Dean and church do not...mix. Dean knew that he drew the longest stick when it came to a good life – good with girls, two annoying but lovable little brothers, loved by his parents, a stable home life, et cetera. But Dean didn't exactly think God deserved a pat on the back for not being a jerk. Did he want a gold star? Was all the praying on his knees on the cold hard floor when he could be out doing something he actually enjoyed really necessary?

The church was hot and stuffy, and Dean pulled at his constricting tie, irritated at the way his dress shirt was sticking to his back from sweat.

"Dean, pay attention," he heard his mother whisper under her breath, nudging him with her shoe. "And tell your brother to wake up."

In response Dean rolled his eyes, but nudged Sam hard in the ribs anyways, causing his younger brother to startle awake with an interrupted snore.

"I still don't understand why I can't just stay home. This isn't really my scene mom."

"Because," Mary began with a sigh, as though she had given this speech a thousand times before, "all your father asks is that we all spend a couple hours one day of the week doing something as a family, and he deserves that much, at least. And to be quite honest, young man, you could do with a little church in your life."

Dean scoffed. "Whatever," he snorted, tapping his hand-me-down bible from his father on his knee absentmindedly. "At least the organ girl is kind of cute."

"Dean, need I remind you that you are in a house of God?"

"Alright, shutting up," he hastily added, crossing his arms as he watched the priest turn a page in his large bible on the podium he stood behind. "But I'm not drinking Jesus' blood again. That wine tastes like cheap grocery store nine-bucks-a-bottle crap."

It was Mary's turn to roll her eyes.

Dean glanced over to find Sam nodding off again, and Adam right beside him, large dark circles starting to form under his eyes as if he had not gotten a decent night's sleep in a week. Adam was staring blankly towards the podium, intently listening to every word the priest was mumbling. Any time the congregation was asked to repeat after the priest, Adam only whispered it under his breath, his eyes darting every so often to the space he had insisted on leaving open for his new "friend" Michael. Dean watched him warily for a long minute until his mother was prodding him to pay attention once more.

In all honesty Dean could not recall what the priest was giving his long winded speech about, but after playing flirty eyes with said organ girl for at least half an hour, his mother was squeezing his elbow to tell him Mass had ended.

"I'm going to go speak with Father Juarez for a few minutes to introduce ourselves, try your best to behave yourself for that long, please?" She whispered to him as she rose to her feet, John at her side. They made their way past the pews to the growing crowd surrounding the young priest and greeted him with two matching smiles.

Dean tapped his foot impatiently, letting his head tip back as he watched the rest of the congregation make their way to the exit. When he noticed the freckled organ girl catch his eye across the echoing room he winked, causing her to blush and look away with an inviting small smile.

"Well hello," he whispered to himself, grinning at the shy girl as he rose to his feet and shoved his hands in his suit jacket's pockets. He glanced down at Sam, who had fallen asleep near the end of the priest's speech and had been impossible to rouse again.

"Sam," he called, as he kicked in brother in the ankle and watched him wake up spluttering and eyes wide. "Take Adam out to the car, yeah? I'll be there in a sec."

"Where are you going?" his brother called after him, but one look in the direction his brother was staring at and he knew instantly what Dean was up to. He pursed his lips and gave his brother a disapproving look before shaking Adam lightly by the shoulder. "Come on Adam, time to go."

When Adam didn't answer, only continued to stare at his feet blankly in silence, Sam shook again, slightly harder. "Adam?'

"Adam," Dean pressed, voice firm as he glanced back at the girl impatiently. "Adam, cut the crap."

Adam blinked and shuddered, as if shaken right out of a trance, and looked around the room with wide eyes. Finally he settled his stare on Sam, and if Dean didn't know any better, he would have sworn Adam looked somewhat terrified.

"Wh-what?" the youngest brother whispered in reply, looking back and forth between his two older brothers. His face was now perfectly blank and devoid of any terror he might have held before. "What did you say?"

"What's wrong with you, dude?" Dean said. "You were way off in la-la land. You missed most of Father Juarez yammering away."

