over, just to make eye-contact.

"Oh, hey there, Cas," Dean grinned.

Castiel just rolled his eyes with a smile on his face, pushed past his friend, and entered his room to get dressed. The boys in the kitchen heard Dean turn on the water to clean off his shirt. Soon enough, both boys had joined them again.

Much later in study hall, when they had time to reflect on their brothers interactions, they eventually deemed that nothing abnormal had happened. Not even when they almost hit bare stomach to completely naked, wet torso, there didn't seem to be anything of a sexual nature there.

At best, they were becoming friends.

Sam had hoped that this meant Gabriel and Balthazar would give up and go on to something new. They sort of did, but their new fascination still made Sam uncomfortable.


The usually helpful Castiel was completely checked out of chemistry that day. It was okay; they were mostly doing review work from the day before. Apparently unlike Castiel, no one else learned anything. But Dean was starting to get it on his own.

The weird thing was that Castiel wasn't even making an attempt to hide his cell phone.

They sat in the back, and Castiel had his chair pulled out and his knees pressed up against the table in front of him. He was decent enough to have a notebook over his legs so it appeared as if he were taking notes. To an idiot.

Meaning, the chemistry teacher.

Dean had gone so far as to directly ask a question, but Castiel was completely engrossed with whatever he was watching on his phone and ignored him. Finally, when the teacher gave them a break before their lab, Dean snatched the phone. Castiel didn't even really fight for it. He did, though, shift the notebook lower onto his lap as if hide something else.

The Winchester boy stared at the screen for a few moments as if he were trying to make heads or tails of the video. Then, all at once, he let the phone slip from his hands as if it would give him a disease by simply touching it. It only fell a few inches to the table, but he quickly grimaced, picked up the smart phone delicately, and pushed it back at Castiel. It was no worse for wear.

"What the hell are you watching strippers for, Cas?" Dean hissed.

Castiel looked up at Dean with his eyes, but barely moved his head. The blue were a shade darker than Dean remembered, and his pupils were huge. Dean had seen the look on plenty of girls before. They were bed eyes, and Castiel was making them at him. To be honest, it didn't make him uncomfortable for any of the right reasons.

"They aren't strippers. They're dancers. Pole dancers. Who… sometimes remove articles of clothing."

Dean felt the confused look on his face, but quickly relaxed it when Castiel licked his lips. "That is the textbook definition of what a stripper is."

"But they never get completely nude."

Dean sighed, "That's because you're watching on a YouTube app. The question remains a big fat why."

The lust started draining from Castiel's face as he was forced to think critically. Dean felt himself breathing again. Castiel looked away for a few moments, before facing toward his lab partner.

"I think it is a beautiful display of music and dance. An expression of the physical extremes a human body can go through to display that beauty." Castiel met Dean's eye in a painful way. "I admire those with control over their bodies. I wish I could dance like them."

There were some things that even Dean Winchester would not touch with a ten foot pole. The way his heart skipped a beat at the thought of his friend being a pole dancer was one of them.

"Okay, class. Take your seats!"

Castiel went back to watching videos, but the idea of Castiel "expressing the beauty of music and dance" by slowly discarding his clothes and clinging to and swinging around a pole was not something Dean Winchester could burn from his mind.


A few nights later, Dean and Bobby had finished up their work early. Dean was rubbing some grease from his hands onto a once white towel. Bobby extended the neck of a beer to him. They uncapped, toasted, and took long, refreshing sips.

They didn't have pizza, but Bobby had something far greater: a part the Impala had desperately needed that Dean couldn't afford.

They worked in silence for a while, until Dean realized that the alcohol and present were just clever ruses to get him to open up. He was a little offended. He would have talked to Bobby if he had just asked, but apparently, his employer didn't feel like it was his place to pry.

"So, John's back," Dean stated with his hands elbow deep into the hood. Bobby made a sound, so Dean continued. "He's been alright so far."

"John was a good man, Dean. I knew him back before your mother died. He really loved you and Sam."

"Past tense," Dean untangled himself with the hood, wiping his brow with a spot on his arm not covered in grease. "I get that it's hard raising two teenage boys, especially for a single dad, but half the time we're starving to death. He's always here around the first of the month to collect his check, and he leaves us some, but by the third week he's off on some hunting trip in the woods and we're trying to survive."

Dean reached for the beer on the side table. Leaning against the Impala, he finished the rest of his drink. "I just don't ever know if I feel sorry for him or hate him."

Bobby patted Dean on the shoulder. The younger man wasn't even aware he had tears in his eyes until he looked up, and they spilled down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away.

Another hour or so passed before Dean staggered home. He was aware it was nine pm on a school night and he shouldn't have gotten that drunk, but he was his father's son, after all. From the first sip he stole when he was about twelve, he had a very positive reaction to alcohol.

That wasn't to say that he hadn't ever had negative times with alcohol. He'd spent his fair share of time huddled over a toilet, but even then it was never long before he was drinking again. More than anything, though, he didn't want Sam to see him while drinking. He wanted to do whatever possible to keep his brother from giving in to their alcoholic genes.

He wanted to nip it before it even became an idea of a bud.

His front door was unlocked, and he tried to be as quiet as possible as he walked through the house. He could probably pass out right now if he could make it up the stairs. Bobby usually didn't let him get this bad, but it was his reward for opening up and talking.

School would be hell tomorrow if he could wake up at all.

Dean put his foot on the bottom step and heard the weight of the whole house shift. He was going to wake Sam up for sure. Something dropped in the kitchen, and a swearing hiss got the older boy to turn around. Dean couldn't help it. He went to the noise.

His father was on his hands and knees before him, wiping up what smelled like whiskey on the floor. Dean grabbed a paper towel and helped him soak it up.

Suddenly, his dad looked up at him and their eyes met.

"Have you been drinking, Dean?"

"Have you?"

It was the end of a conversation that should have gone much differently. Then again, John Winchester was not a traditional father in any smidgeon of the word. Traditional and father.

Instead, John sat back down and put his head in his hands. Dean poured him another drink, and his father did something strange then. Something he had never done before. He stood, grabbed another cup, sat it in front of Dean, and poured his son some of the whiskey to share.


Castiel tucked the white dress shirt into his pants before zipping up and adding a belt. He popped his collar and grabbed a solid blue tie from his closet. It took him a few tries to tie it right and get it to look halfway decent. It was still backwards, but he didn't care. Close enough. He smoothed his collar down around the tie and put the black suit jacket over it. He buttoned it, but decided he looked better with it unbuttoned.

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to make it stick up more… more like Lucifer's.

Then he put his tan coat on and was out the window in no time.

Crowley had grown on him the last couple of nights. After that first night, Crowley had agreed to give him two balloons of heroin for the price of one – the price of the three Percocets he traded already. But part of the deal was that the drugs stayed with Crowley. When Castiel needed it, he would do the drugs with "adult supervision."

