Note: I work tomorrow night, and I plan on being busy on Sunday, so I'm posting this on Friday. As of now, I have 18 completed chapters. I'm proud of this, as it's my longest project that I've ever worked on. I hope you all like it, and thanks in advance for taking your time to read this. It makes me feel like I'm not doing this in vain. If you followed the first attempts at me posting/ writing this fic, than you can see the differences among the bits that I had earlier. I quite like how everything new I added, added a new dimension to the whole plot and characterization. In the spring, it will be a whole year since I started on this fic. Shit. Wow.

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Dean couldn't believe that he pretty much told another soul that he had a panic attack. He didn't completely explain it to Castiel, though he figured that it wouldn't be that difficult of a conclusion to draw. People always looked at him oddly whenever his anxiety peaked. He hated the glares that he received. It was like he had a contagious disease that kept people from acknowledging him. Sammy didn't even know that he had them regularly. It really wasn't something that he needed to inform his brother about. And of course he wasn't ever planning on telling his father. So why did he basically tell Castiel? It's not like he knew the kid well enough to have felt the need to confide in him this easily. The only other person who did know about Dean's anxiety was Mrs. Bradbury, his school counselor. She had made him feel safe on many occasions, letting him talk his problems out between sobs, of which she promised no one would find out about. He didn't want anyone to know he cried. Like Crowley and his posse. And especially his father; the only person he would omit when he talked to Mrs. Bradbury.

The next day at school wasn't any different than the rest. Dean glided through the first half of his day with ease. After their conversation at the playground, Dean didn't expect Crowley to continue to be nice to him. Thankfully, Crowley wasn't at school so far this week to comment on Dean's choice in clothing. He didn't do his own laundry, opting for whatever he deemed to not smell too foul. His AC/DC t-shirt was slightly stained, his jeans were ripped, and Dean was grateful that his boots hid his mismatched black and white socks. He tried hard to not get too close to anyone in hopes that no one could tell.

At lunch Dean brought his book with him to the library. He was almost finished with reading Catch-22 with less than a hundred pages left. It was quickly becoming a favorite, and Dean hoped to finish it by the end of the week. He slid himself into the same leather chair that he adored and opened to the next chapter. Dean read one page before he heard someone near him.

"Can I sit with you?" Dean looked to his right to see Castiel. He was pointing to the chair opposite where he was sitting.

"Yeah, I guess," Dean replied. Rather quickly, Dean realized that he should have probably threw in some of his clothes with his brothers.

Castiel sat down. "I thought since you weren't comfortable with joining me, I'd join you."

Dean put his finger between the pages, closing the book. "Oh, okay," he stuttered. He was starting to become a little uneasy as his lunchtime plans were being thwarted. Was it too much to ask to be left alone to read for thirty minutes?

"I'm not bothering you, am I?" Castiel titled his head to the right. It must be a tick of his, Dean thought.

"No," Dean said quickly. "No, it's okay."

Castiel took out a novel from his backpack. Dean opened his book to the page he left off at. They sat in silence, reading a few pages each before Castiel felt he needed to speak. It was becoming too quiet. "I know we don't meet after school today," Castiel paused to compose himself. Ever since he laid eyes on Dean, he felt something new in the depths of his stomach. It was a feeling that he couldn't describe, but Castiel quickly concluded that being near him made that feeling intensify. It was a feeling that he was beginning to like. "I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out instead of doing homework."

Dean looked up from his book. "Hang out?" He wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"Yeah," Castiel said, "hang out like watching TV or a movie or something."

"Um," Dean looked down at his boots. "I guess." Dean really wanted to become friends with Castiel. The only thing that was holding him back was the thoughts that started to buzz around his brain. His anxiety started to stir. He tried hard to breathe deeply, to steady himself from Castiel seeing him in this state. Dean looked up and noticed Castiel was looking at him with concern in his eyes.

"You okay?" Castiel asked.

Dean easily lied. "Yeah, fine."

"You sure? You look pale."

"I'm okay," Dean said.

Castiel sighed. "This isn't going to be easy to get you to get out of your comfort zone, is it?"

"Maybe a little bit," Dean said, his breathing became more controlled. "I actually just have to figure out what to do about my brother."

"He can't just go home? He's in eighth grade, right?"

"Dad won't let him stay at home by himself," Dean replied.

"Seriously?" Castiel sat up, leaning in towards Dean.

"Yeah," Dean said.

"Can't you tell him to go to a friends' house or something? I mean, what do you normally do when you have afterschool plans?"

"I don't normally have afterschool plans," Dean informed.

"Seriously?" Castiel asked.

"Seriously," Dean said.

"Well, what did he do yesterday?"

"Dad picked us up here, at three thirty, when I was done with tutoring."

"Then just tell your Dad to just pick him up, you're going to a friends' house," Castiel offered.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dean said. He didn't want to think about what his father would say if he even suggested having a friend whose house he was visiting.

