Suffer the Children

by Kikai Saigono

Their schemes for forcing the Winchesters to say yes to being vessels gone awry too long, the Angels have decided to toss the brothers and angel in to alternate realities with completely separate lives, hoping that divided and alone they will give in. So begins the story of two strangers whose drive for answers, friendship, and love transcend time over and over again. AU. Dean/Cas.

5. Chapter 5

The knocking at the door jerked Castiel out of his fitful slumber. After he'd changed his clothes and dressed his wounds once more, he had sunk down on to the living room couch and had drifted off almost immediately. He had briefly wandered back in to the dream by the lake, but was pulled out before he could get his bearings. For that, at least, he was thankful. The knocking was soft and sounded somewhat hesitant, and Castiel briefly considered not answering it.

After the knocking continued a little louder, he punched his head back on the pillow in frustration and finally lifted himself from the couch with a groan. He was sore, but not nearly as sore as he thought he'd be. He was sure he'd taken a beating that warranted more pain, but it could just mean he'd be feeling it way more in the morning.

The knocking grew a little more intense and Castiel winced as he shuffled towards the door. He didn't know who could possibly want something at this hour, and his parents had a key; though he was sure they were home by now and had retired to their beds without waking him. For half a moment he wondered if Dean had come back, and the thought made him freeze up again. It had taken him an hour to shake off the icy feeling that jolted through him when Dean had left earlier in the afternoon; after the sound of his raspy voice saying Cas had become a far off memory that he couldn't even remember properly. Only after that was he able to finally slide his eyes shut and take a well deserved nap.

When he reached the door, he glanced through the peep hole with a slight air of trepidation. The sigh that escaped him was one of relief. The brother was a surprise, but not unwelcome.

"Hello, Sam," Castiel said after opening the door. Sam stood there with Castiel's bag slung over his shoulder and soft smile crossing his face, though the smile turned to a noticeable wince at the bruises Castiel was sporting.

"Hey, Castiel," Sam replied and dropped the bag to his hand, holding it out for Castiel to take. "Oh, were you asleep? Did I wake you up?" He asked with a small laugh when he saw Castiel rub his face tiredly.

"I drifted off."

"Well, I brought your stuff. I put all your books in there; I wasn't sure what you might need."

Castiel glanced over the younger Winchester's shoulder to see the familiar black car sitting in the driveway. Dean sat behind the wheel, his gaze fixed intently on the dial of the radio. He didn't look up. In fact, he seemed to be staring at that dial far longer than necessary.

"Thank you," Castiel said as he took the bag from Sam, his eyes not leaving Dean.

Sam glanced between the two curiously. "Ev-everything go okay today? Dean's been acting shifty ever since he picked me up. Something happen after you guys left school?"

Dean seemed especially interested in the passenger seat at that moment. When he got fed up staring at whatever he could find in the car that looked convincing enough, he ducked his head out of view instead. Castiel blinked. He finally broke his concentration and looked back to Sam. "No, not that I know of."

Castiel wanted nothing more than for Dean to look at him and never look at him again at the same time.

"Ah well, if he gives you any trouble you have my permission to punch him. He can be a real jerk sometimes, but he doesn't usually mean to be," Sam chuckled. His expression hardened slightly when his eyes fell on Castiel's still swollen lip. "Hey man, your lip," he said, somewhat alarmed. He gestured to it. "Wasn't it busted way worse this afternoon? It's nearly healed."

Castiel brought his hand up to his bottom lip and brushed it with the pads of his fingers. The skin where his split lip used to be was still sore but completely smooth. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"Huh. Must have been the blood – made it look worse than it was. That's good at least," Sam mused, smiling, but the way he tightened his lips afterwards said he didn't really believe what'd he'd said.

Both of the boys jumped when a sudden cry of the Impala's horn interrupted the silence between them. Sam turned around furiously and shouted, "Christ, Dean! I'm coming!" He turned back to Castiel and added apologetically, "I should get going. Dean's in a mood. Will you be in school tomorrow?" Castiel nodded. "Good," Sam continued, "I'll see you then. Oh, and after school too, that's still on right?" Castiel opened his mouth to say something – protest, perhaps? Say no? – when the horn blared again.

"I'm coming! Holy shit!" Sam bounded down the driveway and wrenched open the passenger side door, cursed once or twice before getting in and giving Dean a face that made his older brother shoot him a very annoyed look back. Sam said something to the older teen and gave a nod in Castiel's direction, but Dean ignored it and began backing out of the driveway a little too fast for comfort.

Castiel stood in his doorway for a moment, not completely sure why, and stared at his bag as the Impala pulled away. Once the sound of the old car was completely out of his ear shot, he turned and closed the door without looking back. It wasn't until his heart calmed down that he even realized how fast it was beating.

---

"Cas."

The name rolled off the tip of Dean's tongue effortlessly; a muscle memory of sorts, like he'd said it a million times before, even though he knew he hadn't. The word felt so familiar on his tongue but foreign to his brain.

Dean shook his head, trying to shake the name from his mind. He was lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling, tossing a stress ball absentmindedly in to the air and catching it with one hand. He was feeling sleepy from having gorged himself at dinner and abandoned Sam to do the dishes by himself. Promise I'll do double dish duty next week Sammy, just gotta clear my head. Sam acted annoyed but allowed him the escape anyway, and Dean was thankful. Sam knew when Dean needed time alone, and knew Dean would do the same for him. His mother had asked about the bruise he was sporting and his father chided him about the school's call saying he was absent; Dean just apologized and promised that no sir, it won't happen again, and it was just to help out Cas, Sam will back me up.

The teenager threw the ball again while his mind wandered off in the direction of a certain junior who seemed to overrun his thoughts lately. He'd never had this problem before – he didn't even fawn over girls he liked.

No, wait. He wasn't fawning. That's stupid. Dean shook his head to himself and threw the ball hard enough for it to hit the ceiling; he barely caught it on its way down.

As he repeated the nickname over and over to himself he started to realize the ridiculousness of it all. Cas. That isn't such a far-fetched knick name. Seriously, it's not like no one ever called him that in his life before. So why was Dean so hung up on it?

Maybe because he'd heard himself say it in a too deep voice in a hazy dream. It was the dream he'd almost completely forgotten, but as soon as that name passed his lips it came crashing back on to him like a tidal wave, and that was what made him run out of the door on Cas like a blushing school girl.

He blinked up at the ceiling as his thoughts slowly drifted from Castiel, a boy who really should have seemed average at best. But the more Dean thought about it, about him, Castiel seemed very…not average, he supposed. If Dean had to say it, Castiel was memorable in at least expressions alone. His eyes were always a weird shade of curious even when it felt like he was being standoffish. At least, that's what he seemed like whenever Dean looked at him. His eyebrows were always knitted him some sort of questioning fashion, like he was studying everything around him and trying to decode it all. And his mouth was usually pursed in this questioning manner…

His mouth, Dean thought to himself, his eyes fluttering shut and his hand squeezing the stress ball a little harder. Slightly chapped and pale. Not terrible looking, I suppose. Not even all busted up like that. Dean shifted uncomfortably on his bed as he shut his eyes tighter, jumping between the images of Castiel that were burned in to his brain.

Dean thought back to the younger teen's bruised knuckles after the fight as he held his hand up to his bleeding nose and touched his injured lip gingerly. Long, slender fingers that seemed delicate and curious on everything they came in contact with.

Well, that is unless the contact was with Wachowski's face. Castiel wasn't a helpless kid – he could hold his own, that's for sure. And Dean kinda liked that.

Okay, so hands. Not so terrible either, Dean heard himself thinking before he could stop it, like he was making a mental list. Immediately he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they could go and shook his head once violently, trying to dislodge the image from his head.

No. He thought with a snarl. Absolutely not.

Instead he tried moving Castiel to the back of his mind (for later, he tried not to say in his mind but did anyway) and brought forward the image of a very lovely and busty looking blonde girl he'd seen in the last porno he'd watched. What was her name? Kitty?

Fuck, probably.

He imagined her on the bed there with him, crawling up his body and giggling, like he'd seen her do to a faceless man in the video, as she brushed her fingers across his chest. He tilted his head back and allowed his mind to conjure up the image of her running a hand through his hair and playfully pressing a finger to his lips in a hushing manner, just as he imagined her hand sliding lower and lower on his body, past his shirt and felt her nails scratch below the waist of his jeans the band of his boxers.

And then the nails were gone and he furrowed his brow a little, wondering why the hand felt a little rougher all of a sudden. He slowly blinked his eyes open, confused at why his mind was playing tricks, and all he had time to notice was the flash of blue eyes and mop of messy black hair and a boney, bruised knuckles—and holy Christ—

Dean shot straight up in his bed, chest heaving and wildly looking around his room in panic. He rubbed his eyes with a bit too much force and flopped back down in his bed, pressing his palm to his growing crotch with an exasperated groan.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself as he tried to catch his breath, but the adrenaline still pumping through his veins made it difficult. He opened his eyes again and tried to rid himself of the mental image of—of—of that.

