Monday morning rolled around like pretty much every other fucking Monday. Dean desperately didn't want to get out of bed and Sam bounced around the house like a hyperactive kangaroo trying to get him to hurry up because God forbid Sam be even 1 minute late for homeroom—a class that doesn't even get a fucking grade, so why does he care so much?

By the time Dean got to his first class, he was stumbling in late. The teacher had already started gathering papers; one Dean actually did while hanging out waiting for Sam and his friends at the lake on Sunday. Adam Milligan of all people took his usual seat between Lisa and Garth, so he had to sit in the front row by the door.

Cas wouldn't even meet his eyes, but there was no time to deal with that as he rushed to get his paper out and settled in for another boring class.

Between classes, he rushed to his locker and purposefully avoided interacting with Lisa or any of his friends. He wasn't sure how this was going to work yet. Did he have to give up all his friends to have Cas in his life? Would they even care? Did Dean even still want to be friends with people he didn't really like in the first place? But if he wasn't, what would he do next? Hang out with Cas and Meg all the time. Just watch them make out during lunch and pretend he was cool with it?

Why wouldn't he be cool with it?

Dean was saved from his existential crisis after PE by a strong hand-clapping him on the back.

"Hey there, chief. I was hopin' ta run into ya today." Benny's smile was wide, open, and so easy to return it was a relief to Dean's overactive mind.

"Yeah, heya Benny. Thanks again for the assist Friday."

"Ain't no thing. Anyway, I was wonderin' if ya had people you sit with for lunch." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and looked away.

"Yeah, uh, that's complicated. Been actually avoiding that exact issue. You wanna grab food and hide in a corner somewhere with me?"

Benny's smile is immediate and broad. "Best idea you've had yet."

After they got food, they settled on the back hall floor where the band and chorus rooms were. Out of the way, definitely someplace no one would look for Dean.

"So why you hidin' from that girl of yours?"

"She's not my girl anymore." Dean bit into his cheeseburger as Benny nodded and stuffed a fistful of fries into his room.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Nope."

"How about the intense dude with all the black? He your fella?"

Dean choked on his fries and needed to breathe for a few minutes before answering. "No, no, he's not. I'm not…"

"Good enough." Benny nodded again, smiling around an oversized bite of cheeseburger as if he hadn't asked the most fucked up question in Dean's entire life. Now he was having an existential and identity crisis, to add to the slowly blooming sexuality crisis. How many crisises (crisesi?) could one person handle at a time?

"So, where are you from? No one moves to fucking Sioux Falls in the middle of the school year."

"Oh, brother, that's a story that needs more than one lunch period and maybe some siphoned liquor from the parents' stash."

Dean laughed, knowing exactly what that felt like. "Consider it a date." He winked and then grimaced. He was going to have to seriously reconsider how he interacted with dudes after this week.

"Short version, parents got sick of my shit and sick of each other. Ma packed her and me up and moved as far from my Daddy as she could think of. And ain't nothing further from the Bayou than South Dakota."

"That's the truth, must be hard."

"It's… not a good fit. Me and this place. I don't belong." Benny frowned and it looked so tragic on him that Dean couldn't help but clap him on the shoulder.

"You never know, man. I like you so far, maybe guys like us just need to stick together, watch each other's backs."

"Yeah, yeah." Benny stretches a little out of the slump he'd fallen into and smiles.

They pass the rest of lunch shooting the shit and Benny offers to teach Dean how to throw knives if Dean will teach him how to shoot a gun. They were a match made in heaven, well, maybe not quite heaven considering how much trouble Dean could imagine them getting into, maybe a match made in purgatory.

He finished lunch in a good mood, still no closer to answers about his larger life issues, but at least with a new friend who was uncomplicated.

His next class was art, and Dean couldn't help the way his heart picked up tempo that Cas would be in this class as well. They hadn't talked since Saturday night and Dean hadn't been able to stop thinking about the light touches between them. The way Cas had rubbed his hand with his pinkie on top of the bus and the simple swipe of his hand along the edge of his T-shirt.

And the way Cas left. Just disappeared.

