warnings: mentions of past child abuse and alcoholism

I'm quiet, you know

You make a first impression

I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind

- "Collide," Howie Day

June 8th, 2005

"You're focused. Practical." Pam drags out that last syllable, drags her fingertip down Castiel's palm, smirking slightly. "Your lines are all very deep, so you're full of vitality. Very stubborn, too." She turns his hand over, gently stroking her fingers over his. "Creative. Well-mannered. A gentleman." She glances up at him from under her eyelashes, and he blushes deep scarlet, leaning away from her. On the stool behind him, Charlie snorts, and Jo giggles softly.

They're the only ones in the Roadhouse at this time of day, except for Dean over by the jukebox, and Jo's mother, doing paperwork in the back room. Pamela had already gone over Charlie's palm, but she hadn't been quite so flirtatious then. Castiel clears his throat and shrugs, which just makes her smile stretch as she flips his hand over again, eyeing it carefully.

"Ah!" She presses her thumb just under his own, bringing it closer to her face. "You're very charismatic. People fall in love with you wherever you go."

Castiel draws his hand back, running it through his hair to prevent her from trying to take it back. Jo giggles again. "I very much doubt that," Castiel says, attempting to smile. Pam just leans in closer to him, her hand on his forearm as she grins.

"I wouldn't be so sure, sugar."

"All right, all right." Dean steps up behind Pam, setting his wallet on the bartop before hopping onto a stool. "Stop scaring Cas."

"She's not scaring me!" Castiel protests, drawing himself up on his stool, only to curl back up again when Pam sends him a flirtatious wink. Even Dean laughs at him this time.

"All that palm reading crap is bullshit anyway," Dean says, rubbing at his nose and grinning when Pam glares at him.

"How would you know? You've never let me read yours. I bet I could tell you things even you don't know about yourself."

Charlie scoots her stool closer to Castiel, just so she can lean over his back and watch Dean and Pam over his shoulder. "Just let her read your palm, Dean. It's not like it hurts or anything." Dean scowls, but Charlie just hooks her chin over Castiel's shoulder and wraps her arms around his waist, snuggling in. Castiel blushes slightly, surprised at her warmth. "And Pam's right about people falling in love with Cas. He's so dreamy," Charlie giggles, toying with Castiel's hair..

Laughing, Pam slips off her stool and places her head on Castiel's shoulder, pressing into him until he's sandwiched between the two girls. He stutters, blushing hot, when Pam slips a hand into the small space between his lower back and Charlie's stomach. "Um, I, are you-"

"I can't even look at him for long periods of time," Pam says, ignoring his attempt to speak. "I'd probably go blind if I did."

Castiel looks pleadingly at Dean, but Dean's lips are pinched in a frown, his jaw tight. "Hey!" Dean snaps, slamming a hand on the bar. "Are you gonna read my palm or not?"

To Castiel's relief, Pam pulls away, putting her hand on her hip as she glares back at Dean. "Are you actually going to let me?"

"What's the harm?" Dean still sounds defensive, irritated, as he steals Pam's stool and holds out his hand for her to take. Castiel attempts to ignore Charlie, who has yet to unwrap herself from around his body, and studies Dean, his flared nostrils and twitching jaw and tight shoulders. Could he be jealous? It's true that Dean is good-looking, from an objective point of view. He's definitely the most attractive boy in town, at least that Castiel has seen. 'Pretty,' might be the right word, with his long lashes and full lips, just like his mother. Castiel had been joking when he talked about stealing Dean's girls, but maybe it wasn't so funny if it was actually true. Of course Dean would be jealous: he's the king tomcat for an entire year, and Castiel waltzes in and steals his girls away? Castiel would be annoyed too, were he in Dean's shoes.

Pam takes her time studying Dean's hand, making him fidget uncomfortably, especially as her finger pokes and prods at his palm, as she brings his hand right up under her nose, then pulls it back again to study it from afar. In the silence, Jo slides off her stool and heads for the jukebox, which makes Dean twitch and call after her, "Don't you play any fucking REO Speedwagon, Joanna Beth!"

Jo sticks her tongue out at him, but they all jump when a sharp voice comes from the back: "That better not be Dean Winchester swearing in my bar!"

Dean winces before yelling back, "Sorry, Ellen!"

Jo puts on REO Speedwagon anyway, then pulls her stool up next to Dean just to smirk at him while Pamela still has his hand trapped.

Finally, Pam looks up at Dean. "There's artistry all over you," she says slowly, sounding a little surprised. Charlie untangles herself from Castiel and instead pulls up next to him, watching Pam curiously. "Hard-headed, argumentative, but loyal." Pam bends Dean's thumb back and shakes her head, smiling affectionately. "Very generous. Logical." Still smiling, Pam runs her finger over the center of Dean's palm. "And this is interesting."

She pauses for dramatic effect, until Dean fidgets again and prompts, "What?"

"I thought palm reading was just bullshit?" Pam teases.

"It is," Dean says with a frown, "but tell me anyway."

Pam clears her throat, glancing at her audience and drawing them in; Castiel thinks she could make good money off this someday, whether it's real or not. "Dean, you will only ever fall in love once in your life."

Castiel glances at Charlie, who shrugs. Dean, however, looks put out. "That's it? So what?"

Pam rolls her eyes. "Look, just trust me, okay? You're gonna fall in love, and it's gonna be for life, and I see that as clearly as I see how artistic you are."

Dean jerks his palm back, still irritated. "You knew the art thing already."

"Not really," Jo says. "We see you doodle a lot, but I've never actually seen any sort of finished product."

And that's a surprise to Castiel; he'd known that Dean was protective of his drawings, but the immediate assumption was that it was because Castiel was new and unknown. He'd had no idea that his snooping through Dean's notebook was such a breach of trust, though it doesn't seem to have damaged their friendship any. In fact, Dean keeps glancing at Castiel, as if waiting for him to say something, but Castiel doesn't know what he's supposed to say, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Dean shakes his head quickly, and studies his open palm. "I'll only fall in love once, huh?"

"Yup." Pam leans over and points at something Castiel can't see. "It's deep and long and starts here and blah blah shit you don't care about, but it means you're gonna be a monogamous son of a bitch someday, and you'll be ecstatic about it."

"Will I?" Dean smirks, but his tone of voice is peculiar. "It's one thing for me to fall in love once. It's a whole other thing whether or not the girl I love loves me back." Pam sits up straight, lips pursed in surprise. "Can you see that? Will she love me too?"

There's a tension in the room, heavy and uncertain, and no one seems to know what to say. Charlie slumps, burdened under the weight of it, and Pam stammers slightly, trying to cover all her bases. "I… well, I can't really tell that part, just… I'm pretty sure you'll be happy, but I'd have to see her palm first? I can't know unless I know her."

