Chapter three! Thank you for all the reviews and follows/favorites this story has gotten. I appreciate them so much, and they make my day:)

CHAPTER WARNINGS: child abuse, language, slash.

Enjoy!

Cas flipped through the last of the pamphlets, reading over the back carefully. He'd steadily made his way through the stack of papers the social worker had given them, underlining the important passages to read to Sam once he got home. He glanced up at the stove clock, noting that Sam should be home in about an hour. Sam had taken the forms to fill out at work, and they'd agreed to call on Tuesday night to set up a date to look around at the foster homes in the area. Cas tapped the end of the pen against his lips, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face at the thought of Sam and him finding kids just in time for Thanksgiving.

The lock turned in the front door and Sam stepped into the front hall He shouldered the door closed behind him against the wind howling and called down the hallway, "Hey, Cas!"

"How was school?" Cas rose to his feet and moved to meet Sam in the hall. He put a hand on Sam's hip and tilted his head up to press a kiss to the underside of Sam's jaw.

Sam shrugged off his jacket and toed off his boots before leaning down to kiss Cas hello. "Good. We started the letter 'w' today, and the kids are excited to finish the alphabet." Sam shook out his hair and stuffed his hat into the packet of his jacket. Cas reached up to fix the long, chocolate colored locks, moving them back into place and pushing them out of Sam's eyes. "How was your day?"

"Long," Cas replied honestly. Usually he didn't mind his job in the Public Works Department, but in the winter things tended to get slow occasionally. They were working on plans to repair the main road in the spring, but otherwise there were no other arrangements to make this week. The sewage lines had been inspected already that month, the park had closed down for the winter, and they'd already set the schedule for the plows for the week; Cas was bored with the monotonous busy work he'd gotten stuck with. "We've gotten conformation that we can pave Main Street this spring."

"Thank God," Sam grinned when Cas fixed him with a disapproving frown at the flippant use of God's name. "Sorry. But, really, Cas, that road is completely torn up. It's needed to be paved since I was born."

"And the Public Works department is happy to oblige," Cas muttered, turning to head back towards the kitchen. He cracked the oven and peered inside. The casserole was still not finished, but he hadn't expected Sam to be home so early.

Cas felt Sam's arms wind around his waist from behind and found himself being pulled so his back was pressed against Sam's chest. He could feel Sam's heart beating steadily through the fabric of his flannel shirt and the familiar rhythm soothed him somewhat. Sam's mouth was close to his ear when he spoke, and his warm breath ghosted pleasantly over Cas's pale skin. "What's up, babe?"

Cas shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Sam's chest. "I…nothing."

Sam raised an eyebrow and nuzzled his nose against the back of Cas's neck. Cas's hair ticked the tip of Sam's nose and he fought the reflexive smile it brought on. "It's nothing? The last time you told me it was nothing, you ended up in the hospital with pneumonia."

Cas pursed his lips and shrugged again, unable to keep the corner of his lips from tilting upwards. "The electrician cancelled at the last moment and we had to have the lights working on the tree in the town square for Christmas."

Sam snorted softly against Cas's neck and breathed in deeply; Cas smelled like ink and clean laundry, and the familiar smell sent a warm feeling through Sam's chest. "You're missing the point."

Cas sighed and turned around in Sam's arms to look up at the taller man, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head to the side. "What? What point? There's nothing wrong with me, Sam."

"Okay," Sam noticed the snappish tone edging its way into Castiel's voice and let him go, taking a step back and holding up his hands defensively. "I didn't say there was, I was just asking if anything was wrong. Sorry."

"I'm fine," Cas snapped, turning his back to Sam and striding over to the kitchen table. He picked up some of the papers there and stacked them on top of one another, handling them so carefully it was as if he thought they would shatter. Sam saw the slight tremble in his slim fingers and bit his lip before he could ask anything else. If Cas didn't want to talk, trying to force him just made it worse.

After a few long moments of silence, Cas cleared his throat and leaned heavily on the table, not facing Sam. Sam noted that he'd changed out of his suit and was wearing flannel pajama pants, a t-shirt, and an open flannel shirt Sam recognized as his own that hung halfway down Cas's thighs. He looked warm and comfortable and like everything Sam needed after running around with the kids all day; it was all he could do to stop himself from wrapping himself around Cas again. Cas ran a hand through his dark hair, mussing it even more. "I…I've been thinking…"

Sam's stomach dropped; it was never good when Cas led in with that. He moved a few steps closer, but still left some space between them in case Cas needed it, and didn't speak, waiting for Cas to finish.