Adam blinked once, then twice and averted his gaze back down to his feet, confusion apparent on his face. "Sorry," he murmured. "I don't remember. I guess I…I don't know."

Sam and Dean both exchanged a glance.

"Sounds like baby needs a nap," Dean snorted as he turned on his heel and began walking towards freckles girl.

"I do not!" Adam cried after him with much more vigor; the color finally returning to his face. "And I am not a baby!" Dean ignored it as Sam hushed their youngest brother and dragging him towards the exit.

Dean was halfway to the girl, who was now packing up her things and eyeing Dean with wide doe eyes, when he spotted a mess of black hair on a head bowed low; the owner hiding quietly off in the far corner of the front pew.

Castiel was leaning intently over a tattered and aged bible, lost in thought as he thumbed through a few pages, deaf to the world around him.

Dean did an almost comical double take as he came to a sudden halt, his mission to get the freckled girl to warm up to him forgotten in an instant. He managed to give her a small wave and apologetic smile, which she returned hesitantly but seemed to understand its meaning.

It was when he turned and immediately started walking over to his classmate without a speck of remorse for leaving the girl hanging that he began wondering when Castiel had started getting in between him and getting laid.

And then there was an image of him and a bed and an imagined hand and Dean was pushing the thought from his mind as fast as possible.

"Cas?"

Castiel glanced up, his eyes tired and his hair messier than usual. He closed the bible he was holding and set it beside him; his eyes lit up with happy recognition.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean looked back to the altar and saw his parents still talking up a storm with Father Juarez. He took his hands out of his pockets and sat down in the pew, far enough from Castiel to be safe.

Before he could ask himself Safe from what exactly? he said, "Seems like I run in to you everywhere, man. You look like shit. How late was it until the police finally got out of your ass?"

Castiel winced slightly at the crude phrasing, but answered nonetheless. "After they talked to you they just took my statement and searched for prints; then they left. I spent the rest of the night trying to put everything back together. By the time I finished it was morning, but you can imagine I didn't feel much like sleeping anyways."

Dean nodded in understanding. "And your parents?" He asked as he craned his neck to get a look at the congregation still present. He tried to spot anyone who might resemble Castiel in any way, but his classmate seemed to be there alone.

Castiel let out a quiet sarcastic laugh. "They're gone. Called last night to tell me they'd gone abroad. I let them know what happened."

Dean stared at him incredulously. When Castiel failed to elaborate further, he pressed, "And?"

"And," Castiel replied, giving him a bitter smirk, "they told me to make sure I locked the doors and that they'd be home next week or so." When all he received in return was more stunned staring, Castiel added, "It's nothing unusual, Dean."

"That's complete bullshit, Cas," Dean said as he leaned back in the pew. Castiel didn't respond, only leaned over with his elbows on his knees and stared out of the stained glass window next to him quietly.

Dean watched him from the corner of his eye, then dropped his gaze down to the antique bible between them. "You come here every Sunday?"

Castiel shrugged. "Every now and then," he mumbled as he placed his palm over the bible by his side. "Sometimes I just like to sit and listen. After yesterday I needed something to take things off my mind."

"So you're pretty religious then?"

"I wouldn't say that. Religion has its…its issues. But I think that at the heart of it, when you take away Man and his biases and look at it the way God intended it, it can be insightful."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "You're strange, Cas."

The younger teen let out a huff of breath that resembled a laugh. "What about you, Dean? Why are you here?"

Dean jerked his thumb back in the direction of his parents. "My dad." He pulled out his own bible from his jacket pocket and held it up for Castiel to see. "Every Sunday, rain or shine."

"So I take it you're not religious?"

"Yeah, I'm just not so sure about all of this God stuff. Seems a bit full of himself if you ask me. And then there's this crap about Heaven and Hell, and I don't know. It just seems all so silly, doesn't it? Angels; demons. No such thing, right?"

Castiel smiled and shrugged his shoulders slightly. He picked up his bible and opened it to a marked page, giving Dean one last glance before turning his attention to the open book.

"Isaiah 30:18," he began, his finger hovering over a passage. "Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him." When he finished, he looked up at Dean expectantly, who only gave a shrug in question. "Doesn't seem like such a bad guy, does he?"