Dean wasn't even upset about the weirdness of it, but he'd felt so… alone after Cas whisked off. He'd avoided texting or calling on Sunday and today they hadn't had a chance to talk. They hadn't made an effort either. This feeling was unfamiliar, uncomfortable. Anxiety and hope and fear and want and dread all wrapped up together into an impossible enchilada of frayed nerves and crappy sleep.

Dean got to the art room early and picked out an easel to work at. He pulled out an oversized sheet of paper and attached it before gathering supplies and paint. The room filled slowly and when Dean looked up Cas had chosen an easel across the room from him.

Dean frowned.

Cas didn't look up once that Dean could tell during class. What the fuck.

He cleaned up before class was over, claiming his half-assed waning moon in blue and green was the best he could do. When the bell rang, he headed straight for Cas to confront him, or maybe just punch him for being such a fucking pain in the ass. But when he got close, he caught sight of Castiel's painting.

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"Cas, what is that?" Dean asked, awed by the perfect circles and straight lines. He'd never noticed Cas's art before, but this looked like something familiar… something he recognized.

"I don't know." Cas frowned again and walked away to drop his brushes in the sink and paint in their bins.

Dean kept looking at it and the longer he stared, the more sure he was that this was something he knew from his other life, the part of existence that Cas was connected to somehow. It meant something, and the fact that Cas had drawn it without knowing what it was had to be an insight into who or what Cas really was.

Cas brushed past him, pulling the painting from the easel roughly before putting it on the pile of completed work. He grabbed his backpack and started to leave the classroom without so much as a word.

That's when Dean lost his calm. All his self-help, inner peace bullshit blowing up in the water. Sinking his battleship.

He stalked out into the hallway and grabbed Cas's arm, pulling him around to face him, very aware of the fact that if Cas had resisted he wouldn't have been able to move him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean hissed stepping into Cas's personal space in a way he wouldn't imagine doing with anyone else.

"Nothing. Go to your next class, Dean." Cas's voice was even, calm. Which just pissed Dean off more.

"Are you serious with this? You don't look at me or talk to me all day?"

Cas tilted his head. "We went many months without speaking. I don't see why that should be any different now."

Dean saw red; his last nerve stretched beyond reason. Had he just imagined the last week and a half? His whole fucking life had been turned upside down by Cas and here he was acting like they didn't even know each other?

Dean pushed Cas in the chest. Hard.

Cas took a step back and a half-smile only Dean could see appeared on his face.

"Something bothering you, Dean?"

Dean pushed him again with both hands, shoving him back two, three times until Cas was backed into a corner and they had drawn a crowd. He reared back and took a swing, punching Cas squarely in the face.

In the background, people hooted and egged him on. He could practically feel Gordon and Victor's eyes on him, cheering on the violence.

Cas turned his head with the punch and then looked at Dean again with a blank expression.

Dean punched him again. But, this time Cas didn't move with the impact and Dean felt the moment when his hand broke. Later, everyone would say Cas had moved out of the way, that Dean hit the brick wall, but Cas and Dean knew better.

"Fuck!" Dean crumpled to the ground, his hand pulsing with pain.

Lisa rushed forward and fell to her knees next to him, holding him and screaming up at an unmoving Castiel. Teachers infiltrated the tight circle around the fight, sending everyone on to class and promising to "get to the bottom of this." Lisa ushered him to the nurse's office and doted over him like the loving girlfriend she absolutely was not. The rest of the day was spent with Bobby at the hospital in near silence, getting his hand X-rayed and a cast put on. It was his right hand so he wouldn't be writing and definitely wouldn't be working at the garage until it healed which would take at least 3 weeks.

Sam went to a friend's house and wouldn't be home until after dinner so that gave Bobby the whole evening to drill into Dean about the fight.

"What were you thinking, boy?" Bobby asked him on the drive home after grabbing Peruvian Chicken for dinner.

"He pissed me off," Dean shrugged.

"I thought he was your friend, he was at the house all day Saturday."

"Like I said."

"Yeah, yeah. That's no way to treat your friends though."

"Right, like you and Dad have never come to blows."

"That's different. We were in the marines together; we hunt together, plus, your Daddy's a stubborn son of a bitch sometimes."

"You think?" Dean scoffed.

"Don't change the subject. I know boys your age are idjits by definition, but that don't excuse lashing out at your friend. What did Castiel do to get you so riled up?" Bobby turned to look at Dean at a red light.

