Notes: Thank you to everyone who is still reading my little stories and for those kind and generous enough to leave me reviews on the last chapter. Hearing from you guys always makes my day.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own obsession with Supernatural

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible nonconsensual acts, mention of past child abuse

"Twife, Cath. Twife!" Castiel sits on the edge of the bed watching his husband brush his teeth in the doorway to their bathroom. Dean has been visibly agitated since they left their son's room several minutes ago. Castiel watches Dean bend and spit into the sink, and wipe at the toothpaste on his mouth with the back of his hand before standing back up and turning toward Castiel. "That kid blacks out twice. He cheats on his girl. He almost gets his ass beat. And none of that's enough to teach him not to get shitfaced." Dean's voice rises with his frustration. "What the fuck is that?"

Castiel nods. "It's very upsetting." Castiel watches Dean bend over the sink and splash water on his face, then grab a towel to pat his face dry as he pulls himself back up to his full height. Castiel lets out a quiet sigh. "And puzzling. I really don't understand why Sam wasn't concerned enough to change his behavior after the altercation at the fraternity house. I would think that not remembering a good chunk of his night would have been very concerning for him the first time it happened."

Dean dries his hands on the towel and tosses it onto the bathroom counter next to the sink and heads toward Castiel. Castiel takes in the fear and anxiety coming off him in waves. The emotions that Dean always tries to mask with anger, but are so clear to Castiel after four years together.

"I mean, this kid had some frat boy telling him to take it easy with his drinking. And, I know I didn't have a typical college experience either, but if I've learned anything from Animal House, it's a bad fucking sign when a frat boy is telling you to check your drinking." The cadence of Dean's speech is stressed and frenetic and Castiel's heart goes out to his husband along with his son for having gotten himself into this situation. It has been a very stressful twenty-four hours for all of them.

"It's very worrying that the previous consequences of his drinking were not enough for Sam to stop drinking on his own." Castiel says. "I sincerely hope that Sam's experience last night was enough to make him reassess his drinking habits and his safety."

An idea suddenly pops into Castiel's mind and it gives him instant hope. "Dean, do you think Sam could have been roofied?"

Dean barks out a laugh. "No, Cas. I really don't." Dean sits down on the bed next to Castiel and pats Castiel's pajama pant covered thigh. "But, I love that you want to give Sammy the benefit of the doubt here."

"I'm being serious, Dean." Castiel turns to face his husband. "I've read about this online. It appears to be an epidemic on college campuses."

Dean huffs out another soft laugh. "Yeah, but I think most roofies are given to girls, by guys who want to rape them. I don't know if Sammy would be a likely target for getting roofied."

"He could have ingested the drug by mistake." Castiel suggests.

Dean laughs lightly. "All three times?"

"Perhaps someone spiked the wrong drink, or Sam could have accidentally picked up someone else's drink…." Castiel trails off as he looks up at Dean's face, pale and horrified.

"Oh, god, Cas." Dean says. "Sammy was drunk out of his mind. He hooked up, whatever that means for kids these days, with a girl he barely knows. What if she was too drunk to consent? That's a thing. The girl needs to be able to give affirmative consent that she wants to have sex, like not just not say no, but actually say yes. Jeez, Cas, what if Sam was too drunk to know what he was doing and pushed himself on her?" Dean takes two short, panicked breaths. "I feel like I'm going to throw up."

Castiel reaches out to Dean, rubbing his palm up and down on Dean's back. "Let's not jump to conclusions or catastrophize. Sam hasn't mentioned anything about Skylar being upset with him afterward-"

"Yeah, maybe 'cause Sammy doesn't remember afterward." Dean says.

"I meant in the days following the night they became sexually involved." Castiel explains. "We should talk to him tomorrow, and ask if this young woman seemed upset with him the next time he saw her in class. We should try to determine what really happened that night-"

"No." Dean says. "No way. It's on this girl to turn Sammy in if she thinks he did something wrong. We're his parents. It's not our job to frame this as sexual assualt if she isn't. Something like this could ruin his whole life, Cas."

