Luke drove Dean to his house just shortly after seven in the evening. His car was nice, Dean concluded, after sitting down in the passenger seat. It was relatively clean even though it smelled like an odd mixture of cigarettes and an evergreen. Dean noted the green paper tree dangling from the rear view mirror. It shifted back and forth as Luke hit bumps in the street. His attempt at shielding the odor of his bad habit.

"You know, Dean," Luke said when they stopped at a red light. He slipped a pack of smokes out of his jacket pocket. He lit one up, blowing out a stream of gray smoke towards the opened window. The smell of tobacco was familiar to Dean. "I think Cassie really likes you."

"What do you mean?"

Dean watched as the older man took a second drag before tapping on the gas at the green light. "He's never really brought friends home," Luke said.

"Really? He's talked about Ash quite a bit."

Luke shook his head and flicked the ashes out the window. "Nope. Never met the kid."

Huh, Dean thought. That one day at lunch, in the school cafeteria, Castiel looked comfortable with his group of friends. Dean couldn't imagine that these kids had never been around Castiel's family. They were laughing like old friends who knew everything about the other. Perhaps Dean was missing something. It wasn't like he knew what it felt like to know another soul in that manner.

He guided Luke down several streets. Luke was driving a few miles per hour over the speed limit. Dean's stomach started to knot up as they approached his house. It was an ache that started in his gut and spread throughout his body. His mind started to reel. Thoughts of whether his father was home or not, the possible outcomes of either scenario, or how much trouble he could be in drifted in and out of his brain. Then he realized. Another panic attack. In a foreign car. With a guy he just met. On his way home from hanging out with a kid that he ran into last week. Wonderful.

"It's that one," Dean managed to say, pointing to the one story house on the end of the block. "The one with the black Impala."

"That's a pretty sweet car," Luke said. He pulled up behind the Chevy.

"It's my Dad's," Dean replied. He took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Thanks for driving me home."

"No problem," Luke said. "You okay?"

"Yes," Dean said. He opened the door, backpack in hand.

"You sure? You look like you just saw a ghost."

Dean took in another deep breath. "I'm fine. Thanks again." He shut the car door. Slowly Dean walked up the porch steps. He could hear his father in the living room. He shut his eyes and walked into the house. John was standing in the living room, a beer bottle clutched in his hand.

"And where the fuck were you?" John said.

"I told you I was studying after school," Dean replied shakily.

"When was that, huh?" John took a gulp of his beer.

"Just before school let out. I called you at work to tell you what I was doing."

John staggered towards his son. Dean hadn't moved from his spot on the rug that sat in front of the door. "Don't lie to me, boy."

"I'm not lying." Dean couldn't get himself to speak without sounding unsteady. His hands were starting to shake. Dean wanted to run to his room, but his father was in front of him, blocking him from moving forward. The only way out was behind him and the door seemed to be just out of reach.

"You're lying to me," John said. "You weren't at the high school. You left your brother, on his own, outside on the fucking curb. For what? Some kid from school?"

Dean suddenly felt a chill go down his spine. Sam told his father about Castiel. How? Sam promised Dean that he wouldn't say anything. Dean squinted his eyes tightly as his thoughts raced.

"Tomorrow you go straight to the middle school, and come straight home with Sammy. You hear me?" Dean nodded that he heard. "Go to your fucking room. I'm done with you," John said. He stepped away from his son, letting him into the house. He downed his beer in one last gulp. Dean walked down the hall towards his room. As he made to close his bedroom door, he heard his father's keys jingling, and the slamming of the front door.

A few minutes later Dean crawled under his sheets. There was a knock on his door. "Can we talk?" Sam said in a small voice.

"Sure. Turn on my light." He rolled over to face his brother. The light switch was turned on. Dean bolted upright when he saw his brother's face. "What happened?" Dean went to Sam and tried to grab his face to see his eye better. There was significant swelling, and a bruise was forming. An all too familiar sight.

Sam swatted his brother's hand away. "It's nothing."

"Fuck you, it's nothing," Dean said. "When did he do this?"

"When do you think?" Sam asked.

Dean quickly put two and two together. "Is that why he knew where I was?"

Sam looked at the carpet of his brother's room. He couldn't bear to look Dean in the eye. The betrayal of his older brother hurt worse than his face. "Yeah."

