Dean was at a complete loss at how things ended up this bad. His dumb ass didn't think Castiel would be this upset, but now that he thought about it, the man had a point. He took away someone else's chance for a warm meal and a soft bed. But then again, he might have saved Castiel from bringing a wrong person home.

Dean had been on the streets for three months, and learned pretty fast what types of people there were out there. Most of them were sad, but kind and grateful for any kind of help, but there were some whose sadness turned into anger and they would lash out.

Dean groaned to himself because now he was just trying to find excuses when he knew well, it was inexcusable what he did. Just the heartbroken look in those amazing blue eyes was enough to make him want to hang himself in shame. Fuck, he did that. He hurt him. That sweet, shy man.

He came home that night and went through the motions of getting ready for bed, but he didn't really pay attention to what he was doing. More than once he had caught himself pacing the length of his living room, or holding his head with both hands, then swiping them down his face as he cursed himself over and over and over again.

He kept replying everything that happened, everything he saw.

Balthazar, the head of the national kitchen, was walking by, eye rolling Meg, then throwing Castiel a concerned look before he saw Dean, then shook his head with a deep sigh. Meg... She was showing Castiel something, the newspapers? That bitch must have said something, Dean knew her well by now.

Dean knew them all. Balth was uptight and some would say snobbish, but he cared, he cared a lot. He and his siblings were orphaned when they were kids, then scattered around the states, because who would want to take 7 kids at once? Dean was only able to piece the names of 4 others - Hannah, Ana, Ezekiel and Joshua, but it didn't matter, because Balthazar never found them, any if them.

So he took in Alfie, a scrawny kid who was hurt, abused by his own parents and ran away from home, ending up on the streets. Every day, after school, he would help Balth in the shelter, happy he wasn't on the other side of the counter, starving.

Meg was... She was a bitch. She wasn't there because she wanted to, no, she was there under court order - community service. All Dean really knew about her is that she was involved with one of the big bosses in the criminal industry in town and when he went down and got locked up, she did everything she could to bust him out of jail. But she was caught, and after some prison time, she got off on parole and anger management therapy and forced to help out in the shelter.

But none of them could have known Dean was the guy Cas took home. Yet they all seemed to recognize him the second he stepped foot in the cafeteria. Something didn't add up.

Why was Meg showing Cas the newspaper? Yeah, sure, he wrote the article, but what did that have to do with Cas? Something didn't add up.

Dean had to figure out what.

If he had one of those antique clocks, it would have struck midnight just as Dean booted up his laptop. He always preferred paper rather then digital form, it was about feeling the page under your fingers, the scrape if the pen against it, the inerasable trail it left behind. He still turned in all of his work in paper, much to his editor's annoyance.

They still issued the papers in a physical form too, but one could also read it online, like pretty much anything these days. It has been ages since he last looked up Kansas Post online, but something about the article and Cas reading it made him restless, and this was the fastest way to see what he might have read to make him so angry with Dean.

A voice in the back of his mind kept whispering 'excuses, excuses, you already know why', and Dean knew the voice was right. But still... Something didn't add up.

"...and at the end of my journey, like a light at the end of a dark tunnel, there was a man. One man whose kindness outweighed all those torturous events, one act that overwritten all the bad feelings and made me smile. Like the angel Castiel, angel of tears and solitude, he took it upon himself to free me of those, allow me a night of warmth, comfort and contentment.

It only proves that a single person holds more power then..."

"What the fuck?!" Dean said as he scanned the text again. He didn't write that. He didn't mention Cas or anything that happened that night. In this part of the article he spoke about people in the shelters that helped out anyway they could, about those that donated money, stuff or even their time to help out and that presenting a blanket to a man that had lived on the cold streets meant so much, and the smile you get in return, the feeling that you have done a good deed is priceless.

Dean grimaced at the thought, because yeah, that's exactly the feeling he took away from Cas by doing what he did, and mentioning him, by name, in the article was just... Rubbing salt on an open wound, if not worse, he would never do that, intentionally or otherwise. Which meant...

"Naomi..." Dean said through clench teeth, balling his hands into fists and he tried to channel his anger and breathe thought it.

"What the fucking hell did you do?!" Dean yelled as he stepped into his editor and chief's office, not even bothering to close the door. Naomi looked up and raised her brow at Dean, looking as if she didn't know what he was talking about. Which was probably true, God only knows how many times she added or removed text from his stories. Dean should really read what they end up posting. "Why did you add that part about a guy taking me home!?"

Naomi rolled her eyes as she took off her glasses and set them down on her desk as she turned more bodily towards Dean abandoning her work on the laptop. "It is simple. Your story lacked something, it lacked the impact, something to draw a reaction from a reader. So I went through our notes, I saw that someone actually took you in, and honestly, it was surprising you didn't add something so big yourself. That's why I did it for you."