Dean closes his eyes, still smirking, but there's a sadness there, resigned, and Castiel can't help himself. "Who wouldn't love you, Dean?"

Dean opens his eyes. Everyone turns to stare at Castiel, but of course they do, because they weren't there that first morning when Castiel told Dean how grateful he was. It's a strange, heavy moment, with everyone waiting to see how Dean reacts, as Dean decides how he's going to react. Castiel has figured out by now, these kids, the Goonies, they show their affection through touch and through teasing, and Castiel's honesty is peculiar and not entirely welcome. Especially with Dean.

Finally, Dean snorts, rubbing a hand over his face. "You just get right to the heart of it, don't you, Cas?" He starts to laugh, and so do the others, and though the tension is starting to drain out of the room, Castiel feels a little hurt that Dean would laugh at his attempt at comfort. Then he meets Dean's eyes, which hold nothing but gratitude, and Castiel starts to smile as well.

To lighten things up, Charlie prompts Dean into a conversation about the new Batman movie, which leads to a discussion about who was the best Batman. Jo's mother takes a break from book-balancing to make everyone milkshakes, and Castiel likes her immediately, even though she's gruff and abrasive in a way he's never seen from a woman before. Or, perhaps, that's exactly why he likes her. Sam arrives an hour later, accompanied by an equally gruff man who Dean explains is his uncle Bobby, Ellen's husband and Jo's step-father. Regular customers are starting to come in too, and they want something stronger than milkshakes, so Bobby shoos the kids off to a corner booth. When Mary comes in for her shift, she stops by the table with burgers for everyone, and even takes a few moments to sit with her boys and try to keep up as they tell her what they've been up to today.

It's warm and pleasant, and there's good food and good people, and Dean keeps looking over at Castiel with this odd, crooked little smile, and Castiel smiles back, because he's never been as happy as he is right this moment.

June 12th, 2005

It's raining.

That's not unusual for the northwestern coast, but the storm is particularly bad today, and Castiel had had to do a lot of wheedling and lying to get Gabriel to take him out, and Michael to let them go. But while most days are spent out at the beach, or the park, playing games in the sun with the girls, this morning Dean had mentioned working on some sketches, and Castiel has been dying to finally see some of Dean's completed work.

So Dean has finally taken Castiel down to his bedroom in the basement. And it's perfect.

There's posters everywhere, mostly hard rock bands with names that Castiel only recognizes because Dean and Jo like to fight about them. A few movie posters as well, and Castiel stops by the overloaded bookshelf when he realizes that black and white Batman mini-poster is hand-drawn. "Did you draw this?"

Dean follows Castiel's gaze, then gives up a little half-smile. "Just a quick doodle."

"Don't do that." Castiel frowns, shoving Dean's shoulder, which only makes Dean laugh.

"You sound like Charlie and Jo. Are you spending time with them without me?"

"I'm dating both of them at the same time. They're okay with it."

Dean laughs again, harder, and flops down on his unmade bed. Castiel takes another look around, drinking in the absolute Dean-ness of this little underground room, then takes a seat on the floor next to the record player. "Do you actually listen to these records?" he asks, brushing his fingertips over the albums in the milk crates in front of him.

"Of course," Dean scoffs, kicking his shoes into the corner. "It's the only way to listen to music."

Castiel shakes his head, smiling to himself. "Are you fifty? You do realize you can get music for free online."

"Shitty music, and shitty quality," Dean points out, and sits up, grinning. "Do you want to play one? I'll make you a vinyl supremacist too."

"You can't just mold me in your image, Dean." Castiel pulls out record out of its sleeve anyway, placing it on the turntable and setting the needle. As the Beach Boys start to sing about girls across the country, Cas leans back on his arms and makes a face at Dean. "I'm my own person with my own tastes."

Dean rolls his eyes and shrugs, sliding off the bed to sit next to Castiel on the floor. "You have good taste in literature, I'll give you that. We'll work on the rest."

"At least my books are good enough for the illustrious Dean Winchester." It's Castiel's turn to roll his eyes, though he focuses on flipping through Dean's record collection. Metallica, AC/DC, Creedence Clearwater Revival. "I don't know much about vinyl, but aren't these pretty hard to come by?" He pulls out a copy of Brothers and Sisters by The Allman Brothers, only for Dean to slip it out of his hands, and gently stroke the cover.

"It's my dad's collection. He gave them to me when I turned thirteen." Dean carefully puts the record back into place, and runs his palm over the small but admirable selection. "He misses my birthday sometimes, but he always tries to make up for it." And Dean must miss the horrified look on Castiel's face, because he smiles dreamily and rests his chin in his hands. "He said he'd give me his car for my eighteenth birthday. I could go without for a few years as long as he remembers that promise."

"Wait." Castiel puts a hand on Dean's shoulder (touch, always touch), and furrows his brow when Dean turns to look at him. "Your father forgets your birthday?" Castiel's own parents may be distant, but he can always anticipate a nice card and either a new book or some extra spending money when September 18th rolls around.

But Dean bristles. "He misses Sam's sometimes too," he says, and seems to realize too late that it's not a very good defense. "Look, he's got a lot going on. Life's been hard on him."

"So it's okay to forget his kids' birthdays?" Castiel is starting to get an idea of why Mary might have left her husband, but Dean just fidgets, pointedly keeping his eyes away from Castiel. He reaches under his bed and pulls out a large sketchbook, fingers tapping on the cover before he opens it. There's a long, drawn out silence, where Castiel watches Dean focus in on his sketchbook, his pencil creating a soothing rhythm as it moves across the page. The only sign that time has passed is the new song softly playing from Dean's speakers. Castiel lays down on his back, resting his hands on his stomach and watching Dean until Dean starts to fidget again.

"What, did you forget how to talk?" Dean finally snaps, burying his head deeper in his sketchbook.

"You're the one who shut down in the middle of the conversation," Castiel responds, much less accusatory.

"You're the one digging into my personal business," Dean mutters, but there's less venom in it. He sketches in silence for another moment, then groans in frustration, dropping the book to his knees. "Can we at least make it an even exchange here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if I'm going to have to talk about shit I don't want to talk about, you're going to have to talk about shit you don't want to talk about. Fair's fair, Cas."

Castiel stares up at the ceiling, the only empty space in Dean's room, except for the ceiling fan. Dean raises a good point; he's been pushing him to share information since they met, and Dean usually, eventually, crumbles. But while Castiel feels he has proven himself a good listener to someone who desperately needs an ear, he hasn't done much sharing of his own. Though, again, this is the only time Dean has asked. "What do you want to know?"

