Castiel didn't go to parties. He just wasn't interested in that sort of thing.

He'd told Gabriel that he didn't want to go out, that he was fine with watching the ball drop on his small TV. But then again, Gabe wasn't really the listening sort. He had gone on a whim telling Cas about the amazing party he was going to, and how it was the beginning of a century, and how anybody who was anybody was going. And somehow, he convinced Cas to say yes.

The party was at someone's house - Cas didn't know the host - and it wasn't as boring as he thought it was going to be. There were thirty or so people there, and all of them were dressed casually. Some drank champaign and chatted, others crowded around the television that was showing a view of Times Square. It was quiet, laid back, the kind of thing Cas was used to. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Most of the people were in their twenties- no one there seemed to be over thirty-five. As the night dragged on, they had dinner, which consisted of several pizzas. Gabriel introduced him to most of the people there, who mostly went to their college

"This is my roommate Cas," he would say. "Cas, this is Hannah. She's in sociology with me."

The guys would shake his hand, and so would most of the women. There was always the occasional flirt, but Cas had learned how to shut them down quickly. They just weren't his type.

Cas stuck with Gabe for most of the party, but two minutes to midnight he found himself stuck between to college freshmen on the ratty couch in the living room. The reporter on the TV was saying something to the host, who laughed along with the celebrities beside him. And then Cas thought of Dean, and wondered where he was. Was he with his brother? Was he in that broken down house? Or was he out drunk again, lost in the maze of streets he called home? What was so special about Dean anyway?

Castiel shook his head. Dean was just another person. He should just forget about him. Yeah. Forgot he ever existed.

The countdown started on the TV, and people joined in with the hosts. 'Ten, nine, eight,'

Cas looked around. There was Gabe and his girl, chanting along with the rest of them. 'Seven, six, five, four,'

There was Hannah, and to the left of the room was Michael, everybody with someone else on their arm. Cas stood up. 'Three,'

He walked to the edge of the room and stood against the wall. 'Two,'

He could smell the anticipation, everyone waiting for a new start. 'One,'

And then they were laughing, smiling, everyone shouting Happy New Year's to each other. And then the kissing started. Everyone leaning in to the person beside them, their girlfriends, boyfriends, fiancées, and Cas felt alone.

He turned to his left, and he locked eyes with Dean.

Everything went quiet. Cas developed tunnel vision: all he saw was Dean. He watched him, saw his face change. From laughter to surprise to panic. They didn't stop staring. Eye contact was all that mattered. He heard one of Dean's friends shout 'Bro, what's wrong?' and Dean seemed to snap out of the stupor. He pushed his friends' hand away and ran outside.

So Castiel followed him. Out the back door, into the backyard, through the gate, into the park, behind a dumpster. There he was, head in his hands.

"Hello Dean."

"You think," Dean replied. "It's okay to follow me out here?"

"It's a free country."

"Not really. Freedom is an illusion."

"Well I followed you and here I am. There's not much you can do about it."

Dean laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "You don't really get it, do you?"

"Dean. Why'd you run out here?"

"Because. I saw you."

"So you ran?"

"Look, I just can't talk to you right now."

"Why not?"

"I'm just not in the mood."

"Stop it Dean."

"Not now Castiel."

"What's with you?"

"Nothing. Just don't talk to me."

"Dean. What's wrong?"

"Go home Castiel! Just leave me alone! Go home!"

"Dean-"

"Go away! Don't get involved with me. Just go home Cas, go home!"

Castiel looked up at Dean, who was a few inches taller than him. He had no reason to freak out on him like that. Dean had no right to say that. He didn't deserve to be talked to like that.

"Fuck you."

That was all he said, but it was enough. He walked away, and he heard Dean kick the dumpster, then sit down. He kept walking. Dean didn't have time for him, so he didn't have time for dean.