He wasn't aware Crowley cared that much about him.

The past few days hadn't been too hard, but Castiel fully intended on using one of his hits tonight.

Castiel had spent the last few nights playing on Crowley's pole. (Castiel snickered at the double entendre, and then snickered more when he thought about how accurate it was.) Tonight, he thought he could do a whole song with decent moves. He planned on showing Crowley.

While Castiel played in Crowley's basement, the other boy did loads of things. In fact, after that first night, he had hardly even glanced at Castiel while he danced. He did homework, for one. He made deals. Once, he had sex with a girl. When his dealer brought the girl downstairs, he ushered her to his bed. Castiel asked if he should leave, and the British teen licked his lips.

"Oh, no, angel. She's so strung out she won't even know you're here," Crowley patted Castiel's sweaty cheek. "Give me twenty minutes, love."

Castiel couldn't see them, and he could hardly hear them over the music, but he was silently thankful he hadn't taken anything other than Xanax that night, or he may have tried to watch – or worse – join them.

He was at Crowley's window in record time.

When the other boy pulled back his curtain, he was smoking a cigarette. He unlatched the lock and Castiel twisted his body through the small window. He dropped down to the couch, then stepped down further onto the floor.

It took Crowley a few more seconds to turn around and offer the taller boy a drag from the cigarette. He froze. "You're wearing a suit."

"I thought it would please you," Castiel took the cigarette from the dealer and took a drag. He saw the way the other man stared at him and couldn't help but enjoy the attention.

"Oh, angel. It does please us."

Castiel handed the cigarette back. Crowley took a quick drag and turned away. The younger boy went behind the bar.

Crowley's basement was almost a second home to him. He got out a glass and poured some Scotch into it. He waited for the other boy to join him at the bar before he slid the glass over like a bartender.

"I'd like to propose a deal."

Crowley raised the glass to his lips and smirked into it. "Castiel, I do believe we have several active deals going at once. Perhaps we should finish one contract before we start another."

"Well then, I previously paid for two balloons. I would like one now."

Crowley looked displeased, but he walked back to his bed. In a candy dish sat a bunch of what appeared to be rolled candies. Castiel knew better. He got his diabetic bag from his coat pocket and lit the candle. He abandoned his coat and his suit jacket. Unbuttoning the wrist of his shirt, he rolled that up and wrapped the tourniquet around his arm.

He hadn't even seen Crowley return to this side of the room. The British boy looked at him with mild fascination. "You're going to shoot it?"

"Fastest."

Crowley shook his head. "You are intense, Castiel. When you fall from grace, you fall hard." He handed over the drug.

As Castiel unwrapped the heroin and mixed it in a spoon and started cooking it, he had time to think about what Crowley had just said to him. Intense could have been a complement, but Castiel knew it wasn't meant to be one. He looked up at his dealer. He was facing away, sitting on a stool, drinking his drink. Castiel could have sworn he saw the other boy shake his head.

Again, the younger boy wondered why the drug dealer sold the stuff if he had such a strong aversion to it. But asking would get him nowhere. Castiel, instead, greedily put the heroin in the syringe, tapped out the bubbles and injected it in his arm.

He sighed as he pushed the syringe down, pushing the drug into his veins. He noticed that Crowley was watching him with idle fascination. He really hadn't ever seen anyone take a drug this way before. The dealer didn't take the harder drugs himself, and if he ever stuck around to watch someone do the heroin he brought, he must have always looked away.

Castiel pulled the needle out of his arm and started cleaning himself. He blew out the candle, washed off the spoon, and packed his bag back up. He rolled down his sleeve and put his suit jacket back on. He left the tan coat off but put the bag in his coat pocket.

He didn't have to wait. The release was instantaneous.

Crowley poured himself some more Scotch and turned away.

Castiel knew it hit hard when he attempted to name his relationship to Crowley. He liked the other man well enough. Perhaps a bit more than a junkie typically felt toward their drug dealer. It would be friendship, he thought, if their encounters didn't almost always end in drugs, oral sex, or more often than not both.

For a brief moment, Castiel wondered if he loved Crowley.

He tested his theory by reaching out and touching the other man's hand. The British teen turned and looked at their joined hands, before smiling at Castiel. Crowley adjusted his body so they were gripping at each other.

It hit Castiel like a train. He felt his heart swell with drugs and guilt. Crowley – though he would never admit it – was in love with him. And at that exact moment that Castiel made this discovery, he realized what Crowley was to him.

A reoccurring john.

He would keep returning to him because he paid and he was kind. It was like the man in the prostitution movie who really didn't want to pay for sex, but he kept coming and coming, because he loved the prostitute.

Castiel was Nicole Kidman and Crowley was Ewen McGregor. Except nothing inside Castiel loved Crowley.

True, he liked Crowley well enough. If circumstances were different, they could be friends. And he thought Crowley was attractive enough – he wouldn't continuously put himself in this position if he didn't find some bit of Crowley attractive – but Crowley was certainly no Dean Winchester.

Castiel felt his head tilt to the side. That was an interesting train of thought.

His hand was already in Crowley's, so he simply stood and led him to the pole. For the sake of the other boy, tonight would be their last night together. It was fun if it just frustrated Crowley, but when emotions got involved – that was just mean. Heroin seemed really awesome, only a few minutes in and he felt like he was swimming in pleasure, but he could get a prescription for something he liked just as well.

He couldn't keep doing this to Crowley.

But they deserved a finale. Castiel sat his dealer down, then returned to the bar to pick a song. On YouTube, Castiel saw a boy do a really amazing dance to a John Mayer song, but knew he lacked both the physical ability and talent to do a slow song. His best bet for success with only a few days practice was to focus on the removal of clothes, dancing near the pole, and the occasional trick thrown in.

"My girlfriend's a dick magnet.
My girlfriend's gotta have it."

Crowley was tapping his feet to the beat, but the rest of him was tense and still. His drink was abandoned at his side. His shoulders were at his ears and his hands gripped his thighs. Castiel swung around the pole before his fingers loosened his tie.

Instead, he had a better idea and crawled to Crowley. He didn't need to ask the other boy for help. He jumped at the chance to pull and tug at the fabric at Castiel's throat.

"No one really knows if she's drunk or if she's stoned,
But she's coming back to my place tonight."

Tie abandoned on the floor, Castiel leaped toward the pole, catching it, hooking his leg, and spinning around. He tried one of the tricks and was sure it looked foolish, but Crowley clapped. Castiel rewarded his praise by losing the suit jacket. A couple more spins. At the end of one, he landed on his knees and crawled forward. Still on his knees at the end of the stage, he leaned back a little bit. Angled backwards, Castiel rocked his hips forward and backward – thrusting – as his unbuttoned his shirt.

Crowley shifted in his chair, getting closer to the edge of his seat. When the younger boy exposed his chest, letting the thin material fall from his shoulders and dance down his arms, Crowley had to grip the chair's handles to keep himself where he was and not touch the other boy's flesh.