"What if we can't do this?" Cas blurted out, forcing the words that had been flitting around in his mind for days past his lips. "What if we can't find the right kids? What if they don't want us?"

Sam couldn't help the small sigh of relief that slipped from his mouth. "Cas, babe, that's what you're worried about?"

Cas shrugged and ducked his head, red creeping up the back of his neck. Sam put his hands on Cas's hips and turned the smaller man around so he had to look at him, giving him a lopsided smile. Cas dropped his gaze to the floor, obviously embarrassed. Sam gently tilted Cas's chin upwards again so his blue eyes met Sam's reassuring gaze firmly. Sam spoke softly and deliberately to be sure Cas understood every word he said and felt the conviction behind them. "We will find kids out there. If we have any problem, it will probably be that we want to give all of them a home. And don't beat yourself up about this, babe. Of course they'll want you, I know you'll give them everything you have." Sam smiled softly. "So will I. You know that. How could anyone turn that down?"

Cas shrugged with one shoulder and said softly, "I hated the people that adopted me."

Sam heart leapt to his throat. He pulled Cas to him and embraced the smaller man tightly. Cas pressed his face into Sam's chest and his fingers curled into the front of Sam's shirt, clinging to the fabric tightly. Sam spread his hands open over Cas's back and gripped at the layers of fabric Cas was swathed in. "We won't treat our kids the way they treated you. I promise you that, Cas. We'll love them and support them and give them everything we can because that's what everyone deserves."

He could feel Cas nod, and he felt the knots in Cas's back unwind after a few moments. Cas sighed softly, his breath puffing against Sam's collarbone hotly. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and hoarse. "If…if I don't…if I don't…promise you'll stop me."

"You won't," Sam said firmly, slightly perplexed by Cas's insistence.

Cas's fingers dug into Sam's arms so hard they would undoubtedly leave bruises. He met Sam's gaze steadily and repeated commandingly, "Promise me, Sam."

"Alright," Sam promised, perplexed by Cas's insistence. He knew most of Cas's family wasn't exactly loving; he'd gotten the impression that they were downright frigid with each other. He recalled the scars that crisscrossed over Cas's back and chest in a patchwork of thin white lines. He'd traced his fingers over them more times than he could count, a mixture of anger and admiration whirling in his chest. He knew that if he ever got the chance to meet a few of Cas's brothers he wouldn't hesitate to punch them in the face for what they put him through, but he couldn't help the awe he felt knowing how strong Cas had come out of a horrible situation. He held Cas tighter, slipping his cold hands under the back of Cas's shirts. Cas shivered slightly, but didn't push Sam away. "You won't, Cas. I know you won't. But, yeah, I promise, babe."

Cas nodded shortly and shuffled closer to the curve of Sam's body, nestling himself against Sam's chest. Sam fingers felt like tendrils of ice curling around his sides, and he couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body. "Thank you."

Sam kissed him softly on the lips; Cas felt Sam smile against his mouth. He found himself smiling back despite the knot of worry twisting in his stomach. Sam drew away, grinning goofily and moving his cold hands to grip Cas's hips. "Do you have the pamphlets? We can go over them now, since we've got some time." Sam kissed his forehead absently, reaching for the stack of papers on the table. He looked down at Cas, raising his eyebrows high on his forehead in a silent question, gauging Cas's reaction with concern, and Cas felt the warmth he'd been craving all afternoon spread through his chest.

Sam was concerned when Ansem wasn't at school the next day. Travis Gallagher seemed about as apt to take a day off if his kid was sick as John Winchester had been when Sam was a kid. He didn't have too much time to dwell on it, because teaching twenty-four five year olds how to count past thirty required all of his attention.

By the end of the day, he was pretty much ready to drag himself home and collapse into bed with his warm, loving husband and listen to Cas talk about whatever project he was working on at the town hall, about his coworkers, about the town Sheriff who Cas fervently denied had a crush on him, but had no other explanation for the dinner invitations he kept politely turning down. He wanted to talk a little bit more about exactly what Cas was thinking about this whole experience adopting a kid. They'd been to two foster homes so far, and hadn't found a match yet. Sam could tell Cas was feeling discouraged and slightly insecure about the whole situation, and it was slightly worrying. Sam gave up on trying to focus on his lesson plans for next week and snapped his planner closed, too tired to do any more that night.

He stood up and pulled on his jacket, glancing outside. Black was already greedily staining the blue of the afternoon winter sky; it would probably be dark by the time Sam got home. It was pitch black by four thirty on a good day, lately.