"Fuck!" he growled louder, throwing the stress ball with far too much force at the ceiling. It bounced back much too quick for Dean to react and it came down and landed right on his left eye socket. He grabbed for his throbbing eye and hissed in pain.

"Well that wasn't very smart, was it," Dean heard from his bedroom door, and his head snapped up to see Adam standing in his doorway, a smug smirk on his face and a petri dish with something brown and gross looking in it in his grip.

Dean didn't answer, only grabbed the stress ball and hurled it at his youngest brother, who ducked with a cry.

"Hey, what the hell!" he wailed as he grabbed the ball and chucked it back.

Dean caught it with one hand. "Hey watch your fucking mouth!" he bellowed as he got up from his bed and made a start for Adam, who let out a very undignified yelp and ran down the hallway to the safety of his room. "And stay the hell out of my room!" he finished, vaguely ignoring the way his mother said, "Dean, language." from downstairs and slammed his door shut.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated and strung out beyond belief. He squeezed the stress ball still in his hand and found that the damn thing did a shitty job at actually relieving any stress at all. He almost hurled it back at the wall again, thought better of it as he held his sore eye again, and just tossed it under the bed instead. Then he flopped down on his mattress with a huff, buried his face in the pillow and tried to push the image of a pale, slightly bruised and chapped lips out of his mind. It was only replaced by a certain nick name burning on his tongue.

Dean wanted to kick his legs in the air like a petulant child and scream what the hell is going on until he was blue in the face.

---

Castiel wasn't expecting Dean to show up the next morning. He had sort of resigned to that fact, and so he woke up a little earlier than usual, however begrudgingly, to leave extra time to walk. It was when he was rinsing out his cereal bowl that he heard the unmistakable honk of the Impala's horn.

The sudden noise caused him to almost jump out of his skin, so much so that he was sure he had imagined it. There was no way Dean was going to keep this arrangement after what had happened last—

The horn blared again; twice this time, as if the driver was getting impatient. Castiel set his bowl down in the sink and half sprinted to the front door, tearing it open to see the Impala parked in his driveway in all her glory. The windows were rolled up, but Castiel could still hear the thumping of the bass from the music playing inside the car.

Castiel had to choke down a laugh when he spotted Dean inside the car, banging away at his steering wheel like they were a set of drums, his head thrown back as he mouthed the words like he knew them by heart. Sam was sitting in the passenger side with the grumpiest frown he'd ever seen grace anyone's face; his arms were crossed and he was shaking his head and rolling his eyes at his brother. Castiel also spotted a younger, sandy blonde boy sitting in the back right behind the passenger side and he looked just as irritated as the middle brother.

When Sam noticed Castiel standing by his front door his face lit up and he waved him over, but Castiel stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Something in his gut screamed at him that this was a terrible idea, but the other part of him said that playing this game of cat and mouse with ride or no ride from Dean Winchester was getting tiresome.

He glanced back at the kitchen where his half eaten breakfast still sat on the counter. His jaw clenched, and without really realizing it he was slipping on his shoes and grabbing his school bag by the door; but he did take the time to grab his remaining piece of toast off of his plate and toss the dish in to the sink. Castiel practically flew out of the house and almost forgot to lock the door behind him, his body moving on its own without much consent from his brain.

When he came around to the passenger side and opened the door to the back seat he saw Dean's eyes flicker towards him for an instant, the only eye contact the eldest Winchester brother had given him since yesterday afternoon. It didn't last long enough for Castiel to get a read on his expression.

Castiel slid in to the back seat and felt a familiar warm sensation wash over him. He glanced quickly down at the younger boy sitting next to him, who stared at him with large questioning eyes that made the junior highly uncomfortable. He shifted a little.

"Thank you for picking me up, again," he said loudly over the still blaring music. It didn't seem to bother Dean, who did not acknowledge him as he pulled out of the driveway, but Sam gave him a good jab of his elbow and turned the music down himself.

Sam turned to greet him and his face immediately fell slack. "Castiel, you look really good today," he said, alarmed.

"God Sammy, at least ask him out on a date first," Dean grunted as Castiel cocked his head questioningly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, Dean, I mean look at him. He's barely got a bruise anywhere!"

Castiel narrowed his eyes and immediately careened his head to see his reflection in the rear view mirror. Sam was right—he had a little bruising around his jaw and the bridge of his nose, but other than that he looked perfectly…normal. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even all that sore.

"It wasn't as bad as it looked," Castiel lied easily, pushing down the feeling of uneasiness and tucking his backpack between his knees. Sam gave him a look that definitely said he didn't believe it, but he let it go anyway, turning back to face the road.

"Well, anyway I'm glad you're doing alright. That guy shouldn't bother you anymore."

"It's fine, I'm not worried." Castiel's gaze drifted over to Dean expectantly, seeing if he would join the conversation. He kept silent. Castiel watched him grip the steering wheel a little bit tighter.

Suddenly Castiel was acutely aware of the smaller being next to him examining him more closely, leaning over from his seat to stare at Castiel like he'd sprouted a second head. Castiel instinctively leaned back in his seat.

"I, I—uh—" Castiel stammered, unsure of what to say to the boy. Sam turned at the noise and his face instantly hardened. "Hello."

"Adam, quit it. Leave Castiel alone."

The boy turned to face Sam, ready to argue.

"Sorry, that's our brother. You can ignore him, we're just dropping him off as a favor for our mom today," Sam sighed, giving Adam a glare that made the youngest Winchester finally sit back in his seat, obeying the silent order.

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement. "It's uh, it's nice to meet you," he began, but trailed off when Adam's face lit up like a light bulb had just gone off in his head. He began rustling around in his oversized school bag for something eagerly and Castiel just stared at him curiously until an unused tissue was being pushed in to his face.

"I need you to sneeze on this."

Castiel's mouth fell open.

"Adam!"

"I need it for school!" Adam whined. "I only have samples from our family so far. I have no variety and that's boring."

"For fuck's sake, Adam," Dean growled, turning his gaze from his youngest brother to the road rapidly.

"You just don't understand."

"I understand that you have a fucking problem."

"I have to study these things because I'm gonna be a doctor, Dean."

"You're in fifth grade," Sam said incredulously, shaking his head but still giving his brother an affectionate smile. "What kind of fifth grade science class needs DNA samples?"

Adam turned to Castiel again, ignoring Sam's question. "If you don't want to give me a mucus sample I can use saliva instead."

"Adam, you leave Cas alone right now; do not make me pull this car over."

"It's alright Dean," Castiel replied, feeling a tingle of electricity welling up inside him as he heard that nick name once more. The feeling was more muted now, the initial shock gone, but the familiarity was still there. He took a bite out of his neglected toast. "He's not bothersome."

"Does that mean you'll do it?" Adam asked hopefully.

Castiel eyed him "No."

Adam groaned, crossed his arms, and let out an annoyed huff as he stared out of the car window. "I don't like this one."

"That's what we said about you when you were born," Dean said, a smirk on his face. Adam jerked his head back to his oldest brother, his brow furrowing. "Didn't we Sammy?"

Sam nodded his head eagerly, stealing a quick glance at Adam. "Oh, yeah. Tried to get Mom to leave you at the hospital."

"She almost did too!" Dean replied quickly, his smirk widening as Adam's face grew more alarmed. "But we couldn't since we'd already made the down payment on you."

"That's not true!" The youngest Winchester cried, his gaze jumping back and forth between his two brothers. "That's not true, right Sam?"

Sam ignored him. "You know what I saw the other day, Dean?"

"What's that Sammy?"

"There was an ad in the paper about replacements for snotty, annoying little brothers. Guaranteed satisfaction and free shipping too. You just send in the old one and they take care of the rest."

Adam's eyes went wider than Castiel thought was possible.

"Maybe we should give them a call," Dean mused innocently. He snuck a wink at Castiel, whose heart skipped a beat. "See if they have a deal going for trading in extra annoying little brothers."

"That's not funny guys!" Adam nearly wailed. Castiel was smiling before he even realized it; he bit down a laugh as he finished the rest of his toast.

"Oh we're not laughing," Sam said, shaking his head gravely. "It's a shame, we're going to miss you Adam. Right Dean?"

"Such a shame," Dean echoed. He looked out the window and his expression brightened up in a heartbeat, and a very over the top, toothy smile spread across his lips. "Oh look, we're here! Have a great day at school little bro."

Adam glared at both of his brothers as he opened the car door harshly and pulled himself out. "I hate both of you."

"We love you too; have a lovely day at school dear. Kisses!" Dean called out of his window, making Adam freeze as all of his school mates turned to stare at him.

Dean peeled out from in front of the school quickly before his youngest brother could react.

