I flipped through Cas's movies with rapt interest. I muttered the titles to myself as I scanned the DVD and VHS cases.
I had just slid Night of the Living Dead into the DVD player as a sleep-cracked voice broke my concentration.
"Dean." Sam said, slumping down onto the couch and rubbing his eyes. It was only six AM, Sam should've been asleep for at least another hour.
"What's wrong?" I asked, pausing the movie, knowing Sam didn't like horror movies, no matter how hard I tried to get him to watch The Shining or Child's Play he'd excuse himself and go study instead.
What a dweeb he was. But, my little dweeb.
I climbed on the couch next to him, waiting for him to respond.
"Just…" he paused, looking at his lap, contemplating his words.
"What, Sam?" I asked, my tone as gently as I could afford while still being the Dean Winchester he expected me to be.
"I just don't know what to do Dean." He looked up at me through his tangled brown bangs, and I saw now, his red puffy eyes and the tears on his cheeks.
I leaned forward then, pulling him against my chest just as Cas had done to me, pulling his head under my chin and rocking him.
He sobbed into me, his good arm gripping the back of my shirt, and I only held him closer, forcing away my own tears.
"Dean, what are we going to do?" He sputtered through his hiccups and gasps.
"Cas is going to take care of it…" I whispered in his ear, squeezing him once, twice, three times.
Our personal sign for 'I. Love. You.' We'd never said the words out loud to one another, mostly because it wasn't necessary. Because of everything we did for one another, the words would only seem trivial in comparison otherwise.
He squeezed the back of my shirt four times. 'I. Love. You. Too.'
I breathed into his hair, and smiled, pulling away and lifting his head to look at me.
"Guess what?" I grinned down at him and he wiped his face.
"What?"
"You stink." I chuckled as he looked mock-offended, and then checked his armpit, sniffing and pausing a moment, before he replied.
"Yeah you're right." He agreed with a small smile.
"Go get a shower, kiddo." I told him, patting his shoulder as he got up.
"Thanks Dean." He said, then hesitated. "You really think we can trust Castiel?"
I nodded, but he still seemed doubtful so I added, "…He's going to help us…I promise."
Sam half-smiled and departed.
I turned the movie back on, but Sam calling my name again stopped me.
"Hm?" I answered. He didn't answer right away, meaning that I was supposed to look at him when he spoke.
I turned around in my spot, hanging over the back of the couch.
"Do you…like him?" Sam's words were like cotton blowing in the wind, soft and docile.
But my stomach felt like what it was like to harvest cotton. Cotton had impossible seeds and the slaves who had to harvest it, would often develop callouses and their hands that would bleed frequently.
"W-what?" I choked out the words.
"…I said 'do you like him'…Castiel." He confirmed my fear and I just gulped and felt my skin get hot.
"I…I don't…know." I stammered.
Sam took half a step closer. "Dean we talked about this.."
"Sam please.." came the pleading words, nothing more than feeble squeaks of mercy.
He stopped in his tracks, thumbed his T-shirt's hem, and said one final thing before he departed,
"I don't need you to say it to know how you're feeling Dean.." with a half smile, he continued. "but maybe, Cas could afford to hear it.." the smile faded away from his tear-blotted cheeks. "because I would hate to see that again."
I sat there, half stung and half lifted by my younger sibling's words.
How had he known about that? I never told him…and if I had…not anything of this magnitude of his knowledge.
What he was referring to, was a boy named Benard Laffite.
It had been tenth grade, and this kid, was an outcast, you know? Not terribly different, but enough to earn him a shove down in the locker room.
It had been a Friday, when we met. A few of my 'friends' had found it fitting to hide his shit in the showers, and 'accidentally' turn them on.
But you see, they hadn't realized, he wasn't going to take their shit. He gave two of the bastards black eyes, the other lost a tooth.
I grabbed his arms in a lock behind his back as they scrambled away. He tried to fight my grip, naturally, but I am proud to say I powered over him.
"Get the fuck off'a me." His thick, foreign accent snarled at me. Was it Irish? I only guessed so because of his red hair and bright blue eyes.
"Let's calm down, buddy, yeah?" I panted, releasing him and watching as he spun around to face me, ready to throw a few more punches.
I held my hands up in surrender, and watched the blaze die from his eyes, the tenseness in his muscles dwindle.
"Who're you?" He asked after a few moments, looking me over, judging his ability to fight me. I'm guessing he finally decided it was a lost cause, and spoke nice instead.
I stood fairly taller than him, and he was partly chubby, but I knew now it would be better defined as husky.
"Dean." I answered, dragging his drenched clothes from the showers, slapping them onto the bench and he just looked doubtful of my kindness.
"Yeah, I know," He said, ripping the dripping linens from my grasp and throwing them against the closest locker. "but why are you helpin' me?"
I sighed and wanted to shrug, play it cool, but I felt he deserved at least half of the truth.
"Those guys are dicks."
"Then why do you hang out with 'em?" He snapped.
"Well I feel obligated to."
"That's fucking dumb."
"I know."
He sat next to me then, staring at me with those pretty eyes.
"I noticed your Led Zeppelin shirt." I cocked my head in the direction of his soiled outfit.
He grinned then, maybe only a fragment of a smile, but a genuine pleasure found its way onto those rosy, oblong cheeks.
And that was how it began. We were best friends, he was into all the best bands and we would listen to records together in his room and he taught me so much about myself.
But I fucked it up.
He and I, through an extreme occurrence of unbelievable events, were a couple.
I couldn't tell you how it happened, because I had never in all of my life thought he'd be one to swing that way.