Dean smirked. "Yeah, we'll call that whole business with Abraham and his son a fluke."

Castiel's smile was a little brighter this time, his tiredness seeming to melt away from his features. "Alright, fair enough. Point taken." He turned back to the bible in his hands and flipped to another page. Bringing it closer to his nose as he read, "John 3:1, See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are." Dean moved to speak, but Castiel quieted him by raising his hand. He continued, this one from memory, "Proverbs 8:17, I love those who love me, and those who seek me diligently find me."

There was a moment of silence before Dean shrugged again. "Dunno what you're trying to convince me of, Cas. Seems like pretty deadbeat God to make you come to him. And then when you ask for him he doesn't show up."

"Maybe he does and you don't realize."

"C'mon, Cas. God's the world's biggest flake; never seems there when you need him."

Castiel turned to him. "You seem to be pretty happy, Dean. You have friends, family. God can't really have it in for you that bad, can he?"

Dean felt a pang of remorse jolt through him as he thought of Castiel's parents and their absence, but if the junior held any contempt for Dean and his personal fortunes, his warm smile didn't show it.

"Yeah, I guess," he said as he tapped his bible on his knee again anxiously.

"You don't think God has a plan for you?"

"I don't think God cares. I haven't exactly lived by his moral code."

Castiel tilted his head. "How do you mean?"

"For starters? I've had, uh, what do they call it in school... Intercourse. Before marriage. Lots of it," he said, counting on his fingers for emphasis. "Stolen things. Been in fights. Lied. Cheated. Drank. Smoked. I could go on but you get the gist."

"You think God truly cares about things like that?"

Dean crossed his arms and smirked. "All I'm saying is that when the time comes I don't think God's gonna make an exception for me at the pearly gates if you know what I mean. And that's if he exists. Better enjoy it while I can, right? No point in saving someone who doesn't deserve to be saved, Cas. When it all comes down to it no one is gonna care."

Castiel stared at him with earnest, attempting to decipher something in Dean's words that he didn't understand. Dean looked away, embarrassed by the scrutiny. His parents seemed to be wrapping up their conversation with the priest, and Sam and Adam were probably waiting impatiently by the car. Organ girl had left ages ago. He turned to sneak a look back at Castiel, watching how intently and fondly the boy seemed to look at the pages of his book as he read verses that, from the look at how worn his bible was, he'd read many times before.

"So, you seem to read that a lot," Dean mused, gesturing to all of the bookmarks and notes written in the margins. "What's your favorite?"

Castiel wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Favorite?"

"Yeah. Your favorite, you know, paragraph… thing."

The junior gave Dean a lopsided grin. "You mean passage? Verse?"

"Yeah, that."

Castiel clicked his tongue in thought as he looked at the ceiling, thousands of verses rushing through his brain as he tried to pinpoint the one he was looking for. Suddenly his eyes lit up and he was thumbing through his book with intent until he found the page he was looking for. Dean instinctively moved closer to Castiel, leaning over his shoulder to see the page better. Castiel gave him a nervous glance and dropped his voice down to a whisper as he read aloud.

"Matthew 19:14, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "That's it? No epic passages about smiting or holy wars? A little underwhelming, Cas."

"That's because you aren't looking at it close enough. The thing about the bible is that you have to wade through the bias of the—if you'll forgive the term—bullshit, and find God's message. What do you think it means?"

Dean shrugged.

"Dean, you have to at least try."

Sighing, Dean relaxed his stiff, defensive stance. "Well, seems like God is saying kids are gonna get in to Heaven by default?" Castiel nodded. "So basically kids get to pass Go, collec two hundred dollars, and get a free ticket to Heaven?"

Castiel hummed, shaking his head slightly. "Not quite."

"Then you're just gonna have to tell me. I'm not really good at this kind of thing."

When Castiel slid his hand over to take hold of the bible still in Dean's grasp, a shiver was sent straight up the senior's spine. He watched unblinking as Castiel slowly pried the bible out of Dean's grasp, whose grip had hardened at Castiel's proximity to him.

