*TRIGGER WARNING! Child abuse*

Chapter Fourteen

"What do you MEAN you didn't run after him!" Sams outraged cry just about shook Bobbys car. The two brothers were safely inside, on their way to the old hunters house, when Sam had questioned how Deans day had gone, after, of course, answering Deans question about his. Dean, Well aware of Bobby who was not aware of Deans "newfound" interest in males until now, had spilt the beans and told a condensed version of his hectic afternoon, being sure to emphasize the point he was kissed and did not kiss back. He had censored "that person he was dating" s gender, too concerned about how Bobby might take it. Sam, however, who saw no issue with Dean liking guys and figured the rest of the world shouldn't either, or they could answer to his five foot whatever frame (Which admittedly packed a bigger punch than expected), had blown Deans gender censor out of the water, and Dean couldn't help but glance back up nervously at Bobby, who didn't appear to be listening, but Dean knew well enough that he was.

"I couldn't chase him down in the middle of school and make this huge scene Sammy!" Dean defended himself, hoping his brother wouldn't point out the blush that had tinted his cheeks at the mere mention of Castiel.

"Of course you could! People LOVE scenes! That's what they live for Dean. Movies THRIVE off of that stuff!" Sam threw his hands up in the air, clearly tired of Deans lack of knowledge on social/romantic concepts. Dean shot his brother a look and rolled his eyes before continuing.

"You do, clearly. Castiel isn't a draw attention to me kinda guy. He would have hated me more if I had run after him! I'll just.. keep trying to text him. It's okay, things'll work out." Dean muttered, not so sure of himself the longer he talked.

"You've gotta make it up to him. Big time." Sam said simply, crossing his arms.

"Since when did YOU become my relationship consular?"

"Since you showed you clearly couldn't manage one. And no, sleeping with someone doesn't count."

"Oh, freshman thinks he's so smart, huh? Don't get too cocky, I can still kick your ass five times over." Dean said, smiling as he pushed his smirking younger sibling. "And bake a pie while doing it."

"No you couldn't." Sam insisted, laughing as he pushed Dean back. The car fell quiet soon after that, the hunters lapsing into the well-known atmosphere of a long road trip. Bobbys place wasn't all too far away, but a few hours were still a trek for two teenagers, especially Dean and Sam. Bobby, the old softy he was as a hunter was kind enough to put on music for the boys and not complain when their obnoxious snores filled the car. But damn Sam was a loud one.

Castiel had hardly made it through the school day, what little remained left, but once he made it out of those steal doors, everything broke loose. He made it half a block before tears started falling out of his eyes, dripping onto the icy sidewalk below him. Everything ached. Every inch of him was in pain. How could Dean do this?

Castiel had always been a very independent person. He enjoyed that about himself-there was never a need to have anyone else anywhere near him. He needed not a shoulder to cry on nor a hand to hold. There was no pat on the back for an accomplishment, but plenty of shameful looks for failures; something the Novk boy had learned to deal with throughout the years.

But then came along Dean. The Winchester boy with eyes that, when he was happy, shown a green Castiel had yet to see on this plant which claimed to be the most beautiful thing in the universe it belong to. The same eyes showed such sadness, a deep darkened pain, sometimes within moments of the glowing. He had seemed so hidden, so closed off, so hateful of everyone and everything around him. But the boy instead opened his heart to Castiel, showed him the emotion he wouldn't expose to the others in the world, and taught him that it was okay to do the same. He had finally open up again.

The door to the Novak home slams rather loudly behind the youngest of the household, but he can't find a care to apologize or fix whatever damage may have been caused from that shattering glass noise he had herd echoing the slam. He didn't freeze; wait for the shout or growl of a drunken uncle, angered father, or a questionably possessed brother who lives up to his name. He instead, acting like a real teenager for once, hurries upstairs and locks himself away in his room. Surely the sentence to such an act would be harsh, especially for Castiel, seeing as he should know better.

The door to his bedroom slams shut too. As he locks it and paces around the room, angry tears causing him to tug and pull at his hair in frustration, he can't help but think of how it wasn't the first or even second door to slam shut today. Every emotion, every ounce of trust, was now locked back away in that steal cage Dean had somehow been able to break open. Not anymore. Not again.

Who needed it anyway?

Castiel was finally able to calm himself down, as he sat at his desk with his head in his hands. They weren't worth it. He had only six months left. Six months until he could pack his bags and leave everything behind him. Every bruise and scar, every pain he had been caused here could be in the past. He wasn't sure where he would go, but in six months, Castiel Jimmy Novak would be only a name in this town.

