Castiel tried to spend the rest of the night in glorious slothfulness. Lounging in his comfy recliner chair, watching "Orange is the New Black" on Netflix. Based on this show, he didn't think he'd survive very long in prison.

With everything that had happened this last week, practicing had been the last thing on Castiel's mind. Which was stupid, they had a concert coming up in ten days and rehearsal started back up again tomorrow. His piano kept looking at him forlornly from the other side of the room. Finally, he switched off the TV and padded over to his bench.

Fergus hadn't taken his piano when he left, Castiel didn't know if it was because he respected his music or because it was so heavy and it had taken them approximately eight years to get it through the door in the first place. He'd sent Fergus a text thanking him for the return of his belongings and asking what bought on his new giving nature, but so far there had been no reply.

"Hello Gloria," Castiel ran a hand over the instrument. He flipped the cover off the keys and lined up his fingers. "Are you ready to sing?" He played a scale, then another. Then he launched into "Flight of the Bumblebee," because it was Anna's favorite, then "The Vampire's Dance," because it was Gabe's.

So absorbed was he in his music that he didn't notice the time creeping by until someone banged on his door. He blinked rapidly, coming out of some sort of playing-induced fog. The someone banged again.

"Coming," Castiel called. He opened the door to find his neighbor, elderly Joshua standing there, glaring at him.

"Son, please." Joshua begged, "it's one in the morning."

Castiel looked at his watch in shock. "Oh," he felt his cheeks go red, "I'm so sorry Joshua. I didn't realize it was so late. I'll stop." Joshua yawned and shuffled back to his own apartment. Castiel shut his door and went to lean against the window. It was snowing, flakes drifting like pixie dust in the glow of the streetlights, he should probably go to bed, he grabbed his coat and scarf instead.

Outside the world had transformed, Castiel loved the first snow of winter. He loved any snow actually. Snow had the ability to make even the most miserable place look like a fairytale, but the first one was always the best. It carried the most magic.

His boots crunched a path of footprints down the sidewalk, he tilted up his face and let the flakes melt against his eyelashes.

"Thank you," he whispered to Heaven. He'd needed this, needed to be reminded that no matter how ugly the world got, there was beauty in it.

….

He was exhausted the next morning. Rehearsal started at eight, but he stayed in bed until 7:34. It usually took him twenty minutes to get to the hall, today he did it in thirteen, breaking several traffic laws in the process and he was still late.

"Castiel!" Naomi, his director scolded. "Just because we've had three days off does not give us an excuse to be lazy."

"Sorry Naomi," Castiel said, taking his place behind the Grand. "It won't happen again." Naomi didn't look convinced, but only nodded and went to yell at one of the flutists who had dared to get the top portion of her ear pierced.

"Hey Castiel," Balthazar of the horn section smiled at him. "What did you do this weekend?"

"Nothing as exciting as you I'm sure," Castiel smiled back. While most people in the Orchestra remained distant with him, either jealous over his youth and talent or just too wrapped up in themselves to say, good morning, to another human being, Balthazar was one of the few people Castiel counted as a friend.

"That's true," Balthazar laughed. "It was-."

"Are we being paid to jabber?!" Naomi shouted from the front. All the murmured conversations ceased. "We have a concert in nine days people! Let's try to act like professionals please!"

Balthazar rolled his eyes, "Tell you later." He whispered.

Rehearsal went badly. Naomi vented her rage with their incompetence by throwing her sheet music at an unfortunate cellist who asked to go to the bathroom. Castiel however, wasn't worried. They always had at least one terrible practice before a concert.

"I think she's getting worse," Balthazar said as they walked out of the hall together.

"Naomi was always an evil dictator," Castiel reminded him.

"But she's now moved on from verbal abuse to threats of physical violence. If she doesn't watch it she's going to get sued."

Castiel laughed, "So what did you do this weekend?" he asked. They'd reached Balthazar's car and he leaned against it as his friend spun a tale involving a bar waitress and a bachelorette party who'd rented an actual party bus.

"We somehow wound up at one of the girl's uncle's farm house out in the middle of nowhere, playing strip poker at three in the morning." Balthazar smiled, "I tell you Castiel you and Fergus have got to come out with me sometime, we'd have adventures that we'd still be talking about in our sixties."

