Mornings are not one of Cas' favourite things. In fact, mornings are on the list of his least favourite things.

Least favourite things:

Halloween

Mornings

Alcohol

Tabloids

Anything that comes out of his mother's mouth

However, there is a perk to every morning: coffee. Cas is not a fully functioning human being until he's had at least one cup of coffee at the beginning of the day. Coffee is definitely on his list of favourite things.

Favourite things:

Coffee

His books

Phone calls from his sister

His cat

His job

Maybe that last one isn't exactly his favourite thing. It's definitely something he loves, something he's worked so long for. But, like any job, it has its downsides. Being a school counsellor doesn't automatically warrant respect, as much as he'd like it to. There are plenty of high school kids wandering into his office during lunch with problems that are certainly made up. He's had one kid come to see him complaining that he's too hot and it's hard getting around school when all the girls are throwing themselves at him.

Cas had just pointed the boy to the door.

On the other hand, he meets a lot of great kids. He's able to help them as best he can. He's met more than one girl struggling with an unplanned pregnancy, he's spoken to several students about anxiety and depression, he's even had one girl open up to him about her sexuality. Cas has never been able to relate to someone more than he has with Lily.

In his too-bright bathroom, he brushes his teeth with one eye still closed, the other only half open. Then, he stumbles to his kitchen and feels around blindly for the coffee machine. He sighs when the machine whirrs and bubbles, the smell of fresh coffee fills his senses.

He dresses, rubbing grit from his eyes so they're clear enough to tell what he's putting on his body. He goes for the usual getup he wears to work: a button-down, a sweater, slacks.

By the time he's done, the coffee is ready. Cas fills his cup and breathes it in.

"Thank the lord," he mutters, and takes a sip.

There's an insistent brushing against his legs and he glances down to find his cat pawing at him.

"Alright," Cas sighs. He quickly fills Balthazar's bowl and scratches the base of his tail until he's purring happily. Cas downs the rest of his coffee, eyes on the clock, then he's grabbing his work bag and coat. By 8am, he's out the door.

The bus is at the stop when he gets there and he manages to hop on before the doors close. He's out of breath, he still has bedhead, and he's only just noticed the coffee stain on his sweater. There are a few school kids on this bus, some he's seen around. They stare at him until he takes his seat.

He tries to listen to some music on the way, but the bus is so loud that no matter how high he turns up the volume he can still hear the engine and the constant chatter of the kids behind him. He takes a deep breath and thinks of the coffee he'll have at 10am.

Mornings are the worst.

He's feeling a lot less homicidal by the time he's sitting in his office, doors closed. All the students are in class right now, or at least they should be. He thinks of his newest filled slot: Sam Winchester. The file was dropped off on his desk a couple of days ago, and he hasn't yet managed to get a proper look at it.

It's not hard to find it in his cabinet; it's the thickest file there. Cas sits back down and opens it up.

If he had to draw a graph to show the quality of Sam's school performance from his first day to now, there would be a steep line going down from left to right. It would be a fucking precipise.

Sam ticks off pretty much every offense in the school's rule book. Some things are pretty tame, committed by a lot of the students in this school; not handing in homework, forgetting school equipment, missing classes. Then, there are some of the more worrying offenses; getting into fights, not showing up for several days in a row, smoking in the school halls, using offensive language towards both staff and fellow pupils.

And the worst thing is that Sam Winchester was the top of his class last year, set to be valedictorian, made for the Ivy League.

Well, any kid would spiral downwards if they'd been through what Sam Winchester had.

Cas has heard about it, of course. This is a small town and everyone knows everyone. He didn't move here until September, months after the accident, but even now he still hears it being spoken of. He flicks through the file and finds the page he's looking for: authorised absences.

Sam was absent for the last week before Christmas break last year, he was also absent for three weeks after. That was when everything went downhill. Cas opens his laptop and searches the internet until he finds a small news article.

Car accident, 1 fatality.

Sam was in that car, and so was his dad. Sam walked away with a broken arm and a concussion. John Winchester didn't walk away from it at all, killed on collision.

Cas leans back and scrubs a hand down his face.

Fuck.

How long was Sam trapped in that car before the ambulance arrived? How long did he have to sit next to his father's dead body?

His break comes and goes uneventfully. He sits in his office and drinks his second cup of caffeine of the day. Lunch is a different story. He comes back from the bathroom to find five teenagers queued outside his door. At the front is Lily.