Dean was terrified. His hands were shaking as he wrote. His stomach was in knots, giving off a feeling of the threat of puking. He felt sick, and as well as he knew fear, he only knew fear like this when Sam was in danger. This deep set worry that didn't want to let up, not even for a moment. He couldn't focus on the work splayed out in front of him, meaning an already lengthy task would turn into an all-nighter. As if this damn hunt wasn't hard enough; Dean had never seen his Dad take so long on a case. Sam was alright with it, means he got more time here. More experience at an almost normal life. Dean had been enjoying that too, the whole normal teenager deal, but now he was more than ready to go back to hunting with the worry his 'regular' life was causing him.

"Dean? You alright?" Sam asked across the table where he worked on a hefty load of break homework, something Dean felt was absolutely against the law and refused to do (although somehow his rigorous task of tracing monsters was completely okay).

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You've been starring at the same spot on the page for ten minutes now. I know you're not a very fast reader but that's kinda worrying," Sam said, concern laced into the teasing.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a lot of information to work though,"

"No you're not. Fine. You're not fine. If you were fine, that pen would be flying at my head for calling you a slow reader."

"Would you like the pen to be flying at you? I can make that happen," Dean growled, rubbing his hands over his face. Sam wasn't dumb, he knew something was wrong with his brother. Dropping his pen in his textbook, Sam closed it and crossed his arms, eyes locked on his brother.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Go back to your homework," Dean muttered, refusing to look at his brother as he tried to take his own advice and go back to his work.

"No, Dean. What is wrong?"

"Sam, knock it off alright. I told you, nothing," Dean snapped, turning quickly to glare at his sibling. "I'm fine."

The room fell into silence. The only sound was the hum of the heater running. Sam didn't move. He didn't even shift in his seat, and neither did Dean, who had adopted a fist clenched, jaw tight posture. Sam couldn't see it, but the older boys hand was shaking slightly under the table.

Finally he let out a sigh that sounded like it had been held in tight all day.

"He's gonna hate me, Sammy," Dean confessed at a volume almost too quiet to hear. Sam frowned, but not at the nickname this time.

"Castiel?"

"Yes. He hasn't answered one text I sent him. Didn't pick up the phone. He won't talk to me, Sam. I crossed a line," Dean shook his head, clearly convinced that this was the total truth. If the boy enjoyed his normal teenager act or not, he sure was good at it to the point Sam had to fight rolling his eyes.

"Anna pushed you over it, Dean."

"But he doesn't know that."

"Which is why you should have gone after him." Sam muttered, earning a green eyed glare. Sam didn't like to see it, but the worry and pain and utter exhaustion in his brothers eyes was as clear as day. He was falling in love with this boy, not that the freshman could tell that. Not even Dean could, not yet. But that's the beautiful and terrifying thing about love; you never know when it's happening so it can't be stopped.

"Give me your phone." Sam demanded before Dean had time to snap at him. He held a demanding hand out, clearly not taking no as an answer. Dean couldn't help but internally grin as he saw himself in his younger brother-that kicking ass and taking names vibe he had trained his sibling to give off.

"Why?" Dean asks, as he actually handed over the device to his brother.

"I'm gonna save Cas' number, see if he'll answer me and if he does, explain what happened." Sam says simply, transferring the number into his crappier cell from Deans crappy one.

"Sam, you don't-" Dean started, but was cut off, once again, by his brother who forced the device back into his hands and walked to his homework.

"Get back to work, or Dad'll be angry." Sam says, looking up to give his brother the smallest smile he was probably capable of making. Dean gave an even smaller one back.

"Thanks." He whispered. If Sam herd this or not, Dean couldn't tell as he got no feedback except for the room lightening in mood.

It was about a half-hour later, and three pens thrown across the table from both sides, that Bobby showed up with food in his arms. Dean ate and then decided to take a break by watching a horror move, which even Dean, the horror movie lover, admitted to be bad, and then hitting his air matrices he got to call a bed for the next week. He had lost count of the texts he sent, but the number he received was easy; zero.

Castiel was not in the mood for contact. He turned off and yanked the battery from his phone, locked and jammed his door, and closed his blinds. For whatever reason, he was hopeful enough to leave his window unlocked, remembering who came through it the previous night. If only he could turn back time…

Castiel regretted everything the next morning. Within an hour of waking at Five Fourty Five from the banging on his door, Castiel was beaten to a bloody mess, and sitting on his chouch with a tissue pressed to his nose, watching his father pace around the room while his mother stood in the background, looking concerned with tears in her eyes. Lucifer stood beside her, leaning against the doorway, smirking.

"What the hell were you thinking, you little shit. " His father growled, showing all the signs of reading himself to swing again. Castiel, while he was aware of this, did nothing to prepare against it. The teenager only sat there, feeling his body throb and his eye ache, already starting to swell closed as he pressed the tissues to his nose and waited for the bleeding to stop. Even if he was listening to his father was up for debate with the look in his eyes. The bright blue was darkened, only worsened by the rings circling his eyes. He was in pain, exhausted, upset, and worst of all, just didn't care.