"I'm simply suggesting that we talk to our son to get to the bottom of what happened that night." Castiel says, his voice firm. "As his parents, it's our job to guide him and assist him in developing his moral character. We don't know that Sam did anything…...nonconscensual with this young woman, but I think his behavior with her warrants further discussion on the morality of sexual involvement with an inebriated partner. Don't you agree, Dean?"

"Yeah." Dean says softly. "Yeah, you're right. We should talk to him about it."

Dean sighs loudly, his gaze focused straight ahead, at the wall. Castiel watches him raise a hand to briefly cup the back of his own neck and recognizes it as his husband's self-soothing gesture. "How did this happen, Cas? When did Sammy turn into my dad?"

Castiel gently bumps Dean's shoulder with his. "I thought we just agreed not to catastrophize."

Dean huffs out a soft laugh and drops his hand to his lap, turning toward Castiel with a small, amused smile on his face. Castiel feels the corners of his mouth turning up to mirror Dean's.

"Thanks for always being the calm, reasonable one." Dean leans forward and lands a quick peck on Castiel's lips, and Castiel feels a swell of gratitude for his husband and his son, a warm swirl of emotion that tells him that everything is going to be ok.

"Well." Castiel says. "We can't both be the beautiful, charming one in this relationship, so I had to find something to do."

Dean gives him another small smile, and the sight buoys Castiel's spirits. Then sadness slowly creeps into Dean's eyes and Castiel's heart sinks a little at not being able to ease his husband's pain in any real way.

Castiel feels his own expression turn serious. "Are you all right, Dean?"

Dean snakes an arm around Castiel's back and drops the side of his head to Castiel's shoulder. Castiel instinctively responds to Dean's request for comfort, encircling his shoulders with one arm and raising the other to gently run his fingers through Dean's hair.

Castiel feels Dean nod his head against his shoulder. "When did Sammy stop telling me the important stuff? He used to tell me everything. Our whole lives. Every grade he got. What happened at school. What his stupid little nerd friends were up to. What he was thinking about, or worried about…"

"He still tells us a lot of those things, Dean." Castiel tells him. "He often texts us screenshots of his grades and he's told us lots of stories about his life at college, and his friends. He's even told us about parties he went to at the fraternity and about being hungover the next day. I think Sam is still very open with us in a lot of ways."

"Yeah, but, this….." Dean says. "This was huge, Cas. The first time he blacked out, at that party when he almost got his ass kicked. That was huge. How could he not tell us about that?"

"I think it's natural for children to pull away from their parents at Sam's age and keep more of the information about their lives private." Castiel strokes his hand softly through Dean's hair, scratching his scalp lightly with his nails. "At least that's what I've read."

"On your mommy blogs?" Castiel can't see Dean's face, but he hears a welcome hint of playfulness in his voice.

"Yes." Castiel indulges him with a smile. "On my mommy blogs, as you call them. And, I suspect Sam was not proud of his behavior and didn't want to share what he'd done with us because he didn't want us to be disappointed in him."

Castiel smoothes the hair back from Dean's forehead. He hears Dean sigh quietly. "I feel like I failed him, Cas."

Castiel stills his hand in Dean's hair. He pats his husband on the hip twice and Dean slowly pulls his head up from Castiel's shoulder and Castiel knows he recognizes the gesture for what it is, a request for face to face conversation. Dean readjusts his body to face Castiel, pulling one leg, bent to the side at the knee, up onto the edge of the bed in front of him.

Castiel levels a stern look at him. "Dean, I know we're both disappointed and confused by Sam's behavior and by the lack of regard he has shown for his own safety." Castiel's tone is firm and he can see Dean visibly reacting to it, looking vulnerable and ashamed. "But, this, what Sam has been doing, spending his time at a fraternity house, getting so drunk he loses time, this is not your fault. For the past four years, you have provided your brother with a stable and loving home where he was not exposed to any sort of alcohol or drug abuse. In the years before that, when Sam was exposed to your father's abuse of alcohol, when you were barely more than a child yourself, I know that you did everything in your power to mitigate the impact of your father's behavior on Sam. Isn't that correct?" Castiel waits for Dean to slowly nod his head, and feels his own tilting to the side in inquiry. When he speaks, his voice is softer. "So how then, have you failed Sam? How could the situation we're in now possibly be your fault, sweetheart?"