"Come in," he tells her. He holds the door and lets her by, then he shuts it behind them. He waits until they're both seated before he speaks. "How are you?"

Lily bites her lip. "I told my parents."

Cas' eyebrows go up. "How was it?"

She smiles shyly. "They said it doesn't change anything. My mom said she already knew, I have no idea how, but apparently, she did. They said all that matters is that I'm happy."

Cas grins. "Lily, I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you, Mr Novak. I would never have been able to do it without you. You were the first person I told and you gave me the courage to tell my family."

"Don't give me too much credit," Cas says. "This was all you."

Lily ducks her head shyly. She pulls her backpack off her shoulder and fumbles around inside until she pulls out a rolled-up piece of paper. "This is for you," she says, handing it over. Cas takes it and begins to unravel it, but Lily quickly stops him.

"I'd rather… you don't have to open it in front of me," she says, cheeks turning pink.

Cas smiles and nods. "I'll wait until I have a moment alone."

She gets up and leaves without much more said between them, just a smile shared, an understanding between the two of them.

Cas gets through the rest of the kids outside his door just before the end of lunch hour. He hurries down to the cafeteria before it closes and buys one of the six sandwiches they have left. It's quiet in his office as he eats and works, filling out papers and reading up on his students.

He has two back-to-back appointments at the end of the day, both half an hour long. There's progress with Charlie, he thinks. She hasn't tried to hack the school system in over a month and she says she's focusing her skills in tech club, she's even thinking about colleges. Cas is feeling bright when she leaves.

Charlie slips past him as he holds the door open but she pauses one step out of the room. Sam Winchester is sitting in one of the chairs in the hallway.

"Hey, Sam," Charlie says, putting on a smile. "I haven't seen you around in a while."

Sam looks up and blinks at her. "Charlie? Oh, hey. Uh. Yeah, I've been busy."

Cas feels like he's intruding on something, he can see that they know each other well. While Charlie's expression reads longing, Sam looks like he wants to bolt.

"Maybe we can hang out some time?" Charlie offers.

Sam's gaze wanders away from her, down to his hands. He fiddles with his sleeve. "Yeah. Maybe."

Cas grimaces. The complete lack of enthusiasm had to have hurt, but Charlie just smiles and waves goodbye, heading down the hall and out of sight.

"Come on in, Sam," Cas says. He holds the door open and Sam wanders inside. Cas' office is one of the smallest in the school. The walls and the desk are undecorated, but most surfaces are covered in files and papers. He already has Sam's file out and he sits in his chair and opens it up.

Sam isn't sitting down. In fact, he's staring at the chair like it might bite him in the ass if he sits in it.

"Is something the matter?" Cas asks.

Sam looks at him like a spooked horse, but it's quickly covered by that nonchalant expression Cas has seen a lot of since their first meeting.

"No," Sam answers. He drops into the seat, glancing around, leg bouncing. "Would it kill you to put a picture up or something? No offense but it's kind of depressing in here."

Cas laughs, managing to pry a small smile from Sam's lips.

"I'll make a note of that," Cas says, scribbling on a post-it. "Make office less depressing. Got it."

Sam leans back into the chair, fingers tapping on the plastic arms. He looks at where his file sits in front of Cas, focusing like he might be able to read the words hidden under the cover.

"Right. Let's get to it," Cas begins. "First, I want to lay down a few rules, okay? In my office, you are free to let out your frustrations, but if that's the case, you will use the stress ball."

He plucks the blue ball from its place by his computer and leaves it in front of Sam. Sam stares at it, eyebrow raised. Cas can tell he wants to say something, presumably along time lines of this is dumb. Sam manages to keep his mouth shut.

"Also," Cas goes on, "if, at any point, you begin to feel uncomfortable or that you need to stop for a moment, just raise your hand."

Sam immediately raises his hand. Cas sighs.

"Once we've actually started the session, I mean."

Sam shrugs. "Okay."

This isn't so bad, Cas thinks. Sam's a little cocky, sure, but he seems like a good kid. Cas has dealt with much worse.

"Let's start, shall we?" Cas says. "Tell me a little about yourself."

Sam snorts. "What?"

"Tell me about yourself," Cas repeats. "What do you do in your free time?"

"I dunno. Nothing, really," Sam says, shrugging.

Cas narrows his eyes. "You don't watch TV?"

"Sometimes, I guess."