Dean flushed to think of his answer. It was embarrassing to admit Cas really hadn't done anything. He'd ignored him. He'd hurt his feelings. He'd made Dean feel like he was the only one who… "He was being an ass. What does it matter anyway?"

"Well," Bobby said slowly. "The difference is in how I deal with your principal tomorrow. If Adler wants to suspend you, I'll fight it if you think you don't deserve to be, but if you do, you should just tell me now."

They pulled into the long drive and Dean's hand was starting to throb again, the pain meds wearing off. "I don't know, Bobby. He just…" his voice petered off as they rounded the corner to the house and saw Castiel sitting on the front steps. He stood up as the car came closer and parked. His shoulders were hunched forward and his hands stuffed in his jeans in a way that made him look smaller.

When they got out of the car, Bobby squinted between them. "I'll let you boys talk, but try not to break anything else."

But before he could get inside, Cas spoke up, still not looking at Dean. "Sir, I just wanted to apologize. This whole thing was my fault. I antagonized Dean because I was upset about something else. I'll tell Principal Adler that tomorrow so Dean doesn't get into too much trouble. I just wanted you to know so you weren't upset with him."

Bobby stared at Castiel for long enough Dean thought even Cas's iron will might waiver. Finally, he was the one who couldn't take it. "Don't do that, Cas. Adler will call Chuck."

Bobby came out of his glare hearing that. "You live at Shurley's?"

"Yes, sir."

"Lots of rough characters over there."

"Yes, sir."

"Alright then. Don't worry about Adler. I'll handle it. You two work this out, though. I don't wanna see you fighting like this again." Bobby looked back and forth between them before nodding like he'd come to some conclusion and headed inside.

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said, stepping closer to Cas, a question on his lips.

When the front door shut, Cas looked at the ground between them and neither one of them spoke. The usually comfortable silence filled with ash and fog, filling Dean's lungs with darkness. Finally, Dean sat on the front steps and Cas followed, sitting next to him, but not as close as they usually were. It all just felt wrong.

"What happened?" Dean asked, at a loss for where to start.

"You hit me," Cas muttered.

"No shit." Dean held up his hand and Cas reached out, his eyes flashing blue. "No, you can't. Everyone saw it break. It has to heal the old-fashioned way."

Cas nodded but still didn't look at Dean.

"I'm about to hit you again."

"You'll just break your other hand," Cas muttered.

"Okay, fine. Thanks for stopping by." Dean started to stand up but Cas grabbed his arm and looked at him with strangely watery eyes.

"Please, I'm… I'm sorry."

Dean settled back down and Cas released his hold on him but moved infinitesimally closer. "Then tell me what's going on with you, man?"

"I didn't think you wanted to talk to me," Cas admitted finally, his head dropping, his elbows rested on his knees and he looked downright dejected.

"All I did was try to get you to talk to me. What are you talking about?"

"I looked for you before school but you weren't there and then you took off after class."

"To go to my locker." Dean explained with an exacerbated stare. "After the class you wouldn't even look at me during. And I was late because I overslept. I wanted to talk to you."

Cas shrugged. "And then you weren't with Lisa at lunch and I saw you with... that guy."

"Benny?"

"I guess so. He's attractive."

This was edging way closer to topics he wasn't sure he was ready to talk about out loud yet. He picked at the edge of his cast. "I didn't notice. He's nice. He actually helped with the Meg/Crowley thing Friday night."

"Hmm."

"You'd like him."

"Perhaps," Cas muttered.

"I was mad because you wouldn't talk to me or look at me all day. Are you telling me you did that because you thought I didn't want to talk to you?"

Cas shrugged and curled in on himself.

"Why would you think that?" Dean's voice was almost a whisper.

"I feel stupid now. I'm clearly not as good at picking up social cues as I thought." Cas looked away toward the scrapyard, the sun low; chrome and rust filling the view.

"I didn't hear from you all day Sunday… I was afraid I had crossed a line and upset you." Cas spit the last part out all in one breath, like he had to get the words out before the door shut on his opportunity to do so.

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a while, looking at everything except each other as the sun set.

Castiel sighed. "Did I ruin things?" he finally asked.