Dean scoots around so he can look at Castiel as he thinks, though his attention returns to his sketchbook when he says, "Tell me about your family."

"What?" Castiel raises up onto his elbows, but Dean still doesn't look at him. "What about my family?"

Dean shrugs and brings his pencil to his lips, tapping it a few times before chewing on the eraser. "Just. Tell me about your siblings. Why's Michael such a dick? Why does Gabriel take you out here? What about the other two?" He looks up and grins briefly, the pencil between his teeth. Castiel supposes it might be charming, if he were a girl. "Or your parents. What do your parents do that brings in so much money?" Castiel hums softly, sitting up to try and peek at what Dean's working on. Dean pulls back and grins again. "Can't see until you talk."

With a huff, Castiel leans on his hands again. "Okay, okay. Have you ever heard of Zachariah Adler?"

Dean's brow furrows in thought. "Is that the bald guy that comes on TV late at night to talk about Jesus?"

Castiel can't help a little laugh. "Yeah, some of his old shows get recycled on certain channels. He's my uncle." Dean's immediate disgusted reaction produces another laugh out of Castiel. "So my mother's family has had money from his work for ages. Mother is Uncle Zach's manager, and she's trying to teach Michael how to take over for her so she can retire before Anna graduates college."

Dean is leaning in now, genuinely curious. "And your dad?"

"He's a writer."

"Have I heard of him?"

Castiel thinks of that messy sketch of Kyriel and smiles. "Probably. He writes under a pen name though, and I'm not going to tell you what it is." Dean's pout is very convincing, but Castiel shakes his head, refusing to be swayed. "No. We Miltons like our privacy, or else Mother would still be working under her maiden name."

Dean sighs dramatically and hands his sketchbook to Castiel, who eagerly flips through it. These drawings are far better than the ones in the wired notebook; they're cleaned up and colored, and though Dean obviously leans towards a style that could fit right in with the comic book greats, it's clear his hand is developing ideas of its own. Castiel recognizes a few of the people in the drawings, a broad-shouldered Captain America, a Joker with a jagged grin, but there's a lot of experimentation within the pages as well. "Are you taking an art class?" Castiel asks softly, pausing on a drawing of a slice of pie, a pop of red cherries the only color.

"Why? Should I?" And Castiel finally looks up at the slight tremble in Dean's voice. Dean gives up a brief, counterfeit smile, and runs a hand over his face. "That bad?"

Castiel frowns, dropping the sketchbook to his lap. "No," he says slowly, tilting his head. "Just the opposite, actually." When Dean still looks confused, Castiel gestures to the book. "These are really good, Dean. Especially if you've never had any training."

"Oh." Dean's shoulders drop, losing their tension, and again, that shy smile appears on his face. "You really think so?"

"Of course. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." Their eyes meet, and silence falls as they look at each other curiously, sussing one another out. Castiel can't believe that Dean could possibly be so insecure about his talent, that he's never shown his drawings to anyone outside his family before. Dean seems to be hesitant to believe Castiel's praise, but is slowly warming to the idea, if the growing smile on his face is any indication.

After a long moment, Dean reaches over and slowly takes his sketchbook out of Castiel's lap. "My dad drinks," he says, and Castiel's eyebrows rise up.

"What?"

"You asked about my dad. He drinks." Dean swallows, his eyes momentarily darting away from Castiel before he clears his throat and forces them back. "That's why he forgets our birthdays sometimes. And kinda why Mom left him."

Castiel sits up straight, his head tilted. Dean laughs awkwardly and imitates his stance, maybe trying to distract himself from this story he obviously doesn't tell often. "He and Uncle Bobby had their own garage together back in Lawrence, occasionally fixing up and selling old classics when they had the opportunity. But it went under around the time Sam was born. Bobby moved out here, met Ellen, married her and started up another garage in town, so people wouldn't have to go to Seaside anymore. Dad…" Dean pauses, his jaw twitching, and has to take a deep breath before continuing: "Dad didn't handle it so well. He started drinking, and it got pretty bad." He rubs the ball of his hand against his temple, an almost unconscious gesture that makes Castiel wonder just what 'pretty bad' means. "So Mom left him. I grew up in Topeka, but then shit happened and Mom decided to bring us out here instead."

"'Shit happened?'" Castiel frowns, ready to ask what that means, but when Dean's eyes narrow, the words die in his throat. It means that Dean has shared enough for today. "Okay, okay. Fine."

With the lull in conversation, they both finally realize that the record has reached its end. Dean stretches to reach, to flip it, to drop the needle again. The new song is fast-paced, but neither boy is driven to move, both waiting for something to break.

That something is Castiel.

"My brothers fight."

Dean glances at him, an eyebrow cocked. Castiel takes a breath. "Michael and Lucifer. They fight all the time. That night we met? It got pretty bad, and Gabe and I were just trying to get away from it for a while."

"'Pretty bad?'" Dean repeats, but he relents when Castiel glares at him. "Okay. Is it just those two?"

"Usually. Gabe likes to play pranks and pick fights sometimes, but he stays out of Michael's way, and he doesn't mean any harm."

Dean takes a moment to digest this, tapping his pencil against the sketchpad. Castiel just stares at his lap. Echoing guitars and a soothing croon are the only other sounds in the room until Dean starts tapping his pencil against Castiel's knee, laughing when Castiel jerks away in surprise.

"D'you wanna go watch Fight Club?" Dean asks, and there's a spark in his eyes that wasn't there a few minutes ago. Sharing time is over. Castiel can't help feeling a little relieved. "Have you seen it?"

"I read the book," Castiel answers, which earns him an approving clap on the shoulder before Dean scrambles to turn off the music and stand up.

"Told you you had good taste." Dean is practically beaming, though Castiel wonders if it isn't a little forced. "You'll like the movie, come on."

And just like that, it's as if they weren't just trading their family secrets back and forth, as if the shared moments of pain had never happened. They're stomping up the stairs to take the television away from Sam and watch yet another movie, just like they have on afternoons prior. But something's changed in the way Dean looks at Castiel now, and Castiel is fairly certain that it's a good thing, that it's reflective of their shared knowledge, and shared trust. If he could just figure out what, exactly, has changed.

June 17th, 2005

"What are you doing up?"

Castiel wheels around, eyes searching the darkness until they settle on a figure leaning against the upstairs railing. It's Lucifer; Castiel can see the light-colored bed-head once his eyes adjust.. "Couldn't sleep," Castiel offers, and it's only half a lie. He probably would've been able to sleep if Dean hadn't texted him about the Star Trek marathon on the SciFi channel, insisting he stay up and text Dean about it. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

Lucifer waves away his concern, and stumbles down the stairs to flop on the couch next to his brother. He stares blankly at the television for a moment, which Castiel takes as an opportunity to text Dean.

