You are all so wonderful for supporting this story! Thank you so much! That said, I did not intend for this story to be such a whopper, but apparently it is. I've actually almost finished it and it looks like it will be about 18 chapters. Thank you for sticking it out with me and this novel! :)

TW: mentions of mental illness

It was mid-November and Dean hardly ever spent the night at his apartment anymore. Castiel's apartment was nicer, had a better sound system, a bigger bed, and was closer to campus. Jo complained that she hardly ever saw him anymore and started coming over to Castiel's place without asking, just like she always had with Dean. He warned Castiel that she might make herself a key soon and one day he'd come out of the shower naked, and she'd be standing in his kitchen, drinking a beer and making herself dinner. It had happened to Dean on more than one occasion.

It was a Friday night and the three of them were sitting in Castiel's living room, watching Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. Castiel refused to watch Dr. Sexy MD because he claimed it had "no artistic merit" and also proclaimed that he was offended that they expected him to watch "a glorified prime-time soap opera."

"So, it's almost Thanksgiving break." Jo said. "I cannot tell you how excited I am. I am so ready to be done with this semester. I have no idea why I am required to take a copy editing class as an advertising major."

"If you write ad copy, you're going to need to know AP Style and how to write proper headlines." Castiel said blankly, as if this was common knowledge, watching as Eliot Stabler punched a suspect.

Jo just glowered at him a little bit, but then she smiled. She was finally used to Castiel's weird collection of knowledge about subjects that had little to do with his daily life.

"Why is he punching that guy? It's already been implied that he's not the rapist." Dean said, waving at the screen. "If he were a cop in real life, he would lose his job for this."

"It's Law and Order, Dean. Suspension of imagination is required. Not all cops are like the ones in Lawrence. Not all cops relate back to your dad." Jo said, taking a swig of beer.

"Your dad's a cop?" Castiel asked.

Dean snorted. "Hell no. He tried a bunch of times, was far too drunk to ever make it into the academy." Dean said, his voice sharp.

Whenever he thought about his father and his failed dreams, Dean got unnecessarily angry.

"Drop it, Cas." Jo advised. She glanced at Dean. "Sorry for bringing it up." She said, with actual sincerity.

Dean shook his head. "It's cool. Sorry for getting bitchy there for a second."

Castiel scooted over on the couch and Dean absently reached over and rubbed the top of his thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Castiel giggled a little bit and lifted his face and gave Dean a kiss on the cheek.

"You guys make me want to puke." Jo said, only semi-seriously.

Dean just smirked at her and threw the pillow sitting next to him at her. Castiel looked confused and then seemed to remember that Dean, Charlie and Jo routinely threw things at each other, typically whatever was convenient. They were all getting used to each other and life was slipping into an easy, but pleasurable monotony. For Dean, it was class and studying, occasional shifts at the Kohl's factory packing up shipments for the Christmas rush, his friends, talking to Sam on Skype several times a week, and evenings on the couch with Castiel and sometimes, often times, Jo. Dean imagined that this was how life was supposed to be, even though he knew things never stayed quiet for too long.

That night, Dean awoke to Castiel shaking him. He glanced over at the clock radio next to the bed. It was 3:30 in the morning.

"Dean, Dean. Dean! Wake up!" Castiel hissed.

"What is it? Cas, what's wrong?" He said, his voice thick with sleep.

"Dean, it's your mom."

He sat up immediately. He reached over and turned on the light next to his bed. Castiel was standing next to the bed, his hair a rumpled mess, his face worried and upset. He was holding Dean's cell phone.

Dean grabbed the phone from him.

"Mom? What is it?" He asked.

"Oh Dean, I'm sorry to wake you in the middle of the night, but it's your brother." She said, her voice breaking.

Dean closed his eyes and let out a ragged sigh.

Goddamnit, Sammy.

"What happened?" He asked wearily.

"I had to call 911, Dean, I'm so sorry. It's bad, not as bad as when you were here with him, not as bad as last Halloween, but honey, he's in a dire situation right now."

They called Sam's relapses and episodes "situations" and calling 911 for an ambulance instead of the police meant the "situation" was not out of control, not just yet.

"What did he do?"