"What's your favourite show?" Cas asks.

"What's the point of these questions?" Sam retorts.

"It's just a question, Sam. My favourite show is Twin Peaks."

Sam's nose twitches and his hand wanders up to where the stress ball sits on the desk. He pokes at it and says, "The Walking Dead is pretty cool, I guess."

Cas nods attentively. "Favourite character?"

Sam glares at him. "This is really weird, by the way. I thought you were supposed to be pointing me in the right direction, not making small talk," he says. The stress ball is snatched away and Sam begins to squeeze it, passing it back and forth between his hands.

"Is something bothering you, Sam?" Cas asks.

"You are," Sam snaps.

"And why's that?"

Sam groans, head tilting back until he's staring at the ceiling. "These questions are dumb!"

"Why am I bothering you?" Cas asks calmly. "I'm being perfectly reasonable. My questions have been perfectly reasonable. I just want to know what made you lose your temper so quickly."

Sam takes a deep breath and his fidgeting lessens. He holds the blue stress ball in his hands and clenches his fingers around it gently.

"I don't do well with people," he says quietly. "I can't stand their constant chatter, always asking questions, always watching me. People stare at me when I walk down the hallways," his smiles grimly, "because everyone wants to get a look at the freak."

"People call you that?" Cas asks. He wonders if bullying is also at play here.

"They don't have to," Sam says, shrugging. "It's the way they look at me. I see them talking about me, too. In a crappy little town like this, it's big news when there's a car accident. They love that shit."

"Sam, I'm sure no one feels that way. What happened was an awful thing. No one is happy about it."

Sam looks up and meets his eye. "You don't know anything about it."

"Maybe you can explain it to me, Sam," Cas ventures. "You don't have to go into detail. Maybe you can just tell me a little about – "

Sam's hand goes up. Cas nods.

"Okay. We don't have to delve any deeper than you're comfortable with right now."

Sam sits up in his chair and places the stress ball back on the desk. "Can I go yet?"

Cas checks the clock. "We still have twenty minutes left."

He watches Sam. The boy is fidgeting again, knee bouncing up and down, hands fiddling with his jacket sleeves. Cas tries to meet Sam's eyes but his gaze is fixed away determinedly, tears threatening.

"We'll have a five-minute break, okay?" Cas offers. Sam doesn't wait for anything else to be said before he's up and out the door. For a moment, Cas is worried he won't be coming back, but then he notices Sam's bag is still left on the floor by the vacated chair.

He figures now is a good time to get a cup of coffee.

The school is deserted at this hour. Only the sounds of a wet mop scrubbing the floor and Cas' own footsteps echo in the corridor. Ash the janitor is doing some kind of shuffling dance as he cleans, the handle of the mop is his dance partner. He notices Cas and waves, undeterred, carrying on with what he was doing.

It's starting to freeze outside; the days are creeping closer to the beginning of winter. Still, Cas decides to make a shortcut across the school grounds to get to the teacher's lounge. The field at the centre of the running track is pale green with frost, the trees are half-bare and standing on blankets of crisp brown and orange.

Cas wishes he'd brought a jacket. He tugs the sleeves of his sweater over his hands and hurries his pace towards the teacher's lounge. He's halfway there when he finds Sam.

Sam, who is leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. He jumps when he sees Cas and tries to hide it behind his back. Cas raises his eyebrow.

"Ah, shit," Sam mumbles. He brings the cigarette back up to his lips and inhales, blowing the coils of smoke out between his teeth. He shrugs, resigned.

"When I said we'd take a break, this isn't what I meant," Cas says.

"I was kinda hoping you wouldn't see," Sam replies. He's huddled up in his jacket, nose and cheeks turning red. "Well. It's too late now." He scrubs his free hand down the side of his face. "My brother is going to kill me."

"I imagine he's not happy about the habit," Cas agrees.

Sam shakes his head. "No. He's gonna kill me because I got suspended. Permanently this time."

Cas frowns. "Suspended permanently?"

Sam waves the cigarette in his hand, it's half burned down to cinders and he taps away the ash. "Principal Harvelle told me I'm out of here if I get caught doing this in school again."

"Well, we aren't in school hours," Cas points out.

"Huh?"

"School isn't in session right now," Cas says. "Maybe no one saw you."

Sam blinks at him. "You won't tell?" he asks, staring at him like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"If you stub out that cigarette right now, I didn't see anything," Cas offers. "Only if you put it out. Now."