As he made his way down the hallway to the front doors, waving goodbye at Jo and Ash as he passed their classrooms, his phone started to ring. He dug it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. Cas's picture flashed across the screen and Sam flipped the phone open, smiling a little. The picture was of Cas looking down at him disapprovingly from where he was perched on a branch of the tree in front of their house with a tangle of Christmas lights in his hands, and it never failed to force a grin. "Hey, Cas. What's up?"

"Hi," Cas's voice was distant and gruff; he must have been moving around as he spoke, probably trying to reach one of the tall shelves in the archive room, or repairing the holiday display in front of the town hall, or heading off to a meeting in the church next door. Honestly, Sam didn't understand Cas's job description, but he figured that no one else at the town hall (including Cas himself) really did either. "I'm going to be late tonight; I just got a call that they need me across town to meet with the superintendent."

"Alright," Sam replied, trying not to sound too disappointed. He pulled open the front door and braced himself before stepping into the freezing air. "What time should you be home?"

There was the sound of shuffling and papers being readjusted and crumpled before Cas replied, "Nine-ish, maybe? Don't wait for me to eat, you go ahead."

"I'll leave something in the microwave for you," Sam agreed, shifting his shoulder before his bag could slide off as he started towards his car. "Good luck at the meeting."

"I'll need it," Cas muttered, his words barely comprehensible through the phone.

Sam's eyebrows drew together and he asked, "What do you mean? What's the meeting about?"

"They've been bugging me about the soccer fields for years," Cas gave a long suffering sigh and Sam heard a door slam through the connection. "They always want something, and it always requires copious amounts of paperwork…"

"So I should have beer ready for when you get home, too?" Sam smiled softly, cradling his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he unlocked the car's door. "Possibly the whiskey Dean left last time he came by?"

"Possibly both," Cas sighed, and his tone softened at the joking lilt in Sam's tone. "If this is an attempt to ply me with alcohol until I can't worry any more, it's becoming surprisingly tempting."

"You worry way too much sometimes," Sam agreed, tossing his bag into the passenger's seat. He happened to glance up and saw that there was another figure across the parking lot, near the high school's side of the parking area. Sam squinted and strained his eyes to try to make out the figure leaning on the side of an old pickup truck, head dropped into their hands and shoulders hunched. "But you wouldn't be you without your constant state of worry." He heard Cas snort indignantly, and he rolled his eyes. Cas knew perfectly well that he did have a tendency to worry; Sam was concerned he'd develop stomach ulcers from stress before he was thirty. "I've got to go, I'm about to leave the school. Love you, babe."

"Love you, too," Cas replied begrudgingly, still slightly miffed by Sam's comment. "See you at home."

"Good luck," Sam closed the phone and stuffed it into his pocket. He closed the car door and made his way over to the hunched figure by the truck cautiously. On closer inspection, he saw that it was Andy. He approached the slumped teenager cautiously and asked, cringing and flinched, "Hey. Are you alright?"

Andy jumped at the sound of Sam's voice and automatically took a few steps back defensively. When he saw it was Sam, he relaxed slightly and gave a forced smile. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his threadbare coat and looked up at Sam. "I, uh, yeah, my truck just…it's old. It broke down again, so I called my dad, I'm waiting for him to call me back."

"What's wrong with it?" Sam asked, looking the truck over. He'd spent enough weekends with Dean at the garage to learn a thing or two about cars. "Are you sure it's not just the battery?"

"Yeah," Andy replied, sighing and running his hand through his thick curls. "The battery's fine, I just got it replaced. It's the engine. It's so old, I swear to God it breaks down every other day."

Sam nodded, pursing his lips. He glanced at the hood of the tuck and inclined his head towards it. "Mind if I take a look?"

Andy hesitated, but nodded, and Sam reached out to lift the hood. He propped it open and leaned under it, looking over the engine to see if he could find anything overtly wrong with it. Dean had always been better at this than he was, but he liked to think he could hold his own. He could feel Andy shifting uncomfortably next to him, peering under the hood as well. Sam caught sight of the problem fairly easily and winched sympathetically. "Your fuel cap looks messed up. Maybe it's not venting right."

"How bad is that?" Andy asked, his voice terse. When Sam glanced back at him, his arms were crossed over his chest and his shoulders were tense. A muscle in his clenched jaw jumped.

Sam shrugged and replied with a tone of apology in his voice. "You have to replace the cap completely."

"Damn it," Andy muttered, striding away from Sam and kicking the front tire. Sam watched the small outburst with concern, but didn't speak up, unsure of what to say. Andy ran his hands through his hair again, tugging at the thick strands in frustration. He took a few deep breaths and turned back to Sam, an impassive expression schooled back onto his face. When he spoke, his voice was even and calm, contrary to the nervous shaking in his hands. "So I should call a tow truck and find another way home?"