Castiel watches dampness abruptly pool in his husband's eyes. "I should have seen what was happening sooner. I shouldn't have taken my eyes off him just because he was away at school."

"You didn't take your eyes off him, Dean. Neither of us did. We just loosened our grip as his parents because it was the appropriate time to do so and Sam had never given us reason to think he couldn't be trusted to make good choices. Sam is an adult, out on his own for the first time. Perhaps we were too permissive in trusting Sam to drink and know his own limits, but nothing is unfixable here." Castiel lifts a hand to cup Dean's jaw, the pad of his thumb running across Dean's cheekbone. "Our child is not lost to us, Dean. He is safe in his room. We can speak to him again tomorrow. We may need to provide Sam with more structure and consequences than we originally planned, but we will work this out together, as a family. We will make this right. Ok, sweetheart?"

Dean nods obediently. Castiel drops his hand from Dean's cheek and studies his husband's face. Dean still has the guilty look of a puppy who had an accident indoors and expects to be scolded, the shame and responsibility that were instilled in him from an early age, clear on his face. Castiel wonders if they've been too easy on Sam because they both grew up with parents who were too hard on them and how their parenting may have contributed to Sam's current behavior. He doesn't voice this thought because he doesn't want to pile on to Dean's guilt. If his husband still seems stuck in his shame after Sam has returned to school, Castiel will offer to pull him over his lap and help him let go of it, but for now, he resigns himself to focusing on the issue at hand, Sam.

"What are you thinking, Cas?" Dean asks. Castiel watches his husband's brow furrow with fresh worry.

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Sam's been awake for a while, lying in bed, thinking and trying to go back to sleep. He turns onto his stomach and buries his face into his pillow to keep the sliver of sunlight peeking through the curtain off his face. He's gotten in the habit of sleeping late on the weekends and he wants nothing more than to resist this particular day as long as possible. His first thought in his head this morning was the memory of how disappointed Dean and Cas were last night, how awkward things had been between them in the kitchen when Dean asked about Meg, and how they had looked at him in his room last night after he told them about the things that had happened while he was drinking, like they barely recognized him and didn't exactly like the parts they could see. He thinks back to spending the previous evening holed up in his room, playing on his phone, bored and lonely, hiding out in his room like a little kid who knows he fucked up and is scared of facing his parents. Every part of his current situation leaves him with a sick, awful feeling of dread and humiliation in his stomach. And, he doesn't know if he can take a whole weekend of feeling like this.

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"Mornin', kiddo. Did the delicious smell of bacony goodness drag you out of bed?" Dean pulls another piece of crisp bacon out of the sizzling frying pan with tongs and lays it on a paper towel lined plate. He can tell he oversold the cheerful enthusiasm when he looks at his brother and sees the annoyance and suspicion on the kid's face.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so." Sam says.

Dean watches Sam run a hand through his messy hair and thinks the kid needs a haircut, not that Dean would consider mentioning that this weekend and risk pissing the kid off when things are already so tense. As Dean plates the rest of the bacon, it hits him how backward that feeling is. If he had done what Sam did when he was nineteen, he would have been the one walking on eggshells around his dad for a long time afterward, not the other way around.

"Where's Cas?" Sam asks, looking around the kitchen as if he just noticed the absence of his other parent.

"He's taking a shower. He'll be down in a few." Dean tries to bring it down a little but he can still hear the overeagerness in his own voice and he knows it would irritate him in Sam's shoes. He just wants everything to feel normal so he can enjoy having his little brother home for the weekend. He doesn't mean to force it. He just wants his family to be ok.

"At nine-thirty?" Sam asks. "He never sleeps this late."

"Yeah, uh, he didn't sleep that well last night….so, he just caught up a little this morning."

Sam grabs the carton of orange juice from the fridge and a glass from the cabinet and pours himself a glass. "Because of me. Because of what I told you guys last night." It's phrased like a question, but the inflection is off and it comes out flat and declarative.

"Yeah." Dean admits hesitantly, studying his brother's face, but unable to gauge much from it. "It probably had a lot to do with that, Sammy."

