Chapter: 03

Castiel didn't return home for two days.

When he finally stumbled in the front door Friday night, bleeding and damp, he was close to faint. He hadn't been able to stand until late this afternoon, careful not to apply too much pressure to his left leg as he walked; he wasn't sure how he'd done it, or when Lucifer might have done it, but his ankle was swollen to twice its usual size.

He didn't bother with cleaning himself up- he simply crawled into bed and slept for another day. When he awoke early Sunday morning, he took a long shower before bandaging what he could and popping a few pain pills for the rest. His sinuses were running like the river Nile and his head throbbed, but he pushed through it and went about stripping his now muddy sheets from the bed.

Once he was done with that task, he forced himself to choke down a few crackers and a glass of water. His mother was nowhere to be seen- probably gone on one of her unannounced trips – but Castiel could care less. Honestly, the house had a much nicer atmosphere when he was alone in it. Alone, he didn't have to worry about harsh words, sudden whacks with a hard-cover King James edition, or soft Latin anti-possession chants at the dinner table.

Limping his way back up the stairs with the cracker box and a bottle of water, he holed himself up in his bedroom. Sitting on the naked mattress while his sheets were in the washing machine, he contented himself with watching re-runs of That 70's Show. His eyes occasionally flickered over to his phone where it was lying on the floor, charging; the place he'd left it on Wednesday morning before heading out to meet the Winchester's.

He was going to heed his brothers' warnings – his aching body told him that much – but he found himself longing to hear Dean's voice despite his decision, to see the older boy grinning at him from across the cafeteria…Then he would remember that Dean knew everything about Balthazar, and that desire would fade for a few minutes.

When the pain medication wore off, Castiel was forced to make his way back downstairs and refill his water bottle so he could take some more. His movements were shaky and slow, his poor body begging him to take it easy as he wrestled the sheets back on to his bed and collapsed on to the still-warm material. He buried his face in the pillow, ignoring the painful ache in his bruised ribs, and breathed through his mouth to give his stuffed nose a break.

He was sick, he knew, but he couldn't afford to miss school tomorrow. He had missed an important test, and plenty of history notes. Most importantly, he had to pick up Sam's- no, no he didn't… He couldn't come in contact with the Winchester's ever again. Though the fact almost physically hurt, he couldn't deny it was true.

Sam and Dean were the first people Castiel had come in contact with since Anna and Gabriel; the only people he had tried to trust since his older siblings left, actually. Of course he didn't deserve any of these people in his life – he was a creature of sin – but part of him still argued that it was unfair that he lose all of them. Couldn't he at least have one person in his life who accepted him?

Castiel groaned into his pillow, slowly rolling over on to his back once more, and pulled the covers over his head.

The next thing Castiel was aware of was the sound of his alarm, waking him to prepare for school. Momentarily forgetting his predicament, he sat up quickly to silence the insistent beeping to his right. His ribs protested the quick movement, his head spinning, and he fell back with a sharp exhale of breath. Giving himself a few moments to recover, he sat up again – slowly this time – and silenced the alarm with a slap of his hand.

Running quickly through the shower, Castiel choked down a few painkillers and the highest possible dosage of cold medicine. Slipping on a pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater, Castiel pulled a beanie on over his still damp hair and wound his favorite black scarf over his lower face to hide the swollen left side of his jaw. A few dabs of make up from his mother's drawer covered the black eye, and he knew everything else would be no problem to hide.

Not bothering with packing a lunch, Castiel simply grabbed some money from his sock-drawer and shoved it in his pocket. His backpack, having laid in the snow with him for those painful two days, was finally dry. After pausing a moment to slip his tan coat on to his shoulders and button it, Castiel slung the bag over his shoulder and paused with his hand on the door knob.

Despite all his clothes, he was still cold.

Sighing into the fabric of his scarf, he pushed open the door and proceeded to make his hike down the drive way. His feet crunched in the light snow, his teeth chattering noisily between sniffled and coughs as he pulled his beanie down further over his head. The last thing he needed was for his cold to turn into pneumonia thanks to his wet hair.

Reaching the end of the drive way, Castiel let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding to see not a single Winchester in sight. Adjusting his scarf so that it covered his nose, he buried his cold hands into his pockets and stared absently at the empty field across the street; all the horses were hidden away in this kind of weather, and all there was to see was a snowy pasture.

"Cas!" Every muscle in his body tensed, his nails digging into his palms as he slowly turned at the sound of his nickname, watching as Sam came crunching towards him the snow. Dean strayed a few feet behind, his expression distracted.