"Man, that is way more fun when you're not on the receiving end," Sam said, trying to catch his breath from laughing much too hard. "I remember hating when you took me to school. You were ruthless, Dean."

"I try."

Castiel was still smiling, and he let out one breathless laugh.

Dean turned to him, his stupid grin still on his face, to see Castiel's reaction. As soon as he did his face fell and he cleared his throat with a grunt; he turned back to face the road.

"So, uh, Cas," he began, shifting uncomfortably. Sam eyed him. "When are you gonna be done today? You gonna meet us as soon as the bell rings?"

"Yes, Dean. I don't have anything else to do."

Dean nodded. The car fell silent.

"Cas—can I call you Cas?—are you staying for dinner?" Sam asked as they came up on the school. "My mother wants you to, if that's alright with you. And your parents."

"Sammy, Cas probably just wants to get the project done and go."

"I'm not asking you Dean, I'm asking Castiel." Sam turned in his seat to look Castiel in the eye. "Ignore Dean, you can stay if you want."

"I wouldn't want to impose—"

Sam laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, it's no trouble. Just think about it, okay? Maybe once you're done doing all of Dean's work for him we can watch a movie or something. It is a Friday after all. This has been the longest first week of school of my life."

Dean pulled in to the parking lot a little sharper than usual. "Alright, enough Samantha. If you two are gonna have a movie date you can do it elsewhere," he snapped as he pulled in to a parking space and stiffly shifted the car in to park. "Now get outta my car."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dean. See you later, Cas," he said, opening the car door and pulling himself out; having a little trouble along the way after hitting his head on the door frame. He cursed his height and grabbed his bag, shutting the door with a loud thud.

Castiel made a move to leave as well, muttering a thank you and getting one foot out of the car before hearing Dean mumble, "Hey, Cas, can I talk to you for a minute?"

It was so quiet Castiel almost missed it, but instead of ignoring it like he wanted to he merely paused with the door open.

It was when Dean looked back at him with a hard look that was clearly to cover up something more pleading that Castiel tucked his foot back in and closed the door softly.

"Sure, Dean. What is it?"

"I'm just gonna go ahead and say it before I have time to change my mind," he began. He gripped the steering wheel and took in a long breath. "I don't know what happened yesterday, and I feel like a dick for running out of your house like, like a girl or something. I couldn't even explain to you why I did it if I tried, and even then it will sound insane and you're not gonna believe me anyway so—"

"Wait, Dean, slow down," Castiel interrupted him, his voice firm. "You don't have to apologize for anything. I understand."

"No, Cas, you don't understand." Dean's mind clouded to the image of last night; of lying on his bed, palming at an erection while imagining a pair of stronger hands doing it instead and of curious blue eyes staring at him as they did so. He winced. "You have no idea."

"Is this why you've been avoiding me since yesterday afternoon?"

Dean winced. "I haven't been avoiding you, Cas, Christ. I'm not a—"

"—girl?"

"Shut up, Cas." He sighed. "Look, I can't explain why I ran out, so let me just apologize and be done with it, alright?" Off in the distance the pair could hear a bell ring, signaling the start of the day. "Anyway, we should get to math I guess. Make sure to lock your door."

Castiel nodded, realizing that the conversation was over, and they both extricated themselves from the car. Castiel hiked his bag up on his shoulder, noticing that Dean didn't carry one. He walked around the car towards the building, stopping when he noticed Dean fumbling with the keys to his car as he tried to lock the door. The older teen appeared to be incredibly high strung.

"Dean."

Dean almost dropped the keys, but managed to catch them just in time as he cursed under his breath. "Yeah, Cas?"

When Castiel didn't answer right away, Dean looked up at him questioningly. Castiel stared down at the ground looking lost in a deep thought before giving a small smile. He looked up at Dean.

"I like the nickname. Thank you."

Dean blinked. "The uh—the what?"

"The nick name. Cas. I think I like it."

Dean laughed and then caught himself, opting to shake his head and smirk instead as he finally slid the key in to the lock on the door. "I can't be the first to call you that, so I hardly think I can take credit." He pulled on the door handle to check the door was locked and glanced up to find Castiel still staring at him.

"You are."

"I am what?"

"The first to call me that."

Dean rubbed the back of his head nervously. "If you say so. Castiel is just, it's kind of…"

"A mouthful?"

"Alright, that's starting to get annoying, Cas," Dean said, but his voice was betrayed by the smirk he was sporting. The older teen started walking towards the door and nodded for Castiel to follow him, who obliged. They walked together in silence until they reached the front door.

"Dean."

"Yeah, Cas."

"You didn't forget to do the assigned problems for homework, did you?"

"Ah, shit."

---

Dean was scribbling down the answers to the homework furiously, silently thanking whatever God existed that Castiel was cool with him copying his homework. It wasn't that he didn't understand the homework, it was that he just forgot. Castiel stood over him, feeding him the sheets and another pencil when Dean's broke.

"God love ya, Cas, you're a life saver."

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement, smiling a little. "I'm happy to help."

Dean was just scribbling down the answer to the last problem when Mr. Schwartz came storming in, his tie askew and his pants leg muddy. It was a wonder what he did the mornings before class. Following right behind him was a tall girl clutching a book to her side with one hand and a school bag slung over her shoulder. Dean glanced at her appreciatively.

"Yeah, good morning, whatever I'm late. Pass your homework up to the front and open your textbooks." Mr. Schwartz rummaged around in his desk for his chalk before looking back up at the girl standing awkwardly at the front of the classroom. Dean saw Castiel tilt his head at her when her attention landed directly on him.

"Oh. Right, this is Camille Barton, she just moved here," he said, pointing at her. "We've only been in session for a week so you haven't missed much. Just find a seat wherever; I had administration bring in a few extra desks. Ask someone about where we're at in the unit." He waved her away without looking up.

The girl nodded and turned back towards the class, searching silently for an open seat to her liking. Dean nearly jumped out of his seat when he noticed the one to the right of him was conveniently vacant. He looked up at her, giving his best Winchester smolder smile and gestured to the desk hopefully.

The girl stared at him with a hard expression. She looked down at the front of the class, noting a seat right behind Castiel that was empty, which Dean swears was never usually empty. Or else he would sit there. Wouldn't he? No. No of course not, why would he sit there?

Camille immediately deposited her items on the desk and sat down, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder when Dean's face fell.

Castiel turned around to acknowledge her and she smiled at him, holding out her hand for him to take. Dean scowled, handing his homework to the girl in front of him to pass to the front and not taking his eyes off the two. He watched as Castiel shook her hand timidly, Camille giving him a warm smile and nodded at something he said.

Dean crossed his arms and looked away with a grumpy huff.

At the end of class, Dean nearly leapt up from his desk and hopped over to Castiel and Camille, who had been incessantly talking to each other the whole period. Camille would tap Castiel on the shoulder and ask a question, about what subject they were on or what page to turn to, whatever, Dean didn't care—and Camille would giggle and thank him and Castiel would smile softly in return.

Dean couldn't tell what he was jealous of – Camille was talking to Castiel and not him or vice versa, but either way Dean didn't miss the opportunity to wedge himself between them as soon as he was able. The period bell rang and both of them got to their feet just as Dean reached them; he instinctively puffed out his chest and put on a much improved Winchester smolder smile as he stopped at Castiel's desk.

"Hey Cas," Dean said, not actually giving Castiel any eye contact. "Saw you introduced yourself to the new girl already." He held out his hand. "The name's Dean Winchester. Also new around here."

Camille looked at his hand, then back up to Dean. She turned to Castiel, smiled, and said, "I'll talk to you later Castiel. We have gym together, right?"

Castiel nodded to her and Dean watched, incredulously, as Camille gave him a small smirk and walked away, her book clutched to her hip and not giving him a second glance.

The senior was stunned in to silence and was even further annoyed when he saw Castiel smiling after her fondly.

"She seems very nice."

"Yeah," Dean grunted. "A real angel."

---

"Winchester!"

Dean barely twitched at the call of his name, his attention fully focused instead on a pair of figures standing idly across the field. He sat on the bleachers right off of the soccer field, the one his gym class used when doing exercises outside, with his elbows propped up on his knees and a water bottle tossed between his hands. Castiel he recognized right away, his mess of black hair could be spotted from any distance. The junior was standing next to his stretching partner, attempting to touch his toes at the sound of a whistle, but only reaching half way before giving up. Dean frowned when he saw his partner giggle at him.

Camille seemed too much of a contrast to Castiel with her straight pale hair and her flattering, tight fitting gym uniform. She was cute, at least. Dean liked pretty girls in short shorts.

Castiel, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to how his completely oversized shorts went well past his knees and his shirt was at least two sizes too big on him. Those clothes wouldn't fit right on a professional football linebacker, much less a high schooler.

Dean sort of liked that too.

"Winchester, you comin' this century or you want detention?"