"So, Cas not sleeping is just one more thing for me to feel bad about, right?"

Dean levels his best stern look at Sam. "Don't do this, Sammy."

"What?" Sam sets his half empty glass back down on the counter and looks directly at Dean, his expression neutral. "What am I doing?"

"Don't start the weekend off with this attitude. It's not going to help anything."

Sam's expression remains impassive, and Dean gives up.

He turns toward his little brother, the plate of bacon in one hand. "Look, I'm sorry if it sounded like I was blaming you for Cas not sleeping. I didn't mean it like that. Ok? Cas had trouble sleeping last night and he slept in. He woke up this morning when I did and he told me he wanted to get some more shuteye, but that he wanted me to wake his ass up if you got up before he did because he didn't want to miss any time with you this weekend. But, he got up about twenty minutes before you came down. That's what happened. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. You're home for two more days. We haven't seen you in weeks. Can we please just…..enjoy being all together this weekend, without the attitude?"

Sam had averted his eyes, looking down at the floor in front of him while Dean spoke. He raises his eyes back to Dean, and Dean is grateful for the maturity and resignation that seem to have won out over the teenage spite and angst. "Yeah, of course. Sorry, Dean."

"It's ok kiddo." Dean sets the plate of bacon down on the table. "Sit. Eat bacon. I'm going to scramble some eggs."

Dean returns to the stove and hears the scrape of the chair against the tile as Sam takes his seat at the table. "Hey, Dean." The words are spoken low, barely audible over the sizzle of the eggs Dean is cracking into the hot bacon grease. He turns to look at his brother, spatula still in hand. The kid is sitting at the table, his head hanging forward, long hair hiding his face, hands in his lap. "I know I really disappointed you. I know you're pissed at me. And, I'm sorry."

Dean turns to look at his brother. He doesn't like this, any of it, not the reckless way Sam's been drinking and not how volatile he's been since Cas brought him home, his emotions all over the place, shifting from angry teenager to sad little boy in a matter of seconds. Dean sets down the spatula and walks over to the table, pulling out the chair next to Sam and perching on the edge of the seat facing his brother to give the kid his full attention. "I'm not mad at you, Sammy. Honestly. I'm just glad you're ok. What happened was scary, for all of us. But, it's going to be all right." He reaches out a hand to squeeze the kid's shoulder, dipping his head to see Sam's face, seeking eye contact. "We'll get through this. I know we will. Ok?"

Sam looks up, his expression contrite as he meets Dean's eye. He nods his head slowly and Dean feels his heart clench at the doleful look in the kid's eyes, the slight upturn of the corners of his mouth too sad to qualify as a smile. "Ok, Dean."

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Sam's feet keep moving on the hiking trail on autopilot, but it's taking all his focus to process what Cas just said. "You think I raped her?" He feels a stab of pain in his heart at knowing Cas thinks he could do something like that. They're out for an early afternoon hike and Sam feels blindsided by the conversation.

"No one said that, Sam." Cas says. "We just want to talk about the dangers of engaging in sexual activity while you are under the influence of drugs or alcohol." Sam knows that 'we' really means Cas. Dean has looked uncomfortable since Cas started on this topic several minutes ago. "Surely you can understand why that would be problematic in terms of consent for both parties."

"Yeah, Cas, I'm not an idiot. Or an asshole." Sam feels an unexpected rush of resentment toward Cas's attempt to parent him about something that he knows Dean would have been willing to dismiss, without discussion. He didn't do anything to Skylar. He didn't remember much of that night, but he knows that. "I would never take advantage of someone while they're drunk. How could you think I would do that?" Sam knows that Cas loves him, that loving him enough to adopt him at fifteen was a big deal, but sometimes he feels like something's missing in their parent child bond because Cas didn't raise him and doesn't view him through the same rose-colored glasses that Dean does, or that most parents do their own children, children that they loved from birth and whose flaws they have a biological inclination to turn a blind eye toward. He turns to his other side to seek comfort from Dean, but instead of the warm compassion he's looking for, Dean is staring straight ahead while he walks, his expression neutral, and Sam feels a spike of the annoyance he used to feel when he was younger and felt that Dean was taking Cas's side against him, and it leaves him feeling tired and irritated and very much wishing he was back at school this weekend. He thinks about how he could have asked the nurse to call Frankie instead of Cas. He's an adult. He didn't need to have the hospital call his parents. Frankie could have picked him up and taken him back to the dorm and he could have avoided this whole shitstorm of guilt and blame. It's not that he doesn't know he fucked up, it's just that he doesn't need his parents controlling him and making him feel like shit about it.

