Here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy! It's shorter than the others, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! :D

Chapter X: Should Have Dug Your Claws In.

Six months pass, but to Dean it's more like a year… maybe an eternity.

Everyone seems to know somethings wrong, and everyone seems to know not to ask him about it. Which is definitely weird, because for once, he wants someone to ask him about; he wants Sam to come into his room like he did before, listening to him rant and rave about Cas, about how he kissed him, and for Dean to omit that he kissed back, but Sam knows anyway, and then he rolls his eyes at Dean, tells him some words of wisdom whilst also calling him an idiot, then Dean feels inspired to fix it.

That's what he wants.

He wants to fix it but he doesn't know how. He's already told Cas he'll "see him around", but what the hell? That's the stupid crap you say after a one-night stand or to a friendship that run its course, like Dean did with his old Muggle friend Aaron.

But this was Cas. Castiel Novak, his geeky, nerdy Hufflepuff friend who wears this stupid tan trench coat, and has bright blue eyes, and plump lips… and God, to the lips again!

He shakes his head.

He just needs to make his mind up; he's either going to forget about Cas completely or pick up his parchment and quill and send a letter to him. He can't keep hovering in between like this, it's causing him nothing but pain and he just needs to be one or the other; no more of this one foot in his life and one foot out his life shit. He needs to make a decision.

'I don't wanna.' He mutters dejectedly but then someone's voice is right beside him, and he jumps, hitting his head off the hood of the car he was currently leaning over.

'Jesus fuck, Bobby! Could've gave me some warning!' He hisses as he straightens and turns to look at Bobby, his hand rubbing the sore spot on the top of his head.

'You shouldn't have been spacing then.' Bobby replies, before he hands him a set of keys. 'It's a Ford Focus, there's a rumbling noise in its engine and I need you to take a look at it, then change the two tires on the Toyota.'

Dean nods his head, closing his hands around the keys before tucking them into his pocket. 'I'll check it over when I finish with this one.'

Bobby nods his head, looking at him for a moment and Dean thinks he's finally going to have someone ask him what's been wrong with him for the past six months, but then Bobby just clears his throat, nods his head and walks away from him, leaving him alone with the car and a broken BMW.

'So much for being an Auror.' Dean mutters as he turns back to the car.

He should've known he was never going to get that job; it's nothing to do with his grades, which was his biggest worries if he was honest, and he felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders when he got the owl with his NEWT results. Three Outstandings and two Exceed Expectations. He knew that was more than enough to be accepted into the Auror Training, and even though it was a hard thing to get into, he had McGonagall on his side, and his mother's history as well.

But no, that had nothing to do with why he wasn't currently doing his training.

The Death Eaters have taken over the Ministry of Magic. Fudge had resigned as Minister of Magic, got replaced by Rufus Scrimegeour and then he was killed and Voldemort made his move.

And Dean was out of any chance of every becoming an Auror… well, until Voldemort and his followers were stopped, but then he'd probably be too old to be trained in their eyes or something. The Ministry has fallen, and there is no way in hell they're going to accept people for Auror training; Aurors that were meant to catch the people that were now in charge.

At least he's still got his job at his Uncle Bobby's garage. He'll probably just stay there until Bobby dies and then take over for him. He'll just stop using magic altogether and live life as a Muggle.

Then again, cars were made to be fixed by hands and hard work. He knows magic can fix a lot, could probably find a spell or two that would fix any problem with a car, and if he was really clever, could probably create some, but he wouldn't trust it. Magic wasn't meant to be used on Muggle stuff; cars, computers, all those kind of things, those were meant to be pulled apart, fixed and then put back together again.

Maybe that's why he loves working with the cars so much; why not being in Auror training doesn't bring him down as much as he thought it would, because there's something good about taking something that's broken, taking it apart and almost making it worse, before finding what's wrong, finding a way to fix it and then putting it back together, so it's new and working again.

Cars are a constant like that. Something goes wrong, have a look about, find the problem, fix it. You can't do that with everything; can't do it with other people or relationships. You can't just replace the broken and dead part with a new one so it's back to working order.