The smile Castiel had been wearing drooped, "Fergus broke up with me," he said.

Balthazar looked horrified, "Oh Castiel, I'm so sorry." He raised his arms and walked forwards folding Castiel in an awkward embrace.

"This feels weird," he said, after a moment, "I don't think you and I are supposed to hug." Castiel laughed, pushing away.

"It was meant well," he smiled.

"So how are you holding up?" Balthazar asked, leaning against the car next to him.

"I've been better," Castiel said honestly, "I also had a run in with my mother yesterday, that didn't help." Balthazar winced, he knew all about Castiel's family issues. It had been one of the first things they bonded over, as Balthazar also wasn't exactly from the Brady Bunch.

"How is Mommy Dearest?"

"Well, she was so deep in prayer that she failed to notice the school calling eighty times to tell her Gabe had cracked his chin open at recess." Castiel crossed his arms as if that could help him hold in his anger. "Is it wrong to want to slap some sense into your own mother?"

"Since it's your mother I think God would understand," Balthazar patted his shoulder. "Is Gabe alright?"

"Yeah," Castiel's smile came creeping back, "tough little bugger didn't even cry."

"Not at all? Are you sure he's your brother?" Balthazar asked. Castiel laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. The wind picked up just then, sending both of their scarves fluttering sideways.

"You wanna do something tonight?" Balthazar asked suddenly. "Go see a movie? Or go out to dinner? We could go ice skating and win the couple's skate race."

"I'd like that," Castiel grinned, "but no couple's skating. Last time the theme to Titanic was stuck in my head for a week."

….

They agreed to meet at a nearby theater at seven for a special holiday showing of "Miracle on 34th Street." It was Castiel's favorite Christmas movie and Balthazar agreed that throwing popcorn at Santa Clauses face was a lovely way to spend the evening.

Castiel was standing outside the ticket box waiting when Balthazar called.

"Hey, where are you?" Castiel asked, "it's about to start. Did you misplace your wallet again?"

"I'm-." the unmistakable sound of puke dropping into a toilet bowl came over the line, "Cast-." Dry heave, "I think I've got food poisoning." More puking. "rain check?"

"Of course, did you want me to come over?"

Even more puking.

"And have your mental image of me forever tarnished? No. I'll be fine, I'm just going to continue worshiping this porcelain god." Another splash in the toilet, "I'm gonna go."

"Feel better." Castiel started, but Balthazar had already hung up. He looked over at the ticket box, he didn't really feel like going home and decided there was no shame in going to a movie alone. Plus, he'd get the entire popcorn bucket to himself.

"One for Miracle on 34th Street please," he said to the lady behind the glass.

"Sorry sugar, that's sold out," she said, gesturing to the board behind her head, "but we've got a couple other Christmas movies playing." Castiel glanced at the titles. Elf, no, The Santa Claus, no, Scrooged…he had never seen Scrooged.

A few minutes and seventeen dollars lighter he made his way into the darkened theater, popcorn and diet coke tucked firmly under one arm. He found a seat perfectly situated, in the middle of the row, high above everybody else and leaned his head back in contentment. Until someone made their way down the row and sat right next to him.

"Hi," the personal space invader said. Castiel turned and found himself staring into a pair of familiar green eyes.

"Dean?"

The older man laughed. "I saw you sitting up here, you don't mind if I join you do you?" Castiel was quick to shake his head.

"Not at all, popcorn?" he held out his bucket. Dean flashed him a grin.

"Thanks," he dug a handful of buttery goodness out and shoved it in his mouth.

"Hey, I hope I didn't offend you yesterday." Castiel said. Dean gave him an adorably confused look, "in the elevator, you just kind of ran out-."

"Oh no man," Dean hastened to assure him, "Sammy and I just had to go do something for my work."

"What do you do?"

"I restore old cars," Dean explained, "There was an auction on a piece I needed and you have no idea how quick these things get snapped up."

"Oh," Castiel didn't understand why an auction made Dean incapable of saying goodbye, but chose to let it slide. After all, maybe he had and Castiel just hadn't heard him…not likely, but still possible.

The lights dimmed around them. Dean took another handful of popcorn. "I love this movie," he said, propping his feet up on the empty seat in front of him.

"I've never seen it," Castiel admitted, following suit. He felt rebellious, even though there was hardly anyone else in the theater and certainly no one in front of them, so his feet weren't exactly bothering people.