"Once again, you're giving yourself and your intelligence far too little credit, Dean," he said in a low voice as he opened Dean's bible, looking up at Dean from under his lashes with a stare that made the older boy's mouth run dry. He licked his lips.

Castiel turned to the page he was seeking and took a pen out of his pocket, quickly scribbling something on the page. "I think it will mean more if you figure it out for yourself. I think it suits you well."

With that Castiel closed the book and offered it back to Dean, who took it warily as he tried to keep the blush creeping up on his cheeks at bay, but something told him Castiel saw it anyway.

He pocketed the bible and watched as Castiel got to his feet, tucking his own book under his arm and putting his free hand in his pocket.

"You're a weird kid," was all Dean managed to choke out around the lump in his throat. Castiel only smiled in response.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dean."

"Y-yeah. See ya."

Castiel made it two or three steps before Dean hastily added, "And Cas? You should probably remember to do that whole locking doors thing. Just in case."

"I will."

And then Castiel was gone, hidden amongst the last wave of the congregation to leave and slipping out of the exit unnoticed. Afterwards Dean would kick himself for not offering Castiel a ride home, as he was positive the boy was going to walk.

"Ready to go, son?"

John's firm voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts and he was instantly to his feet, the bible Castiel handed him gripped in his hand like a vice. "Yes sir."

"Was that Cas?" Mary wondered as she watched the exit. "Is he alright from yesterday? Poor boy. I worry about him, what with the break in and everything."

"Yeah, he's alright mom. He's a tough kid," Dean said as they made their way towards the parking lot.

Sam and Adam were leaning against the car, Adam looking cross as ever. When they unlocked the doors and all three Winchester boys climbed in to the seats in the back of Mary's soccer mom minivan, Dean turned his body to hide his hands as he pulled out the bible and opened the pages. It took longer than Dean a while to actually find the page he was looking for, but when he did his heart leapt up to his throat in anticipation, and he lifted the book closer to his face to read Castiel's small handwriting next to the passage.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was so interested in the note. He wasn't sure how Castiel had gotten him so interested in deciphering his bible, but then again Castiel had a way of crawling under his skin in ways that Dean had never experienced in anyone. Castiel was strange, far too strange for Dean. Too awkward, too quiet. Dean liked tight jeans and cropped tank tops, not baggy clothes and sweaters.

And yet the eldest Winchester still found himself roped in by Castiel's game, and he knew he was completely lost in it when he read the words the teen had scribbled for him in a book that had seen more use today than it probably ever had since its previous owner.

The passage Castiel read was circled, and next to it in small, jagged cursive the words read,

Dean Winchester deserves to be saved.

The following week passed painfully slow. With the project over and done with, Dean found himself looking for reasons to talk to Castiel both in and outside of the classroom. Sam spent most of the morning car ride chatting it up with Castiel about something that Dean did not care about, and he had eventually turned up his music loud enough to drown them out in frustration. Sometimes he found himself roaming past Sam's locker in between classes when Castiel was there putting his books away to inform his brother of some unimportant detail about dinner or something equally as useless. Sam would wrinkle his nose in confusion before his face settled in to an expression that Dean couldn't read. The one time Sam let a smile slip from his lips Dean threatened to leave him at school that day, followed by a very quiet 'shut up, Samantha'.

Apparently Camille had decided that she was not going to budge from her seat behind Castiel in math, much to Dean's chagrin. It wasn't that he wanted the seat or anything; more specifically he didn't want Camille to have the seat. Or something like that. It didn't make much sense to him either.

In fact, if Dean didn't know any better, he would say that Camille had it in for him, too. Dean had fallen in to the habit of eating with the seniors during lunch, but found himself Monday afternoon glaring daggers across the cafeteria when he noticed Camille and Castiel eating alone together at an empty table. The pretty brunette Anne had attempted to distract him with a story about something she did over the weekend, but Dean didn't pay one bit of attention to it. Instead he eyed the two across the lunch hall, stabbing his peas with more force than was really necessary.

That was just Monday.