Dean's good at fixing cars, hell, it's the one and only thing he can say with confidence that he can do, and that he can do it fucking brilliantly.

Dean's rubbish at fixing people and relationships, though, and right now, it's the one thing he wishes he could do. People are out there wishing dead ones alive; wishing the war to be over, and here's Dean wishing he can the strength and courage to pick up the phone or write a letter.

God, he's a failure.

And it doesn't help that he still hasn't heard anything from Sam. Not one single letter and he's honestly tempted to actually storm into Hogwarts, head to the Ravenclaw Common Room and demand that the gangly teenager tell him why the hell he hasn't sent his brother a letter.

But then he remembers how hard things must be for him, dealing with being at school whilst all this shit is going on in the "real" world. He knows Dean's affected by it, even though he can do nothing about it. Fighting isn't going to win this time around. Well, the going out and trying to catch and hurt every single Death Eater that walks the earth kind of fighting. This calls for biding his time, being discreet and doing small acts of defiance.

Something that he's still learning to do. He's much more of "let me at them, I'll show them what I've got" type of fighter. Not the "I'm going to do a bunch of really small things that'll lead to a big thing at some point" type of fighter, like he needs to be.

Right now, his only solace is the fact that Sammy is going to be home in two hours. He finally gets a chance to demand what the hell is wrong with him, why he isn't even bothering to write to his brother and put his mind at ease.

And maybe when Sam gets back, and Dean's gave him into trouble for being an insensitive jerk and just letting Dean worry like that, Sam will see that he's still not feelingbetter and ask him what's wrong before telling him what to do about it.

And god, when did his life get so low that he needs advice from his younger brother? He knows what to do about it, pick up the fucking phone and call Cas. But can Dean do that? No! Because Dean is a stupid jerk… and it's not like he hasn't tried.

Dean's had the pen in his hand several times; had the phone in his grasp more than that. But then that kiss comes back into his mind; how Cas had scratched at the back of his neck, how Dean had moaned and pulled him closer, how he'd traced his thumb of Cas' cheekbone, which was finally free of its cut and scar.

The image sears into his mind, and half the time, he can still feel it. Can still feel Cas' nails rake through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, can still feel the pressure of his lips against his own, the wetness of his tongue on his lower lip.

That's when the phone is usually slammed back onto the receiver or the pen is thrown across the room.

Shame always burns on his cheeks when Bobby walks in and he finds himself thinking about it; lust always settles deep in his core when he's by himself, but shame takes over that just as quick. His whole mind screams at him, and it can never fucking settle on what it wants to say.

Right! Wrong!

No matter how hard he fucking tries, he's always torn between the lifelong debate of what's right in Dean Winchester's mind and what's wrong.

Then again, as Sam has so often pointed out, Dean doesn't exactly have the best thoughts on what's right and what's wrong. Apparently, he screws it up the majority of them time.

Maybe it's not a good idea Sam ask him what's wrong, because when Sam asks him what's wrong, he's going to give him that stare - those stupid puppy dog, doe eyes - that make Dean tell him everything, even the kiss and how he liked it but hated it but loved it and then Sam's just going to think it's as simple as running to Cas' door and saying he's sorry and they'll live happily ever after.

If Cas has any sense, he'll slam the door in Dean's face, because Dean's hurt him and let him down more times than he can fucking count; Cas… kind, gentle Cas has always tried to be there for Dean, and Dean gives him nothing in return.

So, no, Sam shouldn't and isn't going to ask him what's wrong, because at the end of the day, Dean's just going to get Cas' hopes up to dash them again, and he can't do that. Not again.

His friend deserves to be happy, and he, Dean Winchester, will just make him miserable and hurt him again.

And he can't let himself hurt Cas again. Definitely not.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

'So, did you just forget that there's such a thing as post? Like? It just escaped your mind, I take it?' Dean questions as he drives his brother back from the train station, heading to Bobby's again. He tries not to bring up the fact that Sam had said Jess was going to be coming over on Boxing Day for dinner, because he's torn between wanting to tease Sam for finally doing something about his (not) crush on Jess, but also feeling a little bit saddened that they won't be doing their usual Boxing Day tradition.