Dean shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I won't…"

"Cas, stop." Dean looked at him. Dark hair fell over his face, covering sad hooded eyes. "You didn't ruin anything and you didn't cross any lines. I didn't text because I had work to do, and Sammy needed me to drive him to a thing, and yeah, I needed to think some. I still need to think, but just give me some time, okay? I like you being my friend."

"I'll always be your friend, Dean." Cas smiled slightly but it didn't reach his eyes.

"That's good. The rest… I... "

As Dean struggled to find the words, to say the things that he didn't have the vocabulary to express or the emotional capacity to understand, Cas leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dean's. It was quick and light, a brief touch that was over as soon as it began.

Dean couldn't stop the smile that cracked his face open wide. The voice in the back of his head tried to scream at him that he'd just kissed a dude and that should freak him out, but the voice didn't manage to get all the way to his mouth which smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. "That's not giving me time, Cas." he chuckled and bumped the other boy with his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, you're right, I…"

"I was teasing, dumbass." Dean's smile widened, fondness for the weirdness that was Castiel Krusnick overtaking his fears. He shouldn't like this. It should make him yell or punch or some other overly masculine thing his father would expect at the kind of challenge Cas had thrown down, but fuck if Dean didn't kind of want him to do it again. It's not like anybody was around to see it.

"Still, I… I won't do that again. Not until you've had time." He smiled up at Dean.

"So we're okay?" Dean asked, needing to hear Cas say it. Needing to know for real.

"Yes. And I'm sorry I made assumptions. I'll just ask next time."

"Thank you."

A whoosh wrapped itself around Dean, like a mini-tornado whipping up the dust, and Cas was gone. Fuck. It was the first time he'd actually seen Cas do that, and it was freaking crazy, and as much as Dean wasn't sure how he felt about it, it was kind of hot.

Tuesday morning, Bobby drove Dean and Sam to school so he could meet with Principal Adler. Dean and Cas sat in the hall listening as Bobby raised his voice, his tone muffled through the drywall.

"Why would Bobby yell? Isn't that just going to make Adler angrier?" Cas whispered.

"Grownups are nuts. They tell us not to fight and then fight each other." Dean shrugged.

"So we're missing Government to sit out here and do nothing while they yell at each other. I'm definitely learning my lesson."

Dean chuckled under his breath, stopping quickly and bowing his head when the secretary glared at him.

Principal Adler's door whipped open, a red-faced Bobby gesturing for the boys to come in and join them. When they sat and the door was closed again, Bobby continued. "You see, Zachariah, they're fine. They sorted it out like men and now it's all over. Are they dipshits for fighting at school? Yes, but that doesn't mean this was anything more than kids being kids."

"I have a zero-tolerance policy for violence in this school. They will both be suspended immediately, you need to get on board Bobby because my next call is to Mr. Shurley."

Cas stiffened next to Dean and he wanted to reach out and wrap an arm around him, instead he placed his hand on Cas's forearm as he clutched the chair.

"Cas didn't do anything. You can't punish him because I'm a fuck-up!"

"Language!" Principal Adler scolded, looking at Bobby as if this was clear evidence.

"Zach, look at them." Bobby gestured to where Dean's hand still held onto Cas's arm. "Dean's more worried about Cas than he is getting suspended himself. Something he knows he'll be in a shit ton of trouble over when his daddy finds out. If they can find their way to the other side of this, why can't you? Give them detention. Hell, make them clean the damn toilets, but you know what Shurley's like, you don't need to pull him into this. He runs that home like a detention center."

Principal Adler sighed and sat down. "Three days after school suspension and no extracurriculars for the rest of the quarter. And boys…" he paused, staring uncomfortably at each of them in turn. "If this happens again it will be a suspension."

"Yes, sir," they said together and Dean squeezed Cas's arm before letting go.

In the hall, they leaned against a row of lockers, letting out deep breaths. Cas even let out a nervous laugh. "That was close."

"Shurley's really that bad?" Dean asked, earning a meaningful stare but no answer from Cas.

