As Dean enters the two bedroom apartment he shares with Sam (and sometimes John) he wonders what the hell he's gotten himself into.

Once he said "yes" to Castiel, the older man told him to go home, pack up his shit, and that he'd meet Dean and Sam here in a few hours. Dean gave him the address, and with a final squeeze to the back of his neck, Castiel was gone, disappeared into the crowd like an illusion. Dean's still not a hundred percent sure that he wasn't, in fact, an illusion.

He starts in "his" bedroom.

One of the bedrooms is permanently Sam's. When John is gone, which is eighty-five percent of the time, which is still almost not often enough, Dean sleeps in the other one. On the rare nights when their father is there, they keep an air mattress under Sam's bed for Dean. He hates that, though, because he read a pamphlet once at Sam's school about how important it is for kids to have their own space. So he keeps out of Sam's room as much as possible and stores his clothes in an old duffel bag of John's, trying to take up as little room as possible.

(Dean genuinely doesn't see anything wrong with this scenario.)

Because of this, it's easy for him to pack his own things up. He just grabs the bag he always keeps them in, checks to make sure it's closed, and walks it out to set it next to the front door. He grabs another duffel bag out of the hall closet and goes into Sam's room.

Dean knows Sam like the back of his hand, so he knows what Sam will want to take, and what he'll be okay with leaving behind. Dean wants them to leave just enough stuff behind that John won't notice that they're gone immediately. Not that he thinks his father will report them missing, but it pays to be careful. Just because John Winchester has had nothing but disdain for his sons since his wife died doesn't mean he won't try to keep them from finding something better.

As he packs Sam's clothes into the bag, he thinks that the kid is hitting another growth spurt, and he's going to need to find a way to get him some bigger clothes. He wonders if Castiel will be able to teach him fast enough that he won't have to hit the street corner this weekend. He sincerely doubts it.

Once he zips up the duffel, he fishes an old backpack of his out of the back of the closet and begins to fill it with Sam's books. The kid reads like nobody's business, and Dean has always had trouble keeping him in books and comics, even more trouble than keeping him in clothes that fit. He knows which ones are Sam's favorites, so he packs them as neatly as possible, as long with a few comics and a couple of knickknacks that Sam keeps on the shelf.

Satisfied that that's all they're going to need, he takes the two bags of Sam's and puts them next to his own, just inside the front door. He looks around the living room and the kitchen, but doesn't see anything that really means something to either of them.

It's still a couple of hours until Sam gets home from school, so Dean doesn't really have an excuse to avoid going down to the tavern to talk to Bobby. He locks the door behind him carefully before he goes. It would be just his luck that someone steal all of their stuff the day he's taking them to live with a thief.

As he makes his way out of the apartment and toward the tavern, Dean thinks about the absolutely insane decision he made this morning.

Everything Dean has done since he was four years old has been for Sam. Since the moment he carried his little brother out of the fire that killed their mother, and still managed to somehow take both of their parents from them, Dean has done everything. He made his meals, a six-year-old standing on a chair in front of the stove to cook macaroni and cheese. He shopped for him, making sure that jeans and shirts and jackets fit. He forged permission slips, talked to teachers, gave Sam a curfew, took him to get haircuts, and made sure he did his homework. Dean has tried to be everything for Sam, including careful.

Not just about the stealing or the hooking, although he's always most scared that he's going to fuck up and get caught while doing those. Dean's careful about keeping any friends he makes at arm's length, so they don't know what goes on at home. Hell, he's careful about the friends that Sam has. Luckily, they don't spend any time at the Winchester's apartment, per Sam's request. While Dean's thinking of consequences when he keeps people away, Sam's embarrassed by basically their whole life.

It's something that Dean tries not to take personally. He never asks for clarification, either, because he needs to believe that it's John that Sam's ashamed of, not Dean himself. If he finds out that's not the case, it might just kill him.

Dean is careful about making sure no one is watching too closely as he comes or goes. He's careful about making sure no one knows he's not going to school. He's careful about getting John cleaned up and in bed before Sam gets home as often as he can.

Dean is just… So fucking careful.