"You had us worried SICK! We couldn't get a hold of you! You could have been lieing dead in a gutter! And then your fucking door! What the hell was that about? Huh?" He growled, stopping in front of his son. Castiel looked up, meeting his eyes straight on, but did not utter one word. His father, in anger, grabbed his hair in his fist and pulled it back, growling lowly, quiet enough for only the pair of them to hear "Answer me."

"I don't know," Castiel responded, his voice dry of emotion. "Sir." He added at the end, narrowing his eyes slightly. His father yanked his head downwards so the boy's face almost collided with his knees, but Castiel stopped it in time. The room fell eerily silent. Minuets went by, the ticking of a clock being the only sound besides his father's heavy breathing.

"You will go with your brother throughout break," Mr. Novak finally said, stopping in front of his son again. "You will not complain. You will not pull a stunt like this again. Your Christmas presents will go to charity and you will not complain. You will hand over your phone."

"Yes, Sir." Castiel said through gritted teeth, catching sight of Lucifer to see a grin plastered on his face. If Castiel had to put any picture next to evil in the dictionary, his brother at that moment would be the one he chose; not even Hitler could out do the Devil in the doorway.

"Go get your phone." His father growls, rubbing his temples like this was a chore for him. Castiel got up and went up to his room, refusing to limp even though it caused him greater pain. When he got back to his room, he found his phone and put the battery back in, turning it on. He knew it was stupid, but at this point he couldn't find reason to care-what else could they do? Once the phone screen loaded, he ignored the texts flying in and went straight to the call screen. After they finished loading, he found plenty of calls from Dean and even a few from a number he didn't regonize, but not one from any family member. What bullshit.

He wondered why Dean had called so many times. What could he possibly have to say that he hadn't already shown him by locking lips with Anna? He frowned, and went to go see if the unending number of texts could help him. He noticed some from the same unknown number that called him, but opted for Deans instead. He had just opened the messages when

"Castiel Novack!" His father's booming voice made Cas wince. Sighing, he turned off the phone, leaving the Winchester mystery for a later date.

The days passed, not as fast as the Winchester boys would have liked them to, but they passed. The one day that was different than their normal study-bicker-eat cycle was when Bobby gave them both cash and the keys to his old truck with the orders to go out and get gifts-and he better not be empty handed on Christmas.

The pair of them trekked through the mall for what felt like forever, but was only about an hour, only getting increasingly annoyed with society as a general rule. After grabbing food and questioning why they did so much work to save those people from monsters, they drove around for a while before coming across a line of old stores, smaller shops, the biggest being an old thrift shop.

There, in the rows and rows of used clothes and items, they were able to find not just something for Bobby, but something for their dates, and their father. From there, Sam went to go get coffee from the shop a block down, and Dean went to go see if there was a store with wrapping paper. When they showed back up at the car, both with a new bag that didn't contain either coffee or wrapping paper, they didn't say a word about it. It was just nice to know they would all have gifts to give and receive.

That they did, on Christmas day. While most kids woke early, eager an excited, this was the one day the Winchesters slept in. It wasn't until 10 that they got up, Dean being last at 10:24, and stumbled into the kitchen for breakfast. To their surprise, and utter delight-although Dean wouldn't admit it-there was actually a tree with presents under it. The tree wasn't decorated, really, but the gifts, as few as they came, were more than enough to make the hunters happy. They would say the same thing about each other's company, but that crossed lines into 'chick flick' territory which was strickly banned.

The presents, like the food, didn't last long, but the grins they gave lasted for a few days afterwards. Deans favorite reaction had to be Sams to his gift. The kid had no clue what it was and opened it to reveal..

"A knife? No… Holy shit Dean," The youngest Winchester says, wide eyed as he pulled out the silver bladed knife. Along the blade were inscriptions.

"It's a-" Dean tried to explain but Sams excited voice cut him off.

"Demon knife. Holy shit! How did you…" He looked up in amazement at his brother, his face glowing. Dean couldn't help but grin back and roll his eyes.

"I've got my ways, Sammy. Now open the other one." He pointed to the box beside the discarded wrapping paper and waited. Sam ripped it open and his grin got even wider as he saw the leather bound journal.

"Figured you'd find some kind of use for it." Dean explained with a shrug. Immeadly he was bombarded with a hug that had him almost blue in the face from lack of oxygen. Not only was his brother getting big, he was getting strong.

"Alright you two, sit back down." Bobby eventually said. He had already opened Deans gift to him-car parts he was complaining about having to fix and a flannel shirt-and made some kind of snide comment that Dean knew meant Thanks.

Bobby had treated the boys well with gifts. Sam had gotten a pretty good amount of books to read and Dean had gotten a mess of new tapes. Both of them were grinning messes as they unwrapped them; which took a while seeing as Bobby had wrapped each book or tape individually to give them something to do.