Sam doesn't hesitate. He drops it to the ground and crushes it beneath the sole of his sneaker. Cas finds himself smiling. Watching Sam do what he can to avoid expulsion shows that the boy is willing to try. It's a good sign. Cas carries on the way he was going and beckons Sam to follow.

"Where are we going?" Sam asks, long legs allowing him to catch up quickly. He's taller than Cas is, taller than most people in school, in fact. But the boy is also lanky and baby-faced. He's still just a kid.

"I need some coffee," Cas tells him. He holds the door open for them both and they step back into the warmth of the school. The teacher's lounge is right across the hall and Cas unlocks the door. He heads straight for the coffee machine. Sam lingers near the door, glancing around.

"Do you want a drink?" Cas offers.

Sam shrugs.

"Water, juice, coffee?" Cas persists.

"Um. Water," Sam says. Cas grabs a bottle from the fridge and hands it over. Sam uncaps it and takes a long drink.

"How long have you been smoking?" Cas asks, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

Sam glares at him. "Why does it matter?"

"I smoked a little from high school through to college," Cas tells him. "I didn't like it so much, but it's a tough habit to kick. I guess I picked it up to piss off my mother."

Sam actually grins. "Oh, yeah? Nightmare parents?"

"My mother once told me I was going to hell because she found a copy of Harry Potter in my room," Cas says. Sam lets out a low whistle.

"That sucks," he says, not unsympathetically. He has another sip of water. "I never knew my mom but I'm pretty sure she'd never have said something like that to me. She sounded pretty great, from what my brother and dad tell me."

Sam cuts himself off and his face pales. He'd just talked about his dad in the present tense. Just like that, the shutters come back down. Cas had gained his trust for a few minutes there, Sam had actually begun to open up. Now, Cas suspects he won't get much more out of him in this session.

The coffee machine pings and Cas fills his mug. "Let's head back to my office."

They take the long route through the corridors to avoid the chill outside. Sam doesn't say a word. He picks up the stress ball as soon as he's sitting in Cas' office again.

"Are you okay?" Cas asks.

"Fine," Sam answers, bouncing the ball up and down in one hand.

Cas figures now is not the time to delve much deeper into family matters. Instead, he asks, "Why were you smoking in the school corridors the other week? You knew it was against the rules."

Sam shrugs. "I'm not sure why I did it."

Cas doesn't believe that for a second. "You were hoping you would be caught," Cas guesses.

"Why would I do that?" Sam retorts.

Cas sighs. "Sometimes, when we're struggling and we don't know how to make things better, we do destructive things. This may be because we're angry, or maybe we want to get someone's attention, to get help."

Sam is staring at his feet.

"Or," Cas continues, "we might have these destructive behaviours because we think we deserve to be punished."

Sam's eyes meet Cas' for a split second. He quickly averts his gaze and shrugs.

"Do any of those apply to you?" Cas asks.

"Nope," Sam says. "Maybe I do destructive things just because I'm an asshole. Maybe I just don't give a shit."

"I don't think that's true, Sam. I think you care a lot."

Sam snorts. "Are you fucking kidding me? You've known me for, what, about half an hour? You don't know anything about me. Stop with your reverse psychology crap. I don't even get why I'm here. There's nothing wrong with me."

He's up and out of his seat, hands shaking and tugging down on his sleeves. "Can I go now?"

"Sam, we have a few minutes left."

"Then we'll do extra next time," Sam says. He's breathing erratically, clutching at his chest. "I don't feel good. I think – I think something's wrong. I need to go home."

Cas gets up and eases Sam back into his chair with a hand on his shoulder. The boy is hyperventilating.

"I think you're having a panic attack, Sam," Cas says softly. "We need to get you breathing steadily."

"No," Sam chokes. "Something's wrong! I need to go home! Please."

"It can feel like that when you have a panic attack," Cas agrees, "but you'll be okay. Just copy me. Breathe in and out. In and out."

It takes a few minutes but eventually Sam is breathing steadily. His eyes are red and streaming with tears, but he seems to have calmed down a bit. Cas' hand is still on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Sam nods.

"Do you know what triggered that?"

Sam shakes his head.

"Has that happened before?"

Sam nods.

"How often does this happen?"

Sam swallows thickly. "Every week. Sometimes – sometimes, more. I d-dunno," he admits. Cas grabs a tissue off the desk and hands it over. He waits patiently as Sam wipes his eyes and nose.