"I found him in the kitchen, talking to himself. He was muttering things I couldn't really make out. He accused… a demon of wearing my face. He didn't come after me though, he was just yelling at me, and then talking to himself, or someone he thought was next to me. I don't know, I called 911, I didn't know if he'd come at me if I tried to talk him to the hospital myself." She said.

"Mom, are you okay?" He asked. She sounded terrible.

"Dean, I don't know. He was doing so well. I was finally relaxing. But… this, I should have expected it. Been ready for it." She said.

He could tell she was crying.

"Where is he now?"

"He's in the psych ward at St. Pete's. I think they'll level out his dose and keep him for a few days. He wasn't violent this time, so I think he'll be out after the 72-hour hold."

"Did he quit taking his meds?" Dean asked.

"The doctor tapered down the Haldol. You know how the side effects are, Dean. He'd been doing so well. He was quiet the last couple of days, but I thought it was okay. I watched him take it every day, I counted the pills, I even checked his mouth at first, Dean. I swear, I don't think he quit taking them this time. I think they just overestimated how much they could decrease the dose." She said, sniffling.

"Do you want me to come home early? It's almost Thanksgiving break and I have to be back for finals, but I can get on a plane tomorrow." He said.

"No, no. You stay there. Come home at Christmas. Sammy and I will be fine. I still have some of his college fund left over. I might hire someone to stay with him at night, when I'm at work."

Mary worked part time as a nurse, doing night shifts at the hospital and took care of Sam during the day, administering his medication, making sure he didn't wander off, making sure he got onto the bus to go to class. She was more qualified than most people to take care of him.

"Mom, are you sure? I can come." He said.

"No, Dean. Don't come. Stay. I'm just grateful you'll be here for Christmas. I just wanted to tell you. Go back to sleep honey. Sam will be fine. I'll call you tomorrow to update you. He's sedated for now and we won't know anything until at least late tomorrow morning." She said.

"I'm so sorry, mom. I love you guys, okay?" He said.

"I love you too. You give that boy of yours a hug too. I was a mess when I first called you. Such a sweet boy. I will see you soon." She said, hanging up the phone.

Dean set the phone down and sat there in the darkness for a minute. Sam had been doing so well. He hadn't expected this, even though, as his mother said, they should have. Sam was sick. Sam would always be sick. Dean remembered why he hadn't been home in so long. Dealing with Sam, dealing with his broken mother and absentee father who his mother just wouldn't leave, this was why he didn't want to go home. He was grateful his mother had said for him not to leave early. He probably wouldn't have been able to do it.

"Dean, are you okay?" Castiel asked, his voice tinny and small in the darkness.

"What did you say to her?" Dean asked. "You shouldn't have talked to her. That's my responsibility."

"She was crying so hard, I couldn't understand her. She thought I was you. I just… wanted her to calm down before she spoke to you." Castiel said.

"Cas, that shit, my family shit, it's not your problem. You don't need that hanging over you too. You have enough to deal with yourself." Dean said, more sharply than he intended.

"I'm sorry." Castiel said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Cas, just drop it. Right now, I don't need this." He muttered, closing his eyes.

"I'm really sorry." He said again. Dean heard the bed creak and Castiel slunk out of the bedroom. Dean heard the bathroom door slam.

Dean groaned inwardly and fell backwards on the bed. He knew he shouldn't have semi-yelled at Castiel, who had just been trying to help, but Sam and his familial problems were not Castiel's problem, nor were they his business. Castiel already had enough of his own baggage and taking on the issues Dean had with his family would be enough to send him spiraling, back down to the place where he'd been when Dean had first met him. Dean also didn't want him seeing how truly fucked up his family was.

Dean hadn't told Castiel about how many times his parents had run off during his childhood to 'rekindle their love' and how he'd been tasked with caring for Sam for sometimes weeks at a time. He hadn't told him about how Mary was still technically married to his father, even though they hadn't lived together in years. Castiel didn't know about the two times that Sam had come after Dean with weapons, convinced Dean was "possessed" and how Dean had to fight him in self-defense and then call the police. He didn't know that when Sam had first gotten sick, Dean had been convinced he was on drugs and thrown him out of the house. Castiel just knew the sweet, blond version of Mary Winchester who cared for Sam and the smiling, lovable yet slightly "off" version of Sam. Castiel had no idea what his family was like.