Still.

"Really?!" Dean looked affronted, "This is one of my all-time favorites!" The credits started rolling.

Castiel did like the movie, what he actually saw of it. Unsurprisingly, sitting next to someone as attractive as Dean in a darkened room had a certain distracting quality to it. It didn't help that every so often Dean would lean in closer to whisper something about the film in his ear. His warm breath sent waves of goosebumps shivering down Castiel's arms.

"So what did you think?" Dean asked once the end credits started.

"It was funny," Castiel smiled at him, the movie theater lights cast harsh shadows across his gorgeous face, it made him look chiseled and dramatic.

"Just funny?" Dean laughed, "Come on Cas, it was the greatest Christmas flick you've ever seen and you know it." They stood up, trooping down the stairs side by side.

"I like "Miracle on 34th Street," better," Castiel said. Dean scoffed.

"Why? Santa isn't actually real you know." Castiel gave him a pointed look.

"I know that, it's just nice to see that people can believe in something that does good. Rather than something that starts wars or alienates races. I like having my faith in mankind restored." Dean blinked at him, a slow smile pushing up the corners of his eyes. It had started snowing again and the glass theater doors showed the world of swirling white waiting for them.

"I'm meeting Sam at the Roadhouse," Dean said, "you want to come with?"

Castiel finished buttoning up his coat, "What's the Roadhouse?"

"Only the greatest bar in existence."

"I'm underage," Castiel reminded him, but Dean was already shaking his head.

"Trust me, it doesn't matter in this place. We're not going there to drink anyways; Ellen is making dinner." He flashed that grin of his again, "She's got the best pie you've ever tasted."

Castiel was already following him outside, "A bar has pie?"

"No, but Ellen does," Dean explained, "I'll drive. Hop in." They had stopped in front of an antique black car. Dean patted the dashboard fondly as they slid inside.

"Hey Baby," he murmured, turning the keys. The car started with a sputter and they were off.

"Did you restore this car too?" Castiel asked, looking around the interior, it was in remarkably good shape for something so old. The seats didn't have any cracks in them or anything.

Dean shook his head, "This was my Dad's," he explained, "It was the only thing he ever really took care of."

"Did he give it to you?"

Dean bit his lower lip, "Not exactly." Now it was Castiel's turn to look confused. Dean frowned, but replaced it with a smirk when he caught Castiel staring at him.

"So what is it you do for a living?" he asked, "I've never met a guy your age who can afford to live without twelve different roommates, one of whom may be possibly selling crack." He frowned. "Unless, you are the one selling the crack?"

Castiel laughed, "No, I've never done drugs." Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I haven't! I don't sell them either. I play with the Eulalia Symphony Orchestra."

"Seriously!?" Dean looked impressed, "Was that why there was a piano at your place?" Castiel nodded. "Dude, they're like world famous. How did you score that gig?"

"My parents made me practice every day when I was a child, for hours. Something was bound to rub off."

"So you were one of those savant kids, who can like compose symphonies and write four hundred page novels in Latin?" Dean's eyes flicked back and forth between him and the road. Castiel shrugged.

"I can only play on an advanced level," he said, "I write sometimes, but I would hardly call it a symphony and I only know one phrase in Latin."

"What is it?"

"Vescere bracis meis."

"What does that mean?"

"Eat my shorts." Dean threw back his head and laughed.

They pulled into a snow covered gravel parking lot in front of a seedy-looking joint. Other than a panel van and large red truck theirs was the only car. Castiel took a shaky breath, this looked like a place where his body would be discovered come spring.

"Welcome to the Roadhouse." Dean said. Castiel followed him, but still kept his hand curled into a fist at his side just in case. He was so grateful he'd taken those self-defense classes at the Y.

The inside was completely dead except for two blonde women behind the bar locked in an arm wrestling completion.

"Give up honey," the older of the two said, "I haven't lost to you yet and I don't plan to start today."

"I've been working out," the younger insisted, "today is my day I can feel it." Then the older woman slammed her arm down on the counter.

"Ha!" The older woman cried triumphant, "in your face baby!" Then she noticed Dean and Castiel standing by the door.

"Dean!" she cried, rushing over to hug him, "You made it!" The younger woman had run after her and was standing a little way off, staring at Castiel.

