Archive of Our Own

The thing is Dean’s not supposed to be there.

Some hunter John worked with was supposed to show up and Dean was supposed to help him just research the hunt.

Supposedly.

The guy never showed up though and Dean had been bored. He read up a little on the hunt and now he’s checking it out. People had been going missing in the woods near the small town and the local talk was a witch. There was an old house deep in the forest with the road long grown over. Kids are dared to spend a night there and swear they saw someone while hunters stalking deer have seen a figure in the windows.

Could be a witch. Could be a hobo squatting.

Dean figured the only way to know was check. He wasn’t technically hunting on his own, he was just looking into things.

The house was in a swamp and half the damn thing was caved in and sunk into the water. It was a decrepit place with no sign of life.

The swamp was hard to navigate and Dean swore when his foot sank and his leg was soaked from the knee down. Trudging through he hoped there was actually a witch so he can blow her goddamned head off. By the time he got to the house, his legs were soaked. It was a muggy hot area so he’s also covered in bug bites. Maybe a crocodile will bite him in the ass too.

The inside was fairly standard. It’s an empty place with smashed windows, an old house, like historical log house almost. Dean can’t find any evidence of witchcraft when he circles the place. He checks the doors for carving in the frames, the windows too. There’s nothing hidden under the floor boards or rotted wall panels.

Zip. Nadda.

Dean was out in a swamp-soaked up to his ass with slimy water and nothing to show. He was glad then that his dad wasn’t around to see his spectacular failure.

A soft clinking sound makes him freeze before he turned to leave. Turning to look down the hall into the house, he heard the sound again and he tried to be dead silent as he crept towards it. The floor boards were half rotten though and they creaked with each step. Wincing at the sound Dean managed to prowl around and he found a basement door. It was yanked off the frame and leaning up so he moved it, trying to be quite as he headed downstairs.

There were strange symbols carved into each stair board and Dean felt his heartbeat jump as he pulled his gun out and kept going. There’s obviously something living there, blankets and a table filled with things, a fire pit recently used. It was an old dirt basement, one side of the wall half caved in already.

The basement was filled with bottles, both glass and plastic, they lined the shelves and were hanging from the ceiling. Inside them was an assortment of stuff, bits of plants and liquids mainly but Dean could see some with bits of gore as well. Peering into a hanging bottle, he winced at the sight of severed fingers.

The clink nearly made him jump, but Dean was better trained than that. Twisting around he carefully turned and stayed close to the wall as he made his way over. There were flat wood boards set up, enclosing a small circle in the corner with candles lighting it inside. Dean cautiously heads over and didn’t react when a snake slithered across the floor. Another huge one was curled up on a shelf watching him and Dean was freaked out, but he had the element of surprise and couldn’t afford to waste it.

In a quick motion he filled the entryway to the little makeshift room, gun aimed and ready. It was a unique weapon with symbols carved through it and into the bullets, made specifically to take out witches and get passed their powers.

Dean blinked at the teenage boy on the bed who immediately threw his arms up to hide, flinching away from Dean’s gun.

Dean’s not sure how to react. He was expecting a twisted old monster, not some trembling kid. He slowly lowered his gun and take a good look at him.

The boy’s clothing was worn out and filthy but current, jeans and a gray t-shirt. The clinking sound made him look down and he sees bare feet peeking under the jeans. Around the one ankle was a thick old looking manacle. Dean followed the chain to the center of the room and into a huge block of brick and mortar.

The boy has to be the next victim, Dean’s arrived when the witch was out.

“It’s ok, I’m gonna help you,” he explained to the teenager. The boy gave him a doubtful look, moving his shackled leg and looking at Dean as if asking what it was he thinks he can do. Dean kinda wishes the kid was a hot girl, but a recuse was a rescue. Save people and all that.

Stashing his gun, he took a closer look at the manacle. There was no obvious opening, it looked like a solid band of metal all the way around.

“Fucking witches,” Dean muttered and looked around the room for anything that could help them. The boy scooted to the edge of the bed and watched Dean with a mix of suspicion and general weariness.

There was a table filled with useless things, spell components, dried plants and the like. There were bowls of red pulpy stuff that look and reek like internal organs ground up. Not a great sign. There’s nothing that will help them and Dean turned back to the teenager who was halfway out of the bed thing and watching Dean with wide eyes, the kid had a hell of a stare on him.

“We need to hurry, the witch could be back at any time,” Dean admitted and swore when he picked up the chain and tried to pull it from the base.

“You believe that it never occurred to me to try that,” the boy snarked but when Dean offered him the chain he took it and they pulled on it with all they had.