Castiel didn't understand. "Why?"

You don't know my father, Dean thought. "I'll just say I'm studying more afterschool."

"Good," Castiel said. At least it was something. "I'll meet you outside by the flag pole." Castiel sat back. The two boys read together until the bell rang. Dean tried to concentrate, but he couldn't help but to worry about calling his Dad. What if he saw right through his lie? Or what if Dean came home to even more shit from his Dad for leaving the house for the evening? What about Sam? He can't fend for himself or help their father out when he comes home drunk. When is he going to be home anyway? Shit, Dean thought. This was going to be a terrible idea.

Castiel was standing against the flag pole. As soon as the final bell rang he practically flew to his locker. He was going to meet Dean there, he just knew it. Dean did sound like he was planning on calling his father to tell him he was going to be studying after school. Right? He had to show up, Castiel conceded. He was starting to feel uneasy as he waited. Great, he was going be blown off. Again. Castiel looked at his watch. Okay. Only ten minutes passed since the last bell. Dean could still show up, Castiel tried to console himself. He looked up to see the teenager walk out of the main entrance. His black backpack was slung over his right shoulder. Castiel couldn't help but smile at him as he walked over.

"Called your Dad?" Castiel asked Dean.

"I did," Dean replied. "He seemed to get that I was going to study more."

"That's good," Castiel said. "But, I don't know how much studying we're going to get done." Shit, he thought. That came out the wrong way. Dean looked at the other boy questioningly. "I mean, we're going to be watching mindless television and getting my brother to bring home pizza from his work."

"I like pizza," Dean said, a small smile forming on his face. At that, the two walked on down the drive to the middle school. They waited for Sam to inform him about Dean hanging out with Castiel.

"Just don't tell Dad. Tell him we're doing a school project or something," Dean told Sam.

"Fine," Sam sighed. "If you get in trouble for lying to him, it's on you."

It's always on me, Dean thought. "Just keep your mouth shut."

Castiel and Dean left Sam sitting on the curb. They walked down the sidewalk. It didn't take that long for Dean to start to feel comfortable with Castiel. He couldn't help but to laugh out loud when Castiel started to explain what his friend Ash did in their Chemistry class.

"He then went up to the magnetic periodical table of the elements that Mr. Smith has, and rearranged a few of them to read, 'LuBrICaTiON', and Mr. Smith didn't even notice all throughout his lecture. It was a riot." Castiel got out the best he could between his own laughter. "Oh, speaking of Mr. Smith. Before our session I caught Mr. Wesson and him."

"Doing what?" Dean asked.

"Kind of being intimate, I guess," Castiel said. "I think they're dating."

"That's interesting," Dean said.

Castiel stopped. Dean continued on for a few steps before he realized his friend wasn't next to him anymore. He turned and faced Castiel. "How do you mean, interesting?"

"I dunno." Dean shrugged.

"Good way, or bad way?" Castiel asked.

Dean scratched the back of his head. "Good way?" He then quickly added. "I'm not opposed to gays, if that's what you're implying."

"Then good, cause, if you were then this wouldn't work out," Castiel said, gesturing from himself to Dean. He began walking, passing the other teen without looking him in the eye.

"Wait," Dean said as he caught up to Castiel. "I talked to Crowley the other day."

Castiel spun on the spot. "Since when are you buddy-buddy with him?"

"Since never," Dean said. "We were both at the elementary school, getting away from home for a bit, and we talked. That's it."

"About what? Huh? What did he tell you? Did he tell you some crazy story about me?"

"No," Dean protested. "All he said was that you're gay, and commented on how it was obvious and how stupid I am for not seeing it."

"You're okay with that?" Castiel asked wearily.

"Definitely." Dean and Castiel began to walk further down the sidewalk together. "You know, Crowley is a jack ass."

Castiel agreed. A few minutes later Castiel stopped in front of his house. "My place is right here." Castiel felt a bit ashamed at someone seeing where he lived. It wasn't the most glamorous home on the block. The lawn still hadn't been mowed and the weeds were choking out the flowers. He sucked it up and showed Dean into his house.

The living room was empty. Gabriel hadn't made his way home yet, and Castiel took it upon himself to get the television first. "What do you like to watch?" Castiel asked. He flopped himself onto the sofa. Dean sat down next to him.

"I really don't watch much TV," Dean said.

"Really?" Castiel asked. "Okay. Well, since my Dad's not home, we can watch whatever. When he gets home, we have to go and find something else to do."

"Why?" Dean was curious.

"He can be kind of an ass about the shit they play. He'd rather we watch G rated movies, religious programing and my least favorite, Veggie Tales. Seriously," Castiel said as Dean looked at him oddly, "Its fucking vegetables talking about Christian morality."

"I've never heard of it," Dean said.

"Be glad." Dean heard a voice coming from the front door. "Cassie, who's this?"