Lunch filled Dean with dread. As he stood in line waiting for his two slices of nasty waxy pizza the thought of hiding in the back hall again was really appealing. But Cas was clearly feeling as unsure as he was about whatever was going on between them and after trying to kick his ass (and instead getting his ass handed to him) Dean felt a kind of loyalty to hang out with him. Plus he hadn't really seen Meg since the weekend and her acerbic wit was growing on him. And he couldn't help worry about Crowley. There was a lot he didn't know about Cas's world and he wanted to.

But could he handle watching the two of them crawl all over each other? It shouldn't matter. It's not like he was dating the guy and according to Cas he wasn't dating her either.

A horrible thought struck and sunk like uranium to the bottom of his stomach, eating away at the lining and sinking lower into his bowel, poisoning everything it touched. What if Cas was touchy with him the same way he was touchy with Meg. What if, for all Dean's inner turmoil, Cas was just being a touchy dude with a friend. He clearly didn't think much of feeling up friends or sticking his tongue down their throats. Why should Dean be any different?

The uranium caused the contents of his stomach to rot and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up.

When he got through the line, tray and nasty food on board, Lisa was waiting for him in the hall.

"Hey baby, how are you doing? Hand still hurt a lot?"

"Um, yeah, but Tylenol and not trying to use it seems to do the trick." Dean looked around and didn't see anyone else he might use as an excuse to escape her.

"I've been so worried about you," she wrapped a hand around his bicep and laid her head on his shoulder.

"What the hell," he jerked away, almost dropping his tray. He realized he'd lost his appetite and walked over to the trash can, dropping the food and setting the tray on the counter.

"I'm just trying to take care of you," she pouted, hand on her hip. "I know you're still mad about Friday night, but you're hurt."

"Lisa, I'm not mad. I broke up with you. We're done."

"What?" she gasped softly, tears welling in her eyes. "I know you're mad about Gordon and Ruby, but it was just for fun."

Dean snorted.

"We don't have to do anything like that if you don't want to. I mean, I was only really doing it because I thought you would like it."

"Yeah, the two girls together fantasy? Hot in porn. In real life? I don't like to share." A realization about another person in his life flared but was doused in ice water before Dean had a chance to figure out what it meant.

"No, Dean—Gordon. Or if you're not into that, maybe Victor. I've seen how you look at him."

"Wh… What?" Dean backed further away.

"It's no big deal." she shrugged. "I've just noticed how you look at the guys sometimes and I thought…"

"Lis," Dean hissed, not sure himself why he's so mad but he can't keep it down, can't control this out of control feeling that's knocked the air out of his lungs. "I am not gay. You can fuck off with that shit, and we're done no matter who you think I want to be fucking, so just leave me the fuck alone."

The tears spill down her heart shape faced and Dean almost feels bad for being so mean.

"Sure, run off to Krushnic. We'll see how not gay you are then."

Dean turned away, walked straight to his car and slammed his head against the steering wheel to keep from screaming. He stayed like that until it was time for his next class, just trying to breathe.

At the end of the day, detention really wasn't that bad. It was an hour where they couldn't speak but could sit where they wanted and do homework. For Dean, the only problem was he felt bad that Sam had to wait for him to be able to pick him up since Bobby couldn't leave work again just because of his dumb ass. Since he couldn't work at the garage anyway with his hand, getting his homework done here or at home made no difference to him.

As he worked his way through the short story they'd been assigned in English to read and annotate, his eyes wandered over to Cas's notebook where he was drawing that weird design from art class again. He'd forgotten all about it in light of their argument but as he looked at it again he knew he'd seen it somewhere.

He tried to think through the catalog of books and journals and other research he'd done over the years, but he couldn't place it. Bobby would probably recognize it but Cas didn't want to bring him into this and it wasn't his secret to tell. For now, he just had to hope there wasn't some kind of danger out there gunning for Cas.

When they were finally released from Day One of their punishment Dean followed Cas out of the building, waiting until no one was around to speak.

"Hey, come over today." His voice was rough and he tried to clear it. He really wanted to spend more time with Cas—it was all he thought about most of the time. But he was also terrified of getting closer to him. So much was changing, his friends, his girlfriend, himself. It was too much too fast and if he thought about it long enough he felt the same fury that caused him to break his hand rise up. But then in those quiet moments when he emptied his mind all that remained was the simple press of Cas's lips against his.