One conversation with an incredibly handsome stranger and, on the outside, it certainly appears like he's throwing all out the window. It's completely out of character for him, and he's not really looking forward to explaining what's going on in his head to Sam or Bobby. He knows he has to, he just doesn't know how.

How can he explain how safe and secure Castiel made him feel, even if just for a few moments? How to explain the way he felt cared about when Castiel put his hand on Dean's neck, how he wanted to bury his face in the man's shoulder and let him tell Dean that everything would be okay in that silk over thunder voice? How is he supposed to make them understand that he is still being careful, that somehow he just knows that going with Castiel is the right thing to do?

That all just sounds like one long, drawn-out chick flick moment, and sorry, but no.

When he gets to Singer's Tavern, he's no closer to figuring out how he's going to talk to Bobby about this, but it's now or never. Especially since it's a fucking ghost town in here (it's too much for the universe to give him a few extra minutes to get his shit together, huh?) and Bobby has already seen him. He's waving for Dean to join him in the kitchen. Dean goes obediently, his stomach still in knots.

Bobby's the only person who knows. He knows almost all of the shit John pulls, the disappearing acts and the drinking and the occasional thrown fist. Bobby's furious about all of it. His normally kind eyes cloud with anger when Dean comes in with a split lip, or a blackened eye or cheek. Bobby doesn't know about every single thing, because that knowledge is for Dean and John alone, but Bobby knows most of it. He's the only person that Dean will feel genuinely bad about leaving behind.

"Hey, kiddo," Bobby says genially, washing his hands at the big kitchen sink. "Listen, they're still keeping a real close eye on me, but I can give you some cash if you kids are runnin' low."

"Bobby-"

"Now, I know you ain't a fan of handouts, but if it's that big a bug up your ass, you can pay me back."

Guilt clogs Dean's chest as he looks at the only adult who gives a damn about him. Shit. "Bobby, no, it's… Not about that. I mean, it kinda is, but I don't need money." He takes a deep breath. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. "I came to let you know that you won't be seeing much of us for a while. I dunno how long."

Bobby's face is completely unreadable now as he stares at Dean. He tries not to fidget under the hard gaze.

"That so," Bobby deadpans.

"Look, I got… An offer. For a job. Kinda."

Bobby slowly crosses his arms and leans back against the sink. "Why don't you go ahead and tell me about this job offer you got?"

Dean runs a hand through his hair, anxiety making his stomach roll. "I dunno how to say this, Bobby. You're gonna think this is stupid."

"Try me."

So Dean spends a few quick minutes detailing what happened this morning. It's kind of like in those cartoons where the main character is in a barrel and he knows he's headed toward the waterfall, but there's not a damn thing he can do about it. Dean's that cartoon character, and for all of his desperate flailing and half-assed explanations, he's going down that waterfall.

Bobby's face has smoothed out completely, unreadable again as he listens. Dean finally gets himself to shut the hell up and just stares back, hoping against hope that Bobby's not going to tear him a new one.

"And you don't know this fella?"

"No, sir."

"Never met him before."

"No, sir."

"Cas-tee-elle, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

Bobby rubs his whiskery chin hard. "You tellin' me the whole truth, boy?"

Dean feels his eyebrows go up in surprise. "Yes, sir. What, this isn't ridiculous enough for you?"

Bobby's still looking him in the eye, looking for something that Dean doesn't understand. "And you're sure he don't want anything from you for this… Charity of his?"

Realization dawns. "Oh, God! Bobby, no! No, he doesn't… Want anything, Jesus. The hell kinda girl do you take me for?" Levity is his only defense, because Bobby's not letting up on the laser eyes thing.

"I just know that you'd some real stupid, dangerous shit to take care of Sam. I'm just makin' sure someone's lookin' out for you, too."

Dean can feel his face heat up as he blushes. As much as he wants to protest that he wouldn't do that, that he wouldn't sell himself to some dude to keep Sammy safe… That's precisely what he does when he goes out onto the street, isn't it? So, yeah, if that's what Castiel was offering, Dean would agree in a heartbeat, and not just because Castiel stepped straight out of the wet dreams Dean used to have.