"She likes to shake her ass; she grinds it to the beat.
She likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth."

Castiel stood and danced himself back to the pole. When he got there, he hooked his leg around and swung. He did a 360, still facing away from his audience. He danced, moving his hips back and forth as he unbuttoned and lowered his pants.

When they were removed, he turned back to swing but Crowley was there, on stage with him.

"I like to strip her down; she's naughty to the end."

Crowley made quick work of abandoning his tie, and Castiel reached to unbutton his shirt. Crowley attacked the younger boy's neck, and Castiel dropped to his knees.

Crowley tangled his fingers in Castiel's hair, and Castiel thought, what could one last time hurt?

"You know what she is, no doubt about it, she's a bad, bad girlfriend."


Over the next week or so, the younger Novaks told Sam about the power struggle between their older brothers. Zachariah was holding down the fort, but his rules were even stricter than their parents. Quickly, they were forced into prayer every day. Their diets were limited further, and curfew was set earlier. He refused to talk about their mother or father, insisting that both were dead and would never return. He was in charge now and would remain the leader of the family.

When Zachariah was gone, Raphael got crazy. He took the rules to a violent extreme. He found out that Balthazar had a set of knives and ran him from the house and refused to let him back in until he cut his arm with the knife as a way of repenting. Raphael was huge on atonement, and he was always quick to pick out flaws and sins and try to force his brothers to fit the mold of what their father would have wanted them to be. (Sam noticed that slowly, more and more of Balthazar's weapons were hidden under his own bed. Where the hell did the guy get a handgun?)

The cut off between Raphael and Michael was extreme as well. The elder sons had no hope their father would return, but Michael never once doubted. The youngest boys said they could hear Michael praying for hours for answers and guidance.

Lucifer took their father's abandonment particularly personal, but they hadn't figured out why yet. He had spent the week following their mother's death absent. Sometimes, they could hear him listening to music lightly in his room, even on their way back from their mandated prayer time. Most of the time he was just gone.

The youngest three Novaks had their own agenda. Castiel was frequently absent from prayer that week. They weren't sure if he hid in his room (and Zachariah never even bothered to check on him to see if he was there) or if he truly was gone most nights. His rebellion, unknown to himself, stirred Balthazar and Gabriel on.

Anyway, for some unknown reason, the Novaks' new plan was to score alcohol and get drunk. Somehow, the idea of losing their virginities came back up as a part of this plan. Sam, of course, was invited to the party if he helped with the planning, brought some chicks, and didn't cockblock either of the other two.

"Plan one: Steal Zachariah, Uriel, or Raphael's ID and buy alcohol."

Gabriel shook his head. "We look about twelve, let's be honest. And let's be more honest, none of us look anything like Uriel or Raphael."

Sam giggled, but Balthazar asked, "Well, what about Dean? He could probably pass as Zachariah."

"Dean won't buy me alcohol," Sam chimed in. "Especially with our dad home."

The Novaks nodded their understanding. Sam didn't often talk about his father, but they gathered that he was an alcoholic.

"Option Two: We make fake IDs McLovin style and become heroes of a party and sleep with girls."

Sam and Balthazar shared a look, then looked at Gabriel. "Did you finish Superbad? That's not how the movie ends."

Gabriel dismissed them with a shrug. They continued to argue amongst themselves for a few minutes, before they heard a mostly unfamiliar voice join in.

"Just go to Crowley's party on Friday," Lucifer walked to the cupboard and poured some cereal into a bowl before dumping milk in and sitting down at his kitchen table next to Sam. "Free alcohol. Problem solved."

Then, realizing he had never seen the boy he was sitting next to before, he asked very politely (for Lucifer, at least). "And who might you be?"

Sam ignored the fact that he had been sitting two pews away from the older boy every Sunday for three months. He wiped his hand on his jeans, as if they were dirty or sweaty or something – a nervous tick of his – before he extended it to the other boy. "Sam Winchester."

Lucifer took his hand with a grin. "Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name."

Sam actually laughed aloud at his friends' brother's joke. Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows at Balthazar, who rolled his eyes at their Lucifer's favorite line, but Sam didn't notice.

"Just call me Lucifer?"

"Cause I'm in need of some restraint," The blond boy stated so mater-of-factly that it was kind of spooky. Even to his younger brothers.

"So, Luci, what are you all chipper about this lovely morning?" Sam would have thought that Gabriel would be murdered for the shortening of his name, but the older boy didn't even flinch. Gabriel just had that effect on some people.

"Well, as you can see, the black eye Michael gave me is completely gone," he gestured to his face. "So I am ready to either start picking up girls or starting fights with random guys again. Haven't decided yet." He shoved a spoonful of cheerios in his mouth. "Anyone you want beaten up?"

"Not today, thanks, Lucifer," Balthazar seemed uncomfortable around his brother. Sam couldn't help but wonder if Lucifer played the part of his namesake. Dean had never had a run in with Lucifer personally, but the school was always filled with rumors about who had beaten up who at the abandoned, graffitied church behind the school. It was usually Dean Winchester or Lucifer Novak starring as the role of the victor.

If he had been given a normal human being name, would he be such a fighter? Was he named for his attitude, or did his name cause it? Sam could spend hours debating that.

"But, Luci, you mentioned Crowley's party?" Gabriel pushed.

Lucifer nodded, eating another spoonful of cereal.

"Crowley's hosting the senior party this Friday. We're too young. We'd never get in."

Lucifer smiled at his brother and put a hand on his shoulder, the other over his chest. "Oh, that's right. The annual Senior Sign In. God Bless your heart for reminding me to find an underclassman."

"What's the Senior Sign In?" Sam asked.

"It's the biggest party of the year," Gabriel explained. "Only seniors are allowed to go. They can bring one underclassman as a guest, but they need to visibly tag the person they're with. It used to be a t-shirt or something. Now they typically force underclassmen into bikinis and sign their stomachs." He paused, "Or if the girls bring a boy, typically they're shirtless."

"Well maybe I'll bring you something home as a souvenir," Lucifer finished his breakfast. "What do you want? Rum? Vodka? I mean it's at Crowley's so how about some Patrón or Hennessy? You know what, I know you well enough. I'll just browse and pick out something for you."

"You can bring someone, brother?" Balthazar asked. "Bring one of us."

Lucifer shook his head, "Oh hell no am I bringing one of my little brothers to a party. What are you thinking, idiots?" He went to the sink and ran water in his bowl, but left it there for one of his other brothers to properly clean it. Turning, he faced his downtrodden little brothers.

He grinned a devilish smile that made the hair on the back of Sam's neck stand on edge.

"Can you imagine being the lucky whore walking into that den of sin and decadence with 'LUCIFER' written on your collarbone or down your side or on your hipbone," the blond boy closed his eyes and shook his head, reveling in the thought.