"Ideally," Sam nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the almost empty parking lot. He didn't want to leave the kid here alone in a virtually empty parking lot when it was getting dark out, especially not when it was freezing outside. "Do…you called your Dad?"

Andy nodded. "He was…he's probably still at…at work. He'll probably call back any minute now."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, concern for the kid growing. Andy looked like hell; dark shadows were painted under his red rimmed eyes, and he was shivering despite the thick, worn jacket he had pulled tightly around himself. "It's freezing out here. Do you want to wait inside? I'll wait with you."

"No!" Andy blurted out immediately. His eyes went wide and his hands flew up to cover his mouth when he realized what he'd done. He shook his head and spoke through his fingers, forcing his voice to remain calm. "I mean, it's okay. It's fine. I'll go back into the school, there are still people around…"

Sam eyed the sparse amount of cars in the lot doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

Andy nodded emphatically, looking up at Sam with wide eyes that were filled with a convincing amount of sincerity. "I'm sure. Thanks, Mr. Winchester, but it's fine."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek and nodded reluctantly taking a step back. "I…okay..." Sam was about to turn and head back to his car when he remembered to ask about Ansem. He turned back to Andy, who had relaxed when Sam had started to walk away, but immediately tensed again when Sam returned his attention to him and asked, "Hey, how's Ansem doing?"

"Fine," Andy replied automatically, crossing his arms over his chest and dropping his gaze to the icy ground. He scuffed his boot across the slick blacktop, shrugging. "I can tell it's uncomfortable for him, but it doesn't hurt and he doesn't complain."

"He's quiet," Sam agreed softly, trying to recall if Ansem had ever spoken to him. He couldn't think of an instance. "Is he…why is he so quiet?"

Andy shrugged again, his dark eyes still trained on the patterns in the ice. "He, uh, he just doesn't like to talk much. He has a lisp, and I think he's just…he's self-conscious about it. He barely ever even talks to me."

"How about to your dad?" Sam asked, trying to keep his voice light and casual.

Andy's gaze shot up from the ground to meet Sam's and he responded disarmingly coldly, "About the same."

Sam nodded shortly, silenced for a moment by the weight in the kid's gaze when he replied. Sam cleared his throat and began, "Well, have a good—"

He was cut off by a cell phone going off. Andy glanced up apologetically and waved goodbye as he dug his phone out of his pocket. Sam recognized the dismissal, but remained standing where he was so he could blatantly eavesdrop. He wanted to be sure that Andy got a ride before he left.

Andy gritted his teeth and pressed the phone to his ear, shooting Sam an irritated look. Sam tried to look oblivious and dropped his eyes to the slushy ground. "Hello?"

"What is it?" Sam could make out faintly what Travis Gallagher was saying. He continued to pretend to be very interested in the ground, feeling slightly awkward despite himself.

"The truck…the truck broke down again," Andy admitted, digging his free hand into his jacket pocket. "I…it needs a new fuel cap, and I can't…the engine won't work."

"So what?" Gallagher said snappishly through the static of the phone connection. "Call a tow truck and get it brought in to a garage."

"Okay," Andy replied. He hesitated before asking softly, "I…can you…can you…I mean, maybe…"

"Spit it out," Gallagher commanded harshly. "I don't have all fucking day."

"Can you come pick me up?" Andy asked, the hand in his pocket balling up into a tight fist.

A loud sigh came from the speaker of the phone and Gallagher replied irritably, "I guess so, if you really need me to. What, spend too much time with your boyfriend lately? Hurt too much to walk home?"

Andy flushed bright red and glanced up at Sam, trying to gauge if he'd heard or not. Sam's expression gave nothing away. He didn't understand his father's insistence that he was sleeping with Jake, and was honestly completely embarrassed by it. He muttered into the phone, "He's not my boyfriend, Dad, I told you…"

"Damn right he's not," Gallagher growled. "No son of mine's going to be a faggot."

Andy pursed his lips tightly and swallowed hard, gritting his teeth. "Yessir."

"I'll be there in a minute," Gallagher continued. "Don't wander off. I've got stuff to do besides drive your ass around all night because you're too stupid to fix your truck."

Gallagher must have hung up, because Andy dropped the phone from his ear and stuffed it into his pocket, trying to force himself not to blush. He figured Sam had probably heard the whole thing, and that was absolutely humiliating. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and offered awkwardly, "He's on his way. Thanks for hanging around, but I…I'm fine."

