Another chapter! Sorry for such a wait between updates (same goes for all my stories). This chapter belongs to Cas. Enjoy!

When the sun rises the next morning, Cas feels like it's shining just for him. The alarm goes off on the bedside table and Cas can't even bring himself to be mad about it. He's been awake for an hour anyway, Balthazar cuddled up on his belly and purring into his chest. There's frost on the bedroom window and the morning sunlight catches onto it, shining like crystals. On a tree outside, a bird begins to sing.

It's a beautiful day.

"Just beautiful," Cas mutters, rolling out of bed despite Balthazar's protests. He stands in front of the window and stretches his arms up high, watching people leave their homes for work or to walk their dogs down the street.

There's no cereal or bread in his cupboards, he never seems to have any food around, but that's okay when all he can think about is freckles and green eyes and eyelashes tickling his skin. He's grinning like an idiot as he pours himself a cup of coffee and sits at the kitchen bench, reliving last night over in his head. He hasn't been kissed like that since… well, he's never been kissed like that.

It was the sort of kiss you see in a movie. In a rainstorm. At the head of a ship. As the world comes crumbling down around the two lovers. It's a kiss that stops time.

Balthazar jumps up onto the bench and flicks his tail, a sour look on his face that says stop being so goddamn dramatic, would you?

For some reason, Cas imagines Balthazar speaking with an English accent. Maybe it's the constant pessimistic tail-flicking and superior attitude. He scratches him behind the ears and fills up his bowl with kibble. Balthazar rubs himself appreciatively against Cas' legs before wolfing down his breakfast.

Finishing off the rest of his coffee, Cas scrolls through the news on his phone. Awful things are happening all over the world and for once Cas can't bring himself to dwell on it. He closes the news pages and watches a Youtube video of kittens learning to walk, their little legs too stiff and wobbly to get further than a few steps, and he chuckles all the way into the shower.

He sings under the spray of water, lets himself imagine Dean in there with him, imagines his touch in all sorts of places. His stomach flutters and he turns off the shower, blushing in the safety of his bathroom where even his cat won't see.

He's early for the bus. It feels colder this morning and he's pleased he'd thought to bring a scarf with him. The weather report this morning promises a sunny day, but predicted it will only get colder by the end of the week. He fishes his scarf out of his bag and wraps it around his shoulders and neck. His little sister knitted it for him a long time ago, spent months making it, and it's thick and long enough to warm two people.

That reminds him, he should call Anna later.

The bus arrives and Cas hops on, he smiles at the students he sees huddled at the back. They stare at him like he's crazy, only then does Cas realise he's still humming aloud. He shuts himself up and plugs his headphones in. He can't peel his goddamn smile of his face; his cheeks are starting hurt. He feels like a teenaged girl swooning over her first crush.

When was the last time he ever felt this way about someone? When was the last time the thought of someone made his heart flutter and his cheeks flush? Maybe never.

He spies Dean in the school parking lot and is a second away from going over to say hello, but then he sees Sam is there, too, with a sour look on his face. Neither brother looks particularly happy. Dean's shoulders are set in a way that indicates he's angry, and Sam is staring at the ground like he wants to sink into it. Of course, students are passing by, whispering to each other and smirking at the show the Winchesters are putting on.

Dean lightly shoves Sam's shoulder to get his attention and Sam's response is to yell, "Get a life, Dean!" loud enough for everyone in the parking lot to hear. He immediately seems to regret his decision and tugs the hood of his jacket over his head like it might make him invisible.

As much as he's curious, Cas decides it's not any of his business, or anyone else's for that matter. If Sam, or Dean, want to tell him about it, that's okay. If not, that's okay too. He ducks his head and heads straight inside.

Closing his office door against the hum of students milling about the hallways towards their classes is like letting out a breath after holding it for too long. The giddy happiness Cas woke up with this morning dulls a little as he thinks of the Winchester brothers arguing earlier, it fades even more when he thinks about the anti-bullying workshop he's supposed to be leading for the eleventh graders that afternoon. A lot of the students he works more closely with are in that grade. Charlie, Lily, Max, Sam.