Dean blinked out of his trance, glancing over at the coach.

"Sorry sir," he mumbled as he stood up from the bleachers and made his way down to the rest of his class. He saw Connor nudge another classmate as he nodded at Dean. Dean glared him down in return.

"So as you can plainly see, the juniors are out using the soccer field today, so we're gonna stay on this one," Coach Sims' started, gesturing towards the group in the distance. "We're gonna play football today, girls at the far end, boys on this end. There are just enough of you guys to have five on each team."

Dean placed his hands on his hips and kicked at a patch of grass as he saw the teams form around him. The girls made their way over to the other end of the field as Dean found himself finally siding with the team who was one player short; but the team seemed happy enough to have him on their side.

Coach Sims' passed Connor a football and raised his whistle to his mouth. "First to touch down wins, then we'll switch sides. And remember, this is a touch game. If I see any rough housing you'll spend the rest of class on the bleachers." He blew the whistle and both sides settled opposite each other.

Dean nodded vaguely along as one boy on his team made a basic strategy, but he found himself continuously glancing back up at the pair of juniors now standing in a circle with their other classmates, listening intently to what their coach was telling them.

As if sensing the eyes that were on him, Castiel suddenly turned his head towards Dean, his gaze locking on the senior. Dean ducked his head slightly, guilty at being caught looking, but gave one nod of his head in acknowledgement. He saw Castiel return with a small wave, no smile attached, which Dean was learning was typical Castiel fashion.

This caught the attention of Camille next to him. She looked between Castiel and Dean, her brow creased slightly, and she nudged Castiel in the shoulder. Castiel broke the eye contact, turning to her as she whispered something to him, and they both refocused their attention back on the coach.

It was while Dean was scowling at the back of their heads that Coach Sims blew his whistle again, signaling the start of the game. Dean barely had time to register the noise and look down to face Connor opposite him before the wind was being blown out of his lungs as the large and square teen flung himself into Dean's chest with a tremendous force. Dean landed flat on his back, his head whipping back and hitting the ground so hard he saw little specks of white light floating in his vision.

The whistle sounded again, and Connor pulled himself to his feet, smirking down at Dean with arms crossed.

"Wachowski, I said no tackling!"

"Sorry Coach, didn't hear ya. Won't happen again," Connor replied, his eyes not leaving Dean's.

Dean slowly got to his feet, dusting the grass and dirt off of his arms and knees. What he wanted to do more than anything was punch Connor straight in the face – break his nose or give him two nice black eyes – but he knew administration was already on his tail for the last fight, and the last thing he needed was to be expelled from school.

Again.

He made to move around Connor, ignoring him completely and clenching his fists hard enough for his nails to leave crescent shaped marks on his palms – hoping that not making eye contact with relieve the urge to beat Connor until he wasn't recognizable anymore.

It didn't work.

"Where ya going, Winchester?" Connor called as he rammed his shoulder in to Dean, preventing his quick escape.

Dean whirled around, drawing himself up to his full height and looming over Connor as he hissed, "Did you not get enough of an ass kicking yesterday, Wachowski? Back for more?"

"Maybe if you weren't eye-fucking your boyfriend over there," Connor replied as he jerked his head in Castiel's direction, who had noticed the altercation starting to stir and was eyeing the two warily, "you wouldn't have gotten knocked flat on your ass."

Dean's jaw clenched visibly and he shook his head, more to himself as he chanted in his mind not worth it, he's not worth it and turned to finally walk away from Connor as the two teams began to line themselves up again. He knew it was a terrible idea, one of the dumbest he's ever had, as he felt the words rise up in his throat; but before he could stop himself from saying them, he was muttering under his breath, "You would know about eye-fucking Cas, wouldn't you?"

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Dean turned back to face Connor, relishing in the completely dumbstruck look plastered across his face. Connor spluttered for a moment, trying to find a coherent sentence to retort with, but failed. Instead, he decided to attempt to lunge for Dean, but one of his buddies caught him by the shoulders before he could make contact.

"Wachowksi, quit screwing around and play ball!" Coach Sims called to him, blowing his whistle for emphasis.

Connor angrily brushed off his friend and spit on the ground right by Dean's foot. "I'd watch my back if I were you Winchester."

Dean snorted visibly at the threat, bending over in to position as Wachowski did the same. "Look, Wachowski," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper so that only the other boy could hear. "The jealousy is cute, but I doubt Cas is interested."

"You son of a bitch!" Connor hissed, lunging forward just as the whistle blew behind them. Dean was ready for it this time, grabbing Connor's shoulders before the impact, but the force still knocked him backwards. He heard the whistle blow again more frantically and boys shouting, but the sounds were lost to him when Connor's forehead slammed right into his nose. Dean reeled his head back, grunting and throwing Connor to the ground beside him, just as he himself landed on the grass.

Connor made an attempt to grapple with him, but he was being pulled off of Dean before either one really had time to even register any injuries. Dean lay on his back, staring straight up in to the blinding sun as he felt his face to assess the damage. His nose wasn't broken, but it sure felt like it was. The bleeding was minimal, thank God for that at least.

Dean blinked as a figure shadowed over him, blocking the sunlight that was stinging his eyes and blurring his thoughts. He barely registered Coach Sims yelling at Connor in the back ground and Connor in return shouting about accidents or something similar, when he saw the silhouette tilt its head slightly and slip his hands in to his gym shorts.

"Hey, Cas."

"You're bleeding."

Dean brushed the back of his hand against his nose and shrugged, his back still planted firmly against the grassy field. "Might have said something I shouldn't have to Wachowski."

Castiel nodded, still hovering over Dean's figure as he studied him. "It appears that was something of a mistake."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, yeah it was."

Castiel pulled one hand out of his pocket and offered it to Dean, who took it and was surprised at how easily Castiel lifted him up to his feet. He muttered a thanks and got a stiff nod in return.

After he finished brushing himself off and wiping a trickle of blood away from his face he noticed Camille standing behind Castiel, her arms folded across her chest and looking very cross.

"What?" he asked her defensively, watching as she shook her head slowly.

Camille shrugged. "We saw what happened from across the field and Castiel was taking off after you before I could get a word in edgewise." She glanced at Castiel. "Look, he's fine see? We should get back before we both get detention."

Dean managed a glare before Castiel was stepping in between them, scanning over Dean's face worriedly. "Do you need to go to the clinic, Dean?"

"Nah, Cas, I'm fine. It's not bad."

"Winchester!"

Dean grimaced at the hiss of his name and reluctantly turned to see Coach Sims staring him down. "Sir?"

"Quit arguing with your girlfriend and go sit on the bleachers with Wachowski. You're lucky I don't give both of you detention!" His focus moved towards Camille and Castiel. "And you two, get back to your side of the field before I throw you in detention!"

Camille nodded, apologizing and grabbing Castiel by his shirt sleeve. "C'mon, we'd better go," she said, and Castiel nodded in agreement. He gave one last look to Dean, silently asking him if he was really alright once more, before turning and walking back across the field with Camille right behind him.

Once he saw them reach the other side he made his way up the bleachers, making sure to sit quite a few steps up above from Wachowski, who was shooting him dirty looks every three minutes.

Dean ignored him, instead finding his attention drawn to the far end of the field where the juniors were running laps for the rest of the period.

---

"Dean, again?"

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, leaning against the lockers as Sam pulled out every book he had and stuffed them in to his bag.

"Can't you go one week without getting in to a single fight, much less two?" Sam continued, shaking his head at the swollen bruise on the bridge of Dean's nose. "Dad's going to piss himself."

"Not if I say it was an accident and you back me up like a good little brother."

Sam shut his locker and turned to give his older brother signature bitch face #44. "Like he'll believe that, Dean. Now come on, Cas is probably waiting for us out in the parking lot."

Both brothers made their way out of the school in to the senior lot, brushing past students excited for the weekend. Dean warily noticed how Sam was towering above most of them, having almost reached his height.

When they were half way to the spot his baby was parked in, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Castiel was waiting for them alright, but standing next to him engaged in a giggle fit was Camille, holding her books to her chest and shifting her weight from one foot to another like a giddy school girl. Dean's chest tightened when he saw Castiel smile back at her – Castiel didn't smile at anyone very often, Dean was starting to observe, and he watching the exchange made Dean clench his jaw.

"Who is Cas talking to?" Sam asked innocently as they came close to the pair.

"The devil," Dean muttered under his breath. "A hot devil."

As they reached the two by the car, Castiel noticed their presence and turned to face them.

"Camille, this is Sam, Dean's younger brother," he said, gesturing to the taller Winchester.

Dean watched incredulously as Camille smiled warmly at Sam, holding out her hand, which Sam took with a smile of his own.

"Camille, Castiel has told me about you," she said, introducing herself.

They shook hands once and Sam replied, "Nice to meet you, did you just move here as well?"