The parking lot was mostly empty but he couldn't help but look around, to see if Lisa was still here or if anyone else was looking at them. Nobody else knew about the little touches that probably didn't even mean anything to Cas.

Castiel tilted his head in question.

"I want to show that thing you keep drawing to Sam. I know it from somewhere." Dean sighed wishing he didn't have to have a reason to just be with Cas. "Rip it out and give it to me. He doesn't have to know you're the one drawing it. But he's better at this stuff than I am, if we've seen it, he'll remember where."

"Okay," Cas said, kneeling down and pulling out the paper. "I can just give it to you, I don't have to come over."

"Or, you could come hang out and see what Sammy says. I barely saw you all day." He shrugged, because he didn't care either way. Not really. Not at all.

Cas's face lit up like it made his whole existence worth it to think that Dean wanted to spend time with him after the last few days.

They climbed into the Impala like a habit, even though they'd only done this a few times before. Cas settled into the passenger seat like the leather was made for his ass and Dean hummed to himself in that free thoughtless way he only ever did when he was alone. He drove easily with one hand, his casted hand on the bench next to him. At the stop light he felt Cas's fingers slide over the back of his hand, plaster and gauze separating their skin, until the tips of his fingers intermingled with Deans lightly. They weren't holding hands. They couldn't. Dean had a cast on. But the warmth of the gentle brush of Cas's fingertips against his own had an unfamiliar heat spreading up from his collar.

He cleared his throat again.

They rode like that without saying a word until Dean parked in front of the middle school and Cas pulled his hand away. Dean hated it, the loss of contact, the loss of how chaotic and peaceful Cas made him feel every time they touched. And he was grateful Cas understood he wouldn't want Sam to see.

"Hey Cas," Sam said when he flopped into the backseat of the car, his frown deeper than usual.

"Hello, Sam. You seem… aggravated."

Sam huffed as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward home. His hand was still next to him, aching but not from the pain of breaking it.

Cas turned in his seat and looked at Sam, tilting his head. Dean wished he could see what he knew would be his drawn brows and pursed lips, the face he makes when he's worried about something. Simple little changes to his appearance but Dean knows they're there.

"It's nothing." Sam mumbles pulling a chuckle from Dean's chest.

"Totally sounds like nothing." Dean tossed back.

Cas swats Dean in the chest lightly.

"Hey, no hitting!" Dean holds up his cast.

"Sammy, you've been miserable for a week, what's going on?"

"I feel so stupid. It's just this new kid. He doesn't like anyone and is always acting better than the rest of the class, and yeah he's super smart but he doesn't have to be such a dick about it."

Dean thinks for a second and then pins Sam with his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Okay, but it's not like you to get bent out of shape over some pretentious ass. What else?"

"Thad just acts like tough shit all the time and it's always something, picking on someone or mocking someone or talking to Jess…"

"The girl he likes," Dean adds for Cas's benefit.

"I got that, thanks," Cas smiles at him briefly before returning to Sam.

"I just wish I could do something. He's always in my face, telling me how much smarter than me he is and flirting with Jess when I'm right there. And the way he picks on the kids smaller than him is just mean and when he's around it's like all I can do not to go postal."

"I don't see what mailing him would accomplish," Cas adds flatly.

Dean laughs again and slaps Cas on the thigh, lingering a second too long to feel the warmth of him. "No Dude, he means go crazy angry, like a postal worker losing their shit and killing everyone."

"No mail person I've encountered has seemed the least bit homicidal."

"It's just an expression."

Cas sighed with a frown before turning back to Sam. "No, 'going postal' would probably not be advisable. What about telling someone what's happening?"

"Like who? Come on, Cas, you aren't dumb. Does getting adults involved ever help?" Sam slumped lower in his seat. "Besides he has them all fooled. Perfect Thaddeus Wesley. He's like some kind of fucking rockstar."

Dean smelled it before he sensed Cas's changed demeanor. Cool, crisp, fresh snow and Cas's low growl before he spoke. His voice somehow even. "Thaddeus Wesley?"

"Yeah. You know him?"

"Yes," Cas turned back around and faced forward. "I'll handle it, Sam. He'll fall into line quickly."

"What? What are you talking about, what are you going to do?" Sam asked, scooting forward so his head poked into the front seat.