Gabriel and Balthazar obviously had a new appreciation for their brother. Balthazar quickly changed his "75% of a chance Lucifer has had sex" to a 100%.

"That's pretty much the best name to have if you're going for sin and decadence, but…" Sam wasn't sure why he was speaking at all. According to the rumors, Lucifer has beaten up kids for looking at him oddly. Suddenly the older boy's eyes shot open, and Sam swore he felt the temperature of the room drop. "But… I think it could be cool name to do something beautiful with – if, I mean, you were taking someone more than a whore. Which it's perfectly okay to just take someone who you're only planning on sleeping with. But it could also be a cool statement if you drew, like, a shooting star."

The three Novaks stared at the lone Winchester, and he wasn't sure if he was a deep shade of red or a ghostly pale.

"Because Lucifer is the Morning Star." More stares. "Yeah, never mind. Just… write Lucifer then… bang the hell out of her." Sam ended, awkward and defeated.

Even Gabriel didn't laugh at him.

Sam was praying for someone to do something to break that silence. Even if Lucifer just punched him right in the nose and broke that to break the silence it would be worth it. He wasn't even aware he was staring at the counter in front of him until he saw the hand invade his vision. He looked up at the same time he felt the other boy roughly grab his wrist and pull it to him across the kitchen bar.

The older boy pulled a sharpie from his pocket and bit the cap off. He turned Sam's arm over, so his wrist was facing up. With the careful consideration of a serial killer, Lucifer moved the sharpie across the other boy's wrist. It took a few seconds before Sam even thought of looking to see what profanity the older boy was writing on him.

His eyes fell to his wrist, and he was surprised to see the crude outline of a star forming. With three lines, it became a shooting star. Lucifer signed his creation in small, legible letters under the lines. He let go of the other boy's wrist, capped the sharpie, and stuck it back in his back pocket.

"It's Tuesday. If you can keep that from washing off by Friday, you can be my…" Sam looked up, fully aware of the exact shade of red his face must be. He could tell Lucifer was searching for a better word than whore and he silently thanked him. Though, the pause took a lot longer than it should have to come up with the word "…wingman."

With that, Lucifer seemed to be in a rush to leave. He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, well aware of Balthazar's whines.

"That's not fair, Lucifer! You won't take your own brothers, but you'll take him? No offense, Sam," Sam was still too shocked to reply. "You just learned his name today! And I'm older! I should get to go."

Lucifer did pause on his way out the door to say a farewell, "Quit your bitching, Bathazar." With a point he added, "Stay classy, Gabie." Gabriel grinned and pointed back.

When the brothers had turned back to their food, Balthazar was still bitching under his breath to a very amused Gabriel. Sam snuck a look back at his potential… um… pilot for Friday night. He was still looking back at them. When he caught Sam's eye, he gave another smirk that made the younger boy's blood run cold.

Then Lucifer winked at him.

And he was out the door before Sam could react.

The Winchester boy was still lost in his thoughts, so he completely missed it when Gabriel nudged his brother. "Hey, remember when we asked Sam which of our brothers he'd want to bone?" Seeing where the joke was going, Balthazar finally stopped bitching and smiled. "I never thought he actually wanted to bone one of us."

"Really dodged a bullet, there, mate. Didn't we?" Balthazar agreed.


After what could quite possibly have been the shortest time a junkie ever spent addicted to opiates, Castiel skipped school the next day to visit the guy who supplied him with his drugs to get a refill of Xanax and hopefully a prescription for some type of amphetamine. And maybe more anti-depressants if he was lucky with the other two.

Although he loved the low of the heroin, he thought he would enjoy the high of amphetamines. Worth a shot, right? It wouldn't kill him to try new things. Probably.

Sitting in the lobby waiting to be called in, he pulled up his Web MD app and looked up the symptoms of ADD one last time. He felt this particular acting stunt needed help; he broke into Lucifer's room after he had left for school and stole two Adderalls that the older boy didn't like to take as prescribed anyway. After searching the internet for hours, Castiel discovered that the quickest and most profound effect came from snorting.

Oddly enough, Castiel felt more uncomfortable snorting something than he had shooting it into his arm. He took them orally. Although he really didn't want to become mega-focused and turn out a twenty-five page essay – which he heard was a typical effect of the drug – it seemed to be working fabulously so far. He was pretty sure he was driving the lady behind the reception counter nuts with his feet tapping.

He had planned on acting like he had ADD, but with the amphetamines in his system, acting anxious was not necessary. He'd already walked around the office three times trying to burn off some energy, but nothing worked.

And the way any slight noise had him breaking focus to look for the source kind of made him wonder if this was what having ADD was actually like. It felt like he had a bunch of monsters from purgatory stuck inside him, ready to burst out and swim off as hundreds of black goo snakes in every direction to infect other people. The black goo snakes were having a lot of crazy fun trying to take over him and he felt himself smiling and knew he must look absolutely insane, but a little voice in his head commented, "This is going to be so much fun." And Castiel agreed with it.

He shook his head, unaware he had been rocking in cut time in his chair until he made a conscious effort to control his body and sit back.

Thinking objectively, he should probably write down that simile-turned-extended-metaphor to use in English class.

He started texting it to himself when the doctor called him in.

As the boy walked behind the doctor into his office, Castiel started having serious doubts about coming to a session high as a kite. He could hardly control himself. He was tapping his hands on his knees and remained doing so as he sat down on the couch.

There was a sand garden in front of him. There had always been one, but he had never paid any attention to it before. He slid off the couch and sat on the floor and started running the rake through the sand.

"Castiel, what are you doing?"

Castiel looked up and tried to run his hand through his hair, trying to get it to stick up. He was sweaty and it clung to his head. He smiled at the doctor, big and crazy, then went back to the sand garden.

"Castiel, a lot has happened since your last session, and we really need to talk about it. I know you typically don't like talking, but –"

"My mom died," Castiel was saying, unable to stop the words as he made a circle in the sand. "My mom died and I can't stop shaking." He held up his hands, and true to someone taking way too many uppers, his body had tremors running through them.

"Castiel…"

"My brother Zachariah almost conned me into singing my favorite song. He almost had me do it too. My favorite song of praise to worship the Lord when he knew the most important person in my life – my best friend – my mother – had been dead for hours and nobody thought to call and tell me. He let me sing and praise for ten minutes before he told me." Castiel was truly surprised at the word vomit. More so, he was surprised because he was telling the truth.

Amphetamines were a truth serum. The small part of his brain that recognized he was too high to be doing this now tried to gain control. The amphetamines pushed him back. In his mind, a small Castiel was shoved by a bigger, high Castiel and he watched the boy fall with a pout on his face.

"And ever since my father left or died or whatever, I haven't been able to focus in school. I mean it has been slow going, but I find myself coloring in notebooks instead of taking notes. My chemistry notebook is already a quarter filled with highlighted doodles. Do you want to see?"