He spends his morning perfecting the worksheets and printing off plenty of copies, then he grabs a cup of coffee and settles back into his office, opening up his contacts list. His sister's name is right at the top and he clicks dial.

"Hello?" is the breathless answer.

"Anna?" Cas says, suddenly alarmed. "What are you doing?"

He hears the phone shift from one of his sister's ears to the other, then she says, "Nothing. I'm just trying to get this damn crib together."

Cas sighs and rubs his forehead. "Anna. Put the screwdriver down. Let Paul put it together."

"Paul's at work. Besides, I'm going a little crazy here. Nothing is ready and the baby is coming in five weeks!"

Cas chuckles. "You've got plenty of time to put the crib together. Just wait until Paul gets home."

"I want it done now," Anna says, and Cas can practically hear her pouting on the other end of the line.

"You're nesting," says Cas. "Why not fold the baby's clothes and put them in the drawers?"

"Done it already."

"Organise the toys by size," Cas teases.

"Done," Anna snaps. "I've done absolutely everything but put this stupid crib together."

Cas smiles. His little sister has always been a firecracker. Do now, think later is likely her motto. While that's often got her into trouble, Cas has always admired Anna's sheer determination and carefree attitude. Sometimes he envies her for it.

"Annie," he says, "go lie down, okay? Watch a movie, take a bath, relax."

"I can't relax."

"Then go for a walk."

Anna is quiet for a second, then he can hear her grunt as she gets to her feet. "I can barely see my toes anymore," she says with a sigh.

"I'm sure you look positively glowing," Cas replies.

"I look like I ate an entire man," Anna laughs. "Besides, you don't know what I look like. I haven't seen you since August!"

"I'll be there for the birth. I promise."

"Mom's going to be there."

Cas sighs. "I figured."

"She'll calm down eventually, Cassie," Anna says. "She forgave me."

"I think being gay trumps getting pregnant out of marriage in Mom's books. She doesn't ever want to see me again, she said as much last time I saw her."

"Cas – "

"Look, Anna, I've got to get back to work. Make sure you relax a little, okay?"

Anna sighs. "Alright. We're not done talking about this, though."

His sister is always a woman of her word and there's no doubt this extremely pointless conversation will come up again. Cas quickly says his goodbyes and gets back to tweaking his slideshow presentation. Empathy is something he never learned from his mother, it's something he had to teach himself, and it's something he'll teach to these kids.

He's heading for the staff room to get another refill of coffee during lunch, only to realise halfway there that he left his mug back in his office. Outside, any signs of the bright day the morning had promised is swept away by grey clouds and spitting rain. Most of the kids will be spending their lunch break in the cafeteria or in empty classrooms, and even some lingering in the halls despite the signs on the walls that strictly prohibit loitering.

There are hushed voices coming from around the corner and Cas is prepared to shoo them away back to the cafeteria when he hears something he knows he shouldn't.

"He's a freak."

That stops him cold. That word is sharp as a knife, cuts just as deep, leaves wounds just as painful. Cas knows all too well. Maybe he should pounce on them now and give them a well-deserved lecture, but they aren't done talking yet.

"He used to be pretty normal," says another kid, a voice Cas recognises as Gordon Walker, the soccer captain and one of the highest-ranking students in his grade. "I used to be on the soccer team with him before he turned psycho."

"His dad died," another voice hisses. "Most people would go a little… weird, after something like that."

"Pfft. That's just an excuse," says the first voice. "My dad died, too, and I never went off the deep end. This girl in my biology class says she saw him talking to himself. He's, like, for real crazy."

"Do you think he'll end up in a mental hospital?" someone else says, sounding far too excited by the idea. Each word Cas hears is like a splash of icy cold water to his face. These are eleventh graders, the same kids he's supposed to educate about bullying in half an hour.

"He's in my gym class and he always changes in the bathroom stalls. That's pretty weird, isn't it?"