Dean sat up and went and stood outside the bathroom. The door was closed and the light was off. Dean heard muffled crying coming from inside.

"Good going, Winchester." He muttered to himself. He knocked on the door. "Cas? Buddy? I'm coming in."

Dean pushed the door open, thankful it was unlocked. That was a good sign.

"Leave me alone." Castiel wheezed. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, crying.

Dean sighed. Castiel had been doing so well. He hadn't shed a tear in weeks, he hadn't consumed one drop of liquor, he had grown markedly less tense around new people, their sex life had been healthy and robust, and he hadn't gone catatonic during any of the little fights they'd had over personal space or proper PDA etiquette.

Dean squatted down next to the tub. "Cas, come back to bed." He said. He reached over and stroked his cheek. "I need you to be strong for me right now. I really can't be here for you as much as I'd like right now. Please, just come back to me. Don't isolate, baby."

"I'm sorry." Castiel said for the third time. He lowered his head and stared at the ground.

"Don't be sorry, Cas. My mom said you were sweet. I shouldn't have been an ass, okay? Please just come back to bed."

"She said I was sweet?" He whispered.

"Yes, she said to give you a hug because you were such a 'sweet boy.' I agree with her too. You're sweet and I'm a huge ass. Okay?" Dean murmured.

Castiel didn't say anything for a minute, just sniffling. Finally, he stood up.

"You're not an ass." He said simply.

Dean smiled in the darkness. They went back to bed. Castiel snuggled up against him in the darkness. Dean wrapped an arm around him. They lay there, few minutes passing in silence.

"Cas? You awake?" He whispered.

"Yeah."

"My family is really fucked up, okay? I just don't want you to know that side of my life." He said. "That's why I was kind of a bitch about it."

"You don't understand, Dean. You know almost everything about me. You're so strong for me, for everyone. I want to know all of you, even the bad parts. I want to be strong for you too. Especially right now. I know you need someone."

"You are strong, Cas. You're doing so well, dealing with all of that shit you've been through." Dean said, rolling over on his side and staring at him.

"I want to be there for you like you are for me. Dean, I need to be." He whispered.

Dean reached over and brushed a piece of his perpetually too-long brown hair out of his eyes. He kissed him on the forehead.

"You will be, Cas. I just… have to let you, okay? I'm not totally there yet, you know?"

"I know. Can you try though?" Castiel said hopefully.

"Cas, you know more about me than anyone, besides Jo. I trust you with parts of myself that I've never trusted anyone with before. I'm closer with you than I've ever been with any other significant other. I am trying. I'm trying because, Cas, to be totally honest, I have fallen for you, completely." He murmured, leaning over and kissing him again.

"The feeling's mutual. You know, Dean, I…" Castiel mumbled into his mouth. "Dean, I think there's a 99% chance that I might be in love with you."

When he said that, Dean felt him tense up, his body a drum.

Dean brushed his hair out of his eyes again, kissing him to try to get rid of the apprehension that Castiel obviously felt about saying those words. "The feelings mutual." He repeated. "Love you too, Cas."

He felt Cas blink rapidly and smile. "I never…" he started. Then he started over because he knew that it pissed Dean off when he said I never. "Let's try to go to sleep."

Dean rolled over on his back, but continued to hold Castiel's hand. Dean had known for awhile that he loved Cas, like really loved him. He just didn't say it to many people, preferring them to say it first. Dean figured that people who were in love were there for each other. Dean knew he was there for him and that eventually he would have to let Cas be there for him in the same way. In the dark Dean resolved let some more of his walls down. Dean wanted Castiel to stick around, so he guessed he'd just have to ease Castiel into what his family life was really like. Right now, it felt like it was him and Castiel against the world. Unfortunately that world included horrible abuse and a schizophrenic brother. Dean thought their collective dark pasts. Castiel's baggage was uniquely his own, but Dean had to share his with hospitals, doctors, insurance companies and the three (two?) members of his family. Lying there with Castiel, but wordlessly retreating to darker corner of his mind, Dean wished silently that he didn't have a family.