"Um…" Castiel sat back on the couch and started digging through his backpack. "No, Castiel, please wait one moment."

Somehow, the doctor's command got the boy to sit still and look at him. He remained focused and in silence for a good thirty seconds before his feet started jiggling and his hands twisted nervously around themselves.

"How long have you been acting like this?"

Castiel felt confusion creeping over his face and when he answered, it sounded so genuine he surprised himself, "Acting like what?"

The doctor smiled at him. "When did you start talking again?"

Oh shit. Oshitoshitoshit. Was he on the Xanax because he had high anxiety about talking? Is that how he started taking them? More than the amphetamines, he needed the Xanax. He was well aware that his body had a physical addiction to that drug. He needed that drug to stay even remotely human.

The other drugs were just for shits and giggles.

He sat there, thinking about how he was going to get out of this mess. His head dropped, deep in thought, but he couldn't control his extremities. His legs were shaking. He was slowly scratching a hole in the side of his dress pants. He was rocking back and forth again. He wanted to regain control of his twitching. He tried to force himself to stop moving and when he couldn't do it, tears welled in his eyes.

"Castiel, how long have you been shaking like this?"

Castiel didn't answer at first, afraid that if he opened his mouth at all he wouldn't stop. In his mind, normal, logical Castiel started tying up his hyperactive twin, trying to regain some control over this situation. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Over the summer, but it has since gotten worse when my mother died."

"Well we need to do something about them. No wonder you can't focus in school, I'm sure you aren't only distracting yourself, but your peers as well."

An image of Dean sneaking a glance at him during chemistry popped into his mind. Logic Castiel was quick to tear it down and rip it up. He pointed at the imaginary forth wall as if to say, "Get me those Xanax."

"Have you ever heard of methamphetamines?"

"Methamphetamines?" Castiel couldn't help but emphasize. "As in crystal meth?"

The doctor chuckled, and Castiel realized that was exactly what he needed to say. "They are often used to treat ADHD, just like amphetamines, but methamphetamines have a quicker release time."

Tied up Castiel perked up at this, turning to his twin and whining "Faster high!" but logical Castiel smacked him. "Xanax!"

"That seems dangerous," Castiel admitted. True, he had seen Requiem for a Dream, and obviously the ending didn't aggrandize drugs, but every moment before told everyone how awesome heroin was. Castiel himself hadn't ever seen Breaking Bad, but meth wasn't exactly on the top of his To Try list. Meth was beautiful girls turned ugly when their hair and teeth fell out.

Meth was Holder from The Killing – so okay, he was kind of cute in an obvious ex-junkie sort of way with his methed raspy voice and his adorable "Oh honey" logic – but meth certainly did things to him.

Castiel sort of really liked having his hair and his teeth and his voice intact for him not to use.

The doctors started going on about how insanely addictive amphetamines were and how a body built up a tolerance over time so the "calm" a person would get from 5mg wouldn't be enough and the person would have to go up to 10mg. However, the risk of Castiel himself becoming dependant was slim. They would start him with a pretty low dose, though maybe more than 5mg just to kick start it. And he had been trusted with other drugs for so long, the doctor was confident that Castiel would take them as recommended which significantly decreased the likelihood that he would become dependent.

"But," Castiel noticed he had picked at one of his hands so much that blood was starting to well from the wound. He stared at the blood, but sat on his other hand, to try and keep it still. "But what effect will it have on the Xanax?"

"Actually, the methamphetamines will cure some of the drowsiness of Xanax. And Xanax will ease any nervousness and tremors caused by the amphetamines."

Castiel had a Xanax in his pocket. He didn't want to mix them this morning, not knowing what the reaction would be. He almost excused himself to take it in the bathroom. Instead, he sat on the couch. He noticed muscle spasms were causing his quadriceps to dance under the flesh at his thigh. He wasn't aware tears were welling in his eyes again until he couldn't see anymore.

"I don't think that I'm… um… comfortable taking methamphetamines."

Logical and tied up Castiel shot a glaring look at the forth wall. The drugged boy began shaking and sobbing, rocking himself back and forth to try and break free. Even logical Castiel looked as if he couldn't believe it. Then he looked around. If it wasn't either of the two of them making decisions around here, who was?

"Just because of the name? Would you be more comfortable taking some sort of regular amphetamines?"

Castiel tried to remain calm, not appear too egger, before he nodded slowly.

Logical Castiel untied amped up Castiel and they high fived.


It had been unnaturally warm for late September during the days leading up to Crowley's party. Dean had commented more than once about Sam's choice of wardrobe, but there was no way he was letting his brother see that he had been marked to go to that party. Maybe if it had been a hot girl, he would brag it up. There was something dangerous about going with Lucifer.

Dean would not approve.

That was, of course, if Lucifer had even actually been serious, which Sam wasn't sure was the case. His friends hadn't said anything about it (except, of course, to mock him ruthlessly), and he hadn't really seen Lucifer except for during lunch.

Where he was currently trying desperately not to stare.

Balthazar and Gabriel had since decided they needed to seduce some senior girls (who were obviously more easy than girls their age – Sam didn't ever seem to follow their logic), so that they could get into Crowley's party.

Balthazar was bitching up a storm, but Gabriel had been increasingly quiet the past few days and was staring at his watch today. Sam would have to be an idiot not to notice.

His mind was screaming not to turn his head to the circle table about ten yards away from where they were sitting. Lucifer had his back to them, so it wasn't like he would notice, but Sam was afraid of the girls the other boy ate with. They had been members of the Lucifer Fanclub for as long as Sam could remember. Gabriel had referred to the three as "Lucifer's Bitches" before, and swore it was how his brother referred to them as well.

They scared Sam.

Lilith had apparently been a friend since preschool, because Gabriel had memories of the girl in his house when he was really young. It seemed like she never really grew up. Even though she was a senior, she was short and had long dark hair. She was like a creepy china doll that moved and walked and talked.

Meg had short blond hair and a leather jacket. She was the kind that would beat you up first and never ask questions. Sam was well aware that she could take him.

Finally, Ruby had curly dark hair. She seemed mostly normal, but her devotion to the boy knew no bounds. Rumor had it, she once went so far for his affection that she trained another boy to a fight against him. Really, though, he had been a sacrifice, a poor sap that just got beaten up and Ruby left arm and arm with Lucifer.

The last thing he needed was for them to insist to the older boy that he was looking at him funny. (In his head, Sam couldn't shake the fact that all three of them sounded like Harley Quinn and referred to Lucifer as Mr. J. He really needed to lay off Arkham City.)

Sam fidgeted with his sleeve, making sure it covered his wrist. Suddenly, something else got his attention. "What are you wearing, Gabriel?"