Tuesday Dean was nonplussed to find Camille standing by Castiel at his locker during every break between classes, asking about a homework assignment or about weekend plans. Dean had attempted to worm his way in to the conversation after lunch, but was foiled in talking to Castiel alone when Sam had made his entrance soon after.

Wednesday afternoon it rained, so the juniors and seniors both had to share the gym, and the two coaches had decided a friendly game of junior versus senior dodge ball was in order to pass the time. Castiel was out in the first five seconds, a nasty throw from Connor aimed right at his skull that the junior managed to block with his arm at the last second. Castiel seemed unbothered by it, perfectly happy to sit on the bench and watch the game from afar. Dean was happy to see Connor receive a ball to his groin shortly thereafter, and was impressed by Camille's persuasive fake apology she gave to Coach Sims for it. The smile was wiped off his face a few minutes later when he received a rubber ball right to his nose, and Camille's apology was much less convincing that time around.

By Thursday Camille and Dean had both dropped all pretenses and had devolved in to plainly exchanging glares when they came within twenty feet of each other. If Castiel noticed it, he didn't say anything.

When the bell signaling the end of the day rang Friday afternoon, Dean heaved a sigh of relief to himself. He had been working himself up all week to ask Castiel to keep his promise of watching Die Hard that night, but had never gotten the proper chance to ask. It was either now or never.

Well – "never" being next weekend. A week. Seven more days. But Dean wasn't counting.

Dean was leaning against his baby, her black paint warm against his back in the afternoon sun. He had one hand jammed far in to his leather jacket, and his other was thumbing through his phone absentmindedly. When he heard the footsteps walking up to him, he immediately flipped it closed, about to look up to greet either Castiel or his brother.

But it was not Sam or Castiel's face that met his. Dean swallowed hard.

"Winchester," Camille said quietly in greeting, her arms crossed over her body. Dean craned his head to look behind her, but Castiel was nowhere to be found. She was alone.

"Camille," he tried to reply in an even tone, but it ended up sounding more biting than he intended.

"Look, I don't have a lot of time here, so I'm going to be perfectly blunt," she began, her voice low as she stepped closer to Dean, who stood his ground. "From the moment we met in math I could tell you had a problem with me."

"Wait, are you kidding me?" Dean exclaimed, his fists balling at his sides. "As I recall, you're the one who marked me on your shit list first—"

"Look, that's not what I'm here to talk about," she interrupted. "I don't care what you think about me, Dean Winchester. You're shallow and loud and rash," Her crossed hands fell to her bag on her shoulder. "And also apparently very easy to instigate in to jealousy, which I can assure you is completely unnecessary."

Dean stared at her incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not going to repeat myself; I only came out here to tell you that we don't have to like each other, but Castiel is my friend, too."

"You've been here two weeks!" Dean cried, his hands coming out of his jacket and his anger rising up in the pit of his stomach. "I've known him a year!"

Camille's jaw fell open slightly. The two shared a wide-eyed stare, completely silent for a long moment. "What did you just say?"

The senior continued to stare at her as if he was looking for an answer in her; his lungs seized up like the wind had been knocked right out of him. Finally he blinked; his voice was hoarse when he finally replied, "Two—two weeks. That's what I said. That's what I meant. Two weeks."

Camille's mouth formed a thin line, her eyebrows knitted together intensely as she studied him. "Why did you say that?"

"I—I just misspoke," Dean said defensively, his mood suddenly more sour than alarmed, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than his classmate.

Camille was gripping her bag so tight her knuckles had turned white. They exchanged one last silent, tense moment before her grip relaxed, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

"Just remember what I said," she ground out, her voice low and gruff. With that she was turning on her heel and floating away back towards the building and ducking inside.

Dean had little time to dwell on the strangeness of what had just occurred, as the next figure to emerge out of the building was Sam, tall and lanky as ever and a goofy grin plastered across his face as he walked with a young girl with curly blonde hair falling to her shoulders. Dean's irritation was forgotten as he watched his younger brother nearly trip over his too-big feet and Dean choked down a bark of laughter at his brother's expense. The girl walking with him caught him by the shoulder, smiling warmly at the clumsiness and taking Sam's books in to her own hands. She leaned in close to him, asking something, and a very red flush crept up to Sam's face and ears.