"When did it start?"

"About a year ago."

Since the accident, Cas thinks. He stands up and Sam follows, grabbing his bag.

"We're done here, right?" Sam asks.

Cas checks the clock. "I suppose, but – "

"Okay. Bye, then."

Sam is already at the door.

"Sam, wait – "

The door slams closed behind him. Cas swears under his breath and hurries after him. He manages to catch up to him in the corridor.

"Maybe you should sit down for a minute," he suggests.

"I'm fine," Sam says, his voice is uneven, his eyes are burning with fresh tears. He quickly wipes them away.

"How are you getting home?"

"My brother's picking me up."

"I'll wait with you until he gets here. I'll need to talk to him – "

Sam comes to a halt and turns so he's right in Cas' face. He's a tall kid and that height, coupled with the fierce expression on his face, makes him very intimidating. He's only sixteen, Cas reminds himself. But he can be pretty damn scary.

"Would you back off?" Sam says, low and sharp.

"I'll need to talk to your brother about this," Cas says. "Just to make sure you'll be okay at home."

"I'm. fine," Sam bites out. "You can do the shrink crap all you like, but the session's over. Leave. Me. Alone."

Cas holds his ground. "I can't do that."

Sam steps forward, and for a second Cas thinks he's going to be shoved or hit, then Sam pauses. He sighs heavily, runs a hand through his hair, and he steps back, moving down the hall.

"Do what you want," he says. "I don't give a shit."

Cas highly doubts that's true. He follows Sam out into the parking lot. When he sees the boy trek across the dark, icy asphalt towards the road, he realises that Sam lied. There's no sign of anyone coming to collect Sam from school.

He runs back to his office to grab his stuff and lock up, then he's hurtling down the road, as fast as he can on the icy ground, after Sam Winchester.

He's breathless and sweating through his shirt by the time he catches up. Sam stops and stares at him. He looks surprised rather than angry, his nose and eyes are red, his cheeks are wet. He hastily wipes at his face with his coat sleeve.

"What?" he asks, sighing. Any resentment he had towards Cas earlier seems to have drained away, and now the boy standing there is tired and defeated. Cas decides in that moment that he'll do whatever it takes to help Sam. This boy needs help.

"No one's coming to pick you up," Cas says. "Why did you lie?"

Sam's eyes drop to the floor. "I dunno."

There are a lot of questions that Cas wants to ask, but he goes with, "How far do you live?"

"Not far," Sam replies. He continues to force his gaze away from Cas, a tell-tale sign that he's lying.

"Are you walking home?" Cas asks. It's dark and freezing at this time in the early evening and he'll be damned if he lets Sam walk all the way home by himself. Sam nods in answer to his question.

"What about the bus?"

"Don't have any money."

Cas reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Sam immediately takes a step back.

"I don't need your money," he snaps.

"It's only a couple of dollars," Cas points out. He holds out a couple of notes and Sam stares at them like they might bite him. Cas sighs. "You can pay me back, if you like. I just think it would be irresponsible of me to let you walk all the way home in the dark by yourself."

"I'm not a kid."

"Never said you were."

Hesitantly, Sam reaches out and takes the money. He stares at his shoes and says, "I'll pay you back."

He carries on walking down the road, Cas hurries to catch up. The boy glances at him from the corner of his eye, but seems determined to ignore him. Sam breaks the silence when they arrive at the same bus stop.

"Are you stalking me?" he asks. The tone in his voice is not light or jesting, he seems genuinely worried about the possibility, keeping himself at a distance and staring at Cas unblinkingly.

Cas puts on a smile. "Just catching the same bus as you, then I'm headed home."

Sam nods, but continues to watch Cas. Cas tries to ignore him, turns his attention to his ipod, he inserts his earbuds and sets it to shuffle. On the bus, Sam sits as far away from Cas as he can, squished right into the corner at the back. Cas can feel eyes on the back of his head.

He hears Sam's immense sigh of relief as he gets off the bus before him. Watching the bus leave, Cas finds himself worrying more than he'd expected.

Cas sleeps in until noon on Saturday, woken only by Balthazar's insistent paw batting his nose. Cas peels his eyes open and the cat begins to purr deeply, he hops off the bed and waits in the doorway. He yowls when Cas doesn't move.