“It won’t come off,” he muttered, sounding frustrated and resigned as if he had already spent days trying.

“The hell it won’t,” Dean replied and pulled his gun. “Here, come stand here,” he directed the teenager and had him put his foot out. The kid was watching Dean likes he’s completely insane but surprisingly, he put his foot out.

“Cover your face,” Dean warned and the boy was a touch confused but looked away and put his arms up.

Dean doubted the bullet would bounce but he figured it was best to be careful.

The boy jumped at the gunshot, but Dean grabbed his arm to keep him from moving.

“Stay still,” he hissed urgently, firing two more shots in the same spot until the metal chain link gave. Bending down he undid the broken chain quickly, there are three more linking up to the manacle on the boy, but Dean doesn’t have the tools to get them off.

The boy was staring wide-eyed at the twisted chain like he couldn’t believe it was broken and Dean gave him a nudge as he stood up. “We gotta go.” There was no way the witch didn’t hear the gunshots.

“Come on,” he urged the boy, watching impatiently as he slowly maneuvered himself around the rotten planks of the stairs and ducked under the broken door. He was barefoot still and once they were outside he was even slower, wincing with ever step on twigs, hard dirt, and pointed stones.

Dean swore and reached out. The kid barely made it to his chest and he looked like a lightweight. Sure enough, Dean hoisted him up over his shoulder easily. The boy was completely stiff while Dean picked him up into a fireman carry and got moving. Eventually, careful hands rest on his shoulder as the boy straightened up and looked around.

“Keep an eye out for the witch,” Dean grunted and the boy nodded, looking around the swamp as they hightail it out of there.

Dean’s car was waiting and he slid the boy in on the driver side before getting in and taking off.

“T-thank you,” the teenage stuttered, still looking vaguely dazed as they drove. “I thought I’d die down there.”

“No problem, we’re gonna get you home safe in no time,” Dean reassured, feeling a little high after getting out clean. Dean was completely ready for solo hunting.

“I’m Dean, what’s your name kid?”

“Castiel.”

He took the boy back to his motel so he can get any useful information on the witch from him.

“Have a shower or something, I’ll grab food,” Dean offered, knowing the kid had to be hungry.

Then the boy just sort of stands there, looking around himself with a lost expression and Dean hesitated to leave the kid on his own. He was clearly in shock and he looked fragile standing there, filthy and barefoot, the shackle links dragging on the floor.

“Come on, a good shower will make you feel like a million bucks,” Dean coaxed gently, steering the boy towards the bathroom. The kid was caked in dirt and grime and Dean let him stand in the bathroom as he got the shower on and running warm.

Dean’s had to do this before, guiding shell-shocked victims through easy tasks.

“Hot enough?” he lured and the boy put his hand timidly into the water after a moment, nodding his head quickly.

“Well get in then,” Dean stepped back to turn away so he could undress but then the kid walked into the shower. Completely dressed. Dirt made the water dark in the tub as the boy stood under the hot spray. His shoulders slowly relaxing.

Dean’s heard of people needing to stay dressed after traumatic things, sexual usually. God only knows what that witch had done to him. The reports they have only specify that people who go out into the swamp go missing.

“You can undress if you want, I’ve can find something for you to wear, or stay dressed if you wanna,” he offered and backed out, leaving the door open just in case the kid collapsed or something. He noticed the shirt come off eventually, soaked and splattering on the floor.

Dean ordered in pizza and then digs through his bag for something for the boy. He’s got a pair of jeans a touch too small for him and a sweatshirt that’ll be way too big but warm.

Castiel stepped out of the shower and left the shower curtain pulled back and the water still running as he stood there naked in the doorway.

“It’d cold,” he admitted in explanation and Dean blinked at the blunt nudity. So not shy then. But the boy still had a blank expression, nothing in his face or body language giving away what he’s thinking.

Dean doesn’t comment but goes and turned off the shower. He grabbed a towel and placed it on the boy’s thin shoulders. He’s skinny, a touch too small and Dean’s glad he ordered an extra large for them.

“Dry off,” he instructed and the boy obeyed as Dean got him the clothing.

“There clean,” Dean offered and Castiel took them with a little nod. He looked sorta ridiculous but far cleaner and warm.

They needed to talk about the witch, but Dean’s pretty sure the kid won’t be able to handle it. He looked fragile and still shocked, like the wrong word would shake him apart. So Dean sat at the table while Castiel perched on the edge of the bed. Before it could get too awkward the pizza arrived and Dean was glad for the distraction.