"Dean, Gabriel; Gabriel, Dean," Castiel said. This was the most introduction he was going to do between his brother and his new friend. Dean recognized him from a while back in either a math class or gym. Gabriel's antics weren't easy to forget.

"Oh, that Dean," Gabriel said. He had a sly smirk on his face.

"Shut up, Gabe," Castiel said. "Go make out with your pillow, or something."

Gabriel looked at his brother with curiosity. "And what are you going to be doing in here? Hmm?"

"Just get out of here." Dean eyed Castiel. "He's a dick," Castiel said. He flipped through the channels. They sat together on the couch as they watched Seinfeld. Dean really liked how random the characters were on this show. It was really hilarious how they managed to get into trouble rather quickly, without much resolve when the credits rolled. Kramer was clearly a favorite of Castiel's, Dean noted, as he'd laugh whenever the guy slid into Seinfeld's apartment with his arms flailing. Dean found himself watching Castiel after a while, enjoying the smile that played on his face. It easily put one on his own.

A couple episodes later, Castiel turned the television off. It was nearly five o'clock. He didn't want his father to come home and see him withering away with sitcoms. The two boys joined Gabriel in the kitchen. He had started to pull out pots and pans from the cabinets, clanging them together like an odd sort of orchestra. It peeked their interest upon seeing Gabriel standing at the counter surrounded by an assortment of kitchen things. Out in front of him sat a variety of vegetables, a giant bag of some kind of rice, and a whole chicken still in its packaging. "I'm making dinner," Gabriel said, beaming at his little brother.

"We can see that," Castiel remarked. "What are you doing with all this stuff?" He picked up some kind of greenery that clearly wasn't anything that he could name off hand.

"Put the kale down," Gabriel said, emphasizing each word. Castiel tossed the kale back on the counter top. Gabriel went over towards Dean. "I hope you can join us for dinner. I'm making a lovely lemon and herb chicken with mushroom risotto and a simple salad of greens." He recited the menu like he was a waiter at a fancy restaurant. Gabe turned to his little brother. "It's my way of getting Dad to agree to let me go to culinary school next year."

"Can you stay?" Castiel asked Dean, ignoring his brother's last statement.

Dean shuffled his feet. "I dunno, maybe."

"When does your Dad expect you to be home?"

"I'd like to be back at least before seven." Dean knew his father would be royally pissed if his eldest son wasn't back to watch Sam. He figured his Dad would have nightly plans away from the two boys. John was predictable in that regard.

"Well, Luke should be home about five thirty, we can eat, and then he can take you home," Castiel said.

"Okay." Dean figured he'd have to agree because this plan came all too easy to Castiel.

"Sweet," Castiel said.

"Now, get out of my kitchen!" Gabriel said while brandishing a spatula in the boys' direction.

At dinner, Dean met Castiel's father. Charles quickly recognized the boy that his son had just recently befriended as the kid that was getting reprimanded by his father at parent teacher night. Dean caught Charles looking at him a few times during the evening. It seemed odd, the continuous glances in his direction, and they were starting to make him feel slightly uncomfortable. Dean tried to not look at him when he felt his gaze, keeping himself occupied with eating.

The dinner that Gabriel had prepared was far better than anything Dean had ever eaten. It was pretty awkward sitting at the table with the whole Novak clan. He always figured that there were families out there that ate together like this. It just never occurred to him that he would ever partake in this custom.

Dean was even more thrown off when they all folded their hands for prayer. Castiel had said the prayer before they ate. Dean followed his friend, mimicking his folded hands in his lap. He wasn't much for religion, having never grown up with any sort of faith. But, he did know the basics about God, the story of Jesus' birth, and his death around Easter. That was all he knew. There was no bible in his house. And John would be caught dead stepping into a church. Dean closed his eyes as Castiel spoke. He asked God for the typical things that Dean assumed people prayed for; to watch over their family, to guide them through their days in his light, and to help them get closer to him. When Castiel started to praise God, Dean took at peek at his friend. He didn't expect this to be a part of the prayer. Castiel's voice sounded unenthusiastic, almost normal in his speech, and his body was relaxed. Dean thought he looked like he didn't take this completely serious. Then, it ended. Everyone said, "Amen", and Dean felt wrong for saying it out loud. He opted to keep it to himself.

When dinner was finished, the boys stole away to Castiel's bedroom. "Cas," Dean said after he sat at Castiel's desk. "I didn't know you're Christian."

"It's not something I discuss," Castiel said. He was laid out on his bed, arms and legs radiating from his body.

"How come?" Dean asked.

Castiel made an odd grunting noise. "I'll talk about it with you some other time."

"Okay," Dean said. "So, did you mean what you said?"

"When?" Castiel sat up to look at his friend.

"When you prayed," Dean said. "You asked God to," Dean rubbed the back of his neck, "to watch over me and Sammy."

"Yeah, so?"

"Did you mean it?" Dean stared right into Castiel's bright blue eyes.

Castiel didn't look away with his response. "I did."