Camille nodded and tipped her head to Castiel. "Cas here has been helping me find my classes. I'd be lost without him, honestly."

Cas?

Dean cleared his throat loudly. "Well, we should get going, right Cas?" he asked, putting an extra emphasis on the last word as he nudged past Camille to unlock his door.

"Where are you guys headed in such a hurry?"

"Dean and I are working on the project for math together," Castiel replied.

"Oh, I haven't found a partner to work with, yet," Camille added, slipping her books in to her bag.

"You could work with u—"

"Sorry, Cas, teacher said two people per group, no exceptions." Dean interrupted hastily, ignoring the cross look Sam was giving him as he fumbled for his keys.

"I don't remember Mr. Schwartz ever saying—"

"It's fine, Cas," Camille interjected, glaring daggers at the back of Dean's head. "Really. I'll find someone to work with. Thank you for the offer though. I should get going myself, though. Lots of catching up to do over the weekend." She took half a step forward and wrapped her arms around Castiel in a friendly hug. Dean turned to watch the two and dropped his keys right out of his hands, ignoring the way Sam raised his eyebrows at him.

Castiel stood there stiffly as if unsure of what to do, but Camille pulled away after only a brief second, smiling and mumbling, "See you Monday, Cas," before hoisting her bag over her shoulder and making her way back in to the building.

Dean grabbed his keys angrily off the ground before standing back up and noticing his little brother staring him down with an intensity rarely seen.

"What?" Dean asked angrily, unlocking the doors and wrenching his open.

"Could you have been any more of an ass, Dean?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean said innocently as he slid in to his seat. Castiel made his way around to the back passenger side.

Sam angrily sat down in the car seat across from his brother. "You were being a major jerk to Camille. What's your deal?"

"Nothing!" the eldest Winchester cried, grabbing for his box of tapes. "I didn't do anything."

"Oh, okay!" his brother replied sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. "When she called him 'Cas' I seriously thought you were gonna lose your shit."

"Okay, to be fair," Dean hissed as outside the car Castiel was pulling his bag off his shoulder and reaching for the door, "I'm the one who gave Cas that nickname."

"You did not."

"Did to, he told me so himself."

"You don't drop your keys like a blushing school girl when I call him that," Sam replied in a whisper as Castiel opened the door and slid in to the seat.

"Christ, Samantha, will you drop it?"

"Drop what?"

Both brothers turned to face Castiel in the back seat, who was giving them a wide eyed, questioning look.

"Nothing, Cas. Ready to go? Want to get this project over with."

"Sure, Dean."

Dean put in one of his favorite tapes and turned the volume up just enough to drown out the sound of Sam clicking his tongue disappointingly at his older brother.

---

As Dean pulled up to the Winchester household, he quickly apologized.

"It's not as big as your place, but its home," he mumbled, turning off the engine as he parked in the driveway.

"It's lovely," Castiel replied quietly, admiring the cozy look of the off-white, vine covered home. It seemed very…welcoming; something Castiel wasn't used to. He looked over at Dean to give him a warm smile and watched as the elder Winchester responded by looking away quickly and letting out a loud cough.

"Come on, you two," Sam grumbled, shaking his head and climbing out of the car, making sure he watched his head this time around.

Castiel also got out of the Impala, grabbing his bag and following Sam and Dean nervously. Dean pushed his way through the open door, wiping his feet on the door mat, Sam and Castiel following right after him.

"Mom, we're home!" Dean called to the empty foyer, setting his keys on the small table at the entrance.

"In the kitchen!" Castiel heard a soft voice call after them, noticing the sweet smell coming from that direction.

"Are you baking, mom?" Sam asked and inhaled deeply, smelling the air and grinning as he hung up his large coat in the closet. Dean didn't remove his leather jacket; instead he slipped off his shoes and started walking towards the kitchen, motioning for Castiel to follow him. Castiel also removed his shoes, thanking Sam when the younger Winchester took them from him and placed them in the closet.

"Maybe," the voice answered, just as Dean and Castiel rounded the corner. The kitchen was well it in the summer afternoon and felt warm to Castiel, who was used to the coldness of his own stainless steel covered kitchen.

When Mary Winchester saw Dean come around the corner, she opened her arms and grabbed him by the shoulders, hugging him tight and planting an affectionate kiss to his temple. If Dean was embarrassed in any way by his mother's actions, he didn't show it.

Sam brushed past Castiel and hugged his mother as well, pulling away to ask what she was baking in the oven.

"Cherry pie, of course. Can't you tell, Sam?" Mary said, looking over her son's shoulder and landing her eyes directly on Castiel, who shifted uncomfortably under the gaze.

"Is this Castiel?" she asked sweetly, pushing past her sons to gather Castiel up in to her arms like he was one of her own.

Castiel froze for a second, shooting a worried glance over to Dean and Sam, who just smirked and shrugged at him, before relaxing in her arms. "Hello, Mrs. Winchester."

"Please, Castiel, call me Mary. Do you like cherry pie?"

Castiel nodded, smiling at her as she pulled away.

"Good, you guys can have some after dinner. Have a good day at school?" Mary stopped bustling around the kitchen when she noticed Dean's swollen bruise. "Dean Winchester, how on earth did you get that?"

Dean's hand shot up to his nose. He spluttered for a moment, trying to come up with the most convincing lie he could on the spot, before Castiel spoke up instead.

"A boy at school attacked him. I saw it happen, it wasn't Dean's fault."

Dean's lips formed a thin line as he shot Castiel a glare; Sam tossed his head back and laughed.

"Dude," Dean shook his head at Cas incredulously.

"What? It's true."

Mary patted a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "I like this one, he hasn't learned to lie to me yet. Ah well, I'll cover for you with dad this time, but any more and you're grounded mister." She paused. "You two are working on a project right?" she asked, glancing between her eldest son and Castiel.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, please don't call me ma'am, Castiel. It makes me feel old. Find yourself a spot to work, I'll get you boys some lemonade." And with that she bustled away to the cupboards and shooed the boys out of the kitchen.

"Your mother is very nice, Dean," Castiel said, smiling after her.

"Yeah, she's kind of the greatest," Dean replied, grinning to himself and rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Give me your stuff and I'll throw it in my room. We can relax for a couple minutes before we start, right?"

"I thought Cas just wanted to get the project done and go?" Sam mocked from the landing of the stairs as he made his way up to his room to drop off his things.

Dean merely glared after him, holding out his hands as Castiel handed him his backpack.

"I can hold on to it, I don't want to impose."

"Christ, Cas, you're not imposing on anything. Just hand me your stuff."

Castiel did so without another word, following Dean up the stairs to his room. Dean's room was the first door on the left at the top of the stairs, and Castiel wrinkled his nose at the clothes strewn about on the floor.

"Meant to clean up before you came over, but I, uh, forgot," Dean mumbled as he tossed Castiel's backpack on the bed.

The walls were covered in band posters, as well as a few posters of busty women sitting on the hood of a car in a suggestive pose. Dean's clothes seemed to cling to every surface and fixture of the room, and his desk seemed to not serve any purpose other than to hold his CDs and tapes.

The clothes on the floor didn't bother him; it showed that Dean was comfortable in this space all to himself. The posters told him more about Dean's tastes and things he liked.

Castiel loved this room.

His own room was devoid of anything so personal – mostly textbooks or encyclopedias and strange knick knacks from abroad. Castiel's room didn't feel like it belonged to a teenager.

"So we can work wherever you want," Dean said, sitting on his bed and stretching his arms over his head. Castiel watched him, stared at the sliver of skin exposed on Dean's stomach as his shirt was lifted up. He blinked and looked away quickly. "I'm not picky, but when Adam gets home he's probably going to try and bug you so I'd suggest somewhere quiet."

"In here is fine," Castiel said quickly before he could stop himself.

Dean sat up and eyed him for half a second before nodding his head. "Alright, sounds fine to me. Wanna head downstairs first for a bit? I'm kind of allergic to starting homework within the first hour of my weekend break."

Castiel smiled at that, nodding and following Dean out of his room. He shut the door behind him at Dean's request, coming to the stairs just in time to catch Sam coming out of his room and join them.

"Come on, Cas, we can pick out a movie to watch when you guys finish your project," Sam said to him, motioning for the junior to follow him to the living room.

Dean groaned. "I thought I said no movie dates."

"Shut up, Dean. Cas is my friend too, you're going to have to learn to share."

Castiel's face reddened at that, his chest tightening at the mention of being considered a friend. And a friend to both Winchesters at that.

"You do want to stay for dinner and movie, right Cas?"

A smile crept up on Castiel's lips. "Yes, I'd like that."

---

The three boys spent an hour watching a show on TV; Sam and Dean argued over what to watch for a good three quarters of that hour, while Castiel just sipped his lemonade and watched, amused.