"Hey, Cas," Sam smiled, pushing floppy brown hair out his eyes with mitten-clad fingers. Castiel smiled despite himself, the fabric of the scarf catching on his dry lips.

"Hi Sam," He answered through the scarf, unable to bring himself to crush the boys happy attitude. How was he going to manage cutting all ties with them? He knew doing it over gradual time would be his best bet, but something told him that if he didn't do it fast, he wouldn't do it at all.

Dean finally caught up to Sam, his expression glum as he nodded to Cas in greeting and pulled the collar of his coat higher around his face.

"Do you have my work?" Sam questioned eagerly, taking Castiel's attention away from Dean.

"No," Castiel admitted, clearing his throat against the urge to cough. Sam visibly deflated, burying his hands in his pockets.

"That's alright," He muttered quietly, and Castiel quickly came up with his excuse.

"I got sick," He explained to the younger boy. "So I wasn't at school- I'm on the back end of it now, though."

"Oh, well, that sucks," Sam frowned, looking up at Castiel. "I'm glad you're feeling better though."

"Me too," Castiel lied. "How was your trip?"

"Fine," Sam shrugged, glancing towards Dean. "Dean's been grumpy, though."

"If you don't shut up, I'll show you just how grumpy I am." Dean snapped, and Castiel flinched. Sam glared at his brother, kicking a clump of snow in his direction, and moved a few feet away, putting Castiel between the two of them.

Shifting awkwardly to keep the weight off his bad ankle, Castiel tilted his head down against the small snow flurries and shivered in his coat. The three boys waited in silence until the bus arrived some time later, and they scrambled to get on. Castiel was last, cringing as he tried to get up the steps in a normal manor; trying not to favor his bad leg, or limp… Trying to hold up the charade that he was suffering from a cold, and nothing more.

Ignoring the bus drivers concerned stare, Castiel followed Dean and Sam to the back of the bus. Sam took the single-seater and Castiel slid into the double across the aisle. Dean plopped down beside him, his backpack in his lap. It had been their seating arrangement since the Winchester's arrived, but today it made Castiel particularly uncomfortable.

Shivering, Castiel reached up and tugged the beanie down further over his head.

"You didn't text me." Dean finally broke the silence, glancing at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. Castiel stared at him, his mouth opening and closing in quiet shock.

"I wasn't at school… There weren't any girls interested," He answered quietly, watching the world pass by beyond the window.

"Cas…" Dean sighed, shaking his head as Castiel turned to study him. "I was… I was asking you to text me- I didn't care about the girls."

"No." Castiel snapped before he could stop himself and Dean blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility. Little did he know about the voices hissing inside Castiel's head, Lucifer's cruel words roaring through his brain as he glared at Dean.

"No, what?" He asked.

"No. Just because you know I'm…" He looked around, making sure no one was listening before he leaned closer. "Just because you know I'm gay doesn't mean you can use me for some kind of demented prank."

"It wasn't- Cas, I'm not messing with you," Dean scoffed. "And I didn't know you were gay, but I'm glad I do now; at least I've got a chance."

"What are you talking about!" Castiel snapped. "Of course you know, everyone in town knows! Why do you think everyone stays away from me! I'm a monster, Dean!"

His rising voice attracted Sam's attention, but one quick glare from Dean had the younger Winchester turning in his seat. Turning his head ever so slightly, Dean glared at Castiel as well.

"You are not a monster." He growled.

"Yes I am." Castiel grumbled, turning away from Dean as he muttered the words he'd heard his mother repeat a thousand times in his presence. "I'm a creature born from the fires of Hell, meant to tempt young men to the path of sin."

"Cas," Dean sighed, grabbing the other boys chin in a gentle attempt to coax his face in the other direction. Castiel sucked in a pained breath as Dean's fingers closed over the swollen cut on his jaw, knocking Dean's hand away and grabbing a hold of the aching spot before he could think to do anything else. Dean tensed, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

"Cas, what was that?" Dean demanded as Castiel dropped his hand, looking silently out the window. God, why did Dean have to be so caring! And why did he have to like Castiel! He had actually admitted it, Castiel noted; he had seemed pleased that Castiel was gay, and that the two could possibly have a relationship.

"Castiel," Dean tried again, grabbing the end of Cas' scarf and pulling gently. The younger boy panicked, pressing himself hard against the window and shoving Dean away.

"Stop!" He demanded, his voice trembling. Though Dean could hear it in his voice, Castiel knew he couldn't tell Dean that he was scared; scared of what Dean would think if he knew how broken Castiel's body was, or if he knew what his brothers would do to him if he didn't do as they said.