The younger Winchester looked towards the car where Dean was watching him with an amused expression, then nodded to the young blonde and immediately started making his way over alone.

"What's up, Samantha?" Dean called teasingly as his brother reached him. "Who's the pretty bird?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "No one."

"Doesn't look like no one to me."

"She's just a girl, Dean. I mean, she's in my biology class. I-I mean—Jess. Her name is Jess."

Dean clicked his tongue as he pushed away from the Impala, watching as the girl, Jess, stuffed some of Sam's books in her backpack. Oh.

"Let me guess," he said, turning back to Sam, "I'm not driving your geeky ass home?"

Sam flushed even more scarlet. "She asked me to walk her home; I-I said I would."

"Ah, that's my boy, only here two weeks and already got a girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean said as he pulled out his wallet and began fishing around for something.

Sam eyed his brother warily. "What are you doing?"

When Dean finally found what he was looking for and pulled out a condom in a silver wrapper, Sam looked horrified.

"Dean!"

"C'mon Sammy, what kind of brother would I be if I didn't make sure my baby brother used protection?"

"Dean, stop! I don't need that!"

"Oh Sammy, if I had a nickel for every time I said the same thing and then got caught unprepared," Dean began, his grin growing wider with every word he uttered.

Sam groaned. "Dean," he whined, his face an impossible beet color now. "I can't believe you sometimes."

"Just take it, Sammy."

"No!"

"Take it."

His face livid, Sam finally snatched the condom away from his brother, glancing at Jess and hoping she didn't see it. "I hate you."

"You love me. Now go get 'em, tiger."

"Whatever," he grumbled as he turned to walk back towards Jess. "Just tell Cas I said bye."

"Sure, I'll let you're other girlfriend know you send your love."

Sam turned to face him then, the most frightening smirk Dean had ever seen on his face. "Dean, please. You aren't fooling anyone."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"The only one you're actually fooling at this point is probably Cas himself."

"What?"

Dean didn't get an answer; he was spluttering and trying to form a coherent comeback that never came as his brother disappeared with Jess right behind him back in to the school.

He was left staring at his feet, his brother's words still swimming in his mind when he saw a pair of feet appear next to him.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean might have jumped a foot in the air, not that he would ever admit it, and dropped his wallet and keys in his surprise.

"Jesus Christ, Cas! How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That!" Dean hissed as he gestured wildly at Castiel. "That 'sneaking up on people like a fucking creeper' shit! You're going to give me a heart attack if you keep ninja-ing yourself around like that."

"Sorry, Dean. Where's Sam?" Castiel asked, his backpack slung on one shoulder and his sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows in the warm air.

Dean shook his head, bending over to pick up his dropped belongings as Castiel eyed him. "He's not coming. Had a date," Dean said as he unlocked his door, Castiel himself walking to the passenger side and climbing inside. It felt so natural to him now. "So, I was thinking, when do your folks get home?"

Castiel watched as Dean turned the car on and the engine purred to life. "Monday; why?"

"You still up for some Die Hard and possibly a few crappy yet awesome sequels?"

"Sure. And popcorn too?"

"Of course." Dean put the Impala in reverse, turned on his favorite tape, and drove out of the parking lot without another word.

"You want something to drink?" Dean called back to Castiel, who was still taking his shoes off at the door.

"I'm alright."

Dean grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator, his eyes falling on the scribbled note pinned under a school bus magnet to the door.

"Mom went out for a bit," Dean said, showing the note to Castiel as he came strolling in to the kitchen. "Says to look after Adam." Dean paused.

"Adam?" he called towards the stairs, waiting a few seconds and shrugging when he did not get a response. "That kid's been acting weird lately."

Dean shook his head and took a sip of his drink. Suddeny short and loud thump! resonated from somewhere upstairs, startling both teenagers and causing Dean to spill some soda from his newly opened can.

"Adam, whatever the fuck you're doing up there, stop!" Dean warned as he brushed the liquid off his shirt. "Do not make me come up there."