"Alright, I'm up," Cas groans, kicking off the covers. He shudders when his skin comes into contact with the frigid air. The first thing he does is fill Balthazar's bowl, then he turns on the heating, then he turns on the coffee machine. When he opens his fridge in search of his own breakfast, he finds nothing but a hard block of cheese. He finds much the same in the cupboards.

"Looks like I'm going to the store," Cas tells the cat. "You need anything? Milk, tuna, more litter? Don't bother asking for catnip because you know I'm not getting it for you, not after the last time."

Balthazar blinks at him and goes back to his bowl. Cas drains his coffee and brushes his teeth, not bothering with a shower, he doesn't plan to be at the grocery store for too long.

The nearest store is two blocks from his house so he wraps up warm and walks. It's still chilly despite the sun being high in the sky, and he wishes he'd worn some gloves. When he gets to the supermarket he finds the parking lot almost full. He sighs. Of course, everyone would shop on a Saturday afternoon.

Inside the store, it is bright and shimmering; tinsel at the checkouts, stacks of Christmas tree decorations stand right in the entrance, staff are dressed as elves. He forces himself not to get distracted. Christmas has always been his favourite holiday, but this year he hasn't even got a tree. He has nowhere to be this Christmas, he has no one to visit.

He grabs a basket and trudges on.

His stomach growls and he's almost drooling at the sight of fresh pastries on display in the in-store bakery. He grabs a few croissants, a carton of juice, a dozen eggs, bread, jam, cornflakes. It's a bit over the top, but he's starving and he figures he can have breakfast for dinner. He's far too tired to look for sensible groceries.

He's at the checkout twenty minutes after entering the store. The line is moving slowly so he checks his phone. No messages.

"You're five dollars short, sir."

The man being served in front of him sighs heavily. "Um. I don't have five more dollars. I did the math and I was sure that I got the prices right."

The lady at the till looks sympathetic. "Some things that were on offer last week are back to their original price this week. Is there anything you can put back?" she suggests.

The man looks through the bags, frowning. "I need everything that's in here. Can you, like, put it on a tab or something?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't."

Cas digs out his wallet taps the man on the shoulder. Dean Winchester turns around to face him, surprise clear on his face. Cas clears his throat and holds out a five-dollar bill.

Dean shakes his head. "Oh. No, thanks."

"You need it," Cas points out. "It's okay. Pay me back if you like."

Dean hesitates for a moment, then he takes the money. "I'll pay you back," he says, looking Cas in the eye.

"Of course." Cas wonders if the Winchester brothers are aware of how similar they are.

Once Dean has paid, he waits for Cas. The two of them walk towards the exit in awkward silence.

Dean speaks once they're outside. "Thanks for that," he says. He doesn't look directly at Cas and his cheeks burn with obvious embarrassment.

"No problem," Cas shrugs. He finds himself staring. Dean Winchester is probably the most attractive person he's ever seen in his life, an other-worldly kind of person who belongs on the cover of a fashion magazine. His jawline is strong, his eyes are bright green and framed with thick lashes, his lips are pink and plump and feminine. His shoulders are broad and his brow is hard enough that he's extremely rugged despite the prettiness of his face.

Yeah. He's so ridiculously good-looking, it's almost annoying.

Dean breaks into a grin and crinkles deepen around his eyes. Upon further look, Cas notices that Dean's nose is slightly crooked, there's a scar on his chin, his pale skin is covered in freckles. His smile is bright and his eyes are tired. He looks more average like this, and that just makes him even more attractive.

Cas quickly averts his gaze and scans the parking lot.

"Do you – would you like to get some coffee or something?" Dean offers. "Just to say thank you for saving my ass back there."

Cas blinks at him. The first thought that pops into his head is whether or not it's okay to go on a date with a student's relative, then he quickly reminds himself that this is not a date. Maybe he's just that desperate and lonely that he's making up false scenarios in his head. Well, that's not exactly new, Cas and Bradly Cooper had a very nice engagement, thank you very much.

It's a 'thank you' coffee. Nothing more.

"That'd be great," Cas says.

Dean's smile falls and he looks awkward. "I don't have any cash for coffee… um, I could make you some at my place… but I only have the crappy instant stuff. I do have some food," he shakes his bag of groceries, "I could make you something to eat. If you want."

Cas' heart soars as he begins to ponder even further: is this a date?

"Yeah. I'd like that," the words slip out before he can think much more about it. Dean claps him on the shoulder and grins again. Cas follows him through the parking lot to an incredible classic black Chevy.