It's not much, a day by themselves, with all the sweets they got from Christmas and they just marathon the same movies; Star Wars being the main one that Dean always makes them watch.

But he guesses that Jess could join in on that too, but, he's losing his brother and he knows it.

'I'm sorry, Dean.' Sam mutters, looking over to gaze at the side of his brother's face, before adding, 'I'll explain when we get back.'

Dean quirks an eyebrow, 'How about you explain now? I've been worried sick, Sammy!'

And goodness, there he sounds like an overprotective parent again.

'Dean, I don't want you to crash the car.'

'You're not making me feel any better, Sammy! Why the hell would I crash the car? What could possibly be that bad, that I would crash my baby?' Dean chuckles, but only because he feels like he may pull the car over and start ranting and raving if he doesn't.

He can't stand where this is going. He knows it's going nowhere good, and yet here he is, still pushing Sam to tell him what's happened; what's stopped him from writing to him all this time he's been at Hogwarts and Dean's been stuck fixing broken cars.

'The Ministry isn't the only thing the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who's taken over,' Sam starts and Dean's jaw clenches because he hates that they have to go back to call him "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named", because this is just making them seem like they're afraid of him. Fuck the stupid curse on his stupid fucking name. 'They've taken over Hogwarts.'

'What?!' Dean exclaims and his head whips around to face Sammy, who in turn shouts at Dean, 'The road, Dean!', and Dean seems to remember that shit, yeah, he's driving and turns his head back to the front. He swerves back onto the correct side of the road and lets out a shaky sigh, even when the car drives by him with a blare of its horn.

'What?' He asks much more calmly. Well, at least he keeps his eyes on the road, but Sam can see his hands clench around the Impala's steering while, his knuckles turning white; can see his jaw clench impossibly tight that a muscle twitches.

'They took over Hogwarts, and because they have the Daily Prophet at their disposal, they kept it out of the papers. I didn't want to risk sending you a letter telling you, just incase they searched the post and found it. I didn't want them hurting you, Dean.' Sam explains before he sighs and shakes his head, turning his gaze back out onto the road in front of them. 'It's pathetic there, now. We're not being taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, we're just being taught "Dark Arts". It's horrible.'

Dean hums because he can't think of anything else to say, but thankfully, he doesn't need to, because Sam just keeps talking and he finds himself quickly retracting that "thank god" because he's just continuously listing how bad things have gotten in Hogwarts, and he doesn't really want to hear that.

'And Muggle Studies is just them teaching how bad Muggles are and all this, and you should see how they treat the Muggle-borns! I'm actually going to be surprised if they come back! I mean, between the Muggle-borns and First Years… it's horrible, Dean!'

'Wait, what exactly are they doing to the Muggle-borns and First Years?' He enquires and he tries not to think about how Cas is also a Muggle-born and they could've been doing whatever it is they're doing to him as well.

'Well, like I said, they're just teaching Dark Arts now, and they're teaching people how to use Unforgivables instead of how horrible and wrong they are, and they're using the First Years and Muggle-borns as practice dummies, Dean! They're lining them up and making people cast Crucio and Imperio on them! Thankfully, they've never made anyone use the Killing Curse, yet.'

Dean lets out a shaky breath, and when Sam goes to open his mouth to tell him even more information, he shakes his head, 'No, no more, Sam.'

Sam doesn't say anything, and he must see the terror and panic in Dean's eyes for he doesn't even protest the fact that Dean's just running and hiding from the problems they are facing.

They don't talk about it anymore, don't talk about anything actually, as they continue the short drive back to Bobby's, but when Dean parks the Impala, and gets out of it and falls into step with Sam, he clears his throat and decides to say what he's been thinking about since he heard the news.

'Listen, Sammy, I don't think you should -'

He doesn't even get to finish.

'No! I'm going back, Dean! You're not going to stop me! Didn't you hear what I said?'

'Yeah! I heard you say Death Eaters had taken over Hogwarts and we're torturing students! And incase you forgot, you are a student!' Dean explodes and he doesn't care that everyone has now left the house and are currently watching them, because he's lost too much. Mum. Dad. Cas. And he can't bear the thought of losing Sam as well.