"You're hurt." It wasn't a question, but Castiel nodded weakly anyways. Dean sighed, looking down at his lap for a moment before looking back up. His eyes on Castiel's face, Dean gently tugged on the end of the scarf again. Castiel didn't fight him this time, so Dean proceeded to tilt the younger boy's face back towards his, careful not to touch his jaw. With gentle, experienced hands he unwound the scarf from Castiel's face.

Castiel flinched every time the material rubbed the swollen flesh of his jaw, but otherwise sat still. His eyes locked on a small hole in the knee of Dean's jeans and stayed there. He knew he should move away, and stop Dean from being so gentle and caring; he should just slap his hands away and trade seats with Sam.

He knew what he should do, but he was couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Dammit, Cas..." Dean whispered, his jaw ticking in a way that Castiel had come to know as a silent display of anger. Dean's fingers brushed gently over the inflamed skin, careful not to hurt Castiel, and the younger boy quickly looked away from Dean's face and back to the hole in his jeans.

"Why do you even care?" Castiel whispered, and he noticed Dean's jaw clench at his slurred words. The muffle of the scarf had hidden the slur, but without it Dean could see just how much pain the wound was causing Castiel. "You know about... About Balthazar, and about what I did... Why do you still care, Dean?"

"You keep saying I know things that I don't." Dean frowned, his fingers still tracing over the cut in a motion Castiel quickly found comforting.

"You... You know," Castiel whispered weakly, his heart thudding in his chest. Had Lucifer lied just to make sure Castiel avoided Dean? Or was Dean the one lying? He didn't know who to trust, but he so desperately wanted to trust Dean.

"I don't," Dean corrected, slowly letting his hand fall away from Castiel's face. Castiel almost cried out at the loss, wishing he could pull Dean's hand back and press his cheek into the callused comfort. "Cas, you know I'd come to you and ask about anything I heard. You know that."

Castiel nodded weakly, staring at his scarf where it laid on the seat between them. His eyes watered, his breath hitching, and he silently told himself he wouldn't cry; this was as far as it would go. A few tears managed to slide by, though- tears of shame, and hate. Lucifer had beaten him bloody not because Dean had been asking about Castiel, but because he wanted to. He wanted to hurt Castiel, and to open old wounds.

"Cas," Dean's voice was surprisingly gentle, and Castiel didn't have to respond for Dean to know he was listening. "Whoever hurt you... Did they do it because you're gay?"

Castiel nodded.

"Is that the person who said I knew you were gay- and that I knew about that guy? Benjamin?"

"Balthazar." Castiel corrected, picking at the button on his coat as he nodded once more.

"Do I happen to know the person who did it?" Castiel quickly realized what Dean was getting at; he wanted to find out who'd hurt Castiel, and make an example out them like he did to those who bullied Sam.

"No," Castiel lied, knowing Lucifer had plenty of classes with Dean. Dean nodded, quiet for a moment before he picked up Castiel's scarf and tied it around his own neck. Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Do you wear this to school a lot?" Dean questioned, tying the scarf loosely around his neck and not bothering to tuck the tails into his jacket. Castiel had to admit that the black fabric looked nice around Dean's neck; the black fabric accented the smooth curve of his neck and made his eyes seem surprisingly more green.

"Yes… Every time it snows. Why?" Castiel asked, searching Dean's face curiously.

"Just go along with what I do," Dean told him. "And my plan should work out just fine."

"Your plan?" Castiel blinked, and before he could ask anything else Dean had slipped an arm around his waist and hauled him into his lap. Castiel went rigid as Dean situated the smaller man's body against his, his hands resting against Castiel's rapidly fluttering stomach and his chin falling on to Castiel's shoulder.

"My plan," Hot breath brushed Castiel's ear and he blushed from his scalp all the way to his belly button, his hands resting instinctually over Dean's where they were smoothing out the crinkles in his coat.

"Th-This is no… Not a plan," Castiel stuttered, finding it difficult to remember the process of breathing. "This… This is in-inappropriate."

Dean simply chuckled, leaning back in the seat and moving Castiel to recline against him. The younger boy was frozen solid, his muscles tight despite how comfortable he really was. Dean's body was warm and firm underneath his, promising comfort and protection, and the longer they sat this way Castiel's muscles slowly started to unwind until he was leaning back into the embrace.