"Sam Winchester is crazy. He keyed my car," Gordon says, distaste in his voice. "Let's just hope they finally kick him out of here for good."

Cas has heard enough. He steps around the corner and glares at them all with his arms crossed over his chest. There are four of them, Gordon's face the only one he recognises, but their oh shit expressions are something he could relish in.

All he has to say is, "Follow me, please."

It's a voice he doesn't use often, low and commanding and enough to make even the soccer captain look pale. That's right, Cas thinks, you're all in deep shit.

"Did you…" one student ventures timidly. "Did you hear – "

"Everything?" Cas finishes. "Yes, I did."

"We didn't mean anything by it," another kid defends.

Cas purses his lips and keeps walking, only turning his head to check that they're all still following. They are, with their eyes to the floor and shame burning their cheeks. There's a certain look kids have when they sit outside principle Harvelle's office, like a man headed to the gallows, one kid is even shaking as he orders them to sit in the hard plastic chairs outside. He takes their names, scribbling them down on a pocket notepad, then he knocks on the principle's door.

Ellen is typing on her computer with one hand and eating a bag of chips with the other. She looks up when Cas enters and quirks an eyebrow.

"What's happened?" she asks, sounding more exhausted than anything. Cas eases the door shut and takes a seat.

He slides the names across the desk. "I just caught these students saying some very cruel and harmful things about another student."

"Which student?" Ellen asks, scanning the list.

"Sam Winchester."

Her mouth pinches and she nods. It takes up the rest of his lunch break as she talks to each of the students, with Cas standing by as the only reliable witness. In the end, all Ellen can do is sentence them to several weeks of detention. There's no point in making them apologise to Sam when he doesn't even know what's happened in the first place, telling him what they said would only cause more harm than good.

Cas hangs back, after the last of the offenders is ushered out of the principle's office, twiddling one of the buttons on his shirt and feeling like a failure. What's to stop those kids saying such cruel things again? What's to stop them from saying it to someone's face? Or worse?

"Your anti-bullying workshop seems to be scheduled at just the right time," Ellen says, taking off her glasses.

"They won't listen to me," he says, feeling helpless. He thinks of all the children here who dread coming to school for fear of other students. He thinks of himself in high school and all the horrible names that were spat in his direction. He thinks of children feeling like he did, alone and afraid and ready to bolt.

Ellen smiles gently. "Then, make them."

It's daunting having fifty pairs of eyes staring up at you, ready and waiting. Cas takes a sip of water and clears his throat. He scans the audience, pauses when he catches sight of Sam near the back. His eyes are on the floor rather than on Cas, there's a dark-haired girl leaning on his shoulder and despite that Sam still looks miserable.

"What is bullying?" Cas begins, voice carrying clearly across the room. As expected, there are only a few hands raised.

"When someone hits you?" one kid guesses.

"Maybe in some circumstances," Cas agrees. He taps his computer and the first slide comes on screen. "Bullying," he reads, "by definition, is unwanted, aggressive behaviour that involves a real or perceived power imbalance." He turns to the room. "Who here has ever been picked on by another person?"

More than half of the students in the room raise their hands.

"Who here has ever picked on someone else?"

No one raises their hand.

Cas smiles and paces the floor. "I didn't think anyone would own up to that. A lot of the time, you could be picking on, or bullying, someone and you might not realise. You could think it's all just fun and games. In a lot of cases, the bully has their own issues that they're dealing with. It's no excuse, but remember that we're all human, we can all be hurt no matter how tough we might seem."

He glances to the back of the rows of students again and finds Sam Winchester looking up, eyes locked on Cas.

"Kindness is a choice," Cas explains. "Sometimes it can be a hard one, surprisingly. Sometimes it takes courage. Before you speak, think. Think how you'd feel if someone said to you the same thing you're about to say about someone else. Think about how every action has a consequence."

He gazes around, eyes resting on Gordon for a second. "It's not a game anymore when someone drops out of school because of you." Cas takes in the entire room. "It's not harmless when someone decides to take their own life."