'Exactly, Dean! They're torturing students! And you expect me to bail out on everyone! I was part of Dumbledore's Army as well, Dean. I know what Harry taught us and I can pass that on to others! I can teach them how to protect themselves; I can comfort those Muggle-borns and First Years and make them feel better. I can lookafter and save people if I go back, Dean!' Sam stops for a beat, taking a deep breath to calm himself and Dean follows his examples. Too many emotions are running high right now. 'If I stay here, Dean, if I don't go back, all of those First Years, their screams and their pain, that will be on me. And I can't have that.'

He shakes his head.

'Do not make me do it, Dean. Do not.' He states firmly before he turns on his heel and storms into the rackety house, leaving Dean standing beside the Impala by himself, his heart falling to his stomach as he realises just how stupid and selfish he's being.

He clears his throat when he realises that Bobby, Jo and Ellen are still staring at him, raised eyebrows and curious expressions and he makes his way into the house as well, after waving his hand at them, telling him that he can't inform them of what's happening just yet, he needs to talk to Sammy, apologise.

They seem to understand, for they don't say anything to him as he makes his way pass them in order to get into the house.

He makes his way straight to Sam's bedroom and even though he knows he doesn't have to, he gives the door a knock and waits until Sam tells him to come in before he even thinks about opening the door.

Sam looks like he's ready to apologise to Dean the second he sees him, and in order to stop him, because Dean needs to apologise, not be apologised to, Dean holds up his finger and says, 'No, wait a minute, Sammy.'

He clears his throat and it isn't until Sam sits down on his bed that Dean continues, shutting the door behind him and then moving over to lean on Sam's desk. He thinks about sitting on the bed next to him, but that could lead to Sam getting too cuddly - for a gangly, hormonal teenager, he surely is a clingy koala bear most of the time - and Dean's not sure he's up for that right now.

'I'm sorry, Sam. I don't blame you for wanting to go back, after all, that's what I'd fight to do. I'm actually a little tempted to go back right now, actually, but… I just… we've lost Mum and Dad's just bailed on us without a word, and… and…' and I've lost Cas, but he can't say that, not to his brother, because he'll want to know what's happened with Cas, and he has to be honest, saying that does make it sound like Cas is dead (which, for all Dean knows, could actually be true, seeing as he hasn't heard a word about him in six months, but for once, Dean's trying to be optimistic) and when Dean says "no", he'll want to know what he means, and Dean can't say anything. Not now. Probably not ever. 'I just didn't want to lose you too.' He finishes meekly.

Sam studies him for a moment and Dean's sincerely worried that there's a neon sign over his head saying I'M LYING, but after a beat or two, Sam finally clears his throat and tears his gaze off of Dean.

'I know, Dean. But you won't lose me. I know how to look after myself; I had the best teaching me.'

'Yeah, Harry is good.'

'Not Harry, Dean!' Sam replies, rolling his eyes in exasperation before chuckling playfully. 'You, you idiot! Sure, Harry taught me the spells and that, but it was you that taught me the importance of wanting to help and look after yourself. So, yeah, I definitely learnt from the best.'

And then he's staring at Dean again and all he can do is awkwardly cough and reach up to rub the back of his neck, but his mind immediately flashes to another hand running through the hair at the back of his neck, and then warm, soft lips on his and he coughs again, bolting upright as his face heats up.

'You've been spending too much time with Jess, Sam, you're starting to turn into a girl.' Dean smirks, trying to hide his obvious fuck up because he needs to stop thinking about that kiss; especially when he's in his family's presence.

Moment gone, all Sam can do is roll his eyes and mutter, 'Shut up, jerk.'

Dean, recovered from the memory of Cas' short fingers scratching his neck, laughs and reaches out to ruffle Sam's still long brown hair. He's torn between telling Sam to cut it because it is getting a little longer than Dean can stand, but it's Sam's hair and Dad always nagged at him to cut it, and Dean's not John; going to do everything in his power not to turn into him.

Dean smirks as Sam stands and pushes into him as he walks by him, heading to the kitchen and just before he's made it out of his bedroom door, Dean calls, 'Bitch.'

Please review!

~Charlotte.x