"Watch your language, Samuel." Great, now he's in more trouble. Sam knows he's kind of being a dick this weekend, but he's still so emotionally raw from his breakup with Meg, and it's got him feeling a little dysregulated. He feels like he's barely holding it together, and being back under Cas's roof with his disappointed parents isn't helping anything. He thinks about how much appreciation he felt toward Cas yesterday morning in the hospital and on the ride home and he knows he's being an ungrateful jerk now, but he can't seem to get past how much it rankles every time Cas brings up his drinking. He's already apologized and said he'll stop. He doesn't know why Cas can't just let it go. "I'm not suggesting that you intentionally hurt this young lady or knowingly forced yourself on her in any way. But, I want to make sure you understand how dangerous it is to engage in sexual activity while under the influence, and how easily communication between you and the young lady you're with could breakdown, or how something could be misconstrued while one or both of you are drunk-"

Sam explodes. "Yeah, I get it, Cas! Sober sex is safer sex. Consent is sexy. I'm in college. I see those posters everywhere. They talk about consent at every dorm meeting we have. I'm not stupid and I don't need you treating me like a little kid about this! Frankie told me the next day that Skylar was all over me on the lawn chair that night, that she pulled me outside, away from the party. And, I get that that's not enough, that she could have changed her mind at the last minute and it would have been her right, so I asked her the next day in class if we were ok, and she apologized to me! She told me that she wasn't as drunk as I was and that she knew I was with Meg, and she said she'd never hooked up with someone else's boyfriend before and that she felt horrible about what we did and about taking advantage of me, while I was drunk off my ass! Is that good enough for you! Can we please just stop fucking talking about this now?"

Sam hadn't realized he'd stopped walking when he started yelling. But, he's standing sideways on the trail, facing Cas, his heart pumping like he just ran a mile. Cas's expression is the neutral one that Sam found himself on the receiving end of so often during the early days of their relationship, before warmth and love became Cas's default setting when he looked at Sam. Before Sam can take stock of what he just did or attempt to make amends for it, he feels Dean roughly shove him in the back with his palm and he stumbles forward a couple of steps. "Apologize, Sammy!"

Sam rights himself and looks back at Dean, who looks as angry with him as Sam has ever seen him. Sam looks toward Cas and sees the disapproving look Cas is aiming at Dean and something in his chest clenches with emotion at Cas still wanting to defend him even when Sam's being such a little shit. He suddenly feels like a stupid little kid, one who could start crying at any moment.

When Sam doesn't speak, Dean shoves him again, in the shoulder this time, not as hard as the first time. "Now."

Cas's head swivels quickly toward Dean, anger clear on his face. "Dean, stop that!"

Sam feels tears welling up in his eyes and just complete abject shame for what he's done and how he's acting. "I'm sorry." The words are barely audible, but Sam is afraid he's going to break down if he speaks any louder or says any more.

"You want to try that again? Maybe loud enough for us to hear you this time?" Dean's voice is the low, stern rumble that Sam usually receives from Cas.

"I heard him just fine, Dean." Cas says quickly before Sam can react or repeat himself. "Thank you for your apology, Sam. I think it's time to head back to the car."

Sam watches Cas turn his back to continue the trail downhill, Dean following behind him. It isn't lost on Sam that it's the first time he's apologized to Cas and not been immediately forgiven. Even when Sam had gone behind Cas's back to try to find Gabriel, Cas had told him it would take a while for him to get over what Sam had done and trust him again, but he had still offered him forgiveness when he apologized. Sam sighs and follows after his parents.