After the program ended (a particularly vile program, Castiel noted, about a man named Jerry who allowed his show guests to throw chairs at each other) a commotion came from the front door, and John Winchester announced he was home. Adam followed right after him, running around the house to show everyone the pet cockroach he'd brought home from science class, all while Mary yelled at him to take his muddy shoes off and stop trailing dirt in the house. It took John sternly calling him by his full name to finally get the youngest Winchester to listen, and then Adam was flying off up to his room to find a place for his cockroach's cage.

Dean had completely lost track of time, or so he claimed, because right after Mary was calling them to the table for dinner before they'd even started on their project.

The food smelled wonderful, so wonderful that Castiel forgot about not getting any work done. Mary had made spaghetti with meatball sauce and garlic bread, something Castiel hadn't had in a very long time. Dean and Sam both sat down while Mary pulled up an extra chair in between the two.

Castiel was just about to sit when Adam suddenly cried out.

"Wait, where's my friend going to sit? We need another chair, mom!"

Mary stopped, her hands on the chair. "Your friend? You brought someone home too, Adam?"

"Yeah, but he's invisible, so you can't see him. Only me," Adam replied, just as John rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"He was talking about this during the whole ride home today. It's his imaginary friend, Mary. He's going through that phase."

Adam balked. "He isn't imaginary, dad! He's real; you just can't see him because he won't let you." Adam leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper. "He doesn't like you."

Dean snorted.

"He doesn't like you either, Dean."

"Okay, okay, Adam. It's alright, I'll get a place and chair for your friend too," Mary said, diffusing the situation. John made a start to argue, but she shushed him with a look. "Castiel, please sit and dig in. I'll be right back."

Castiel did as he was told, but was too shy to make a grab for any food. Instead, Sam grabbed two pieces of garlic bread and plopped one down on Castiel's plate, while Dean served spaghetti to him from the bowl. Mary returned a minute later with another chair and placed it next to her youngest son, who seemed relieved.

"Can I ask your friend what his name is?" she asked Adam as she took her place next to John and began serving herself.

Adam tilted his head to the chair, as if listening to someone whisper him something in his ear.

"He says his name is Michael."

Castiel's hand twitched involuntarily, and he stared at it, somewhat alarmed.

"Well, tell Michael he's welcome to have dinner with us any time," Mary said, taking a bite of her food. "As long as he does his share of the dishes."

Dinner passed by as the Winchesters discussed with each other their days; John talked about taking a promotion at the base, Adam about a science project with the cockroach, and Dean and Sam about their day at school – with Dean skipping over the fight, of course. After a little coaxing from Sam, Castiel even helped himself to seconds, complimenting Mary tirelessly about her cooking.

After dinner finished, Dean and Sam cleared the table and started the dishes; though they had to reprimand Castiel multiple times over that he was a guest and guest's do not help with the dishes.

Instead he stayed at the table as Mary served him a piece of the cherry pie she had made earlier, putting a large dollop of whipped cream on top. After the first bite he felt as though he had stepped in to heaven; the pie was just the right mix of tart and sweet, and he was positive he'd never had pie this good in his life. In fact, he was fairly sure he'd never had homemade pie in his life.

Dean and Sam joined them shortly after, Dean inhaling his piece like he was breathing air, and then casually asking for another slice, which his mother gave him after scolding him about moderation. After they finished, she told them not to worry about the dishes and start their project instead, which Dean was more than happy to do at this point. Satiated from his full stomach and the prospect of a weekend full of sleep and relaxation, he motioned for Castiel to follow him up the stairs to his room.

"Sammy pulled a few books from the library for me yesterday," he said to Castiel as they both entered his room. He flung himself on the bed, pointing to the stack on his desk. "I think that'll be enough sources for Schwartz." He closed his eyes and cradled his head in his hands.

Castiel nodded in agreement, sitting down at the edge of the bed and picking up his bag, rummaging through it for his notebook.

Dean popped one eye open to look Castiel over once, then twice before he turned his back to him. The junior was sitting in the same spot Dean had imagined him in earlier that day and Dean pushed down slightly on his crotch to stop the involuntary swelling that occurred there at the mere memory.

Castiel laid all the books out on the floor, including his notebook where he'd already completed half of the report on his own (for which Dean could have kissed him, the little over achiever) and sat on the ground himself, flipping through the biography of Euclid in search for any relevant information he could use.

"What do you need me to do?" Dean asked from the bed, unsure and not wanting to bother Castiel in what honestly looked like his natural habitat.

Castiel looked up and him and gave a small smile. "Don't worry much about it, Dean. I think I can handle it, to be honest."

"Don't be stupid, Cas, I'm not gonna make you do the whole project by yourself. Here," he mumbled as he pushed himself off the bed and on to the floor next to Castiel. Crossing his legs in front of him and pulling a book out of Castiel's hand, he smirked and continued, "I'll research. I'd offer to write, but my handwriting is honestly shit. Sound like a fair deal?"

They exchanged a silent smile between each other before Castiel turned back to his notebook. "Alright, Dean, if you insist."

"I do. Now, who are we studying again?"

"Dean…"

"I forgot!"

"Euclid, Dean."

"Right, right."

---

It was nearing eight o'clock by the time they'd nearly finished, with only the conclusion left to write. Dean had eventually given up on reading from the text, instead laying on his back as Castiel read to him, occasionally asking questions or giving his opinion on a certain part. Castiel didn't mind much, having Dean relaxing next to him and lazily carrying on a conversation was enough for him.

Castiel insisted on writing it himself so they could stop for the night.

"I'll get out of your hair," Castiel said as he Dean rubbed his face tiredly.

Dean dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "You're not in anyone's hair, Cas. Now that this is done I don't have to worry about it for the whole weekend. You're an awesome partner, you know." Dean punctuated his last sentence by patting Castiel on the shoulder twice, genuine fondness on his face.

The hand lingered until a soft knock from the door echoed through the room. Both boys snapped their heads towards the door, Dean pulling his hand away like he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The door opened and Mary appeared behind it, looking fondly at the two boys on the ground. "Sam sent me up here to kidnap Castiel for a movie."

"We just finished," Castiel replied, smiling and shutting his notebook. He got to his feet and glanced at the alarm clock on Dean's desk and winced slightly. "It's getting late though. I probably shouldn't walk in the dark, so I'll have to head out soon."

Dean laughed from his spot on the floor. "Don't be stupid Cas, I'm gonna drive you no matter how late it is so don't worry about that."

"I made popcorn," Mary bribed. "If it gets to be too late, you are absolutely welcome to stay the night. I can give you some of Dean's pajamas to sleep in if need be."

Castiel stood there, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find what words he wanted to use, or how to answer. He wanted to stay, he wanted to stay and never leave and eat spaghetti and pie every night and work on projects with Dean and watch movies with Sam – he wanted every night to be Friday night at the Winchesters'.

But he also didn't feel like he really belonged here, either.

"Christ," Dean said gruffly, dragging himself to stand by the junior. "If you ask him he's gonna stand there mumbling for the next hour before he decides anything because he thinks he's imposing, so I'm gonna say it for him. Yes, he's staying." Castiel shot a glance over at Dean, his eyes wide as the eldest Winchester threw a book he was holding on his bed. "That okay, Cas?"

No. It's probably the exact opposite of okay.

"Are you sure it wouldn't be trouble?"

"Oh Cas, honey," Mary sighed, and Castiel's heart fluttered at her use of the nick name, "If you're gonna be near this family you're gonna have to learn to take what you want. Especially with three Winchester boys in the house. Nice guys finish last here. Do you want me to call your parents?"

"No, that's alright. I'll call them. I'm sure they'll be alright with it." If they answer.

"Alright sweetie. Dean, lend him some of your clothes. I'll get the inflatable mattress while you guys are watching your movie," she said, giving Castiel a nod of approval. "Don't forget to call you parents," she added as a last thought, and disappeared from the door way.

By the time Castiel had collected himself and had come to terms with the fact that he was going to stay in the Winchester household for the night, Dean had already opened his drawer and was rummaging around for clothes.

The thought of wearing Dean's clothes made Castiel's skin tingle and he shook his head once violently to keep himself from thinking about it.

No crushes, Castiel.

"I can just sleep in these clothes, I don't want to—" he was cut off by a pile of clothes hitting him right in the face. He pulled them off, staring at the plain white shirt and old red gym shorts in his hands.

"If you say one more time what I think you're about to say, so help me, Cas," Dean laughed, pulling out more clothes for himself. "You mind if I change in here?"

Castiel's head snapped back to the clothes in his arms, nodding and turning towards the door immediately. He barely had made it to the doorway when he heard Dean call quietly from behind him, "You can change here, too."

Dean didn't exactly know what had compelled him to say it; he only knew that it had felt like the closest he'd ever been to word vomit. In an attempt to cover himself, he hastily added, "It's like changing in gym, it's cool," and immediately regretted it, knowing it sounded stupid. It's not like he found it weird or anything. He liked changing in front of Cas.