"That's what I thought," Bobby says grimly.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up," Dean grouses.

"I want to meet this guy," Bobby says suddenly.

"What?"

"I want to meet him. Size him up for myself. Make sure he's not takin' you for a ride."

"Aw, Bobby, you don't-"

"This ain't a negotiation, Dean," Bobby says firmly, steel in his voice. "I'm meetin' him, or I'm callin' the cops the second I know he's at your place."

Dean glares, but there's very little heat behind it. He barely wants to admit it, but he's almost glad that someone else, someone he trusts, will meet Castiel, too. Dean knows he wasn't taken in by good looks and blue eyes, but it will be nice to have some confirmation that Castiel has the right intentions, at least where Dean and Sam are concerned.

"Fine, I'll ask."


Sam Winchester knows exactly how lucky he is to have Dean.

He knows that not everyone gets a big brother like his. Sam goes to a pretty big high school, one that has its fair share of kids from bad home lives, so Sam sees daily how much Dean does for him. He knows how much Dean sacrifices for him, and he thinks that Dean probably hasn't even told him everything that he does to make sure that Sam is taken care of.

Unfortunately, Sam is also almost thirteen years old, and he's just been told that Dean wants them to move in with a stranger he met in an alley.

It takes Sam a few moments to process what Dean just said. "What?"

"I know it's a little unusual," Dean says, red-faced, a hand gripping the back of his neck, "I just think that this is probably the best thing for us-"

"Us?" Just like that, Sam is pissed. "Us? Were you even thinking about us? Dean, what the fuck is this?"

"Sam," there's a pleading note in Dean's voice that Sam ignores. "Come on, man, you know I was thinking about-"

"So, what, you're pulling me out of school so we can follow some guy you found on the street?" He makes sure to put enough of a sneer in his voice for Dean to catch his meaning. Not that Sam has a problem with Dean being gay. Hell, Dean's never brought a guy over, nor had a guy meet Sam, so it hasn't affected his life whatsoever, but fear and panic are making him want to hurt Dean as much as he himself is hurting.

It hits the mark. Dean winces. "Sam, look, it's an opportunity-"

Sam snorts. "Yeah, an opportunity to think with your dick. I cannot believe you're dragging me away from here just so you can get laid."

Dean visibly pales, and Sam regrets the words immediately. He knows that Dean would never put his sex life ahead of Sam. Hell, Sam knows that there's nothing Dean would put over his welfare. Dammit. "Dean, I-"

"No, no, I get it," Dean says, the tiny tremble at the end of the words probably only noticeable if one knows Dean as well as Sam knows him. "Look, Sammy, I know I'm the stupid one. I know that you're the smart one, and that you're the one that's going places, but I gotta make sure you get there. So I just need you to trust-"

Dean's explanation, and Sam's subsequent apology and protest that Dean is not "the stupid one" are both interrupted by a sharp knocking at the door. Somehow, Dean seems to tense up and completely relax at the same time. There's pretty obvious relief shining in his eyes when he answers the door before Sam can say a word.

The man standing in their entryway is… Well, Sam was expecting a little more from someone who has captured Dean's interest.

He's taller than Sam, but Dean assures Sam that he'll be taller than everybody, so that's fine. The guy's got dark, messy hair, what is probably perpetual stubble, and laser blue eyes that flick over Sam briefly before zeroing in on Dean.

Sam's not sure how he feels about that.

"Dean," the man says, his voice warm and gravelly and deep. "Is this your brother?"

Dean nods and steps back. "Yeah, ma-… Uh, sir. Yes, this is Sam."

The eyes come back to land on Sam, and he's officially just a little intimidated. "Sam," the man says, "my name is Castiel. I'd like to help you and your brother, if you'd let me."


Castiel immediately approves of the way Sam's hazel eyes narrow in suspicion. The skinny (too skinny, they both are, they need to be fed before Dean goes out, and before I get my hands on- No, no, bad Castiel) teenager crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Castiel.

"Why?"