He forced a weak smile and turned on his heel, intending to head to the bed of the truck to find the business card he had for the garage downtown stuck in the front pocket of his backpack. His boots lost the traction they had on the icy ground. He slipped and flailed out in an effort to get a grip on the hood of the truck and halt his fall. Before he made contact with the ground, arms were around his waist, hauling him back to his feet. He immediately flinched away from Sam's hands, uncomfortable with the closeness and anchoring touch. He took a few steps away from Sam, holding his hands out and rubbing the bridge of his nose nervously. "Sorry…sorry, I didn't…"

"My God," Sam stared at Andy with wide, concerned eyes that made Andy's stomach drop. Andy's coat had ridden up when Sam had stopped him from falling to expose the dark bruises that littered his stomach and hips. He tugged down the hem of his jacket hurriedly and moved back even more, wanting as much distance between him and Sam as possible. "Andy, what happened?"

Andy shrugged and swallowed hard, shaking his head and staring at Sam with wide, innocent eyes. "I got into a fight."

"Did you fight back?" Sam asked, not buying the excuse for a second. His stomach had been layered with so many bruises the skin was practically black, and his hips were painted with bruises that were just as dark. Those were not bruises from a fight; Sam would recognize marks left from a fight in a second from his and Dean's time in school. Those were bruises from being held down and beaten to hell.

Andy pursed his lips and dropped his head into his hands, digging his fingers into his thick curls. "Please just leave me alone, just go home. I'm fine. It's none of your business anyway. Why do you care so much? I don't even know you."

"I care so much because you're a child and you're covered in bruises," Sam replied, taking a step closer to Andy. Andy shrank back against the driver's door of the truck. Sam notice him flinch and stopped advancing, holding his hands up and backing off, recognizing the trapped animal look that Cas sometimes got when he felt smothered. He held out his hands palms up and said imploringly, "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Like I haven't heard that before," Andy snorted, his voice going slightly higher with panic. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths before allowing his tense body to relax. "I…I…sorry. I'm just…tired. These guys jumped me the other day and it…it shook me up."

"Alright," Sam said softly, trying to sooth Andy into a more complacent state. Any was trying to remain calm, but Sam could sense the undercurrent of panic and jumpiness in Andy's jerky movements. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I won't ask, alright? I'll just stand here until your dad shows."

Andy still looked a little reluctant, but nodded. He inched away from Sam, putting more distance between them. He glanced up at the tall man, rubbing his upper arms with his hands as if he was cold. They stood in tense, awkward silence until a black truck pulled into the parking lot and screeched to a stop next to where Andy was parked. Travis flung the driver's side door open and lowered himself down from the cab. He approached Andy and Sam suspiciously, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Evening," he nodded at Sam before turning his attention to his son. He dropped his cigarette into the snow and stomped on it to put it out. "It's broke down again?"

"Yessir," Andy replied, ducking his head submissively. His thick curls fell into his face, obscuring his eyes.

Gallagher glanced between Andy and the truck for a few moments before rolling his eyes and muttering, "Fucking useless…" Andy's shoulders hunched forward further. Travis turned back to Sam and grinned widely. The smile looked more like a facial twitch, and Sam figured that was because he didn't use it often enough. "Thanks for waiting with him." He reached out and gripped Andy's wrist in the same possessive way he had in the office the previous afternoon. "We'll call and get this towed tonight. We'd better get going if we're going to pick up your brother on time, Andrew."

Andy nodded and slid out of his father's grip to snatch his backpack from the lift gate of his truck. He smiled distractedly and nodded to Sam as he passed by, muttering, "Thanks, Mr. Winchester." He made his way to the other side of the truck and climbed in, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a wince as he hauled himself inside the high cab. Gallagher watched him contemplatively for a few moments before glancing over at Sam. "Sorry about that. This things as old as God, but he won't get rid of it."

"It was really not a problem," Sam replied, his stomach sinking. He didn't like this; something was off with Andy and his father, and Sam didn't want to think of what it could be. "He's a great kid."

Gallagher grunted and shrugged. "He's got a mouth on him, but otherwise I can't complain."

Sam forced his expression to remain pleasant. Punching a parent in the middle of the parking lot with nothing to excuse him but vague suspicions wouldn't go over well with the administration. "Is Ansem doing all right?"

"He's fine," Gallagher replied tersely. Sam didn't miss the way his gaze flickered to his son, who was hunched over in the truck, his face buried in his hands. "He had a restless night, so I dropped him off at his aunt's for the day. He should be back tomorrow."

Sam forced himself to smile again, anger and rage boiling in his chest, a vice tightening around his stomach, and replied through gritted teeth, "Good."

I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think if you have a second, reviews make my week:)

Thanks for reading.