"Who is this, Dean?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows. Castiel resisted the urge to back out the door.

"This is my friend Cas," Dean told the two, "Sam and Bobby aren't here yet?"

"No, but they better hurry up." The older woman said, sauntering back towards the bar, "the chili is getting cold."'

"I'm Jo," the younger girl said, sticking out a hand which Castiel shook.

"Castiel," he told her.

"That's a weird name."

"Jo!" Dean scolded.

"It's from the Bible," Castiel explained, "An angel of the Lord."

"Joanna Beth, you lost!" the older lady reminded her, "Don't dilly-daddle and take out the garbage." Jo sighed and turned to do as the other woman insisted. Dean smiled at Castiel and ushered him up to the bar.

It was nicer in here than Castiel would have suspected from the outside. The floors were well worn but clean, the bar had that loved wood look and the stools were a cheery red.

"I'm Ellen by the way, honey." The older woman said, sliding Dean a beer across the counter.

"Castiel."

The door banged back open in a gust of snowy wind, Joanna Beth trooped inside. "Bobby and Sam just pulled in," she told Ellen.

"Perfect, I'll go get the cornbread." Ellen disappeared into the back. Sam and a man about Ellen's age stumbled inside, shaking the white off their jackets. Jo ran forwards to take their coats.

"Thanks princess," the man Castiel was assuming was Bobby said. Jo stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Sam slid into the seat next to Dean.

"How'd it go?" Dean asked, taking another pull from his beer. Bobby had gone around the counter and was busy fixing himself something stronger.

"'Bout as well as you'd expect." Sam thunked his head down on the bar and groaned. Bobby took a sip of his whiskey then continued, "Stubborn ass fought us the whole way, but we got him there. I tell you son; it looks more like a prison than a rehab center. If this place can't hold him, nothing can."

"Good," Dean said darkly. Castiel wanted to ask what they were talking about but Dean's expression made him change his mind.

"Who's your friend?" Bobby asked, giving Castiel a once over.

"Bobby this is Cas." Dean said, gesturing with his beer bottle, "Cas, Bobby Singer."

"Nice to meet you," Castiel said. Bobby grunted at him and poured himself some more whiskey.

"Robert!" Ellen scolded, coming up behind them, wiping her hands on a dish towel, "be polite. You'll scare the boy."

"Don't tell me what to do Ellen," Bobby grumbled, but he set down his glass and shook hands with Castiel.

"Sam, go help Jo set the table," Ellen said. Sam peeled his head from the counter and took the pile of silverware that Ellen handed him.

"Come on," Dean slid off his stool and led Castiel into the back. They passed through an industrial sized kitchen into a smaller one attached to a living room, a hallway disappeared around a corner, presumably leading to more living space. A large square table took up most of the kitchen, Sam was busy unfolding another wing of it to make room for everyone, while Jo set out plates and glasses.

"Have a seat Cas," Ellen said, bustling up with a pan of cornbread. Castiel slid into a chair.

Deans family, because that's who these people were, never stopped talking. They were sarcastic and made fun of each other constantly. Bobby grumbled about everything but, Ellen kept her hand on his knee throughout the meal and Castiel saw the smiles he shot her way. He learned that Bobby was Dean's boss, but the way they spoke to each other was more like father and son. Sam too, seemed to look at the gruff older man as his positive male role model. Ellen was Bobby's wife and Jo's mother and while Jo was not Bobby's biological daughter it was clear how much she loved him.

After dinner Ellen served everyone else a slice of pie then put the half that was left in the tin on a plate and handed it to Dean. Castiel took a cautious bite. Absolute nirvana exploded across his tongue.

"Told you," Dean mumbled with his mouth full as Castiel started shoveling the dessert down as fast as he could.

They left with Sam half an hour later, Ellen gave Castiel a farewell hug, he was still smiling about it when Dean dropped him at his car.

"Thank you for inviting me," Castiel told the brothers, once they had all driven back to the Avalon Apartments and were standing in the elevator.

The doors opened on four and Dean and Sam dismounted, "Bye Cas," Dean smiled. Castiel waved until the doors slid shut again. He rode up to his apartment humming to himself, then he saw who was waiting for him and stopped dead.

"Hi Cassie," Gabriel grinned.