Just gonna say this really quick…fuck you all, DEAN'S HAIR IS BLOOONNNDDD (well, at least to me) And I'd just like to know, did this story turn out how you all thought it would?

I have an excruiciating migraine from this god-awful sinus infection…well, a plus is I can't smell and my Da is cooking tonight. His making 'Adam's Surprise'. Basically, it's corn beef hash, which is normally good, but when you add eggs and pancakes in…it's just an abomination.

What's the worst breakfast you guys have ever eaten?

Une Journée Pour Se Souvenir

Chapter 2: Peace of My Mind

Songs of the Chapter:

The A-Team (Ed Sheeran Cover)- Birdy
The Generous Mr. Lovewell- MercyMe
Give Me Your Eyes- Brandon Heath

Castiel fiddled with his hands in his lap, listening to the sounds of taxis and barking dogs. The sounds of New York. Castiel loved it and wouldn't trade it for anything. Well, almost anything. He pulled his bill fold out of the pocket of his dark leather jacket (his tan blazer had been an emergency, he normally saved it for teaching), unwinding his blue scarf from around his neck. He pulled out her picture again.

He missed Bela. Sure, she was arrogant, egotistic and completely aware of it, but she was still Castiel's sister and he loved her anyway. She had a good side, but most people didn't stick around long enough to actually see it. And now, she was off in a psychiatric hospital getting her mental issues sorted out. He missed her and her loud banging every morning. Bela wasn't a terrible cook, but she liked to make noise when she did. She was like Castiel's personal alarm clock. Now, Castiel woke up to an empty, silent apartment.

Bela's admittance to the psychiatric hospital had shaken Castiel and he'd immediately started studying psychology in an attempt to extend his understanding about what was happening with his sister. He was getting somewhere, but he still was far from understanding schizophrenia. He briefly caressed her smiling face in the picture and tucked it back into his wallet. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the bus bench.

He couldn't afford a car, not just yet. He was getting close, but having to keep sending money to Bela's psychiatric ward was emptying his pockets rather fast. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black chinos (which were, in Castiel's opinion, the most comfortable pair of pants on Earth). He was glad to be wearing normal clothes instead of his blazer, which was actually quite comfortable, black slacks and black dress shoes. He was glad his toes could breathe. When he'd attended the restaurant, he hadn't bothered with changing, wanting to get a table before it was too late.

If he was in a good mood, he'd wear a tie.

SCREECH!

Castiel opened his eyes and stood, the city bus grinding to a stop in front of him. He dug in his pockets for his bus card and stepped through the bullet-proof plastic doors.

"'Morning, Cassie. Having a good day so far, honey?" Anita, the dark skinned, plump bus driver asked. Castiel rode the bus frequently so he was no stranger. He smiled.

"Good morning, Miss Anita. My morning's been lovely," answered Castiel, handing her his pass. She smiled at him and waved him on back.

As he moved to find his seat, always in the back, he spotted a familiar head of slightly tousled, slightly long, naturally highlighted sandy blond hair. He groaned inwardly.

This was going to be a fun ride.

Dean stared at his hands, careful not to make eye contact with Sam. He'd gotten in a fight with Sammy earlier that morning. Sam had been going on about some man named 'Michael' and how he was evil and would kill them all. Dean had told him to sit down, shut up and take his meds. Sam had refused to take them, clenching his lips tightly together until Dean tackled him to the ground and shoved it between his teeth. Then, Sam had shoved Dean off him and suggested they get some fresh air. And now, here they were.

"Hey, D-Dean?" Sam's stuttering had been a problem for him as a kid and hadn't gotten any better as an adult, but Dean didn't mind and was used to it.

Dean turned his head slightly, looking up at Sam. "Yeah, Sam?"

Sam's lower lip trembled. "I'm s-s-sorry I wouldn't-t-t-take my p-p-pills. Is your hand ok-k-kay?" Sammy's puppy dog eyes were making themselves known and Dean couldn't help it, he grinned. He slung and arm around Sam's shoulders. His brother was like a child…a gigantic child. He understood Dean in ways no one else did, but Dean was the one that helped him through the day.

"Don't worry about it, Sammy. And my hand's fine, you big girl," said Dean, ruffling his baby brother's hair.

Castiel sat in his seat and tried his hardest not to look at Dean with his arm around that gigantic man's shoulders. Dean smiled up at him with a genuine smile, eyes shining with something that Castiel would call love if he'd ever felt it. Castiel sighed and looked away, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and zipping his jacket higher. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, settling back in his seat.