The room goes deathly quiet. Cas picks up the stack of papers he'd printed out that morning, piled neatly on the table beside him, and steps towards the front row, the sound of his shoes hitting the linoleum echo around the room, there's barely a whisper from his audience. Smiling, he hands the papers to a couple of the kids right at the front. "Pass these around, then get into groups of five and make a circle within your group."

The workshop lasts an hour and Cas is itching for a cup of coffee by the end of it. He stands by the double doors of the cafeteria as the students mill out of the room and into the hallway. He likes to think maybe he's made a difference, even if it's just a small one.

He likes to think he might have helped someone. Maybe even Sam.

"Remember that my office is open during morning break and lunch hour," Cas calls out. A few students give him a smile and a wave as they pass, most just ignore him.

"This was such a waste of time," one girl says, the same raven-haired girl on Sam's arm. Sam doesn't give her an answer and seems to be trying his best not to look in Cas' direction. Cas sighs. He has his meeting with Sam after school. Please, Cas thinks, let me help you. Sam ducks his head and dips around the corner, the girl in tow.

The hope that had been holding him up throughout the hour is finally draining away as Cas realises the students are leaving the room looking much the way they did when they came in. He wonders how many kids listened, if any. The bell sounds shrilly, high and pulsing down the hallways, signalling time to begin the final class of the day.

Cas jolts when a hand claps his shoulder.

"You can bring a horse to water, but you can't make it drink," Victor Henrickson, who'd been supervising the workshop, says unhelpfully.

"I like to think I could still help some of them," Cas replies.

Henrickson lets go and turns to face him. "It's nice that you care so much, Cas, most newbies do. After a while you'll learn that some kids will slip through the cracks and there's nothing you can do about it. Take Sam Winchester, for example."

Cas frowns. "I wouldn't call Sam a lost cause."

"Any other student would have been permanently suspended months ago, the only reason he's still here is because of what happened last winter. It's a tragic thing, Sam used to be a brilliant student, I even knew his father. But the road he's going down isn't a good one. I've been teaching a long time, and each year there's always been at least one student who ended up behind bars or in a morgue."

He takes in a breath at the last word. Cas can see it on his face, the way his eyes cast downwards, the feeling of failure, of some kid he knew that ended up in the ditch.

"Don't take too much of this onto your shoulders," Victor says. "That's all I'm saying."

He pats Cas' shoulder one more time and heads into the corridor. Cas steps out after him, the halls have cleared and there's only the two of them, he watches Victor walking away and says, "I've never been any good at giving up."

Henricksons shoulders stiffen in a way that Cas can tell his words stung, and he glances over his shoulder and gives the briefest of nods before disappearing around the corner, leaving Cas alone.

Sam walks through the door five minutes late with the sickly, dry smell of cigarettes clinging to his clothes. He drops down into his seat like he's just walked a hundred miles straight, eyes red and tired.

"Good afternoon," says Cas.

Sam's reply is a short nod. He's not in a talking mood today, that much is clear. Cas peers at him a little longer, mainly at his face which is ducked, eyes glued to his sneakers. Something is wrong, or more wrong than usual, that much is clear.

"How are you?" Cas ventures. Sam shrugs. It's a miracle the boy even turned up to the session. That fact is a hopeful one, it means Sam cares enough at least about his school career. He's here because he doesn't want to get suspended again. Or maybe he's here because he needs to talk, however hard it may be.

"Your brother came by the school last night," Cas says, and Sam looks up. "He was looking for you."

Sam shifts in his seat. "Uh. Yeah. He was supposed to pick me up, but I went to my friend's house. He's, um, kind of pissed at me."

This morning's display in the parking lot makes a little more sense. It's quiet between the two of them for a moment and Cas watches Sam, the way his shoulders hunch, the way his hair hangs over his eyes. He's heard so much from other teachers about what a great kid Sam used to be, as if they've tragically lost a chance at bragging about an Ivy League student. But Sam is still a great kid, Cas can see that, he's just lost.