To: Dean

1:41am

Kirk reminds me of you. Pls take as compliment.

"I didn't know you liked this kind of thing," Lucifer mumbles, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hand.

"I've been hearing about it for most of my life, and thought I might try it since it's on." Castiel shrugs, and his phone vibrates on the sofa's arm. He flips it open, ignoring Lucifer's raised eyebrow.

From: Dean
1:43am

if im kirk thn ur spock

From: Dean

1:43am

charlies bn callin u spock neway

Castiel laughs softly, covering his mouth with his hand. Lucifer tilts his head, smiling in that odd, patronizing way of his. "Pretty girl?"

"What?" Castiel is only partially paying attention, focusing instead on the television, and trying to figure out how to respond to Dean's text.

"You met a pretty girl," Lucifer says again, slower this time, as he leans back into the couch. "Explains where you've been going all the time. Is it that Talbot girl?"

"What?" Now Castiel looks at his brother. Lucifer just looks back at him, with that knowing gaze as if he can see all of Castiel's deepest secrets, and Castiel feels a spike of irritation. "No! It's my friend Dean."

"A pretty boy, then." And now Lucifer is teasing. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"Go back to bed," Castiel says stiffly, tucking himself into the corner of the couch so he can text Dean back.

To: Dean

1:48am

My brother's up, txt later

"If you like boys, you know we'll all still love you," Lucifer says in a sing-song voice, earning a kick in the thigh. "Ow! C'mon, Cas, you're texting him in the middle of the night, what am I supposed to think?"

"That he's my friend and that's what friends do?" Castiel answers, frowning. Lucifer frowns back, and they stare each other down until Castiel's phone vibrates again, and he hurries to open the newest text.

From: Dean

1:50am

which 1? r u ok?

And Castiel smiles, all his tension rushing out of him at the thought of Dean's immediate concern. If this is what it's like to trust someone, and to have that someone actually be deserving of that trust, then Castiel's not sure there could be a better feeling in the world.

"Look at that smile," Lucifer says, poking Castiel's shoulder and chuckling to himself. "Where did you meet the lucky guy?"

Castiel rolls his eyes, curling up around his phone. "You're not funny."

"Castiel, I'm serious."

"No you're not, you're being a dick." Lucifer blinks in surprise, and Castiel can't blame him; it's not like him to call people out, nor to call them names.

"I meant, it's good to see you making friends. We worry about you." And there's that patronizing smile again, that sad little thing that makes Castiel feel like he's a five year-old who just said something overly innocent and can't understand why everyone's laughing at him. He rolls his eyes again and turns back to his phone.

To: Dean

1:55am

Its Luke. Im fine dw brb

"Why would you worry about me?" Castiel says with a sigh, leaning over his knees. Though there's still an aura of pity around it, Lucifer looks almost affectionate for once. He shrugs, however, keeping it casual.

"You've always been kind of a loner, is all. Even when I got you on the track team-"

"You pointed me in that direction," Castiel corrects him, annoyed. "I got myself on the track team."

"Of course," Lucifer concedes, but the look on his face is coddling and condescending. "But even then, you liked those guys, right? And they liked you. But you never spent any time with any of them." Lucifer sighs, as if it's legitimately heartbreaking to think of his baby brother all alone in the world. "We just don't want to see you lonely."

And Castiel has to think about it for a moment. He had never considered himself to be lonely at school - he just had a hard time relating to the other kids, and found it easier to entertain himself with books and studying. He had gotten along fairly well with a couple of boys on the track team this year, but when Balthazar and Uriel wanted to go out and party after a victory, or even just invited him over to watch a movie on a Friday night, Castiel had found his old habits hard to break. He's honestly not sure why they're now so easy to break for Dean, however. Perhaps he just finds Dean more interesting, more novel- but that's not right either. Dean isn't a toy to play with, or a specimen to study. Castiel genuinely likes him, and he's again flooded with warmth with his phone buzzes.

From: Dean

2:01am

if ne1 hurts u i'll kill em

It's an empty threat, an exaggeration, but Castiel can read the meaning behind the words, can see Dean's protectiveness and loyalty all over them, and it makes him happy to know that he has someone like that on his side.

"I met Dean in town," he says suddenly, smiling at the confusion on his brother's face. "His mother is a waitress, and his brother plays league soccer, and his best friends are all a bunch of geeks and nerds, and they like me, and I like them."

And Lucifer's expression changes from confused to disgusted. "You've been spending all day with a bunch of townie hooligans?" he says in a low voice, eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

"Why not?"

"What do they have to offer you?"

Castiel laughs, surprising himself. "If you have to ask that question, then you're not going to understand my answer." Lucifer simply rolls his eyes, turning back to the television.

"Mother would be furious if she found out," Lucifer mumbles after a moment.

"I'd think you, of all people, would understand that Mother and Michael shouldn't control every aspect of my life," Castiel whispers back, earning a shocked look in his direction. Apparently, no one expected baby Castiel to start rebelling, even in these soft and subtle ways. Choosing his own friends should be a given, not a secret, and it troubles Castiel that Lucifer seems to have difficulty understanding this.

Lucifer, still looking like someone just informed him the sky is actually red, finally stands up and half-heartedly ruffles Castiel's hair as he passes him on his way to the stairs. "Don't stay up too late," he warns as he heads back up to bed. Castiel just smiles, pleased with himself, and pulls his phone back out.

To: Dean

2:10am

I can take care of myself

It's only a few seconds before his phone goes off again.

From: Dean

2:10am

i know. kirk's still got spock's back tho.

And Castiel can only smile.

June 18th, 2005

Lucifer tells Michael about what Castiel does during the day, and Michael subsequently puts his foot down. The fight that ensues is not something Castiel thought himself capable of, and judging by the way his siblings stare at him open-mouthed, they didn't think so either.

But still, Michael is Michael; he is both Mother and Father in their absence, and Castiel finally yields under a threat to inform their mother. He agrees to stop seeing his friends in town, but as soon as he's locked in his room, he's texting Dean, informing him of everything that just happened. Because Dean understands. And Dean's just as furious as Castiel, as they text until morning, discussing ways to make it easier for Castiel to sneak away.

And it's like a weight is lifted, knowing that Dean actually does have his back. They'll make it work, no matter what it takes.