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Castiel grips the steering wheel tightly with both hands. He listens to Sam's seatbelt click into place in the backseat. The walk down the hiking path to the car had been a silent one, with Sam trailing a few feet behind him and Dean. Castiel wonders if he made a mistake by not immediately reprimanding Sam for the way he spoke to him on the trail. He worries that by not admonishing the boy he may have established a new norm for acceptable behavior, one that Sam will attribute to his status as an adult. In truth, Sam's age had not been what held Castiel back, at least not intentionally. Castiel had been caught off guard by the intensity of Sam's outburst, as well as the proximity of the encounter. Sam hasn't raised his voice to Castiel like that since he was fifteen years old, and Castiel is embarrassed to acknowledge that getting yelled at by his angry adult son, towering over him, barely two feet away on a narrow hiking trail felt like an entirely different, but familiar exchange, one that triggered Castiel, sending his mind back to the angry yelling of his childhood and the feeling of powerlessness and fear that always accompanied it. Castiel feels disgusted with himself for not persevering in the face of his triggers. He knows they aren't done speaking to Sam about what happened and the adjustments to the safety plan he and Dean discussed last night, and he feels like it might be better to get it over with now. He needs to prove to himself that he can, that the trauma of his childhood doesn't have the power to prevent him from being a good parent to his son. Castiel can feel Dean watching him from the passenger seat, probably wondering why he hasn't started the car.

"So, uh." Sam's voice bears no trace of anger. He sounds young and unsure and more than a little nervous. "I was texting with Gavin last night and he's heading back to school around six or seven tonight, after his sisters' birthday party. He offered to drop me off on the way. And, uh, I'm thinking I should probably take him up on that."

Dean responds first without turning around. "We were planning to take you back tomorrow, Sammy."

"I know, but, uh, I've got some studying to do and a paper to work on. And, Gavin's headed that way anyway, and it'll save you the trip."

Dean sighs softly. "We've really been looking forward to having you home this weekend."

"I know." Sam says, his voice soft and sad. "And, I'm sorry. But, I know nothing about this weekend is going the way we planned, and I think it might be better if I head back. I'll be home again in three weeks. Maybe it's better if I head back now and we have a fresh start then."

Castiel takes a deep breath and turns toward the back seat. Sam is sitting behind the passenger seat, so it isn't as awkward as it could be. The boy looks shamefaced, and even though Castiel knows Sam has good reason to feel penitent, it still tugs at something within his chest as his mind conjures up his own feelings of contrition from all the times he cowered in fear from his parents after having committed some small offense, like spilling his milk or coughing in church, and waiting for them to lash out at him verbally and physically. Castiel hates how much his childhood has been on his mind lately, and he works to push the memories and the associated emotions back down, doing his best to bury them deep inside his mind where they can't hurt him.

"No, that would not be better, Samuel." Castiel states, aiming for stern, calm and reasonable. "We will be driving you back to school tomorrow, as planned. And, there will be no fresh start in three weeks, not after what happened on Thursday night or what you told us about last night. Are you seriously expecting us to just forget that those things happened?"

"No, of course not." Sam says. "I just mean….this weekend…..everything feels really hard right now….I don't know. I think maybe we all need space to just…kind of process everything. That's all I meant."

Castiel shakes his head. "After everything you'd told us about your drinking at school, Samuel, the last thing we feel comfortable giving you is space. We need to speak to you about what the last three weeks of school are going to look like."

Sam huffs out an exasperated breath, barely stopping short of rolling his eyes, and Castiel feels his own annoyance building at the boy's show of disrespect. "Yeah. Hourly check in's. I know. I already told you I'd do it."

"Yes." Castiel agrees. "That was the plan when we thought Thursday night was an isolated incident of binge drinking triggered by your breakup with Meg. But, now that we understand it was part of a larger pattern of drinking to the point of endangering yourself, we believe we need to provide you with more structure."

Sam watches Sam swallow nervously and hears Dean do the same in the passenger seat next to him. "What does that mean, exactly?" The boy asks.

"I'm talking about the original safety plan that Dean and I discussed and discarded as unnecessary because we wrongly believed you could be trusted to make good decisions on your own." Cas can feel his tone becoming unkind and he pauses to mentally pull himself back before the conversation turns nasty. "We will still be checking in with you every hour while you're at school, as we previously discussed, but we would like you to come home on the weekends for the rest of the semester."