No, wait, he didn't like changing specifically in front of Cas, he just didn't mind it. Or something. Besides, Cas would be undressing too and – fuck, Winchester, stop thinking before you make it worse. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head to hide the burning embarrassment covering his face.

The junior stared as he watched Dean slowly take his shirt off, pulling it over his head from the back and throwing the shirt to the floor. He attempted not to stare at the lean body of the older teen; the way his jeans hung snugly from his hips how his broad shoulders looked unclothed. He felt his own jeans start to tighten and immediately followed suit in removing his shirt to break the eye contact.

He then began unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down and off in one quick motion, attempting to dress as quickly as possible and flee the room. The gym shorts he tugged on first, and they fit nice and snug around his hips. He still refused to look at Dean, but noticed that Dean's jeans were also tossed on to the floor soon after.

Castiel was just about to pull on the shirt when he heard Dean from across the room say quietly, "Hey, what is that?"

The junior looked up, instantly regretting it when he saw Dean standing in nothing but a pair of socks and black boxer briefs, his plaid pajama pants in one hand and pointing at Castiel intently with the other. Castiel followed his finger and saw it land right on his chest.

Oh.

Castiel's hand immediately went to the scarred flesh there – small, but significant enough to be seen from a distance.

Dean walked closer, interested in the strange looking scar and seemingly forgetting his pants dangling from his hand. He must not have noticed the scar the previous day when Castiel had undressed, he thought to himself as he let out a low whistle when he saw just how bad of a wound it must have been to leave a scar like that. "How'd you get it? Looks like it must have hurt like a bitch."

Castiel rubbed his hand over it self-consciously. "I don't know. I've had it ever since I can remember; I think my parents told me I fell out of a tree when I was a little kid."

"Jesus, did you fall on a stake?" he laughed, leaning in so close that Castiel instinctively jerked his head away, his cheeks on fire under the scrutiny. "Dude, seriously looks like you got, uh, stabbed or something."

"Y-yeah, something like that. A branch, maybe."

Dean tilted his head up and smirked at the younger teen. It must have been then that he noticed the close proximity because he immediately cleared his throat and backed away, hopping in to his pants with little grace.

Castiel followed suit, pulling the shirt on and drinking in the smell of Dean's clothes – a strange mix of laundry detergent and something that could really only be described as Dean: a mix of the smell of car exhaust and leather and other things that Castiel couldn't place but just liked.

He never wanted to take it off.

Meanwhile, Dean was putting his own shirt on, admiring the stark contrast between how his clothes looked on Castiel as opposed to his oversized gym uniform. His own shorts and shirt fit Castiel much more snugly, and Dean definitely appreciated that.

"Well, at least they fit," Dean remarked as he pulled off his socks and threw them at least close to the laundry basket. "Now let's go, I want some popcorn."

---

After Castiel had tried to call his parents twice with no answer, he could only assume they were already in bed. If he got up early enough and made it home before they woke up the next morning, he was sure there would be no problem with him staying. Either way, he still lied easily to Mary that they'd given the okay when she asked.

"You better not have chosen a chick flick, Cas," Dean mumbled to him as he flung himself on the couch opposite his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes and held up a dvd case. "He wanted to see the Fifth Element, he told me he'd never seen it before. That suit you, princess?"

"Yeah, this movie's awesome. Good choice, dude," Dean replied, nudging Cas lightly with his elbow. "Can't believe you've never seen it."

"I don't watch a lot of movies."

"You're in for a treat then," Dean said as he grabbed the popcorn bowl from Sam. "Now sit."

Castiel did as he was told, sitting in between the two Winchesters as Sam found the remote and pressed play. As the opening scene appeared on the TV, Mary appeared behind them on the couch and leaned over to kiss her two sons on the head. "I tucked Adam in, so he shouldn't bother you. There are snacks in the kitchen and blankets in the closet. I'll be upstairs if you need anything." She turned to Castiel and gave him a small kiss on the top of his head too, and Castiel's face burned red. "Cas, I set up the air mattress in Dean's room for you with blankets and a pillow. Let me know if you need anything else, alright? Enjoy your movie, boys."

With that she turned on her heel and headed up the stairs.

"Your mom is very…"

"Awesome? Yeah, she is," Sam finished, gabbing a handful of popcorn over Castiel. "She likes you, which is a plus."

"I like her too."

"Alright you two, shut up, I don't want Cas to miss the beginning. Here, Cas, you hold the popcorn." Dean was shoving the bowl in to Castiel's hands unceremoniously. Castiel tentatively took a handful.

The movie was intriguing, that's for sure. It had interesting fight scenes and the lead actress was pretty good. But if Castiel had to be honest with himself it wasn't the movie he was paying the most attention to. What he had been focused on since the scene with the blue woman singing opera was the fact that Dean's left knee had been inching closer and closer to his leg until it had brushed it slightly. At the contact, Castiel's heart beat a little faster in his chest.

Dean seemed to stretch out further and further as the movie raged on; near the end he was taking up more than half of the couch, easily. He hadn't even noticed how close he was getting to his friend, but when he brushed against him he made no effort to move it.

It was just a little touch, right? Harmless.

When the credits rolled, Sam yawned and stretched, grabbing the last handful of popcorn and saying he was off to bed. Dean yelled at him to take the popcorn bowl first, but was promptly ignored when Sam said goodnight to Castiel and made his way upstairs.

"So," Dean started as he extricated himself from the blankets and taking the bowl in to the kitchen. "Did you like it? Pretty cool movie, huh? Bruce Willis is awesome; you've seen Die Hard, right?"

"I, uh, no. I haven't," Castiel called back to him, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

A small clattering came from the kitchen, as if a bowl had been dropped. A second later Dean was in the doorway of the kitchen, staring him down. "You haven't seen Die Hard? Any of them? Christ, Cas!"

Castiel put his hands up innocently. The senior just shook his head at Castiel, whipping his hands off with a dish towel. "Well, we'll save those for the next time."

"Next time?"

Dean looked up at Castiel sheepishly. "Yeah, if you ever want to, uh, you know. Come over again. Or…something." There was a pause as Castiel averted his eyes. "What, don't look so surprised! My mom likes you, Sam likes you, why wouldn't you be invited back over?" Even I like you.

"I'd like that."

With that Dean made his way upstairs, Castiel following quietly in tow. When they entered Dean's room they noticed the twin sized air mattress on the floor by Dean's bed, and an unopened disposable toothbrush sitting on the pillow. Castiel smiled at it as he picked it up. Mary thought of everything.

After brushing his teeth alongside Dean in the bathroom, Castiel crawled underneath the covers, surprised at just how comfortable the air mattress was.

"You gonna be okay down there?" Dean called from his own bed, punching his head in to his pillow and sighing tiredly.

"It's comfortable, I'll be fine."

At that, silence fell on them, the only sounds audible were some crickets and cars passing by outside and soft snoring in another room (probably John). Castiel listened to Dean breathing softly and stared up at the ceiling as he tried to will himself into slumber. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence necessarily, but it lasted for over ten minutes before Dean was suddenly clearing his throat.

"Cas, you still up?"

"Yes, Dean."

There was a pause. "Thanks for doing the project with me. I dunno if I'd have been able to do it on my own."

Castiel turned to face the bed, finding Dean looking back down at him, his head resting in one hand.

"You're much more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, Dean."

The older teen dropped his eyes, and even in the stark blackness of the room Castiel could see Dean flush a little. It made Castiel's heart jump.

"Yeah, and how would you know that? You've known me for a week."

Castiel shrugged. "It's just a feeling I have," he said in a quiet whisper, not even sure if Dean could hear it. Then he cleared his throat, his voice hoarse when he next mumbled, "Am I wrong?"

Dean didn't answer him, instead staring up at the ceiling in silence.

"You know, I was supposed to go to a party tonight," he said suddenly, his voice strangely hoarse. "Probably would have still been out there if I had."

"Why didn't you go? Would have been more fun than doing a project, I'm sure."

Dean shrugged, smiling. "Turns out it wasn't my scene."

"Connor invited you, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Dean answered, giving Castiel a puzzled look. "How'd you know?"

"I heard about it around school," Castiel replied, mirroring Dean's shrug. "You probably should have gone; that's where all the popular kids hang out."

After a few minutes of no response, Castiel assumed the conversation was over and turned over on his side, facing away from Dean and closing his eyes.

"Hey, Cas," he heard, the whisper quiet and pressing. He didn't respond, but Dean continued anyway. "Do you ever feel like, sometimes, you might have known someone before you met them?" he whispered, his eyes sliding shut as his mind conjured up the scene of the lake and strong hands on his shoulders and someone calling his name.

Castiel's eyes shot open as the same exact image pushed itself in to his thoughts against his will. His heart started to race.