June 24th, 2005

Lucifer and Michael are fighting again. This time, Gabriel is in the middle, trying to calm them down and hold their family together. Anna's music is loud and angry, but not quite as loud and angry as their brothers. Castiel is in his room, curled up on his bed, feeling tired and bitter. It's been harder than he expected to get away from his family, now that Lucifer is apt to be suspicious every time Castiel leaves the house, even if he's with Gabriel or Anna. A part of him is genuinely disgusted; he's expected to sit here and listen to his brothers tear each other apart, but how dare he even consider seeking solace with someone who isn't of their station. Is Castiel truly committing the greater sin?

Hardly.

Castiel sits up and reaches for his phone, dialing Dean's number. Dean answers on the second ring.

"Cas! I was just gonna text you-"

"Can I come over?"

"Sure!" It's past nine, but Dean doesn't even hesitate. "You can get away?"

"My brothers are currently more concerned with each other," Castiel says in a low voice. "They won't notice I'm gone."

"Awesome! We're headed out to the beach in a minute, you want to meet us there?"

"Yes," and Castiel hates how much it sounds like pleading. "Where at?"

"Text me when you're close and I'll meet you by the flagpole, across from the cafe, okay?"

"Okay." Castiel reaches for his trainers and starts to pull them on, using his shoulder to keep his phone at his ear. "I'll see you soon."

"Good luck, Spock!" Dean says cheerfully, and Castiel can hear laughter before the line cuts off. He's smiling to himself, unconsciously, as he tightens his laces, changes into a lighter shirt, and slips out of his room. With Gabe occupied, he'll have to run out to town, but that's not a problem; he runs through town every morning for practice, and before Lucifer ratted him out, he would typically run out to see his friends later in the day. His time is already much improved, and it hasn't even been a month.

He pauses at the front door, glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen entryway. Lucifer is yelling about wanting to live his own life, threatening to move to a commune in San Francisco, and Castiel rolls his eyes as he reaches for the doorknob. So Lucifer is allowed to dream about a boho life surrounded by artists, but Castiel has to stay in line and do as Mother says? What a hypocrite.

"Hey!" And Castiel freezes, halfway out the door. Michael's voice continues, "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Castiel peeks out around the door and says nothing. His brothers are all staring at him from the kitchen entryway, though Gabriel is the only one who doesn't look angry. Tired, maybe, or confused, but not angry.

"Go back to bed, Castiel," Michael says, his voice low and smooth. Castiel's eye twitches, and for all of two seconds he considers doing as Michael asks, going back inside and apologizing and going to bed. But then he thinks of how happy Dean had been to hear from him, and with a strange jolt of courage, Castiel raises his middle finger at his brothers. When they're all too stunned to respond, he takes off into the night.

He's halfway to town when he realizes he's laughing, infinitely pleased with himself. He'll pay for his insubordination the next time he sees Michael, but for now, he's free. And the people who truly care about him are waiting, just a few more minutes away.

And yet.

When he reaches the beach, when he finds the flagpole and Dean is there, Dean is smiling at Castiel until he's not. The smile falls away, and a hand reaches for Castiel's shoulder and Dean's voice sounds very, very small when he asks, "Are you all right?"

Castiel leans over, hands on his knees, and tries to catch his breath. This isn't exhaustion, it's something else, something more terrifying, and Dean's hand remains a warm anchor on his shoulder until Castiel can speak again. "Michael caught me leaving."

Dean's mouth becomes a tight line, holding back whatever it is he really wants to say. "And?"

Castiel's heart is pounding, his throat constricting as he struggles not to think about what will be waiting for him when he gets home in the morning. "I flipped him off."

Dean's eyelids flutter, his lips parting in surprise, before he lets out a joyful noise and claps Castiel on the back. "Holy shit, Cas! Good for you!"

Dean's enthusiasm makes Castiel smile, brings back that feeling of warmth and acceptance, and suddenly he's laughing again, and Dean is laughing with him, and they throw their arms around each other's shoulders before they stumble off into the sand to enjoy their freedom.

One moment, Castiel is laying on his back, poking Dean's shoulder and kicking Charlie's shin as they try to find constellations in the clear night sky. The next, someone is shouting overhead:

"C'mon, kids, party's over!"

Castiel blinks his eyes open to find himself in a pile of sleepy, whining teenagers. Charlie is spooned up behind him, with Jo on top of her, and Castiel's head had at some point made its way to Dean's chest, Pam's hair tickling his nose from where she's still waking up on Dean's stomach. A whistle blows, making Dean jump, forcing Castiel to sit up and shake Charlie and Jo off as he turns to find the source of the noise. An older woman in a police jacket is smiling down at them, tucking the whistle back into her chest pocket.

"Sun's up, tourists are out, time to go home!" she says cheerfully. Jo groans, flipping onto her back in the sand.

"Man, Jody, it's too early for this!" Still, Jo squeals and hurries to stand when Jody pulls the whistle back out. "Come on!"

"Hey, hey, it's Sheriff Mills when I'm on duty. C'mon, I let you guys hang out after curfew, the least you could do is try not to leave the tourists wondering if we host teenage orgies after dark." Jody gestures at the rest of the kids, still untangling themselves. Castiel helps Dean up, then they both help Pam, while Charlie remains stubbornly seated in the sand. "At least you're all clothed. You weren't drinking were you?" She eyes Dean suspiciously, and he huffs in irritation before kneeling to help Pam start folding up the blankets. Jo goes to help them, Charlie watching unhelpfully, so Castiel steps in, clearing his throat.

"We wouldn't drink, I promise." Jody raises an eyebrow at him, tilting her head.

"You're new. What's your name?"

"Castiel."

She studies him for a moment longer, then nods slowly. "You've picked a good crew, Castiel. Most of them, anyway." Off to the side, Dean makes another annoyed noise, and Jo whispers at him, nudging his ankle with her foot. "Are you visiting, or a permanent addition?"

"Visiting," Castiel answers, as Jo forces Charlie to help her take the blankets back to their bikes. Dean reappears at Castiel's side, leaning against his shoulder.

"He's staying at the resort," Dean provides helpfully, grinning his toothiest, most charming grin. "Such a good apple." When Jody just raises an eyebrow, Dean leans over and presses a wet kiss to Castiel's cheek. Castiel ducks away with a disgusted noise, wiping at his cheek as Dean laughs. "He's my new bestest friend."

"Lose the sass, Winchester," Jody says, rolling her eyes. Dean's still grinning, even as Castiel makes a face at him. "Your cheek is not appreciated this time of day."

"That's for damn sure," Castiel mutters, rubbing at his face one more time before he reaches for his phone to check the time. It's just past ten, and he runs a hand through his hair as he thinks back on what happened last night. "Michael's going to kill me."