And thought even less so a chance of myself being gay, or bi, or whatever.
But it was nice. We never kissed or had sex or anything like that, because somehow it didn't fit with the relationship we had.
But I'm pretty sure I loved him.
But after about 6 months of us being together, I'd never told him, not once.
And he left me, because I never tried to kiss him or touch him. Because he thought I hated him but was too afraid to just say it.
I don't blame him though, it was my fault.
I should have told him.
I felt a tear bob down my chin, landing squarely on my thigh and wetting the denim there.
I wiped my face with the blanket and decided I was hungry.
I shuffled my way downstairs, ignoring the sound of Sam humming in the shower.
I found where Cas had laid out a quaint breakfast, pancakes, with sausage and eggs.
My mouth watered as I microwaved a plateful and doused it in maple syrup.
It was the most delicious meal I could remember ever having eaten.
Sam came down and whole-heartedly agreed with me as we shoveled seconds into our mouths.
Sam didn't mention Cas or Benny for the rest of the morning.
"Why aren't you dressed Dean?" He had asked instead.
"Dressed for what?"
"School, you asshat." He chortled.
"Oh." I sighed as I slid my black Checker piece into Sam's red King Row. "King me."
Sam screwed his face up in annoyance at my dodging of the question, but placed a second checker atop mine. But as he did so he took out another of my pieces, now left unguarded by the previously normal King piece.
"Well?" He pried after not receiving an answer.
I narrowed my eyes at him, "we go to school they take us back." I explained, sliding my king piece into the corner.
"But Dean, what am I going to tell Jess..ie." His response reminded me of the sound a whammy-bar makes on a guitar.
"Who's Jess-i-ie?" I mocked, watching him double-jump and take out two more of my pieces.
"Just a friend." He snapped, my king emerging from the corner to attack the piece that had just taken out three of my men.
"Uh huh.. it's a girl isn't it?"
"Shut up Dean." He slid a red piece into my Kings Row "oh and King me."
I begrudgingly placed the checker I just captured on top of his new king.
"So you like her?"
"Dean I said shut up."
"Oh come on Sam."
"Dean."
"Sammy."
"Drop it."
"Tell me, is she cute?"
"King me."
"She's blonde, isn't she."
"I said king me, Dean"
"Blue eyes and a cute butt."
"DEAN."
I looked down at the board now, where I had been moving my checkers haphazardly across the board. But now, I had not a single piece left, and I blinked in surprise.
"I want to meet her."
"I want you to King me."
I sighed, crowning the last of my captured red pieces atop of his last king. He'd won, of course.
"So am I right?"
"Dean you're being such an ass." He nearly spat at me, turning around form the board and staring at the wall.
We had been playing Checkers, and various card games since six thirty, and it was pushing nine now. We sat at Cas's kitchen table, after I had cleaned the dishes out of habit, and common courtesy.
"You're right I'm sorry but I just…I really like the idea of my little brother having a crush." I admitted, trying to reach out and playfully push his shoulder, alas, he jerked away from me.
"Sam… I'm sorry, please tell me about your friend Jessie."
He slowly turned to look at me, eyes still glaring but not untrusting.
"Her name is Jessica Moore, okay?" he answered, not looking at me as he began cleaning up the checker board.
"So.. Jess, then." He nodded. "Is she your girlfriend?" I didn't ask it in a teasing tone, as much as I wanted too, but I was afraid Sam might have smashed the checker board over my head.
"No, Dean," He snapped.
"So do you like her?"
He didn't answer.
"So what does she look like?" I pried.
"Blonde, blue eyes." He said with a growl in his tone. So I had been right!
"Cute butt?" I teased, making him smile ever so slightly.
"She's really great Dean…" He continued. "She's not the run-of-the-mill girl."
I nodded, "Perfect for you huh?"
"She's just so smart and really pretty and I don't see why she would ever like me."
I can tell you now, that I could literally feel my heart drop.
How could Sam ever say that? He was the smartest kid in his class, the nicest, too, I was sure of it.
And nobody would dare lay a finger on him because the last time they even tried I'd broken the kids arm.
"Sam…" I said, my voice small and disbelieving. He wasn't ugly either, I couldn't see why he should feel the way he did.
"Dean don't start okay?" He turned to face me completely, his eyes watery and his hair still damply clinging to his forehead.
"No, Sam." I replied, reaching out and holding his dead arm, grasping the numb limb and holding his hand in mine.
"Dean." He sighed.
"Sam you're the smartest kid I know, you're a total stud and you have so much going for you I bet you this girl Jess, she likes you just as much."
"God dammit Dean I'm not you!" He violently jerked his arm away from my grasp. "I'm not some flirty fun jock kid who can get any girl he wants. I'm not popular or interesting. I'm a loser and you know it. The only reason no one says it to my face is because of you! They all hate me but are fucking afraid of what you would do about it!" His self-loathing quickly transformed into anger, he stood over me now, yelling in my face.
"You always do this!" I tried to open my mouth, tell him to calm down, tell him I was sorry, tell him anything… But he cut me off.
"No, don't even try. I can't believe you sometimes Dean! I mean I love you because you're always there for me, but sometimes you're there for me too much!"
I sat there, paralyzed by Sam's lashing out. The sheer anger and bitterness inside of him, how genuinely upset he was with me.
But soon, his eyes lost their fiery wake, and he spoke softly now, barely a whisper ghosting from him,
"Sometimes…Dean, I want to take care of myself. And I think you should learn how to take care of yourself, as well." And he loped back up the stairs, leaving me aggrieved with his words, realizing, how right he was, but still too afraid to act on them.