"You have a beautiful car," he says.

"Thanks. It was my dad's," Dean says. His smile falls immediately and he clears his throat, he quickly offers to put Cas' groceries in the trunk.

During the drive, Cas learns that Dean is a talker. Within twenty minutes he knows exactly where Dean works, he knows what Dean's favourite food is, and he learns a story about a baby Sam Winchester which he thinks he probably shouldn't know.

The pulls to a stop outside a small, battered apartment building. He steps out of the car and looks around. This isn't a part of town he's ever been to before; the houses and building along the street are cramped together, the grass is unkempt. It's a big difference to Cas' white-stone apartment building and flower beds. He's not exactly rich, not on a school counsellor's salary, but this neighbourhood is almost foreign to him.

Dean grabs the bags and leads him inside, all the way up to the top floor, and into a small flat. Cas hangs around awkwardly as Dean puts groceries away.

"Take a seat," Dean calls out from behind the fridge door. "Do you like pasta?"

"Very much."

"Great!" Dean beams, reappearing with two beers in hand. He places one in front of Cas.

"I don't drink," Cas blurts, immediately blushing. "I mean, can I have a glass of water?"

Dean doesn't say anything, he just grabs a clean glass and fills it. Cas sips tentatively and glances around. The apartment is mostly bare. A lot of the furniture looks old and well-worn, but there are some hints of youth like the Star Wars poster in the living room and the battered game cube by the TV. There are a lot of pictures on the wall, too. A bride and groom smile down from the wall next to him, another frame holds a toddler with a baby on his lap, another shows a mousy little boy who must be Sam beaming with ice cream dripping around his mouth.

"Is Sam here?" Cas asks. "I mean, I don't want him to feel uncomfortable."

Then why did you come all the way to his house? He hates to admit that he was encouraged by a beautiful man. The situation would probably give his mother a heart attack and that thought pleases Cas more than it should.

"He had detention this morning," Dean says. He sips his beer. "He probably won't be back until later tonight. He disappears as often as he can."

Dean stares at his shoes, but quickly turns back to the stove to boil a pot of water. Cas hadn't wondered why Dean might invite his brother's counsellor for lunch at his house, but it seems he's here for the same reason Cas is: he's lonely.

Cas fills the silence, telling Dean pointless things about his time at college, a little about his sister, not much about the rest of his family. Dean perks up a bit, too. He talks very enthusiastically about his dream to open his own garage, he's suitably outraged when he learns that Cas hasn't even got a driver's licence.

All worries and concerns are gone from Cas' mind as the two of them chat and eat a simple but delicious lunch of penne and homemade tomato sauce together. Dean blushes when Cas compliments his cooking skills and for almost an hour Cas is dumb enough to actually believe that something good is happening.

The peace comes to an end when the front door opens and Sam steps inside. His hands are stained with dried paint, there's a streak of it on his cheek, and he's bundled tightly in his coat, still shivering from the outside. He halts suddenly and it clearly takes a moment for him to register what he's seeing: his brother and his school counsellor having lunch together.

"What the fuck?" he cries. He points an accusing finger in Cas' direction. "You totally are stalking me!" He turns to Dean. "What the fuck is he doing here? Are you on a shitting date? Are you fucking kidding me? He's my goddamn therapist! What is wrong with you, you freak? Go ahead and talk shit about me because I. Don't. Care!"

Cas blinks and Sam storms by in a blur, the heavy slam of a door rattles the apartment.

Dean is up on his feet, heading after Sam. He pauses and looks at Cas with a mournful expression on his face. "I'm really sorry about this."

Cas shakes his head. "No, I probably shouldn't have accepted your offer. It was… inappropriate."

Dean shrugs. "It was just lunch." He raises his voice so Sam might hear and says, "It was not a date!"

Cas grabs his coat off the back of the chair and stands up, stepping slowly around Dean and closer to the exit. "I should get going."

"Okay. Well, it was nice getting to know you," Dean says, smiling genuinely despite the tired lines of his face.

"Yeah," Cas agrees. He flinches when something thuds and smashes in the other room. Dean hurries down the hall and yelling ensues, loud and angry enough that it makes little sense to Cas, although he hears plenty of cursing from Sam.

Not waiting any longer, Cas quietly lets himself out.

He's sitting on the bus, halfway home, when he realises he left his groceries in Dean's car.