"Nothing, it'll be taken care of. He lives in the same home I do. Thaddeus is difficult but he's been through a great deal. I'll speak to him."

"Are you sure? It sounded like you were going to kill him or something," Sam chuckles nervously and Dean looks at Cas with a raised eyebrow.

"Well it did," Dean adds.

"Just let me know if it continues. If he's giving you trouble after I speak to him I can turn him into Chuck. Not the best outcome but sometimes necessary."

"Don't do that," Sam sits back, his growing body taking up more and more room in the back seat than it ever used to. "I don't want to make things harder for him. I just want him to stop."

Cas is silent the rest of the ride home.

When they are deposited in the living room with a bag of Doritos and glasses of Coke, Dean pulls Cas's drawing out of his pocket. "Do you know what this is, Sam? I know I've seen it before."

"Yeah, dude. It's sacred geometry. It's like the basis of almost all our sigils."

Cas's eyes are wide as he listens, leaning forward. "Remember fractals and repeating patterns and magic ratios like Fibonacci numbers? They all play into the different shapes and symbols in a lot of the spells we use. It's thought to be a scientific connection between nature and consciousness."

"You're such a fucking nerd." Dean smiles. "What about this in particular though. I know I've seen this before.

"Yeah dumbass, you have." Sam rolls his eyes and grabs his drink. "Come on." He leads the way to the basement stairs and Dean hesitates. They are under strict orders to never take anyone down there. And even though he trusts Cas completely, there's still the part of him his father raised to obey.

"Sammy? Is it something you can go grab and bring back up?" He nods toward Cas.

"No, you have to come down to see it." He looks at Cas and continues after a pause. "It's fine Dean. No one will ever know and Cas can speak freaking Babylonian. That alone would convince Bobby not to kill us if he found out."

"I don't want to get you into trouble." Cas shoves his hands in his pocket and it's so damn cute Dean can't help but smile.

"But you do wanna see what Sam remembered."

Cas nodded.

"Then let's go." He puts his left hand on Cas's back and follows them down the stairs. His hand is placed just above the line of his shirt. Deans fingers press gently into the back of his neck, the feel of short hair dancing across his fingers, until they get to the bottom and he releases his touch.

Cas shiverers but doesn't look at him.

"This is a death trap," Cas mutters as they pick their way through old tools, parts, more books, and just about anything else you can imagine including a bathtub, until they get to an old iron grain silo.

"What is this?"

"It's a panic room," Sam said, running forward and lifting the lock before swinging the heavy iron door open.

They walked inside where a twin bed, a radio, a desk with papers and a CB Radio and a small drain hooked up to a portable toilet greeted them.

"I don't understand." Cas said as Sam started moving the furniture in order to pick up the small rug in the center of the room. Underneath was a replica of the exact symbol Cas had been drawing.

"Holy Fuck," Dean breathed.

Cas stepped inside the silo finally. "I can hear it. It's so… It's so loud in here." He stepped forward again to the edge of the symbol.

"What's he talking about?" Sam whispered.

"He hears a song in his head."

"Like voices? There's medication for that." Sam whispered back, only kind of kidding.

When Cas stepped into the symbols perimeter that high-pitched wail started again, whistling on the edge of Dean's awareness. Sam slapped his hands over his ears and shouted something, but Dean couldn't hear what. His eyes were trained on Cas who had closed his eyes and lifted his head toward the ceiling, reminding him of a day not that long ago when Cas had stood just like this in the grass outside of school.

So much had changed since then.

The sound increased, and Dean felt nauseous. He screamed for Cas. The sound started when Cas went in, maybe it would stop when he came out. Dean pushed himself forward, the sound increasing, piercing and sharp, with every step. "Cas, come on man!"

When he was close enough, he gripped Cas's shoulder, pulling him forward, into his arms. Cas didn't respond, just went along with Dean, his face still serenely pointed to the sky.

"Fuck Man!" Dean screamed practically carrying him back out of the symbol. As soon as they breached the outside line, the noise stopped. Dean slumped against the curved iron wall, holding Cas against his chest..

"Cas?"

Castiel opened his eyes and stood straight, glowing blue and bright and full of otherworldly power.

"Wow," was all Sam could say and Dean agreed completely.