The next day, Dean hurried into English, taking his usual seat in the back and anxiously awaiting Castiel's arrival. The boy came in a few minutes later, and Dean grinned. Castiel smiled a small smile and came over, sitting down and shoving his glasses up his nose, setting his books on the desk behind Dean.
"Hey," Dean said with a grin. Castiel smiled.
"Hey, Dean." And then leaned closer with a frown, reaching out with his fingers and then seeming to think better and dropping his hand. "What happened to your face?" Dean brought a hand up to the bruise over his cheek.
"Took care of your Dex problem," Dean replied with a wide smile. Castiel's smile softened.
"Thanks, Dean," the boy murmured. Dean nodded, eyes on Dean's hands. Dean raised a brow and reached out, poking Castiel's side. Castiel jerked in surprise and looked up at Dean's grinning face.
"Mr. Winchester!" A voice called from the front of the class. Dean sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned to face Mr. Drones.
"Yes, sir?" he grumbled.
"I believe I asked you last class to pay attention. That rule still holds."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I gotcha, sir," he replied.
"Good." And with that, Mr. Drones was back to lecturing. Dean grinned and turned back to the smiling Castiel.
"S'it funny when I get caught?" Dean asked. Castiel shrugged.
"Just a little," the boy replied. Dean chuckled.
"MR. WINCHESTER!"
Two and a half months, they'd been hanging out together. Talking, going to Dean's house. More than once, Mary had made Castiel cookies to take home. Castiel loved it, and he'd come to love Dean's mom nearly as much as his own. She was so nice and sweet. She'd even bought him a new backpack when he was unable to afford one, letting him know he was welcome anytime he wanted to stay. He didn't even have to knock.
"So, Cas," Dean said as they walked into English together. "How're things goin' at your house?" Dean knew about his father, how unsupportive and emotionally abusive he was. He just didn't know he was abusive physically, and Castiel didn't intend for him to ever find out.
"Same old," Castiel replied. "He still yells at me alot. And my mom." Castiel frowned slightly as he said that, and Dean's brow furrowed but he didn't say anything. Dean sat in his usual seat, Castiel in the one behind him.
Halfway into the period, while him and Dean were in the middle of talking about who was hotter- Jennifer Love Hewit or Kate Middleton- Dean was called out of class. Castiel thought nothing of it- except how rude it was to call him out in the middle of such an important conversation. He didn't think anything of it, until Dean came back ten minutes later, his face, white as a sheet, his eyes watery, his hands trembling. No one spoke as Dean silently stuffed his books into his bag and hurried out the door. And no one stopped Castiel as he ran out after him.
"Wait! Dean!" he cried, running out after him. Dean turned, and suddenly pitched forward, silent sobs shaking his shoulders. Castiel didn't know what to do, but he caught the boy, lowering them both to their knees. Dean's tears stained Castiel's chest as Dean clutched at his sweater. Castiel didn't know what happened and he didn't ask, wrapping his arms around the trembling form, whispering words of comfort in his ear.
"S-s-she's dead!" Dean wailed. Castiel frowned and asked softly.
"Who, Dean?"
"My mom!"
If they hadn't already been on their knees, Castiel was sure he would've fallen.
"Oh God, Dean," he choked out through his suddenly closed throat. "I'm so, so sorry." He only held Dean closer.
He refused to let go, even as his sobs slowed to hitching breaths and his tears were dried on Castiels shirt, the same way Dean refused to let him go, his lifeline, his best friend.