Why the hell did he turn in his notes?! Why even let her know what happened on that last night? Dean felt angry, but mostly towards himself for letting this happen. "Yeah, okay, but why compare him to an angel? Why write that? You should have sent it back to me and told me to make the corrections, to add that, not write it yourself! I don't even write like that, the difference in writing styles is so obvious."

"Please, Dean. I have been your editor for years now, I know how you write. There wasn't much time, and I knew you would take forever to fix this, so I just did it myself. As for the angel part, I found that in your notes. The name and the word angel, so I Googled it, found that information about what kind of an angel he was and..."

"That's not even... There is no angel named Castiel, there is Cassiel and he is the shield of God, not some lame angel of tears and whatever! What you wrote there, didn't even make sense, your research was sloppy and your sources are fictional, based on a stupid novel by Carver Edlund!" Dean shook his head trying to get rid of the rage, feeling like trashing her entire office, but barely containing himself.

"Oh, please. It isn't like it matters. The point is the article was a success, it got the right kind of attention. The mayor already called twice, and the politicians are already fighting about who is going to donate more, or make a bigger shelter. So you see, one little guy, who we actually made into a hero of the story, just isn't that important." Naomi said and picked up her glasses, inching back towards her laptop, indicating that the conversation is over.

"Not important?! He's not important?!" Dean yelled, because that wasn't right, that couldn't be right. Not because he might have eventually end up maybe important to Dean, no. It was because these weren't the kind of papers that stomped all over the little guy to get to the big picture, no. That wasn't what any of this was all about and if Naomi's predecessor, Robert Singer still sat in that chair, he would not have said that. He wouldn't have even rewritten Dean's article, he would have called him in, smacked him on the head and sent him back to redo it himself.

"Yes, Dean. He is not important." Naomi said watching him with her glasses down on her nose, looking annoyed that this conversation was still going on.

"Yeah, well, tell that to the guy when he sues us for slander and emotional distress." He said more quietly and sounding a lot more serious, deadly serious.

"He has no grounds!" Naomi said turning back towards Dean.

"I think you using his first name in the article covers as grounds for everything else to build upon." Dean said and watched as Naomi's eyes widened, she obviously didn't know his name was Castiel, she thought it was the name of an angel Dean scribbled on the margins or something. Well, at least he broke that cold mask of hers with this last line, and had the satisfaction of shutting the door in her face and leaving her speechless and wide eyed.

But as he walked back to his desk, the glee he felt slowly diminished and was replaced by this empty feeling, sadness and guilt weighing him down. Why the hell didn't he tell Cas the truth? Why didn't he just fess up and told Cas who he was and why he was doing this? Cas would understand, Dean was sure of it.

He still remembered how adorable he was, yelling in anger at his brother. Dean wasn't sure what that was really about, he only caught the end of the conversation, but if he had to guess, he would say it was because his brother wanted Cas to get out more. Be more open to meeting new people maybe, stuff like that.

Dean bit on his lower lip as he sat at his desk and contemplated why the brothers would even have such a conversation. Why would Cas' brother think Cas needed to socialize? Why would he think Cas was closed off? Did something happen to make him feel that way, or was he always like that?

No, Dean couldn't believe that. The man was obviously great looking, and maybe a little shy... No, shy wasn't really the word to describe him.

Dean took his pen and his pad and started scribbling down words what might describe Castiel's behavior best, and when he was done, he took the pad and reread them a few times, eliminating some, because even if they were synonyms, the didn't mean the exact same thing. Finally Dean settled on timorous , which meant showing or suffering from nervousness or a lack of confidence. Yes, that would be Cas, except when he took charge and decided without fear that he can do something, if he wanted to.

Bit of course, Cas, like any other person was so much more then just word, just like he was so much more then what Dean saw that night. He wasn't a chatty type, but being in silence with him was really relaxing, much to Dean's surprise. It wasn't awkward when they sat down to eat, at least not to him. But maybe it was to Cas, since he turned on the TV half way though. Or maybe he was just worried that Dean would be bored and did that for his benefit? Maybe he was just being nice? Attentive?

"Aaaaaaahhh!" Dean screamed as a big ass spider dropped on his table, and nearly fell of his chair, but quickly regained himself and turned a death glare at Charlie, who was right behind him, laughing her ass off. "Very funny, Chuckles! You could have given me a heart attack!"

Charlie, the tech wizard of the papers and also the editor of their online edition, crossed her arms and huffed at him. "You are too young to have a heart attack. And don't call me that."

"Not too young when you keep shaving years off with your pranks. One of these days I will get you, I will get you good, Charlotte." Dean said and tuned away from her, glad he could at least call her names she didn't like.

"Ugh, okay, I am sorry. You just seemed to deep in thought, and it was just perfect... You should have seen the look on your face. Here... See?" She said and shoved her phone in his face. He really didn't appreciate the expression he made in the photo, but what was worse was that it would probably end up online. Great.