Castiel takes in the defiance in his son's eyes. "Are you still asking me, or are you telling me?"

Castiel hears Dean sigh and shift around in his seat, their heads close together as Dean leans to the side to look at Sam around the passenger seat headrest. "We just want to keep you safe, Sammy. Your drinking's really got us worried. We're just trying to do what's best for you here, kid."

"You didn't answer my question." Sam says, his face blank, voice emotionless.

"I don't know what has gotten into you this weekend, Samuel, but your attitude is disrespectful and completely unacceptable." Castiel says. "I cannot imagine ever speaking to my parents the way you've been speaking to me today."

"So, what, am I supposed to thank you for not beating me every time I turn the TV on?" The question comes out as a sarcastic taunt and Castiel is taken aback at the boy's hostility.

"Sam!" Dean scolds. "C'mon."

"Of course not. That's not what I meant." Castiel doesn't know why he brought up his parents. He never does that. "To answer your original question, we're telling you, Samuel." Castiel does his best to keep his voice even despite how annoyed he feels at his son's attitude. "Your recent behavior has demonstrated that you are not capable of making the choices necessary to keep yourself safe at school, so we will be doing it for you by removing you from that environment, at least on weekends. We considered not allowing you to return to school at all, because we believe having you alive and safe is more important than having you finish out the semester. Please keep in mind that that can still be an option. We will drive you back to school tomorrow and you will drive yourself home Friday afternoon after your last class. You will drive yourself back to school on Sunday afternoon. And you will do the same every weekend until the semester is over. Do you understand me?"

Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Castiel cuts him off before he can. "I'd like you to think very carefully before you speak. If you're planning for anything other than yes, Cas to come out of your mouth right now, I would suggest you rethink it."

There is no sign of compliance on the boy's face, his eyes flinty, his jaw hard set, seething as he bites out the words. "Yes, Cas."

Castiel feels shook as he turns back around in his seat and starts the car. He feels Dean's palm through his sweatpants, warm and comforting on his thigh, but keeps his eyes on the rearview mirror as he backs out of the parking spot.

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Sam and Cas pretty much avoid each other for the rest of the afternoon, which isn't a lot of fun for Dean. Sam asks to borrow Dean's laptop when they get home from the hike and shuts himself into his room with it, claiming he needs to log into his school account and get some stuff done so he doesn't fall behind in his classes. Dean tries to get him to work downstairs, at the kitchen table or on the couch, and Sam gives him a sad look, as if maybe part of him wants to do that, before telling Dean that he needs to go upstairs because he really needs to focus. Cas cleans, pretty much everything. Dean helps him with the master bathroom, just to be around him and talk to him, but Cas isn't in a talkative mood, so Dean gives up and Cas tackles the hallway bathroom and the kitchen by himself. Dean knocks on Sam's door and lets himself in when there's no answer, only to find Sam lying on the bed, wearing headphones and focused on a video he's watching on the laptop. Dean can't tell what it is, but there are math equations involved and it looks serious. Sam looks up but doesn't remove his headphones, and Dean holds up an apologetic palm for interrupting and backs out of the room. Sam and Cas cross paths late in the afternoon when Sam goes into the kitchen for a snack while Cas is scrubbing the stove burner grates at the sink. Dean is vacuuming the living room and doesn't want to shut off the machine to draw attention to his eavesdropping. Instead he leaves the vacuum cleaner running by the couch and creeps closer to the kitchen door without it. He can only make out a few words here and there. Cas using the word child, and telling Sam that something is for your own good. Then a muttered whatever from Sam as he exits the kitchen with a plate of cheese and crackers and a bottle of water, almost running into Dean. Dean moves to shut off the vacuum then and pretends he hasn't overheard anything. He slaps on an overly cheerful smile and tries to rustle up interest in doing something as a family, a board game at the kitchen table, a trip to Target, or going outside for a game of horse. Sam says he can't, that he still has a lot to do. He maneuvers past Dean and heads upstairs with his snack while Cas says nothing at all and returns to his cleaning.