Dean gave Castiel an apologetic look before taking a long drink from his can, tipping his head back and downing nearly half of it.

Castiel was unsure of what he should do—his cheeks burned hot as he caught a glimpse of Dean's throat quiver slightly as he drank. At once he found himself suddenly interested in the tiled floor of the kitchen instead, and he felt like his ears were on fire. He flung out an arm to lean against the kitchen tabletop, hoping it would seem casual enough, but he was fairly sure he looked mortifyingly awkward.

It was when he stole one last split-second look back up at Dean that he realized said teenager was watching him out of the corner of his eye as well, his gaze half-lidded. Both realizing they'd been caught, the two quickly turned away from each other, Dean spluttering on the soda that he drank too fast and was now burning in his throat.

Once he had finished coughing, he managed to choke out "Cas, listen—" before another solid thud, louder this time and from the same place upstairs, rung in their ears.

"Are you serious?" Dean hissed, slamming the can down on the countertop and storming from the kitchen. "I'll be right back. Adam!"

Dean ascended the stairs, taking two at a time in irritation at the interruption.

"Adam, you're my little brother and I love you," he began as he reached the top of the steps and rounded on Adam's bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, "but I need you to not be a brat for like an hour. Tops. I'm kinda in the middle of something he—"

Dean froze in the doorway, his body instantly seizing up as a chill slowly spread over him. Something was definitely off, and the eeriness had stopped Dean dead in his tracks—had sucked the unfinished sentence right out of him.

"Adam?"

The room was empty, and Dean was sure the sound had come from his youngest brother's room. Dean was about to turn around and continue the search in the other rooms, put off by the disturbing quiet coming from Adam's, when he noticed it. The window had been wrenched open, and a cool summer breeze was filling up the deserted room.

"Adam!" Dean cried, propelling himself across the room with such momentum that he almost flew right through the window, barely catching himself on the ledge. His heart was pounding so fast in his chest that he felt like he'd been lit on fire from the inside, a hundred horrible scenarios darting through his mind all at once. He whipped his head around, first right and then left until he finally spotted his brother.

But instead of the sight of Adam relieving any worry, Dean's heart began to pound in his chest even faster, his eyes going wide as he saw his youngest brother standing so close to the edge of the roof that his toes were hanging off the side. His body was relaxed and loose, and his eyes staring at the ground blankly.

Dean screamed his brother's name again, louder and more hysterical this time as he searched for anything, anything he could use. "Adam; Adam get down from there right now. Adam! Come over here!"

Adam finally seemed to register Dean's presence; he turned his head slightly in Dean's direction and his eyes widened in recognition.

"It's okay, Dean," he said, his voice calm and even. "I'll be okay. He told me to do it."

"Who told you? Adam, just get—Cas! Cas come up here quick!" Dean pulled his head inside for just a fraction of a second to call down the stairs, hoping Castiel would able to hear. Dean swallowed hard, trying to calm his voice. "Adam, give me your hand. Please."

"He said he would protect me. He won't let anything bad happen to me, Dean. He said so."

"Adam, who is telling you to do this? Who?"

Suddenly Castiel was right behind him; Dean could feel him as a hand was placed on the small of his back. He didn't look back, instead keeping his gaze locked on Adam.

"Adam, you need to come inside now. You're going to get hurt," Dean continued, attempting to make his voice sound as reassuring as possible, but his voice cracked anyways.

"He won't let me get hurt. He said I have to do this."

"Why?"

"To prove that I believe in him."

Realizing that talking was getting him nowhere, Dean gave a pleading look to Castiel, who was listening intently to what Adam was saying. Castiel nodded wordlessly, and Dean understood.

"Watch my back," Dean grunted as he shrugged off his jacket for better mobility and began climbing out of the window. He hissed in pain when his knee banged against the ledge and his hand slipped off of the roof, causing Dean to lurch forward. His heart caught in his throat until he felt a pair of strong hands grab at his shirt and his back, stabilizing him.

Slowly, Dean started to rise to his feet, the wind and his shaking legs causing him to almost be thrown off balance twice. Adam watched him, his stare intense.