"Um, this seat taken?"

Castiel's eyes snapped open and he looked up into the face of Dean. His breath hitched as he watched Dean's bangs fall into his face. His hand twitched, as if to move and brush them from his face. He held back. He'd only known Dean for barely four hours.

He smiled. "I suppose not," said Castiel. Dean sat next to Castiel, who glanced over at the large man. He was currently fiddling with an iPod, his brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, he looked up. He smiled and Dean and Castiel and gave a small wave. Castiel waved back uncertainly, giving a confused smile before turning back to Dean.

"If you don't mind my asking, who is that?" asked Castiel, pointing to the other man.

"That's just Sammy," said Dean, smiling in the direction of Sammy.

"Sammy?" Castiel repeated slowly.

Please, don't be his boyfriend. Or…oh, God, his husband. It's not totally unbelievable, Dean's good looking, and Sammy isn't too bad…

"Castiel? Don't have an aneurism, okay? Sam's just my little brother," Dean said, patting Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel's eyebrows rose. "Little brother?" he asked, looking pointedly at Sam, who was currently taking up a lot of space with his well over six feet frame and obvious muscle.

Dean smiled. "Yeah, little brother. Don't ask me. When he turned sixteen, he shot up two feet and started pounding pavement like there was no tomorrow. We were just going out for some coffee. So, what brings you out this early?" Dean ignored his throbbing wrist and leaned back in his seat, watching Castiel push his glasses up his nose for the hundredth time.

Why was he out and about before noon? It wasn't normal for him, he normally slept late and stayed up late, a bad habit acquired from grading student papers and having late phone calls to students who were feeling a bit depressed.

Castiel shrugged. "Not entirely sure. I may just wander around then go visit my sister at the Manhattan Mental Hosp…" Shit. Now he'd done it. How had he let that one slip out? Barely anyone but Castiel and a few choice people and family members knew about Bela. Now, he'd gone and told some stranger. Castiel looked at Dean with wide eyes, his throat refusing to open and allow him to breathe. He'd always been too scared to tell people about it because he was afraid of judgment. Now, he might lose someone before he even found them.

Dean's face was expressionless as he looked over at Sam. Then, he stood and walked over by Sam and sat back down, leaning his mouth near the larger man's ear. Sam's face looked confused, then he gave a shy smile and glanced discreetly (or so he thought) at Castiel. He whispered in a low tone to Dean and shook his head. Dean ruffled Sam's hair and smiled. He stood and motioned for Sam to follow him. He shuffled behind Dean, hiding his face behind his shaggy brown hair.

He stopped in front of Castiel and looked at Dean with wide eyes. Dean nodded and smiled reassuringly. Sam turned back to Castiel and looked down at him through his bangs. He held out a large hand, the other shoved into his pocket. Castiel took it and smiled up at Sam.

"Hi, I'm S-S-Sam W-W-Winchester," he stuttered. It made Castiel smile wider. He shook Sam's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Sam. Castiel Collins. I work down at NYU," said Castiel. He noticed Sam's expression change from apprehension to relief.

"Interesting. Nice t-to meet y-y-you, t-too." Sam stood there for a moment before Dean stepped forward.

"Go on, Sammy, sit down, he's not going to bite." Dean sat Sam down on one side of Castiel while he sat on the other. Castiel turned to Dean and smiled. Dean winced and Castiel frowned.

"What?"

"Your forehead. I'm really sorry about that, man," said Dean, pointing to Castiel's forehead. Castiel touched the spot and felt a small lump. His eyebrows dipped.

"Oh, it's nothing don't worry about it," he assured him. They sat quietly, Sam going back to the iPod and Castiel watching the New York streets roll by.

"So, what do you teach?" asked Dean, fiddling with a fray on his weathered green jacket.

"Psychotherapy." Castiel's answer was quick, clipped and sounded like he absolutely didn't want to talk about it. Dean took the hint and looked at his hands in his lap.

"I'm studying psychology," said Dean quietly. Dean leaned over to look at Sam then sat back. The larger man had headphones in his ears, the volume up a little high but it didn't seem to bother him. His right leg bounced while his left foot tapped. Castiel recognized these things as signs of RLS, or Restless Legs Syndrome. Gah, he had to stop thinking, he was giving himself a headache with all this analyzing.

"Because of Sam?" asked Castiel, the look on Dean's face confirming his suspicions.