Gabriel looked down at himself. Now that Sam was thinking about it, did everyone he know wear approximately the same thing? A t-shirt, some sort of button up unbuttoned, and a thicker jacket? Apparently not today. Gabriel looked up and smiled. "It's Michael's track jacket." He turned to face Balthazar, showing Sam his back. It had his last name in large letters.

Sam shot him a strange look – Gabriel, more than any of the other Novaks – hated his last name. He didn't think it was dignified enough. ("We're named after freaking angels and we can't have a decent last name like Milton. I wish Dad had taken Mom's last name.")

Gabriel just smiled and said, "You'll see in 90 seconds." Then, he stood and patted Balthazar on his shoulder. "Well, bro, I'm sorry I have to do this to you, but we're really running out of time and I've got really big plans for Crowley's party. I wish you the absolute best, and I'll find you a girl later."

Balthazar was nearly growling, "What did you do?"

The younger boy just grinned, waved, and walked to the opposite side of the room to buy a Snapple from the machine.

Everything happened so quickly, Sam had a hard time following. Much later, when he had time to think about it, Sam realized it was Gabriel's first solo-mission. And it took him about two years to make a plan that topped this. And to this day, he still wouldn't tell Sam how he did it.

While Gabriel was over at the Snapple machine, there was a loud popping noise. Sam wasn't the only kid to shoot a look at Lucifer's table. In fact, the lunch room went silent and every head turned to look at the boy.

He was standing with his arms out, and his head down. It was like a picture had been taken; Lucifer stood there for a second completely still, as if he were trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, until suddenly he let out a growl from deep, deep in his chest that sent goosebumps over Sam's arms. Lucifer slammed his fist down on the table. More than any time before, the younger boy felt the need to get out of the room.

Lucifer quickly turned and faced them, and if Sam wasn't so afraid, he would have laughed. The pop must have been a firecracker that had been placed in his mashed potatoes. The gooey bits of the fake (instantly processed) vegetable clung to his face and hair and shirt. He made a quick motion to get it off his face, but it didn't help much.

Upon spotting his brother's table, he noticed only one was present. Balthazar stood on shaky legs, fear shining in his eyes as his arms shot slightly behind him, leaning forward, as if he were about to be tackled at any moment. A stance of a fighting angel, using his wings to support him.

"Oh, Balthazar," Lucifer grinned, mirroring his brother's fighting stance. "Hath Job fear God for naut? I will make you fear me, brother."

Balthazar took a step back, raising his palms, trying to seem defenseless. Lucifer was older; his wings were bigger. If Sam thought he was whining before, it didn't come close to comparing to the tone of his voice when he cried, "Brother, please." His speech impediment only helped to mirror the tone of the other deified little brother he was quoting. Even Loki couldn't deliver the line as pathetically as Balthazar.

Of course it was to no avail. Lucifer grinned, baring his teeth, and ran at his brother. Balthazar took off running down the hall. A few of the lunch monitors ran out after them, and Gabriel made his way from the back of the room with his arms up in victory. There was applause from the lunch room – not that people hated Lucifer. Fear maybe, but not hate – but because he got his brother good, and blamed his other. A prank worthy of applause.

Gabriel made a gesture to calm them down, which made them roar louder. Then he pumped his fist in the air and there wasn't a way the mass of cheering could be louder. This time, when he gestured them to calm down, they did. Sam had no idea how the other boy played a crowd that well, but he always had been able to.

Most of the lunch room went back to their food, but the youngest Novak approached the three seniors at Lucifer's table, who looked very much amused at the prank. Gabriel pulled up a fresh chair in between Meg and Ruby and offered each of the girls a lollipop. They took it with giggles. He only talked to them for about a minute, but by the end, he stood, unzipped his jacket, and bared his neck. Each girl got out some lipstick and put it on. One by one, they kissed his neck (Ruby on the left, Meg on the right, and Lilith at the junction where his neck met his shoulder), then signed their name.

He was very obviously marked by three seniors to go to Crowley's party. Three.

Gabriel wrote something on a piece of paper, passed it to Meg and stood, leaving the girls with grins, giggles, and lollipops. As his friend walked past, he made a small gesture with his hand to get him to come with him. Sam stood, grabbing his, Balthazar's, and Gabriel's junk and followed the other boy down the hall to the bathroom.

By the time his friend pushed the door open, his hands were shaking. He rushed to the mirror and studied his reflection.

There were always a few moments in life where the true nature of a person's character was revealed. While Gabriel studied the kisses on his neck – most likely the first he'd ever had – Sam wondered how his friend would act. Would he get all prideful? Would he get bashful? Deep, deep down, who was Gabriel?

His best friend turned and gave Sam a somewhat tentative smile, before it erupted in a full out grin. "Tell me you saw the look on Luci and Bale's faces!"

Deep, deep down, Gabriel Novak would always be a trickster.


On Friday, the night of Crowley's party, Dean had his first chemistry test. To say he was nervous wouldn't entirely be fair. He had all but got on his knees to beg Castiel to come over to his house Thursday night to help him study.

Castiel had agreed, and several hours later, the boy knocked on the door at the Winchester's home with a chemistry book under his arm.

Castiel hadn't taken any other recreational drugs since the day he took the Adderall. Not that it had been long, but he was feeling incredibly sober with just Xanax. He kind of liked the feeling, besides the small black dots on the edges of his vision, begging him to take something: heroin, amphetamines, ecstasy, anything.

A man he didn't recognize answered the door. A big man, with a beard, who he took to be Dean's father. Castiel blinked slowly, painfully aware he would have to talk to a stranger mostly completely sober. Though, the other man didn't seem like he was in a giant hurry to talk either. Instead, they seemed to stand there, sizing each other up.

It made Castiel very uncomfortable, very sure that the other man could take him in a fight.

Dean came stomping down the stairs after a few moments and quickly started shooing his father away. He held the door open for his friend and tried to usher him upstairs before anything else could be said, but it was too late.

"Who is your friend, Dean?"

"Castiel Novak," the son responded, and his friend was more than grateful that he would not have to speak unless directly spoken too. "He's my lab partner, dad. I told you I had someone coming over to help me study tonight."

John still looked uncomfortable. Dean put a hand on Castiel's back and tried to physically shove him up the stairs. He took the hint and started climbing.

"How come I haven't ever met him before?"

"Jesus Christ, dad. I'm eighteen years old."

Castiel wasn't sure if he should continue climbing or not, so he did, but he stayed at the top of the stairs, still listening. Perhaps he and Dean could take on the big man. He doubted it, but he at least wanted to make sure his friend was safe.

"It doesn't matter how old you are, Dean. You are still my son."

"His name is Castiel Novak. He lives about twenty minutes closer to the school if you're walking. He's got like a hundred brothers, super Christian family, not sure what denomination. Sammy hangs out with his little brothers all the time. I went to Michael and Lucifer's birthday party in third grade. You know the family."