To his surprise, Dean's hand grips his shoulder, and all the humor has gone from Dean's eyes as he looks at Castiel. "Do you want to spend the day at my place?" Dean asks quietly. His concern seems a little bit of an overreaction, and Castiel sighs.

"No, it's all right, I should just go back and face the music."

"I'll go with you."

"That's not necessary-"

"Just in case things get out of hand." A muscle in Dean's face twitches as he stubbornly tightens his jaw. Castiel mirrors the action, and fidgets away from Dean's grip.

"We talked about this, Dean. I don't need to be protected."

"But what if-"

"Michael wouldn't hurt me." The thought alone is almost insulting; sure, his oldest brother likes to yell, likes to guilt, and maybe occasionally throws things, but no physical fighting has ever occurred.

But Dean's eyes narrow as he grabs Castiel's arm and drags him further down the beach, away from prying ears. Jody is still watching them curiously, but she allows them their privacy and heads up to the boardwalk to talk to the girls.

Water is touching their feet before Dean lets go of Castiel's arm, and crosses his own over his chest. "It starts like that," he says, the words coming almost like short bursts, like he's struggling to force them over his lips. "That certainty that someone couldn't possibly hurt you because they love you. But you're wrong. You never know what people are capable of."

"Is this some kind of after school special?" Castiel responds snippily, though he regrets it the instant Dean's face falls. "I'm sorry. I didn't… please, continue."

Dean huffs, looking out over the ocean. Waves crash noisily in the distance, white foam rushing towards their ankles. "When my dad's business went under and he started drinking, he and my mom fought all the time. Yelling, broken dishes, dad storming out and not coming back until after I'd gone to bed. I was really little, but I still remember all of it." Dean exhales slowly, watching the clouds coming in from the horizon, dark and heavy with rain. For the first time, Castiel realizes why Dean has been so understanding about his situation: Dean truly knows what it's like to live with the kind of negative energy and constant tension Castiel has to go through. He understands the idea of a family that's not quite broken, but maybe it should be, and Castiel feels all his stress suddenly draining from his body. The thought that Mary left her husband, that Dean's family did end up broken in the end, scares Castiel a little, but at the same time, Sam and Dean are wonderful, talented kids, and Mary is there for them as much as she can be. So maybe it's not so bad after all.

Dean clears his throat and turns his eyes to the wet sand at his feet. "I tried to help Mom. Told her I loved her as often as possible, spent all my time with her instead of making friends, but y'know, I was only six. What does a six year-old know?" Dean rolls his shoulders and rubs at his chin, still refusing to look at Castiel. "I was still up one night when Dad got home, and he and Mom started fighting, and he grabbed her and pushed her, so y'know, I tried to protect her and I just… got in the way, I guess."

Dean is silent for a long time, and Castiel gently brushes his fingertips over Dean's wrist. "Got in the way?" Castiel prompts carefully. Dean tenses, but doesn't pull away from Castiel's soft grip.

"I got hit. More of a slap, really, but I was little and Dad wasn't really in control, so it bruised pretty bad. And that was it for Mom. She packed up and took me and Sam to her parents' place in Topeka the next morning." Dean rubs at his face again before finally lifting his head to look at Cas, chuckling slightly. And Castiel can see the shine in his green eyes, the tears he was trying to hide as he spoke, and for one rushing second, Castiel realizes how rare this is, how absolutely atypical it is for Dean to talk about this part of his life, let alone with someone he's only known a few weeks.

Castiel starts to say something, but Dean's not done yet. "Dad has always felt bad about it, he apologizes whenever I see him, and it's not like he meant to do it, he wasn't in his right mind…" Dean pauses and bites his lower lip for a moment. "But still. Just because your brother hasn't hurt you yet doesn't mean he never will."

Dean's protectiveness makes sense now. The wild impulse to hug him takes over, but before Castiel can give in, Jody has come to join them, and Dean finally pulls away from Castiel's grip. "Problem, boys?"

"No," Castiel says, at the same time Dean says, "Cas's brother is a dick and I don't trust him."

Jody glances at Castiel. "Is there a reason Dean doesn't trust him?"

"He yells a lot, but it's not a-"

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Cas," Dean interrupts, and he looks genuinely troubled. Jody watches them curiously, again, and clears her throat.

"I could take him back, Dean, if it'll make you feel better."

Dean seems surprised and pleased by the gesture, but Castiel groans, running his hands through his hair. "Coming home in a cop car will honestly just make it worse," he says, trying to ignore the hurt look on Dean's face. "It's late enough in the day that people will see, and if it gets back to my parents? Forget grounded, I'm chained up in my room at best."

Jody cocks an eyebrow. "All the more reason for me to check it out," she says with a sense of finality, putting a hand on Castiel's shoulder to lead him back to the boardwalk. Dean follows, lips twitching as if he's fighting the urge to smile. Castiel punches him in the arm, which only serves to make Dean's laugh bubble up to the surface.

"He's staying in one of the bungalows down at the resort," Dean offers once they've reached the concrete, as Castiel is staring down Jody's brown and white vehicle. He pointedly refuses to look at either of his companions, especially as they start whispering to each other. They don't understand. Appearance is everything, and it's one thing for Castiel to show up back at the resort sweaty and covered in sand. It's another thing entirely for him to be escorted home by the townie sheriff. Gossip spreads fast, and it won't matter what the truth is: exiting a police car is exiting a police car, and wagging tongues won't care if he exits from the front seat or the back as long as they have a story to tell.

He's considering taking off at a run, but he's not sure if Jody would chase him down or not, since it really kind of is her job to ensure that people in her jurisdiction are safe, and Dean has given her a reason to believe Castiel may not be. Too late, however; Dean is straddling his bike, leaning over the handlebars with a smug smile on his face as Jody gently ushers Cas towards the car.

"I'll see you around, Cas," Dean says cheerfully, gliding up to the open window as Castiel closes the car door.

"Probably not," Castiel answers. Dean's face falls suddenly, his green eyes full of hurt, but before Castiel can try to figure out what just happened, if he should apologize, Jody is pulling out into the street and turning the car around, heading north.

"Dean didn't tell me anything," Jody says once they're on the interstate.

"How do you know he had anything to tell, then?" Castiel mutters, earning a glare in his direction.

"He was just grateful I offered to keep an eye on you. He's a good kid. Well," she sighs, "when he's with other good kids, anyway."

Castiel rolls his eyes, ignoring the other implications. "Still doesn't answer my question."

"Look, a kid talks about facing his brother instead of his parents, his friend seems genuinely concerned for his well-being, I start getting a little concerned too. I'm not arresting anyone or searching your house without a warrant. It's just a ride home."

