"I…I.." I choked on my own voice, unable to form any coherent thought, let alone a full sentence. Too floored by this police officer's presence to even think straight. What could I even say? 'Officer, I'm afraid that my father's going to kill me and abuse my little brother. I'm afraid you're going to arrest me. I'm afraid of airplanes and dying alone.' No I don't think he'd like that.

I trapped any further mumblings from coming out of my mouth, literally biting my tongue.

He frowned at me, as if he was weighing options in his head. While I chewed my tongue, he peeked into the room, taking note of Sam sleeping soundly inside. He nodded, once, twice. Very slowly.

He looked at me again. "Might I come in?" He asked, clasping his hands in front of him. I wish he wouldn't do that. I wish he'd be bad cop right now instead of polite-Mr.-I'll-be-your-friend cop. If he's going to ruin this he should at least do it without making me sympathize with him.

"Yes.." I breathed, stepping away from the door and sitting on my bed again. He closed the door and sat next to me.

"So I'm sure you know why I'm here." He said, looking straight at my face. His eyes holding mine, making me look right into the pits of his conscience. I felt like he knew something I didn't. and I wanted to throw up.

"…Look…you don't understand." I whispered, locking my fingers together to keep from pulling at my own hair. "We had to…please…we had to get out."

He titled his head once again, this time, he looked strained as he inquired, "How come?"

I thought about telling him, about spilling my guts and just actually getting to let out my feelings for once. But this man? This Police Officer who was going to take me back to my house, most likely in cuffs?

I couldn't tell him. "I can't tell you.." I whispered, dropping his gaze and looking straight at the floor.

He frowned again, looking toward Sammy instead and waiting a few moment before speaking again. "Dean." He said.

I lifted my head in response, looking soddenly at him.

"That is your name?" He asked with slight smile.

"Yes." I blinked, closing my hands between my kneecaps.

"And that is your little brother, Sam?"

"It is."

He held out his hand then, a large, strong hand, with blended callouses and thick knuckles, like a carpenter's hands. I scrambled to shake it, struggling to send directions to my hands, they didn't want to cooperate.

I tried to unclasp them while they were between my knees and twisted my own thumb back in the process.

But what seemed like a full minute of embarrassment was realistically only about 2 seconds.

I jerked my hand to his, and we shook. He had a firm grasp and a strong arm.

"My name is Officer Castiel Novak." He stated, offering up a small smile.

I returned it chastely. "Nice to meet you.." I lied.

"Would you mind telling me a bit about yourself?" He asked, crossing his legs and pivoting in my direction, just by a few degrees.

I blinked, unsure if I heard him correctly. "M-me?" I questioned, eyes widening in shock.

He chuckled, "Yes, Dean. Please tell me about you and your brother."

So I did. I told him all about Sam, all about his great grades and how he never let his disability slow him down. How he was a great kid, never caused any trouble. I went on as much as I could, watching Officer Novak nod along, taking mental notes and looking to Sam every so often.

After I had found nothing else interesting to say I just kind of shrugged and stayed quiet.

"Yes, he seems like a great kid." Novak genuinely sounded impressed.

"He is." I confirmed.

"But what about you, Dean?"

"What do you mean?"

"You never said anything about who you are. What you like to do." He smiled, amused at my ability to forget about myself when it came to Sam.

"Oh." I felt myself blush at my mistake. I was so stupid sometimes. "Well…I work at Singer Auto…down the road form here."

"Do you really?" He asked, sitting up from the slight crouch he had fell into. "The Police Force gets work done on our vehicles there. They're very reliable." He added, smiling.

"Oh wow…" I said, feeling pride swell up. Bobby, the shop's owner, would love to hear that. "Thank you." I gushed.

"So what do you do when you're not at school or working?" He asked, uncrossing his legs, and then re-crossing them the opposite way.

My stomach knotted up at that question. The tension that had ebbed away from my muscles found it's way back.

"Oh…" I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "I just…"

"You…take care of your brother." It should have been a question. Fuck me, it needed to be a question. He couldn't know that much. He'd want to know more. Why do you take care of Sam? What's wrong with your father. He couldn't find out. Nobody could dig that deep and expect to come out alive.

No one could come inside my world and see me for who I truly was. I couldn't allow it.

But…I don't know what happened, maybe I just lost all the fight in me.

"Yes." I breathed, feeling his next question right in the core of my being. Feel it before he even said it.

It made me want to vomit and simply cry. The brave Dean Winchester and the afraid Dean Winchester fought in my head.
Don't tell him anything more than he needs to know.

But we can't keep living like this.
He'll lock you up and God knows what will happen to Sam.

He'll lock John up and we'll be free!
We'll never be free.

My head was bowed, but my eyes lifted up to look at the officer. He was going to speak the single word that could send all the bricks in my little wall, crashing down.

He exhaled, eyes full of sympathy that made my chest physically hurt. He cared, he had to. Maybe it wasn't his job to care but it was his job to lock up abusive parents, wasn't it?

Then he opened his mouth, just enough to let the word ghost out.

"Why?"