After a long silence, Dean hastily added, "I know it sounds kind of weird, and I don't usually talk about stupid things like this, but the other night I had this—"

"Sometimes."

"—what?"

"I do, sometimes. Feel that way, I mean," Castiel replied, shifting over to look Dean in the eyes once more. "You mean like déjà vu, right?"

Dean nodded. "Y-yeah, something like that." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know man, sometimes I just feel like, like… out of place, you know?" Castiel nodded at him, but Dean's eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "Like some things just don't feel right. I'm glad it's not just me."

Suddenly Dean's mouth broke out in to a toothy grin, and he glanced down at the younger teen on the floor. "For all we know, I could be Neo. Then it would all make sense."

Dean's face fell when he saw Castiel tilt his head and say, "Who is Neo?"

"Neo, Cas? From—you know what, Cas, never mind. All in good time. Get some sleep." And with that, Dean turned facing away from Castiel, whose brow was furrowed in confusion even as he dropped his head to his pillow.

When he finally heard soft snoring coming from the bed above him, Castiel allowed himself to drift off.

---

It was barely light outside when the rustling in the room startled Dean awake, having already forgotten that another person had spent the night in his room.

He blinked open his eyes; they were sensitive to the light peaking through his blinds. He saw Castiel, having already folded his blankets in a neat fashion on top of his mattress and pillow, dressing himself quietly in the corner.

"Cas?" he called to the boy, who looked surprised and turned to face him. Dean rubbed his eyes. "What're you doing up so early?"

"I have to get home," he whispered, smoothing his shirt over his body. He began folding the clothes Dean had lent him. "I was trying not to wake you, I'm sorry."

"S'okay," Dean grumbled, realizing he had to piss like a race horse anyway and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. "You weren't thinking of walking home, were you?"

"Didn't want to bother you," Castiel replied simply, shrugging.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Give me five minutes and I'll drive you, alright?" He waited for Castiel's nod as a response before walking out his room and heading for the toilet.

On his way to the bathroom, his ears prickled at a soft, high pitched noise. At first he rubbed them, wondering if they were just ringing, but the noise didn't dissipate. He attempted to shake the noise out of his head while he went to the bathroom, emptying his bladder and splashing water on his face, but the ringing continued.

It was while on his way back to his room that he noticed the noise grew in volume right outside of Adam's door, which was left slightly ajar. He leaned his ear against it and winced as the ringing grew even louder.

He pushed open the door slowly, noticing how Adam's room was still darker than his, his window not facing the morning sun. Instead, the room was filled with the white light from his little brother's small TV in his room. There was nothing playing on the TV, just snowy static flooding the screen and making the light flicker across the room. As soon as he stepped in to the room the noise pierced his ears so harshly he winced again, striding over to the TV in long steps and pressing the off button firmly.

The room was immediately plunged in darkness again and the noise stopped abruptly. Dean sighed with relief at the silence and watched as his brother's face contorted in his slumber for a moment before relaxing and turning over to face the wall.

When he returned to his room, Castiel was fully dressed and packing his bag.

"Sorry about that, Adam's TV was on," Dean said as he grabbed the socks he'd tossed away yesterday and slipped them over his feet.

"Sorry for what?"

"The noise, I don't know why he left it on. Must have fallen asleep watching something."

"Noise?" Castiel asked, his head doing his trademark tilt. "I didn't hear anything."

"You telling me you didn't hear that God awful ringing?" Dean said, shaking his head and bending over to grab his jeans. "You need to get your hearing checked."

"All I heard was someone talking. I assumed it was you."

Dean's head snapped up to meet Castiel's gaze. "I didn't say anything," he said slowly, watching as Castiel's eyes narrowed and he looked away, lost in thought. "Hey. You feeling okay?"

Castiel rubbed the back of his neck as he started at the door with an expression Dean couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Yeah," the younger teen replied after a few moments. He turned to see Dean slipping his jeans on. "Yeah, I'm alright. Must be hearing things."

"Well, come on then, let's get you home. You want something to eat before you go?" Dean asked as he left the room, Castiel following after him.

"No, I'll be alright. Thank you, though."

The two boys slipped on their shoes in silence. Dean grabbed his leather jacket and Castiel hoisted his bag on to his shoulder as they walked out the door towards Dean's car.

The car ride was silent, Dean not even bothering to turn on the radio or put in a tape to listen to. Occasionally Castiel would steal a glance over at him, admiring his profile or the way his fingers curled around the steering wheel a little tighter when he caught him looking, but otherwise he just stared out of the window at the trees and power lines that passed by in a blur.

When they arrived at his house, Castiel thanked Dean quietly and opened his door without another word.

"No problem, Cas. I'll see you Monday?"

Castiel nodded. "Monday," he replied, shutting the door and making his way up the steps to his house's entrance. It was when he was reaching for his keys in his bag that he noticed it.

The door was open. It was a very small opening, but still ajar all the same. Castiel's hand paused on the doorknob, his breath hitching when he saw that the lock had been broken.

"You okay?" he heard Dean call to him over the roar of the Impala's engine. When he looked behind him he saw Dean watching him with a puzzled expression. He immediately dropped his bag and took a few steps back off the porch, glancing at the second floor to look for any signs of a broken window or any other sign of forced entry.

He barely registered the sound of the engine being cut off and Dean opening and shutting his car door as he looked frantically back at to the entrance.

"Hey, everything okay?" Dean said when he came up behind him, but his voice dropped suddenly when he saw the front door and the lock. "Christ, Cas." Dean found himself gripping Castiel's shoulder before he knew what he was doing, his blood running icy in his veins.

"Stay here," Castiel said gruffly as he pulled free of Dean's grip and stepped cautiously through the front door.

"Cas you can't go in there, not by yourself," Dean hissed after him. He followed right behind the junior.

The house was so silent that it made Dean's skin crawl, but nothing seemed to be out of place or taken. In fact, Castiel was almost positive everything was just as he left it; he even spotted his dishes from breakfast the morning before still in the sink.

"We should probably call the cops," Dean warned as he saw Castiel begin slowly making his way up the stairs. He winced a little when he found himself being ignored, but followed the younger teen anyway.

"It's alright; I don't think who ever broke in is here anymore. They must have been here last night." He paused on the stairs, looking back at Dean with an alarmed look in his eye. "Probably while I was at your place."

"And your parents?" Dean asked quietly, watching as Castiel's jaw clenched.

Castiel shook his head and continued climbing the stairs, stopping when he reached the top and taking a sharp intake of breath when he spotted the door to his room open wide.

He made to start for the door but was suddenly pulled back by the sleeve as Dean pushed his way in front of him. "Not so fast, man. We have no idea what's in there." Instead, Dean himself made his way slowly to the doorway, peeking his head in cautiously and gasping at what he saw. He made a motion for Castiel to follow him as he pushed his way completely in to the room. "Jesus, Cas, this your room? It's completely trashed."

Castiel walked around Dean, his eyes going wide at the state of his room. His mattress was almost completely off his bed frame, the sheets tossed on the floor in a big pile. The bookshelf was turned on its side, his books and little souvenirs strewn about on the floor. The lamp had been knocked off of his table and the bulb was shattered on the carpet and all of his belonged on his chest of drawers had been thrown to the floor. Even his closet had been gutted of every last article of clothing. Any piece of furniture that had a drawer had been wrenched open and emptied.

"Wachowski?" Dean asked quietly from behind him as he picked up a book that had had most of its pages torn out.

Castiel shook his head, still in shock and disbelief at what was laid out before him. Connor wouldn't be this stupid.

"Whoever it was obviously was searching for something," Dean said, coming up to his side as he glanced around the room once more. "Can you tell if anything is missing?"

Castiel turned in a full circle, eyeing everything that he could. He didn't have much sentimental attachment to anything in his room, so looking to see if something specific was missing was going to be difficult.

Then his mind instantly zoned in on something he did have an interest in, something that he hadn't even known he'd possessed until a couple days ago. Without a word he walked in long strides across his room to his chest of drawers, wrenching open one that had only been reclosed halfway. His face went pale as he searched through the almost completely barren compartment frantically.

"Yes," he breathed, turning to look at Dean in horror. "Yes, something is missing."

He glanced again at the drawer in disbelief where the long, silver blade he had hidden was now nowhere to be found.

---

A/N: Hello all! I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter published - I had tough midterms this semester, and I feel like I'm drowning at work. I finally had some time to sit down and write, and somehow this chapter turned in to just over 15k words?! I don't know how these things happen to me. I thought about splitting it, but in the end couldn't find a great place to do it properly and just thought, screw it, I'll keep it as one. So, hurray long chapter?

Anyways, I've gotten a lot of lovely feedback on since posting my last chapter and I just want to thank everyone for their love. It really makes me happy to see and keeps me going. Thank you! I can't wait for the next chapter, it's going to really get the ball rolling.

As a side note, Camille was named after my childhood best friend, the character is dedicated to her.