Castiel slides down in his seat as she pulls into the resort, parking along the curb. "Just a ride home?" he says, frowning, as she undoes her seatbelt and slides out of the car. She doesn't respond, waiting patiently as Castiel attempts to temper his panic and get out of the car. He slams the door and goes to join Jody on the sidewalk, keeping his eyes on the ground. The valets and bellhops are right there at the front door, and it's late enough in the day for people to be milling about. Watching. As the youngest Milton boy hops out of a cop car and is escorted to his front door by a woman with 'sheriff' written across her back.

God, Castiel is going to die.

But the more he protests, the more stubborn Jody gets. He says she has no reason to follow him, she says Dean isn't the type to be over-dramatic. Castiel counters that the word of a boy who's only met Michael once doesn't deserve this kind of attention. Jody tells him that technically, she should've escorted every single one of them home after catching them out after the ten o'clock curfew, and Castiel doesn't want to keep her from turning a blind eye for the rest of his friends, does he?

It's a cold move, but Castiel can't argue with that one. He keeps his silence until they reach the front door of the bungalow. Jody puts her hands in her pockets and watches him expectantly, until he works up the nerve to knock on the door. It opens instantly, before he's even withdrawn his hand, as if someone had been waiting for him.

Someone has. Castiel's hand drops as his back straightens and his skin goes cold.

"Mother," he whispers. "I-... hello."

Naomi Milton cuts a formidable figure, in her gray pantsuit and heels, her auburn hair drawn up in a bun behind her head. Every detail is perfect, down to the pleats and pearls, and her smile is calm, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Castiel," she says smoothly, "I knew you'd find your way home eventually."

"Of course, Mother," Castiel rushes to say, "I would never-"

"You had your brothers worried sick." It's only now that she seems to notice Jody, which is perhaps what helps Castiel to realize that Jody has placed a hand on his back. It's comforting, supportive, and tension starts to slowly eke out of his muscles like the morning fog. "And you are?"

"Sheriff Mills, ma'am," Jody says, her voice stiff and professional. Naomi raises an eyebrow and starts to turn back to her son, but Jody laughs disarmingly. "Cas hasn't done anything wrong, ma'am, I'm sorry if I startled you. He lives so much further from the beach than the other kids, I thought he'd appreciate a ride."

"Other kids?" Naomi says, still staring Castiel down. "May I ask which beach he was at, Sheriff?"

"The one down in Sileas."

"Ah." That strange little smile returns, tight-lipped. "Which other kids?"

"Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle, Pam Barnes, and Dean Winchester. No one to worry about, I promise you." Jody laughs again, and Castiel feels a rush of affection for her, that she's trying so hard to make this easier on him. "He would've been-"

"Dean Winchester?" Naomi interrupts, and suddenly Michael appears at her shoulder. "That's the boy you've been telling me about, isn't it?" Michael nods quickly, turning to Castiel and imitating their mother's little smile. Like Castiel, Michael favors their tall, dark-haired grandfather when it comes to appearance, but it's moments like these where his more maternal influences start to appear.

"Well, Castiel," Naomi continues, stepping out onto the porch and clasping her hands behind her back. "I believe your brother told you not to see that boy anymore, is that correct?"

"Yes ma'am," Castiel says softly. Jody's hand moves in a soothing circle between his shoulderblades, and he closes his eyes, drinking her kindness in and using it to fuel his courage. "But Dean is my friend, Mother. They all are. We don't cause any trouble, we just… watch movies and talk about books and play games."

Naomi lifts an eyebrow, then shakes her head, tutting softly. "I can't say he's been a good influence on you, Castiel. Just look at your behavior as of late. Sneaking out, lying, asking Gabriel to lie for you… and Michael told me what you did last night." She looks so genuinely disappointed that Castiel can't help feeling guilty for what he's done. Yes, Dean and Charlie and Jo are his friends, but they are not his family, and perhaps he has been neglecting his siblings. "I think Michael was right to tell you not to spend time with that boy anymore, and frankly, your brother's decision should have been enough. You know he's in charge while we're gone, I shouldn't have to worry about you kids like this when I'm already so busy with your uncle's work."

"Of course not, Mother," Castiel says. "I'm sorry."

He starts to pull away from Jody's touch, back into the house, to find out what his punishment is, but Jody clears her throat, pulling everyone's attention towards her.

"If I may," Jody says slowly, though she ignores the way Naomi's eyebrow raises, signifying that she certainly may not. "I understand that Castiel has been out of line. Sneaking out, running off… I have a son too, and I would be just as angry if he were the one on trial here. But, out of curiosity… what did Dean do?"

Naomi tilts her head. "Excuse me?"

"Why was Castiel banned from seeing Dean in the first place? He wouldn't have snuck out or lied if it wasn't forbidden, so I'm just wondering why it was forbidden at all."

Castiel takes in a short breath, something flickering in his heart. His mother frowns deeply, then turns to Michael for an explanation. Put on the spot, Michael actually hesitates, and the panic in his blue eyes, the childish humanity of it, reminds Castiel of better days when Michael was just his brother, rather than an authority figure to be obeyed. "I just… didn't think it was a good idea for Castiel to be wasting his time in town with those kids when he could be here making real connections."

And now, Castiel can't stop himself. That flicker in his chest starts to burn, powerful and bright and angry, as he snaps, "What do you know about real connections, Michael?"

His family looks genuinely surprised, and Castiel revels in it for a moment, especially when he sees, from the corner of his eye, Jody hiding a smile behind her hand.

When Michael finally composes himself, he's scowling. "Castiel, what does Dean have to offer you? Can he get you into a good school? Get you an internship, or a job? His mother is a waitress, Castiel, why are you wasting time with a waitress's son when you have children of senators and bankers and CEOS right here?"

Castiel's anger is so righteous, he can feel it burning in his bloodstream, practically glowing. "Dean cares about me. He understands me. Dean is an artist, he's going to do great things someday, and he has a soul. That's more than I can say for you, brother."

Naomi breathes his name, the beginning of a reprimand, and Jody steps in again. "So the issue here is that Dean is, what… too low class for you?" Her tone makes no secret of how ridiculous she finds this, and Castiel suddenly longs to hug her when she laughs. "All right, well, I just had to ask. Guess you never considered that diamonds come from coal."

Naomi makes an indignant noise, her hands clenching at her sides, though she's still the put-together image of power: her fists line up perfectly with her pleats, and though her blue eyes are blazing, that's the only indication of how genuinely angry she is. She directs her glare at Michael, a silent command, then turns on her heel to go back into the house. Michael is frowning in Castiel's direction, though Castiel is surprised to realize he doesn't care.