"It's a good plan," Dean argued once Castiel had relaxed, the younger boys eyes falling closed as Dean continued to rub a series of small circles over his stomach. "I know who hit you, and I get to have you in my lap. There's really now down side to this at all,"

"What?" Castiel's eyes flew open as he turned his head to look at Dean where the older boy's chin was still resting on his shoulder. "How do you know who did it?"

"It's easy," Dean shrugged, his eyes locked with Castiel's. "There are two boys who got on the bus about ten minutes ago- they keep looking back here, directly at us. When I winked at the taller one, he glared at you. My bet is that he's the muscle, and the other one is the brains."

Castiel swallowed hard, tensing once more in Dean's arms as he fought the urge to turn around. He had to admit that Dean's plan was well thought out; what better way to bring out the attackers than to provoke them? Dean noticed his suddenly tense muscles and frowned.

"Calm down," He ordered gently, and Castiel did his best to obey. "What are their names?"

"Lucifer is the tall one… Michael is his younger brother," Castiel answered quietly, looking down at his scarf where it was tied around Dean's neck.

"Cas, keep looking into my eyes," Dean directed him quietly, and the younger boy reluctantly obeyed. "They thought something was going on between us, right? That's why they waited until I was gone to make a move on you,"

Castiel nodded, counting the golden flecks in Dean's eyes to distract himself from the situation.

"And they told you I knew you were gay, and that I knew something about Balthazar?" Dean continued, his arms tightening around Castiel as the bus ran over a bump and their foreheads knocked together. Castiel hadn't realized how close the two were until then.

"Yes," He nodded, his eyes closing as his forehead remained pressed to Dean's.

"Eyes open, Cas." Dean pressed gently against his stomach and Castiel reluctantly did as he was told while Dean continued. "I didn't know about any of this until you mentioned it, and as far as Lucifer and Michael's suspicions go… That was probably my fault. I guess I wasn't as secretive as I thought when I tried to sneak looks at your ass,"

"Dean!" Castiel hissed, leaning away from the now grinning older boy and slapping him hard on the chest.

"What, it's not my fault," Dean laughed. "I'm a teenage dude; a nice ass cannot be ignored,"

"I'm glad my ass pleases you," Castiel glared, turning to look out the window despite Dean's attempts to get him to turn around again. "Now that you're plan is complete, I'd appreciate it if you'd release me."

"My plan isn't complete," Dean admitted. Castiel turned his head a fraction, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

"I wanted to ask you if we could do this," Dean motioned to their position. "More often- possibly, every day?"

"I'm not going to sit in your lap, Dean." Castiel rolled his eyes, wondering how he even liked Dean as a friend, let alone more.

"Not what I meant," Dean rolled his eyes, forcibly turning Castiel face him. The younger man grit his teeth against the throbbing protest of his ribs, but looked Dean in the eyes.

"What did you mean?" He asked, examining Dean's green and gold eyes carefully. The older man straightened the scarf around his neck, smiling faintly.

"I'd like to confirm the rumors that there is something going on between us," He announced, his voice close to a whisper to avoid possible third party ears.

"You're straight," Castiel sighed, his heart thudding rapidly despite his declaration. "Of course there's nothing going on."

"I make an exception for special guys," Dean shrugged. "Ask Sammy about it if you don't believe me."

"I'm not special," Castiel immediately responded.

"Oh, but you are, Castiel Novak." Dean argued, unfastening one of the buttons on the bottom of Cas' coat before refastening it. "So will you at least give me a chance at proving myself a worthy boyfriend?"

Castiel's heard skittered nervously and he blushed at the idea of being able to call Dean Winchester, local womanizer, his boyfriend. Dean waited patiently for his answer as the bus pulled to a stop outside the school and everyone began to gather their things.

"Alright… I'll give you a chance," Castiel decided with a slight nod of his head. Dean smiled, gently moving Castiel out of his lap and standing. Grabbing both his and Castiel's backpack, he moved into the aisle and motioned Castiel to follow.

Moving off the bus, Castiel still doing his best to hide his limp, they waited on the sidewalk beside Sam. Dean carried both his and Castiel's backpacks, making no complaints as they waited. Castiel reached for his but Dean held it out of reach with a shake of his head.

Sighing, Castiel wrapped his arms around himself and stood as close to Dean as was socially acceptable and shivered as a frigid gust of wind blasted his now barren neck. He glanced up at Dean, who was watching Sam talk to the bus driver. Castiel's scarf was still tied securely around the older boy's neck.

"What did taking my scarf have to do with your plan?" He wondered aloud, and Dean glanced down at him before looking away with a grin.

"Nothing," He answered. "I just wanted your scarf."