Castiel tilts his head to examine the boy further. It's clear that Sam doesn't trust him, which is smart, because he's just some man who walked into his apartment. He can also feel the tension in the air, the boys were clearly fighting when he got here. He curses himself for not waiting outside the door and listening, but immediately moves on from the thought. What's done is done.

There's also nervous tension radiating from Dean, who's practically vibrating at Castiel's side, eyes flicking from him to Sam. Almost without thought, Castiel reaches up to place a gentle hand on the back of Dean's neck, identical to the way he held on in the alley. He feels Dean relax beneath the touch, and files the information away for further use. (Not to be used in your spank bank, he scolds himself.)

"I have an instinct about people," Castiel says smoothly. "I believe that your brother is singularly suited toward my line of work, and I'd like to help him achieve his full potential. To do so, I would, of course, be more than happy to assist you in your studies, as well."

The surprised tense of Dean's neck beneath his palm and the way Sam's eyebrows shoot to his hairline confirm Castiel's suspicions. Dean is rarely made a priority. In his interactions with Dean earlier this morning, it was made clear to Castiel that Dean's world revolves around Sam, which is admirable. Castiel, however, does not intend to make his relationship with Dean (a student-teacher relationship, for God's sake, he's sixteen!) revolve around anything but Dean himself. He knows now, based on their reactions, that this will be something new for the both of them.

"The work I do is extremely in-depth, and requires a particular setup to engage in. I happen to have everything we need to do so in my home, and there's plenty of space for you to live there, as well."

"Why can't we stay here?"

Castiel takes a look around the dingy apartment, making sure to keep any judgement or negative emotions off of his face. "I can certainly make sure you're able to stay here, if you prefer, but I live in a stellar school district, and would be able to care for the two of you much more easily if you came with me." He shrugs. "Either way, the choice is yours."

From the corner of his eye, he sees Dean look at Sam. From there, he's able to witness a silent conversation happen between brothers. It's over in a matter of seconds, and it's conducted exclusively with facial expressions and body language. It's fascinating.

"Well, you're not going without me," Sam insists, and Castiel is fascinated again when Dean's face blushes bright red. How charming, he thinks, a bit dazedly, to himself.

"God dammit, Sam, of course I'm not," Dean mutters, face glowing in embarrassment. Castiel fights not to imagine that blush travelling down his neck, his chest, to his-

No, he tells himself firmly. He's usually much better controlled than this. The boy might actually be making him crazy.

"Well, then," he's grateful that his voice is as steady as ever, "that's settled. Have you packed your things?"

Now Dean's green eyes are on Castiel again, and he reminds himself firmly that this boy is a minor, and the things that he's thinking are very illegal. "Uh, yeah," Dean says, his blush still prominent. "I just, uh… Do you mind if we make a stop?"


After they drop the bags off at his car, Castiel is both intrigued and irritated as he enters Singer's Tavern behind Sam and Dean.

He's intrigued because he's never had someone care enough about the people he takes in to meet him. Kevin and Garth are both orphans, and Benny's mother was more interested in where her next hit of whatever narcotic she was hooked on then was coming from than where her only son was going. This will be new territory for Castiel.

He's irritated at himself because there is a part of him that wants to stand up straight, address this Mr. Singer as "sir," and generally act like he's meeting the parent of a romantic prospect, which is ridiculous. He is an adult, he will conduct himself as such, and he will get this wanting of Dean under control as soon as possible. For God's sake, he just met the boy this morning and he's already obsessing over him.

He pushes his thoughts aside when he meets the eyes of a gruff older man over the heads of the patrons scattered throughout the building. He knows immediately that this is the person he's here to meet.

Older, looks tired, probably gets here early and stays late. Looks angry, probably protective of the boys, already doesn't like me.

The man gestures for the three of them to follow him to the kitchen, so Sam takes the lead and they obey. Castiel brings up the rear and tries very hard not to watch the way Dean moves in front of him.

When they get to the kitchen, Bobby turns to face them. "So you're the guy who wants to… 'Teach' Dean."