Castiel eats more than half the pizza as Dean expected, gulping tap water down as well.

“How long were you down there?” Dean carefully hedged, looking for any tears suddenly coming at the question. Castiel paused mid-chew at the question and while he looked morose he seemed to be keeping it together.

“I don’t know, you couldn’t see the sunlight on cloudy days. I lost track a few months in.”

Months.

Dean figured a few days but months. Jesus. What had the witch wanted from him?

“Did you ever see her?”

Castiel looked confused for a moment and then he shook his head in negative. “I was usually alone.”

This time, he spoke with a tiny note of something under the words that let Dean know he’s treading on grounds best left alone unless he wanted the boy breaking down.

“Well you’re free now, you can use my phone to call your family if you want, police are probably looking for you.”

He expected the boy to cheer up, a relieved smile or something but instead his skinny shoulders hunch in and he seemed tiny as he stared at his pizza.

“No one is looking for me,” he stated with a quiet absolution.

“I’m sure there’s someone,” Dean insisted with a gentle tone, but the boy shook his head. His smile was a little heartbreaking when he looked up and assured Dean no one would care to know where he was. Not that there was no one, but rather that they wouldn’t care.

Dean can’t imagine why someone would throw their kid out, but he doesn’t push. Something about the situation struck a cord in Dean, reminding him of a brother who left and a father he barely saw at times.

Deciding that they could both use a good nights sleep Dean announced that they should turn in and then he realized that there’s only one bed in the room.

“Shit, maybe they have cots,” he muttered, eyeing the thin carpet over concrete. Considering the situation, he just saved the kid from he can’t make him sleep on the floor but hell if Dean wanted to either. He had some cash left, but he’ll need gas soon so he didn’t want to get another room.

“We could share?” Castiel suggested looking at the bed speculatively. It was a double, but Dean doesn’t want to freak the kid out, making him sleep with a stranger right after being held captive for months. Dean figured it’s the car for him.

“You can take the bed, I don’t swing that way,” he tried to joke and Castiel flinched. A full-body flinch that tells Dean he just stumbled into something bad. Maybe the reason the kid was on his own.

Sighing, Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I guess we could share, I just don’t wanna hog the bed with all you’ve been through,” he explained, wanting Castiel to know he didn’t actually mean it that way.

“If anything, I’d rather not be alone honestly,” Castiel replied quietly and so they shared the bed.

Dean’s shared before, for years him and Sammy were crammed into the same bed and sometimes he had to share with his dad if they can’t get doubles. Castiel was curled up on the one edge with plenty of room between them. Better than Sammy who always spread out like a starfish. Pushing the bittersweet thoughts of his lost sibling away, Dean hits the light and laid down to sleep.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Is it that wrong?”

Dean had an idea what this was about, but he still paused hoping the boy would elaborate.

“What you said about sharing a bed before, it was a reference to homosexuality?”
Wincing, Dean twisted from his side onto his back, staring up at the stained ceiling.

“I just meant it as a joke, trying to lighten the mood. There’s nothing wrong with it, ya know, with being gay,” he offers awkwardly. Castiel is facing away from him, but Dean sees him give a little nod.

“That why you don’t have anyone to call?”

“Yes. Where I came from it was… unnatural to be that way.”

“Yeah we’re kinda near the bible belt, religious assholes abound.” Dean still felt like shit about the comment though and he figured that’s why he suddenly told the kid he could catch a ride with him.

“We can drive somewhere where you’d be safe,” he explained sleepily, the idea of leaving the kid to get attacked or something circling his mind.

“You’re very kind Dean,” the boy whispered and Dean snorted.

“Nah, I’m just being decent.”

Dean dreamed of a house.

It’s a simple place but well kept. There are pictures on the walls, generic images of holidays and posed photos. Dean’s seen a million in his nomad life, in the homes of victims and suspects alike. These photos are different, though. Because it’s not strangers in the happy photos.

It’s him.

It’s his dad and Bobby, Sammy, even. They’re smiling and holding beer on a deck, standing together with Sammy in a graduation gown. It’s a normal life and Dean knows it's his. The house is his as well.

This is his home.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of it. To always be traveling and longing to get home but without any actual home. To be constantly on one long road trip with that unnamed emotion in the pit of your stomach, always there, pressing down quietly.
The satisfaction of getting home, of coming through your own door and seeing your belongings, hand picked and arranged by you, yours. Dean’s never truly felt it since he was a little boy, the impala comes close but right now he knows this was the real thing.

This was his home.