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Dean and Cas are halfway through making dinner the next time Sam comes downstairs. Cas keeps his focus on the sauce he's stirring on the stove as Dean looks up from the red pepper he's chopping for the salad and gives his little brother a smile, trying not to overdo his enthusiasm at seeing the kid out of his room and standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Hey, Sammy. How's the homework going?" Dean studies Sam's face and the hard look in the kid's eyes tells him this isn't going to be the easy, comfortable dinner he was hoping for. Sam doesn't move from the doorway. "C'mon, get in here, kiddo. You want to give us a hand? You're just in time to set the table."

Dean feels his smile fade as he watches nervous discomfort flicker across Sam's face, his instinct telling him that whatever the kid wants to say isn't going to be good.

"I'm not staying for dinner." Dean feels something in his chest deflate at the announcement. "I just wanted to let you guys know I'm heading out. I'm getting a ride from Gavin." Sam holds up the phone in his hand and Dean notices that the kid's wearing an old jacket that he left behind when he went to college. "He just texted that he's on his way over to pick me up."

Cas stops stirring the sauce and turns from the stove to face Sam. "We already discussed this, Sam. Dean and I would like to drive you back to school tomorrow."

"Actually, we didn't discuss it at all." Sam's tone is hot with anger and sarcasm, and full of disrespect. "A discussion would have involved you listening to what I had to say or caring about how I felt, not just telling me what to do like I'm a little kid who can't be trusted to make his own decisions."

Cas huffs out an exasperated breath.

"C'mon, Sammy. Just stay here tonight. We never get to see you." Dean tries to head things off before the situation turns ugly, but his brother and husband are laser focused on each other and neither one acknowledges him.

"Your recent behavior has proven, repeatedly, Samuel, that you can't be trusted to make your own decisions." Cas's voice isn't exactly raised, but Dean recognizes it as past stern, more of his angry voice. "At least not good ones. Do you disagree?"

"Jesus Christ, Cas!" Sam's words are a frustrated yell, the kind of outburst the kid used to aim at their dad when he felt he was being treated unfairly, and was usually met with a slap across his face. Dean knows this won't end the same way, but he feels a rush of familiar apprehension anyway, his heartbeat quickening slightly.

"Hey, watch it, Sammy." Dean's admonishment gets no reaction.

"I made a mistake! I get it! But, that doesn't mean you get to keep me from going back to school, or make me come home on the weekends, like I'm grounded. I don't need you to punish me! I'm an adult!"

"I'm not trying to punish you, Sam." Cas says. "I'm just trying to keep you safe-"

"Ugh! I am safe!" Sam yells. "What I did was stupid, but I learned my lesson and I won't do anything like that again. Why can't you understand that?"

Dean hears a horn honk outside and glances out the kitchen window to see Gavin's silver Range Rover parked in front of the house.

"I understand that you intend to be more careful, but the first two times you blacked out weren't enough of a wakeup call for you, so how can I be sure I can trust you this time?" Cas's tone is reasonable and Dean watches the effect it has on his brother who seems to become even more dysregulated in response.

"You can trust me to not be an idiot!" Sam's voice is still raised, but it sounds strained now, equal parts overwrought and angry, like a frustrated child who's close to breaking down.

"I do trust you, Sam-"

"No you don't! You think I'm an alcoholic rapist!"

"That isn't true." Cas says. "And, trust isn't that simple when it comes to your safety. You are my child, and-"

"I'm not a child and you're not my father!"

That jolts Dean out of being a spectator in this argument. He doesn't need to look at Cas's face to know how much that had to have hurt him. "You shut your mouth right now, Sam!"

For a brief moment, Sam looks as taken aback by what he said as Dean feels. The horn goes off again outside, and this time Gavin holds it down for a few beats and Dean wants to go outside and smack the kid upside the head for it.

Sam takes a couple of steps backward. He doesn't make eye contact with Cas or Dean, and when he speaks his voice is low and soft. He gestures toward the front of the house with the hand holding the phone. "That's Gavin. I gotta go." Dean watches Sam turn and hurry through the living room to the front door, slamming it loudly behind him.