"Come inside, Castiel. We need to discuss your behavior." Michael's voice is tempered but firm; if a fight erupts, it won't be out here on the porch. Castiel turns to Jody, who looks back at him with sympathy, as if she wants to interfere but can't. An angry mother or brother is not necessarily an abusive one, although Castiel is sure if he told her he felt unsafe, she'd take him straight back into town.

But Castiel doesn't feel unsafe. He feels agitated, exhausted, ignored… and righteous. His mother feels that Dean has had an influence on him, and she's not entirely wrong.

Castiel takes a deep breath and smiles at Jody. "Thanks for the ride," he says. "I'll see you around."

"Hey." Jody reaches into her jacket pocket as Castiel starts to step inside, and hands him a business card. "Call if you need anything."

They both look at Michael, who only tightens his jaw before retreating back to the kitchen. Castiel smiles again.

"I will. Thank you."

Jody smiles back and touches Castiel's shoulder before heading down the front steps and back towards the parking lot. Castiel studies her business card for a moment, then tucks it in his pocket. He's fairly certain he'll never need it, but it can't hurt to keep it as leverage, can it?

Castiel closes the front door behind him, and can hear voices in the kitchen. Whispered words of contempt towards Jody, towards Castiel's new friends; soft shock at the thought that Castiel chooses to spend time around these people, and concern that they will corrupt him.

Again, Castiel remembers that he has been choosing these people over his own family, but this time, he feels no guilt. If this is corruption, it's too late to save him now.

He can't help smiling at the thought.

There are no smiles when the sun sets and Castiel is finally allowed to retreat to his room. The verdict is guilty and the sentence is grounded, indefinitely. No whining, no complaining, no sneaking out with Gabriel. Even his phone has been confiscated, so he can't text Dean to let him know.

And that might be the worst part. Dean probably thinks Castiel is angry with him. Dean was certainly hurt by what Castiel last said to him, and Castiel can't do anything to apologize.

He's here, in his room, with his book. Just as he was not even a month ago. How quickly things change. How easily people become embedded in your life. Castiel briefly considers sneaking out once everyone's asleep, but of course he'd just get caught. Every time he's stayed out late, he's gotten caught, and if he pushes too much, they might just leave Sileas altogether and never come back.

So he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. But his dreams are plagued with sand and saltwater and summer green eyes.

June 26th, 2005

Castiel spends the day with Anna, letting her tell him everything about all the music she listens to. It all runs together at some point: The Killers, Kanye West, Green Day, Fall Out Boy… and in the end, it only makes him think that his little sister would get along well with Jo, probably Sam and Sarah too, and that just makes him ache inside.

June 27th, 2005

The resort's private beach is quiet and calm. Lucifer falls asleep spread out on a towel, and Anna eventually gives up and goes back inside to watch MTV. Gabriel didn't even bother to come with.

Castiel sits a good distance away from Lucifer, reading his father's latest draft of the new Supernatural novel; since Kyriel proved popular, Chuck Milton wants to use the character a little longer, but won't do so without Castiel's approval. It doesn't make up for his prolonged absences in his childrens' lives, but seeing Kyriel written with the same reverence as Jared and Jensen makes Castiel smile. The character is overly serious, devoted to his cause, and while Castiel doesn't feel that's who he is, he can understand why his father would portray him that way. That's how people see him when they don't know him, after all.

But the affection is there. And Kyriel is far better than Lucifer's namesake, that's for certain.

Castiel sets the draft aside and leans back on his elbows with a sigh. Dean will like this installment. Maybe, if Castiel asks nicely, he can get Father to send Dean a signed copy when it's published.

But then he sighs again. Pipe in this gilded cage with no phone, he'll never see Dean again at this rate, and eventually will become nothing more than a fond memory to the small-town boy with summer green eyes. He wonders, briefly, if Dean could ever become just a memory to him, once he goes back to school and finds other people to talk to, trust fund boys and girls his mother would approve of.

Maybe he just hasn't lived long enough yet, but he doubts he could ever think of Dean as 'just a boy.' Had Dean been a girl, he's fairly certain he could've showed up at school with a summer love story to sing about. Like Grease. Watching that movie had been Jo's idea, and though Dean had made a big fuss, and made fun of the songs and characters throughout the film, Castiel had seen the drawing in Dean's sketchbook: Danny Zuco with his pompadour and leather jacket, a cigarette between pouted lips. It was far too accurate and affectionate to be a joke, and Castiel smiles to himself, digging his toes in the sand. No, Dean's not just a boy, and never just a memory.

Anna has been bragging about her MySpace for a while, pushing Castiel to join her on the site and raise her friend count. If Dean has a MySpace, maybe that's a way to keep in touch while Castiel is away at school, no parents or older siblings around to tell him no.

Feeling a little bit more hopeful, Castiel picks up his father's draft and starts to read again. Kyriel has faith in Jared and Jensen, though the other angels look down on humans as little more than cockroaches. Though Castiel feels a rush of affection for his character, for what his father is attempting to create, he doesn't stop to think about why that may be.

June 29th, 2005

Gabriel ropes Castiel into watching a Queer Eye marathon in the afternoon. Castiel isn't particularly interested in the show, but it's better than sitting alone in his room. Anna joins them after a while, but when she gets up to make some popcorn, Gabriel slides down the couch to whisper in Castiel's ear, "I know where they hid your phone."

"Where?"

"Can't say." Castiel scowls, preparing for some sort of punchline, but the look Gabriel gives him is void of any sort of amusement. "They check it to see if it's still there, so you can't steal it back. Not unless you plan on returning it before Michael gets home every day."

That could work, except Castiel is sure at some point he would forget, or he wouldn't do it soon enough, and who knows what Michael would do then? "Okay, then what's your point?"

"I texted your friend, so he knows what's going on and why you've been M.I.A." When Castiel's eyebrows fly up, Gabriel laughs. "He was blowing up your phone and threatening to call the cops. Michael asked me to deal with it so he'd leave us alone."

Castiel hesitates, chewing on his lower lip. "It was Dean you told? You're certain?"

"Yeah. There are lots of texts waiting for you on that thing, but Dean was the one being persistently nasty, so he's the one I figured would want to hear it."

So Dean knows. And once that thought is processed, Castiel is blindsided by giddiness: Dean is still standing by him. Despite his absence, despite his silence, Dean is still looking out for Castiel and trying to bring him back into the fold. How could he have ever thought Dean would write him off as just a boy to be remembered fondly? Dean is true, and he's loyal, and he will fight for Castiel, and Castiel giggles softly, unable to help himself.

It's Gabriel's turn to raise an eyebrow, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Anna returns just then, and the opportunity is lost.