Cas decides to start with something small, something that Sam might be able to talk about. "How are your classes going?"

Slowly, Sam lifts his head, eyes landing somewhere below Cas' gaze. "I thought your speech today – it was good," he says. "The one about bullying."

"Oh," Cas says, a little surprised by the change of subject. "Well, I'm glad."

Sam squints a little at the opposite wall. "Do you think – if your friends aren't nice people, does that make you the same?"

"No, I don't think so," Cas replies honestly.

"What if this person is a total asshole. I mean, like, ignoring real friends and saying mean things to people and – just being awful."

Cas frowns. "I'm not sure what you're getting at, Sam."

Sam shakes his head, dropping his gaze again. "Nothing. It's nothing."

"Sam," Cas says, stern enough to catch attention but soft enough to be kind. "Sam, is something wrong?"

"I just," Sam begins, but quickly stops himself. He's blinking furiously, knees bouncing. "Bad day, that's all. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something."

Cas slides a box of tissues across the desk, but Sam doesn't touch them. He's never seen him like this, so open and raw and vulnerable. Cas' chest is tight with worry, he wants nothing more than to reach over and hug the boy, or call his brother, but neither option will help. It will only drive Sam away.

"How often do you have bad days?" Cas asks gently.

Sam shrugs.

"Why are you crying, Sam?"

"M'not," Sam insists. When he looks up again, he's wearing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Classes are going fine, by the way. My grade's gone back up again in English. I got a B on my last paper."

Cas can't think for a moment, he just stares at Sam, who stares right back expectantly. Cas knows – he knows – that Sam is desperate to talk. More than that, he's desperate for someone to listen. He can just about see the boy screaming behind his eyes. But Sam is afraid. Of what, Cas isn't entirely sure. It could be a number of things.

"Sam," Cas says, choosing his words carefully. "If something is wrong, you can tell me. I can help."

Sam's eyes flick from Cas to the wall behind him. He chews his lip, teeth pressing hard enough that it must hurt. Finally, he says, "You can't," then promptly gets up from his seat, slinging his school bag over his shoulder. In the next second, he's at the door, fingers at the handle. Cas glances at the clock to find that the session is over, and he thinks it isn't enough. Sam is different to his other kids. Sam needs real help, more than Cas can give him, and watching him disappear into the corridor without another word is like watching him slip through the cracks.

Cas dashes after him, catching up to him at a sprint at the end of the hall.

"Wait, Sam," he says, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam jolts and stares at Cas' hand like it's a spider, like he's ready to shake it off. Cas quickly pulls away and says, "Sam, I want you to know that I mean it when I say I'm here to help. Whatever you're going through, you don't need to go through it alone."

Sam raises an eyebrow at him. "No offense, Mr Novak, but I don't even know you. It's already awkward as fuck having to see you every week, I'd rather not spend more time in your depressing office than I have to."

"Sam, please," Cas isn't above begging.

"There's nothing wrong!" Sam spits.

Then why were you crying? Why are you pushing everyone away? What are you afraid of? Cas wishes he knew what to say, which magic words will make Sam drop the act and say you're right, I need help.

Sam is taller than Cas is, taller than just about everyone in this school. And the hard look the kid is wearing would maybe be enough to intimidate even some of the teachers, but Cas doesn't see that. He sees a kid. A scared little boy.

When Cas doesn't say anything more, Sam turns on his heels and carries on down the corridor, pushing through the double doors and out into the parking lot. The doors fall shut with a heavy clang that makes Cas jolt.

He doesn't have enough authority as school councillor. He can try his best to listen, but he can't make students talk. He can't make things better just by being kind. This is his first real job and he's as lost as ever. Maybe he's just been winging it up until now. All he's ever wanted to do is help people who suffered like he did, to be there for kids in a way no one ever was for him.

He thinks of Sam, the kid who zipped his own mouth shut. He thinks, this kid won't end up in the ditch, not if I can help it.

Thanks for reading! I'm really glad so many of you are enjoying this story, despite it being so different from what I usually write. About 2 more chapters to go :)