Charlie pulled her phone back and grinned at the image before putting it away and focusing on Dean again. "So... Word of the day?"

It was a little game they played, not a competition of whose vocabulary was more substantial, but rather to show what the other one was feeling or thinking at the moment. Dean contemplated what to tell her, or if he should even respond after her little joke, but eventually, he caved.

"Timorous."

"Oh... Well, that's not you, so... You met someone. Tell me, tell me..." Charlie spoke with a giddy expression and no, that's not what... Well yeah, he met someone, but not...

"It's not like that. He is just this guy who was kind enough..."

"Oh, my God! It's the angel, isn't it?" Of course Charlie would know about Castiel, she did proofreading for all the things that get posted, and she read his article. And of course she took one look at his face and instantly knew. "You didn't write that, did you? I thought it didn't sound like you."

"Thanks." It felt good to have his words acknowledged by someone. Naomi was too arrogant and confident, and she might have known his style, but no way could she copy it. "Yeah, chief decided the article wasn't... Explosive enough, and the idiot that is me gave her all my notes..."

"Oh, Dean..." She said and put a comforting hand over his, and he placed his other hand over it, accepting and nodding his thanks. Her phone beeped and she took a look, frowning at the text she got. "I gotta go, the guys downstairs posted a new crossword puzzle and it came out all screwed up. I swear, if one more person posts anything without double checking the code, I'm gonna loose it... I'm really sorry about the story and the guy, Dean. Can we talk about it tonight, call me?" She said already getting up to go fix other people's mistakes like she always did. Dean just smiled and waved her off.

He tapped his pen against the pad he wrote those synonyms for and was drawn back into trying to figure Castiel out. Was the man really shy and without confidence, and if so, has he been like that since he was a kid? Had something happen to him in high school?

Maybe his high school mates found out he was gay? Now wouldn't that be a story? (No, not Dean's wishful thinking, thank you very much.) But what if he got bullied over it? What if he got hurt, like really bad, like more then cuts and bruises. Broken bones? Scull fracture? No, no that's taking it too far.

"What the hell am I doing?" Dean asked himself with a groan as he leaned over his desk, catching his face in his hands. If he wasn't careful, he would start fantasizing about him being a hero and saving Castiel from getting beat up. He sure had an overactive imagination sometimes.

"Gotta focus on something else." He muttered to himself, looked over at the ideas for the next project and checked over what sources he might have for which one, but his mind kept wandering back to Castiel. His day never ended faster and in the end, all he had to show for is a bunch of thoughts about a certain blue eyed man.

By the end of the work day, he completely gave up trying to do anything productive and instead wondered about Cas and his life? What did he do for a living? Did he have any more friends other than those people in the shelter? Somehow, Dean doubted it. As he finished for the day and walked over to the parking lot, Dean started thinking about what Castiel liked to do, what sort of books he liked, movies, music. He smiled at the thought that maybe Cas would like his music choice as Bon Jovi started singing the moment he started the Impala. Would Cas like his car? Or would he think it was too macho?

Dean smiled again as he ordered Chinese when he got home, remembering how they shared their meal the other night. Maybe Cas wanted the soup for himself, but let Dean have it? The nice thought quickly turned up a sour feeling because yeah, Cas did that to indulge him, thinking he was a homeless man. Dean just plopped down on his couch, leaving the food intact, suddenly not feeling all that hungry with the guilt weighing him down. He curled up on it and just laid there, not bothering to even drape a blanket over himself. Maybe he didn't feel like he deserved one? Maybe he didn't feel like he deserved to spend the night in his soft, memory foam bed?

Cas gave him his bed to sleep on. Even after Dean said those things to him, but in Dean's defense, in all the time he had spent out in the streets, not a day passed by that someone didn't offer something sexual, whether it was a sleezebag too ugly for a hooker, or even a fellow homeless person looking to let off some steam. God, how he blushed at the mere insinuation of sex, how adorable he was when he tried to explain. Damn, Dean felt like the biggest jackass then. The feeling hadn't changed.

He still remembered how soft Cas's sheets were, how his pillow smelled nice, but nothing flowery or girly and how good it felt to fall asleep in a warm bed after months of being on the streets. Not even his own bed felt so welcoming the next day. His memory foam didn't forget him, but it wasn't the same, and Dean just couldn't figure out why.

Dean felt asleep on that couch, his mind filled with thoughts of Castiel and how he had wronged him. The look on the man's face when he saw Dean all shaved and clean, the hurt in those big blue eyes, it haunted his dreams, making him wake up five times during the night, but still refused to go to his room. In the morning he woke up cold, muscles stiff and looked just a miserable as he felt.