"Great," Dean said. He collapsed onto his bed. "Go ice it for like, half an hour or something. I'll check it out in the morning when we get to school to make sure he didn't fuck up your eye."

"Thanks, Dean." Sam quietly said.

"Just go to bed." Dean crawled back into the fetal position beneath his sheets. The door shut. Dean rubbed the tears out of his eyes. Their father never laid his hands on Sam. Never did Dean think that he would resort to it, knowing that Dean was always there to take the burden. Dean wasn't there. He left Sam alone with their dad. And Sam never had to deal with his drinking on his own like this. Dean made a promise to himself to never leave Sam. This wasn't going to happen to his baby brother again. And where was God when Castiel asked him to watch over Sammy?

...

John dropped off his sons at school the next morning. He was still drunk, reeking of whiskey and cigarette smoke. The patent odor of the local bar. Dean felt nauseous sitting next to his father. After years of being around him, Dean still wasn't used to it. The anxiety that came with not knowing how he'd be was aggravating. He'd either pass out somewhere in the living room, pick fights with Dean over trivial issues, or on some occasions, come home later the next day. It wasn't hard to imagine John sitting in a cell at the police station. Dean remembered one of the deputies had referred to John as the town drunk.

Dean stopped his brother before he could slip inside the building. "I need to see your eye."

"It's fine," Sam said. He was trying to get by without his brother doting on him.

Dean grabbed his brother's face. Sam must have had a growth spurt recently because he was clearly a good two inches taller than him. "Scoot down a bit, Godzilla." Sam groaned at the terrible nickname. He got eye level with Dean so that his older brother could get a good look at the bruise. It wasn't as bad as the last one Dean had received, thankfully. The bruising was more of a blue, and Sam's eye ball was slightly red from irritation. "You can see alright out of it?"

"Yes, mom," Sam said sarcastically.

"Shut up, bitch," Dean retorted, letting go of his brother. "Just go see the nurse before class. Make sure there isn't any damage."

"Did you see the nurse when you had you're black eye?" Sam asked without much thought.

"I didn't need to, it wasn't that bad," Dean said.

"But it was worse than mine," Sam said.

"Just go see the nurse."

"Fine," Sam said. "You're such a jerk sometimes."

"Yeah, I know. It's my duty."

Castiel couldn't find Dean. He wasn't in the library. He definitely wouldn't be in the cafeteria. And there was no way he was outside in the rain. It was one of those fall days where the rain wasn't planning on letting up, adding to the doom and gloom of the coming holiday. Halloween was next week. Castiel wanted to ask Dean to come with him to a party. He had his costume planned out, and he couldn't wait to tell Dean. But, Dean wasn't around.

The rain was a gentle drizzle when the high school let out. Castiel decided that he'd walk to the middle school to find Dean's brother, Sam. Perhaps he knew where his big brother had been all day. Castiel found who he had been searching for when he arrived by the entrance. "Dean, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, hi," Dean said upon seeing Castiel.

"I looked everywhere, where were you?" Castiel asked.

Dean was confused. "Why were you looking for me?"

"We're friends, friends find each other to talk, to hang out," Castiel started to list. Dean didn't say anything in return. "You do consider me to be your friend, right? This isn't some kind of wasted effort on my part, is it?"

Dean avoided the questions like a politician, opting to back track to the one he wanted to answer. "I didn't go the library today." Castiel glared at Dean, waiting for more information. "I went to the councilor's office."

"Why?"

"I felt like shit, and I didn't know what else to do," Dean said. His gaze stayed focused on his boots. "I missed a few classes because I ended up falling asleep in Mrs. Bradbury's office."

"She let you do that?"

"She's cool with it." Dean added, "On occasion."

The boys heard the rumble of the Impala's engine. Dean's father had showed up a half hour earlier today. John was determined to have both of his boys home this evening. "You should probably leave," Dean said when he saw his Dad parking the car.

"I don't have to," Castiel said.

"Then I should." Dean turned to start making his way to the Chevy.

Castiel grabbed his friend by the bicep and turned him around. "Can I just ask you something real quick?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"There's this Halloween party next Friday night. Can you come?"

"I dunno," Dean said.

"Well that isn't going to work," Castiel said defiantly. "Ask your Dad; beg, plead, grovel. Do whatever you have to do. You're going with me to this."

"I'll see what I can do," Dean said quietly.