While Sams gift for Bobby was damn nice(an old book on something magical he had happened to snag before Dean at the thrift store) his brother was down right shocked at the gift he had gotten. In addition to the good sized bag of peanut M&Ms but a 1911 Colt with ivory grips.

"Sammy, holy shit!" He shouted, almost dropping it in his shock. That's what it felt like at least, but, in reality, he was actually gripping it tighter. He looked up at shock between the two grinning faces, trying to find an expiation.

"It was-"

"Sams idea." Bobby cut the boy off with a roll of his eyes, knowing Sam was about to give all the credit to him. "The boy wanted to give you something nice and suggested a gun. Since you're almost 18 I figured you deserved it."

"But how did you guys buy it…" Dean asked, still looking down at the masterpiece of a gun in awe.

"It was your dads old thing. Used it when he was younger and ended up giving it to me when he was retiring it. It was too much of a beauty to sell, and so I used it for a while and ended up puttin' her away for a better use." He stood up, going to get something from the kitchen and patted Dean on the shoulder as he past. "You're welcome, better use."

Sam was looking on with a grin as his brother gripped the gun and felt its weight in his hand. Dean spent silent minuets starring at the machinery in wonder, and Sam couldn't help but watch. It was wonderful, especially with all the shit he was going through, to see his brother so happy again. That, as cheesy as it sounded and he would deny every thinking it if his brother ever found out, was all Sam wanted for Christmas.

Well… that and his girlfriend.

Castiel was alone. He didn't like it. He had liked it just fine before Dean Winchester came swinging in from god knows where and showed him how… amazing being with someone could be. But now the once spaciousness of his room seemed hollow and empty. The comfortable temperature was too cold. The quiet was no longer peaceful, but now silent without a phone going off every so often with a text from Dean. He was alone. And god did he hate it.

Christmas was slowly ending, and Castiel couldn't be more thankful for that. After a far too long church sermon in the crack of dawn, and an unwrapping Christmas presents that could win an award for the tension in the room, all he had to work his way through was the family coming over for Christmas dinner. He could deal with that. The boys were planning to stay until school got back in after dinner, having stayed at a friends house for the days before now. This normally meant Castiel would be sharing a room with someone. However, due to his fathers recent discovery of Castiels personal discovery material (porn) and Lucifer's utter refusal of sharing a room now knowing his younger brother swings for a different team (with proof), Cas had no choice but to opt for the lonliest of the options-the attic room. It was colder, darker, and overall more depressing than the room he resided in now, but at least there was no threat of a trick played on him late at night, seeing as the stairs to the attic were rather difficult to walk up without a symphony of squeaks and groans from the aged wood.

"Castiel lets GO!" Lucifers angry voice came storming up and slamming his fist onto the door that couldn't even lock. Bright. So so very bright. Castiel sighed, grabbed his jacket, and pulled it on as he left his room. Lucifer lead him down the stairs and into the car, grumbling under his breath about being late the entire time.

"Why do you even have to work on Christmas day?" Castiel grumbled, opening the glovebox and pulling out his novel. Well taken care of it was a spitting image of the day he bought it. Looking at it, Castiel couldn't help but remember how Dean read his books…

"It's winter. There's ice. Ice equals crashes. Crashes equals work. Work equals money. Money…." Lucifer babbled on, mocking his brother who was too lost in his own thoughts to pay attention. Dean didn't like to read, he hated it. That's what he said at least, but Castiel knew differently. The teenager had a stashed box of books-better hidden than his porn collection (and he meant collection). Each and ever book was… the far opposite of Castiels. The pages were worn, but never torn, and were scattered with highlights over words and Deans messy scrawl around the margins. Pages were dog eared, some more than others telling Castiels which were the Winchesters favorites, which he read the most. The spines were always cracked. Normally Cas couldn't help but find this behavior disgusting. How could a book last when being abused? But with Deans, it didn't look like abuse. In his hands, which so carefully turned the pages, it looked like a masterpiece. What were books if not to be read, and Deans shown clear signs of being read in a beautiful way.

Something had struck Castiel. Something had reminded him or hit him the wrong (or right) way. Before he even had a chance to think through what he was about to do, he cracked the spine of the book he held, right in the middle, right where his bookmark was. The sound vibrated through the cabin and shut Lucifer up real fast. The older Novak boy was looking over from the road to his younger brothers hands where the book sat.

"Damn," He said, chuckling. "You really don't wanna go to work today, huh?"

"Yeah…" Castiel muttered absentmindedly. He had no clue what he had just agreed to. No clue what his brother said. All he knew was he missed Dean Winchester.

And it fucking hurt.

Sorry for how long it took to update guys! I promise I'm trying to get back on schedual. Lets see if it'll work! Let me know what you thought of it? And to anyone watching Sherlock today... Good luck.