"Yes…and no. Sammy was diagnosed with," he paused and checked on Sam again. "…with manic depressive schizophrenia. But I know the doctors are wrong. I want to prove to them that my baby brother, that I have known all his life and have been with every step of the way, isn't schizophrenic. He's just depressed because of what happened to…to our dad." Dean looked at Castiel then, his green eyes burning passionately. In those green eyes, Castiel saw something that made his heart thump and his stomach knot together. He saw the love for his brother, the burn of the need to prove what he knew was right and a strength he didn't think could exist.

Castiel realised that their faces were much closer than before and pulled back, sighing and running a hand through his unruly dark hair. He felt drained just talking about this particular subject.

"Why do you teach, Castiel?"

Castiel tried his best to shrug. "I think it's interesting?" said Castiel, fiddling with his blue knit scarf.

"And I think that's bullshit. Pardon me for being nosey, but I think there's something more to it. I think that deep down, you're just like me. Just trying to find answers to the things that we believe in." Dean paused and leaned closer to Castiel. "Honestly, I don't care if you've only known me for a day or an hour. I'd rather know that I'm not the only person in the world who feels this way than worry about whether or not I'm invading someone's personal space."

Castiel turned and gave Dean a hard stare. "Do you really want the truth?" Dean nodded firmly. "I mentioned earlier that I may be going down to Manhattan MH. I teach psychology because Bela, the only person I am remotely close to, is sitting in a white room. I may be going to visit her today. I may not be. I have no idea if I can summon the courage to go see my schizophrenic sister. Are you happy now, Dean? Have you found your place in the world now, because you heard some man's private thoughts?" His voice had been getting gradually louder and Castiel noticed some people watching. He stared at them pointedly until they turned away.

Castiel turned away from Dean then, his heart clenching from speaking about Bela. He never did. Never. It was just something he couldn't handle talking about. He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Castiel turned to Dean with wide eyes, looking exactly like someone who was trying not to cry. And Castiel was trying very hard. His blue eyes were wet, his lower lip stiff.

Dean's emerald eyes softened. "Look, Castiel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I…" Dean looked away and took a steadying breath. "…I just wanted to know there was someone else. Everyone turns me and Sammy away because we're different. I'm gay and he's supposedly crazy, not exactly the best friends to have."

Castiel ran a hand through his hair, discreetly wiping at his eyes. "It's fine. Don't trouble yourself, it's a very sensitive subject; talking about Bela. I don't get to see her often." Castiel glanced over at Sam, who was currently trying to knock over a wood structure with cartoon birds. Castiel recognized the game as 'Angry Birds', something his students found enormously entertaining, but he found mildly irritating.

"No, at least let us take you out for coffee." Dean stretched an arm behind Castiel and tapped Sam's shoulder. The larger man was too engrossed in his game. Dean made a noise in the back of his throat and leaned farther, his chest pressing firmly into Castiel's shoulder. Castiel ignored the hard muscles pressing into him and crossed his arms, distracting himself with the man a few seats down trying to calm down his fussy baby. Castiel's heart melted a bit as the man cooed adoringly at the infant, making it giggle and squirm in its blanket.

"Sammy!" Dean said, yanking a headphone from his brother's ear. Sam turned with a look of concern, his dark eyebrows drawing together.

"What, Dean?" Sam asked, placing the iPod in Dean's coat pocket.

"Is it all right with you if Castiel tags along?" asked Dean. Sam nodded and smiled at Castiel, who returned it best he could with a slightly heavy Dean Winchester practically lying a across his back. Dena noticed this and leaned back a smile on his face.

Castiel opened his mouth to protest but Dean shushed him. "Nuh-uh. You're coming with us. I still have to make up for Tuesday," said Dean, resting an arm casually over Castiel's shoulders. This Dean was a bit more open than the Dean he'd met at the restaurant, but he didn't mind.

"Fine." Castiel crossed his arms and sat back in his seat, praying that this day would go well.

But Murphy's Law tends to be a bitch.

Do you guys know Murphy's Law?
'What can go wrong will'.
My mother has said that to me ever since I was little…and damn if it isn't true. That shit is Karma on speed. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed chapter numero dos! :D

It was bit hard because I watched 8 Mile for 9 billionth time this morning and I keep seeing Rabbit (Jimmy) riding the bus with that song playing my head…so yeah, if you see a Rabbit in there once or twice, just ignore it! ^-^

Shave Less, Braid More,
Dublin O'Malley

XOXOX