Castiel wondered if Dean truly had gone to his brothers' birthday party. A lot of his childhood was blank, but suddenly, a memory rushed back to him. He was sitting in the top of the slide, hiding from the other kids at the playground. He peeked out from the side to look at his brother, Michael, who frequently took him to the park. Michael waved at him, to let him know he was still there. Michael's friend waved too.

Dean.

Dean and Michael were once close?

Castiel felt another body with him in the hallway. Sam was out of his room and looking down at Dean, who was trying really hard not to yell at their obviously inebriated father. The younger boy's eyes shot up to meet Castiel's, like he was searching for something.

"You here to study?"

Castiel nodded, but he wasn't sure what else to do. Sam just nodded and loudly said, "Oh hey, Cas. What's up?" Castiel had only ever had his name shortened by Dean (and Gabriel often called him Cassie, which didn't bother him as much as it should have, but then again, if Lucifer could tolerate his pet name, Castiel sure wouldn't bitch about his). He was still trying to figure out whether or not he enjoyed Sam giving him the affectionate nickname as well, when he realized he should answer the question. The younger Winchester seemed to figure that Castiel had no intention of answering, because he skipped down the stairs laughing. "Yeah. Chemistry's dumb."

When he reached the bottom step, he patted Dean on the shoulder. "Cas is up there waiting for you, man. Dad, you wanna watch TV or something?"

When Castiel saw John move into the other room, he noticed the way Dean placed his hand on his brother's face. Affection. In fact, Castiel would go so far as to say that it wasn't just affection. The Winchester brothers truly loved each other.

Somewhere deep in his torso, Castiel felt as though someone had a fist around an organ and squeezed.

Dean started climbing the stairs and pointed at which room was his. Castiel led them into the room.

Once inside, he was genuinely curious as to what color Dean's walls were. Every inch of the walls were covered with either posters, magazine cut outs, or photographs. Many posters were of old bands, muscle cars, and half naked girls. A very typical eighteen-year-old's room, Castiel thought.

Dean's bed was made and he walked past Castiel to sit on it. He opened his chemistry book and flipped it to the beginning of the first chapter.

"So, I think I'm okay with knowing mass and protons and neutrons and stuff, but I'm not sure about acids and bases…" Dean looked up at his friend, who was still staring about his room. Dean let a small smile play at his lips before he dropped his head back to his book. He wondered what Castiel's bedroom looked like. Certainly, with the degree of religiousness that his family was, the other boy had probably missed out on a lot of the quintessentials of growing up.

He suddenly wondered if the other boy was a virgin. He wasn't sure why the thought stuck with him so profoundly, but he tried to shake it from his head.

"Cas…"

Castiel looked up at him. Dean raised his eyebrows, trying to get the other boy to help him, but Castiel misinterpreted the look.

"You have a lot of posters," Castiel stated.

Dean just put a knowing I'm-used-to-this smile on his face and gestured to the bed. Castiel sat down, his feet dangling over the edge. It took Dean a couple more attempts to get the other boy to pay attention and start explaining things to him. Once he got into it and comfortable in his surroundings, he chatted mostly normally about chemistry.

He even politely ignored Dean's rumbling stomach for almost half an hour. Until finally, the sound mixed with Dean's pained expression finally had him speaking up.

"Do you wish to stop and take a break for food, Dean?"

Dean just shook his head. He wouldn't look up from his book. "No, I'm good. Let's just… I'm not sure about this."

Castiel knew enough about blood sugar, based on his fake diabetes, to notice Dean had classic symptoms of low blood sugar. Knowing the boy always ate at lunch, Castiel wondered if he had anything to eat since then. School lunches weren't exactly enough to keep an eighteen-year-old boy full for a few hours, let alone an entire day.

"I find that I am getting hungry as well," Castiel tried, thinking the human compulsion to not offend a guest would be greater than whatever reason Dean had to not eat.

"Well, princess," Dean snapped, "you'll have to go home to eat because we sure as shit don't have any food here."

The second the words left his mouth, Dean hung his head and placed it in his hands, ashamed. Before he could say anything, Castiel dug in his pockets to find money. He had three dollar bills and a dollar sixty in change.

"I have enough for two whopper juniors and maybe a value fry," the smaller boy held the money out to his friend.

"I don't want your money, Cas."

Castiel was repulsed by money. It was dirty and it made his hands smell. But he kept the money in one hand, the other one reaching out to pat Dean's shoulder in an effort he hoped to be comforting.

"My mother died recently. I'm sure my brothers told you. Our father has been gone for a little more than a year. My older brothers work, but we don't have money anymore," Castiel's hand stopped patting and planted itself on Dean's forearm. "This is all I have. I've spent everything else. Soon, I will have to sell my stuff if I want pocket change. Or, I suppose, get a job."

Dean looked up, trying to hide the tears in his eyes.

"My brothers don't realize how bad it is. The younger ones don't understand at all, and Lucifer is frivolous by nature. The older ones are working just to keep us all fed and…" He couldn't bring himself to say medicated. He was well aware his Xanax and amphetamines cost his brothers real money. Saying how poor they had become out loud was embarrassing.

"The house was already paid for, or I'm sure we'd be…"

Dean put his hand over the money and Castiel's hand. Somehow, knowing that four dollars and sixty cents was all they had to their name should have been more profound. They should save it until they were starving, but the gesture was too nice to pass up. Dean dug in his pockets, counted the change and said, "Maybe we can get two value fries."

Castiel smiled and shoved the money toward Dean. This time, the other boy took it. Dean pocketed it and opened his window.

"We're going to sneak out?"

"Yeah. Can't leave or my dad will see. Besides, what's a date at Burger King without a little bit of danger and romance?" Dean grinned at his friend, already out the window. He was standing on the roof of his front porch. He held out his hand to Castiel. "Come on. Be brave, and I'll get you a flower or something." Castiel took his friend's hand a little hesitantly and hopped out next to Dean.

Castiel landed with his knees bent, but knew he put his weight too far back. Instead of landing on his butt, Dean tugged his arm and pulled him close, steadying the boy with his other hand, but quickly let go to show Castiel how to get down from here. He reached a tree branch, pulled himself up and walked across to the trunk. He climbed down from there on ladder rungs he placed up there when he was a child. Once safely on the ground, Castiel tried his luck with the tree.

The younger boy didn't care for heights, so he didn't stand up on the branch. Instead, he crawled on his hands and knees to the trunk. He slowly found a rung and lowered himself. About five feet from the ground, he missed a rung and slipped. Instead of colliding with the hard ground, about a foot down his back hit a warmer, softer object.

Dean oomphed, but he caught him. The older boy chuckled and steadied his friend once again, rubbing his chest. Castiel barely managed to refrain from touching it to assess damage.

"Did I hurt you?"

"If you ever get in a fight, throw with your elbow," Dean smiled. Castiel smiled back. "It gets easier, you'll see."