Dean skipped the next two days of work, excusing himself with research for a new project and just spent these days wallowing in misery and sorrow, as his mind kept wandering back to that damn look on Castiel's face. A few times, his mind let him to remember a funny detail and he would smile, and then instantly felt guilty over allowing himself a nice emotion. He would order food, too depressed to cook for himself and then leave it to turn into icicles before finally cracking and eating it cold when his stomach started hurting. He hadn't showered in three, or was it four days now? Who cared? He hadn't showered properly in months while he was out there, what was four days? Not like he had a reason to freshen up and smell nice. He slept on that damn couch because, why not? The TV was there, sometimes loud enough to chase his sad thoughts away.

It was on the fourth... Or was it fifth day? It was then that Sammy called and Dean waged if he should answer, since he hadn't replied to any of his texts. But he knew if he didn't pick up the phone, Sam would think something was wrong and he would drop everything and come running and Dean couldn't let that happen. Sam just made Junior partner in Cage & Fish law firm and he couldn't afford to miss one day of work.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

"Well, good morning to you too, kid."

"It's 7 pm, Dean. What's going on?"

Of course Sam would know something's up, he always had that intuition and the ability to just see right through a person, especially his own brother. Dean sighed and ran his hand over his face. He could play dumb, he could lie and say he had a fight at work or whatever and Sam would leave it at that, he knew Dean wouldn't want to talk about it, he might say what happened, but he wouldn't say how and why it affected him. Dean was far better at bottling his emotions then expressing them, always was.

But this time it felt different. And it wasn't until he picked up the phone and actually talked to someone that he realized he had been drowning and that he needed a life buoy. He needed someone to help carry all this that had been weighing him down.

"I fucked up." He finally said and huffed in annoyance at how it sounded, like he committed a murder or something.

"What happened?"

Dean sat down on the couch and started from the beginning, telling Sam, in short, about this latest project of his, and Sam said he read about it and that it was good, that Dean did a good thing, which made Dean feel even worse. After a long pause, he started explaining what happened on the last night, from the moment he showed up in that cafeteria and overheard Cas and his brother argue to how he fled Castiel's bed, needing to report back to Charlie as a part of his safety protocol, since he carried no phone, he left it all to her, his car keys, wallet, apartment keys, phone, everything. Then Dean told him about Naomi writing that thing in the article and Sam confirmed that Castiel would have grounds for a lawsuit.

"In fact, if I were there, I'd represent him pro bono. What were you thinking, Dean? Why would you accept that?"

Yeah, Dean pretty much expected that from his brother. He didn't really knew the answer, he just knew he was mesmerized by those striking blue eyes and he didn't want them to stop seeing Dean. Not like he could tell Sam that.

"I dunno, I just did, okay. And now I feel guilty and sorry."

"Well, you should."

"Not really helping, Sam. I can't... I can't stop thinking about it."

"Wait, is this why nobody has seen you for five days? Charlie called and said you missed work, Benny said you completely ignored his texts and mine too. What is really going in, Dean?"

"I don't know, Sam. I don't know, okay? I can't eat, I can't sleep, I just keep imagining Cas's face and that look in his eyes and I... I just want to take it back, I just want to fix it. I want to say I am sorry and I want to..." Dean blurted out, but stopped himself before telling Sam he wanted to see the man smiled again, and smile at him, and look at him like he did back when he thought Dean was just a homeless guy.

"Dean... You care about him."

"Pff, don't be absurd. How can I care about him, I only met him once and I..."

"Dean, you took down corporations with your articles, remember Zachariah Adler and Sandover? Why are you dwelling over one guy?"

"Ugh, don't remind me. That guy was an asshole who was abusing his employees. Cas is... Cas is a nice guy who didn't deserve... Didn't... God, Sam you should have seen him, he was... He was heartbroken. And he said it wasn't even about what I did to him. He said it was the fact that I denied someone else a warm meal, someone who might have needed it and..."

"You broke his trust. And now he won't be able to trust anyone so easily again."

"Oh, shit." Dean said as it hit him. Cas was already an introvert, if the conversation with his brother was any indication and he tried to step out of his comfort zone and do something good only to come across Dean and... Fuck. What Dean did probably made the guy revert into himself even more now.

"I gotta fix this."

"Think you do. But, Dean... Don't push, okay?"

Sam's advice had been spot on because Dean was about to run out the door to go find Cas and apologize again and again and grovel maybe and... Yeah. Dean needed to think this through first. Maybe get a shower while he was at it.

"Thanks Sammy."

"Anytime, Dean."

Author's note: Hey guys. I was dead sick when I wrote this (still kinda am, damn flu), so forgive any... Well everything. But if by any chance you want read a story about highschool Cas that was bullied until Dean came along, check out this work on AO3.

The story is called Three Months in Lawrence by Dizzybunny (case sensitive), you can also find it in my bookmarks on the site.