The implication behind the words makes Castiel raise an eyebrow even as Dean sputters. "Jesus, Bobby, what the hell? He's not-"

"It's quite all right, Dean," Castiel interrupts. He turns to Bobby. "I appreciate that someone is keeping such a close eye on Sam and Dean. I want nothing but the best for them, truly."

Bobby doesn't soften. "And what, exactly, are you intendin' to 'teach' him?"

The implication again. "I intend to teach him the ways of my profession."

"Uh-huh. 'Profession.'"

Castiel smirks. Bobby Singer is a smart man. "Indeed."

Sam is frowning. "What profession?"

"I will not speak of it here," Castiel says simply. "There are too many people who could overhear. When we get to my home, we can discuss it in depth, if you like."

"Oh, yeah, we're definitely discussing," Sam grumbles under his breath.

Castiel ignores him to focus again on Bobby. "I was told you wanted to meet so you could put your stamp of approval on the move. Do we have it?"

Bobby doesn't answer, just keeps his weight gaze on Castiel. He returns it evenly, not giving a thing away. Although, he can see how Bobby would be a good parent. If Castiel were a much lesser man, and if he had not had to stare Cain down like this many a time, he would feel the urge to break under that look, to reveal his secrets in hopes that confessing would lessen his punishment.

Now, however, he's much more used to doling out punishments than receiving them, so he is mostly unaffected.

A small eternity later, Bobby sighs. "Where you takin' them?"

Castiel deliberates for just a moment. There is no harm in giving this man this information. "I live on the South Side. The apartment complex on Angel Boulevard."

Now, here is a bit of vulnerability in the older man's eyes. "Can I see 'em?"

Castiel's eyebrows shoot up. "Of course."

Dean's head whips around. "Really?"

Castiel frowns. "Why would I ask you to stay away from people who care about you?" He never intended for them to be cut off from family. He never intends any of his charges to be cut off from their families, it just so happens that most of them don't have anyone they want to stay in contact with, anyway. Castiel's crew has become its own family, but he has no reason to keep Dean and his brother from this man who clearly cares deeply for them.

Dean blushes again. "I dunno… I guess I just assumed-"

"Dean watches too many spy movies," Sam says frankly.

Dean smacks his brother upside the back of his head. "Shut up, bitch."

"Make me, jerk!"

Castiel smiles, listening to them argue in hissed whispers. It doesn't remind him of his own siblings, since he was never this close to any of them, but it's still pleasant to witness.

He looks over at Bobby, and sees that he's being measured again, and he seems to have been found sufficient.

"All right," Bobby says gruffly. "But keep your cells on you, boys. I want to be able to keep in touch."

"Sure, Bobby, no problem," Dean says easily.

Castiel looks outside, where the early spring still makes the days end too soon. "You are more than welcome to come back, gentlemen," he says evenly, looking back to Sam and Dean, "but I'd prefer to introduce you to the rest of the crew and show you where you'll be staying before the day ends."

Sam sighs. "This is all so crazy," he says ruefully, but he turns to lead the way out of the restaurant.

Castiel smiles. Sam is a flexible child, it seems, if it has only taken about an hour for him to go from fighting with his brother to resigning himself to his fate. Castiel thinks he'll get along well with Kevin.

Dean shoots Castiel a shy smile as he follows Sam out, which damn near kills Castiel. He's still having a hard time bringing his mind out of the gutter when Bobby clears his throat.

It's only years and years of practice at keeping his face blank that keeps Castiel from flushing guiltily. He looks back at the man who's essentially the father of the boy he was just undressing with his eyes. Bobby is just staring at him again, there's no heat or anger there.

"I'm trustin' you to keep those boys safe," the man says gruffly. "Closest thing I got to kids, and I might not know what this 'profession' is, but I can tell you that I don't mind trackin' you down and kickin' your ass, should something happen to them."

Castiel smiles. I'm getting threatened by the boy's father after all, romantic intentions or no. "I expected nothing less," he says smoothly.


-Can we all just get together and pretend that, realistically, sometimes people let sixteen-year-olds take their twelve-year-old brothers away with handsome older gentlemen? Thanks. And if you think it's weird that Bobby just let them go, there will be explanations later.
-Feedback, it gets me hot.