Once Dean rose to full height, he put on his best warm smile, but it was faltering easily. Attempting to keep his voice even and encouraging, he said quietly, "Alright Adam, that's enough. Time to go inside now."

"Dean," Adam replied, his voice low and angry. "I have to do this."

"Why can't we talk about this?" Dean made the mistake of looking over the edge of the roof. The ground was far enough away that if someone fell at the wrong angle, it could almost certainly end in a broken neck. He grimaced and glanced back at Castiel, who was now halfway out of the window himself, watching Dean carefully.

Adam finally noticed the junior, his eyes growing dark. "What is he doing here?"

"He's here to help, Adam. Cas is gonna help us—"

"I don't want him here!" Adam emphasized his point by stepping even closer to the edge. A simple breeze would have been able to send him toppling over at any time.

"Adam, listen to me," Dean countered, maneuvering to block Castiel from Adam's view. "I'm gonna come over there, and you're gonna give me your hand, and we're gonna go inside and this is will all be over, alright?"

Adam smiled in response, but Dean could see something incredibly not Adam in his features. "Dean, it's okay. Just trust me." And then Adam opened his arms, swung one foot over the edge, and pitched himself forward.

Without hesitation, Dean instinctually grabbed for his youngest brother, sending even more momentum towards the edge of the roof. Dean felt his feet slide out from underneath him as his hands found Adam, and his first instinct as he felt himself falling was to pull his brother in to him and put as much of himself between Adam and the ground as possible. He heard Adam cry out, and Dean held him even closer as he screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the impact of the driveway below.

But the impact never came. There were hard fingers grabbing at him, around his arm and fisting in his shirt, and Dean felt gravity slowly, impossibly, pulling off of him. Instead of his face meeting rough, hard cement, he next found himself landing on soft carpet as he and Adam were both pulled in with tremendous force back through the window. All three boys went toppling to the ground, knocking over a lamp in the process.

At once Adam was clinging to Dean, his face buried in his brother's shirt as a broken sob escaped him.

"Shh, it's okay, I've got you," Dean whispered reassuringly as he held his brother close, sobs continuing to wrack through the youngest Winchester's body. Dean stared at Castiel, whose breathing was ragged and his stare concerned. "You okay?" Dean mouthed to him, not trusting his voice at the moment. Castiel nodded frantically.

"I didn't want to," Adam cried suddenly, his voice muffled by Dean's shirt. "I didn't want to. He made me."

"Who, Adam? Who made you?"

"Michael."

Dean's eyes snapped back up to Castiel, whose gaze had immediately darted to the ground, the tell tale look of confusion creeping up on Castiel's face. The junior darted his eyes around quickly, looking as if he was on the verge of remembering something incredibly important.

"Michael? Adam, your 'friend' Michael?"

"Yes!"

Holding his brother tighter still and soothing him with a hand on his head, Dean whispered low to Castiel, "Something is very, very wrong here."

"I'm sure he's just confused, Dean," Castiel offered, but he still looked utterly terrified about something.

"No, Cas. Not just that." Dean glanced up at the window. "My dad nailed all the second floor windows shut when we moved in for this very fucking reason, Cas. As child-proofing. Adam had a habit of climbing out of our windows at our last place." His eyes narrowed as he spotted something right next to Castiel's knee, using his free hand to pick it up. In his grasp he held a very long metal nail that had been bent almost in half. "There is no fucking way Adam could have opened this, Cas. No way. Only someone—something—very, very powerful could get this window open."

Castiel took the nail from Dean's fingers. "So what could it have been?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

Dean just stared at him, shaking his head as Adam's sobs finally died down to occasional whimpers.

"I have no idea, Cas. I have no fucking clue." Dean watched as Castiel got to his feet and shut the window forcefully. "But I'll tell you one thing; I am fucking scared."

A/N: Chapter seven is finished and will be uploaded in a bit - the reason being I originally wrote 6 and 7 as one chapter, and it was much too long (16k words is really too long, right?). Thanks for reading! And as always, thanks for all the feedback and reviews. It means the world to me, and I'm glad to know you guys are enjoying the story. Thank you!