Castiel wondered how many times Dean thought the two of them would be sneaking into and out of the Winchesters' home. They made the easy trek a few blocks away to the local Burger King. They both got whopper juniors and value fries, as planned, but Dean teased his friend on his special order. ("No tomatoes, no pickles, and extra onions, Cas? Seriously?" "I like onions." "Well you can forget a goodnight kiss, then.") But at first, they ate in mostly silence.

The drugs did things to Castiel's appetite. Typically, he did survive on breakfast and sometimes lunch. He ate most of the whopper, but let Dean eat more than half his fries. The Winchester boy ate really quickly – finishing all of his food by the time Castiel ate half his burger – and Castiel had the feeling he had always grown up having to eat fast or risk getting it taken away. After all, if he had any food left when Sam was done and the younger boy eyeballed his food, Dean would go hungry. Anything for his brother.

Castiel wondered if one of his brothers would give up anything for him. And when he really thought about it, he didn't think a single one of them would.

Castiel gave him his fries to hold him over. Between bites, Castiel would give Dean the chemical formulas of household items for him to guess.

"NaCl."

"Salt."

"CH3COOH and H2O."

"Um…" Dean licked his finger free of salt. "Is that vinegar?"

"Yes. Very good, Dean," Castiel paused for a moment, before spitting out, "C21H23NO5." He rightly figured that Dean wouldn't know that one. He ate the rest of his burger in silence. He rolled up the wrapper and tossed it back in the bag before Dean gave up.

And when he asked what it was, Castiel suddenly realized he shouldn't have even given the formula to his friend. To know the chemical equation was a step past drug use and a step toward I-thought-about-manufacturing-myself.

"Cas?"

But he couldn't just say nothing. "Heroin."

"Hm," was all Dean said at first. Then, after he thought about it for a minute, a smile spread onto his face. "Is there anything you don't know, Cas?"

Castiel looked down. There were, of course, many things he didn't know. He didn't know where his father was, let alone if he were alive. He didn't know what would happen to him and his brothers if they continued to fight like this. He didn't know a single damn thing about Dean Winchester.

And for some reason, the last thing he didn't know bothered him the most.

"I know nothing."

Dean chuckled at him and checked his watch. "We should probably get back soon. I can't guarantee how long Sam can fend off my dad."

As they threw their garbage away and started walking back toward Dean's home, Castiel cleared his throat. Dean stole a glance, but Castiel wouldn't meet his gaze. "I am sorry about your home life. You shouldn't have to starve."

Dean shrugged. "At least I still have a parent, I guess. I'm sorry about your mom."

"I may still have a father," Castiel reminded him, arms crossing in front of him to keep the heat in his body. "But I don't know if that's any better or worse."

Dean nodded in silent agreement.

When they got back to the tree, Dean suggested that Castiel should go first. If he slipped, Dean could try and catch him. Castiel thought it was a nice gesture, but doubted that Dean would have any real effect on a body falling from twenty feet in the air. They didn't need to test it out because Castiel made it across fine.

Dean stepped up, but suddenly remembered something and ran across the street. Castiel couldn't see what he was doing; he blended into the dark by the time he hit the middle of the road. Semi-panicked that he was abandoned, Castiel felt himself scooting until his back hit the side of the house. The window was kind of high up. He wasn't sure he could make it up without a boost.

"Dean!" It was meant to come out as a yell, but it came out as a loud whisper at best.

"Hang on, Cas. I'm coming," the bigger boy was back at the base of the tree, and soon enough, Castiel could see his form balancing across the trunk. Finally, he jumped on the roof of the porch and in three quick strides he was standing in front of his friend.

Castiel wasn't sure when he had crouched to fetal position on the roof or when he had put his arms up over his head, but when he felt Dean near him, he opened his eyes and looked up. He had to take a moment to focus his eyes on what was being held down to him.

A pink flower.

Castiel grabbed the flower and slowly stood up, his eyes growing wide. It was the single most beautiful thing anyone had ever given him.

"It's a primrose."

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. How do you know that?"

"I read The Hunger Games."

Dean shrugged again. "What's that?"

Castiel smelled the flower. It was so white and pink that it seemed to glow in the dark. It was truly beautiful. And thinking back on it, he could hardly remember a single other present he had received in his life. As the warm feeling spread throughout his body, he suddenly remembered Dean was still standing in front of him. He probably thought of it as a joke, and Castiel was aware that his genuine reaction would make it awkward for his friend.

When he looked up, Dean was smiling. It appeared soft and genuine, but Castiel felt something. Something else in the way they were standing there, looking at each other, and assumed it was awkward for Dean.

Suddenly, Castiel smirked and pushed at Dean. He dropped his voice even lower, mimicking Dean (though Dean himself would claim he sounded nothing like that), and said, "'Stop with the chick flick moment.' Right?"

Dean's eyebrows creased, taken aback. "What?"

"That's what you would say to me. No chick flick moments. Thanks for the primrose, Dean. Will you give me a boost?"

Dean still looked confused for a second, until Castiel put the stem of the flower in his mouth, turned the face the window, and made an attempt to climb up himself. He was right. He couldn't do it on his own. Dean put his hands under his friends shoe and gave him a boost. Once Castiel was inside, Dean jumped up and let himself in.

Castiel was gently putting the flower down gently on Dean's desk.

Suddenly, looking around his room, Dean was embarrassed of his posters. Specifically, the ones of the girls. He had this guy in his room who was uber-religious (though to be fair, Dean hadn't ever actually heard him talk about religion), and he was looking at this flower he ripped out of his neighbor's garden like it was some sort of holy sign from God. And he had to sit in a room with half naked chicks.

And for the first time, Dean realized he had someone else to look at, that he would rather look at, than those half naked girls. Someone he was genuinely interested in as a human being.

"Hey, uh, Cas?"

Castiel looked up at him.

"Are you going to Crowley's party?"

His friend shrugged. "I'm a junior."

Dean looked down and flipped through his chemistry book. Anything to not look at Castiel's too blue eyes. "Well, I don't have any friends who are seniors. Honestly, you're kind of my only friend. So if you want to go, we can go." Dean looked back up, hoping he didn't look too desperate.

"Do you mean to say that you won't go if I don't go with you?"

"I don't know," Dean said, looking back down. "But I have no one else to ask."

Castiel nodded, "Okay then."

Dean looked up. "Okay then?"

"Sure. I will go with you to Crowley's party."

Dean tried to hide the relieved smile, but Castiel saw it anyway. He quickly took out his phone and sent a message to Crowley, letting him know that he found someone else to sign him so he was free to invite someone else. He hit send, knowing the emotional response it would have on Crowley.

It was for the better.

Castiel dropped the phone in his lap and leaned over the textbook, making sure Dean's definition of equilibrium was accurate.


Songs:

Castiel's pole dance (it seems sort of sacrilegious to write that…) is to "Bad Girlfriend" by Theory of a Deadman.