The walls are painted bright in warm tones and the furniture was worn but cared for. It’s a mix and match house, but it is without a doubt someone’s home.

Dean looks around, feeling comfortable and ready to relax. He could get a beer from the fridge and watch tv or grab a book and read on the deck.

A soft sound comes from the kitchen, footsteps sound on the floor, but Dean recognizes them.

Because what was a home without someone to share it with?

Waking up came slowly and Dean could feel the sunlight of the dream fading gently as he slowly returns to the motel bed. Even as he wakes though the warmth in his chest remains, the dream doesn’t turn bitter. Firmly settled into a good mood Dean stretches and sits up.

The other side of the bed is empty, but the bathroom door is partially closed with the shower running.

Dean gets up and gets dressed, thinking about where he can take Castiel. It’s clear the boy has nowhere to go and Dean doesn’t want to just dump him somewhere when he’s obviously so clueless. Maybe Bobby would have an idea or possibly some boy’s home would take him in. Either way Dean wants to take him to a more tolerant area of the country, somewhere he can leave him and not have to wonder if the kid was being…oppressed and shit.

But first things first.

They stop off at a thrift store and find Castiel some clothing that fits. A few pairs of worn jeans and some t-shirts. The boy wanders around touching everything, rubbing the fabrics between his fingers. He’s tactile more then color coordinated and he ends up with some hideous shirts that are butter soft. A few sweaters and a bag to keep it all in and he’s mostly set. Dean runs into a department store and grabs a new pack of underwear, a toothbrush, deodorant, and everything he can think that the boy will need.

On his way out he calls his dad and gets the answering machine. He leaves a message, explains he waited around a few days found a victim and is getting them somewhere safe. He’ll head back to the witch after and wait for his dad to arrive before hunting her.

They gas up and stop at the attached dinner, Dean ordering a full breakfast and Castiel picking out various little things off the menu. It’s a bit strange, but the waitress looks like she wants to snuggle the kid and never let go.

“Some porridge as well, possibly with cinnamon?” Castiel asked like he half expected to be refused but was a touch hopeful he wouldn’t and something about that tone is freaking adorable.

The young waitress smiles brightly and seems like she’s resisting ruffle Castiel’s hair as she jots it all down.

“Anything else?”

Castiel peers down at the plastic covers menu and finally shakes his head, prompting Dean to smirk and raise a brow.

“You don’t want anything to drink with your egg, hash brown, salad, fries, toast, chicken fingers and porridge?” He teased and the boy blinked.

“Would it be alright to have some water as well?” He politely asks the waitress and she melts a little.

“Certainly,” she agrees and then returns with a coffee for Dean and chocolate milk for Castiel. Dean hides his smirk in his hand as the boy perplexedly accepts it. The thing is though that he seems genuinely thankful and that’s probably why the waitress is smiling so kindly.

Castiel sips it and blinks down at it, no longer looking unsure as he takes another drink.

“It’s very good,” he announced and Dean hides another laugh.

Despite the sheer amount of food he ordered, Castiel eats everything, every last scrap of it. Dean has no idea what the witch was feeding him but based off how much Castiel enjoyed the taste of hash browns of all things Dean images it was probably dirt or something disgusting.

They pay and head out, getting on the road.

Dean noticed the difference right away.

Castiel wasn't a chatty guy, but even the occasional question about something they passed was enough. It felt good to have a passenger again. Dean could relax a touch more, enjoy the road as it lost that lonesome aspect it could have when he was alone. His own head wasn't picking at him, he sang to his music and laughed at the kid for his lack of classic rock knowledge.

"I don't understand the intention or purpose of shaking someone all night long. It seems like a strange and tiring task.”

Dean couldn't fight the grin on off his face as the music blared on. Castiel wrinkled his nose at the music, frowning at the speaker as if it could explain everything to him. The best part was that the kid wasn't actually complaining, he hadn't asked for the music to be turned off or anything, he just kept questioning the lyrics. He had to be from some cut off community where everything was controlled, some religious place that banned outside influence. Something out of the Village.

"It's about sex kiddo," Dean shot back and watched the boy go red with embarrassment. Dean laughed out loud that just the mention of it could get the boy so shy, Sammy had been the same way for years. "They had sex all night long, get it?"

"You talk about it so easily, like it's not a sin of the flesh," Castiel mused, still embarrassed but smiling despite it. The weird wording wasn't missed by Dean either. Castiel had said stuff like that all day, phrases that sounded right out of a bible. It was why Dean was sure the kid had been stuck in a religious place and it explained their homophobia.

"It's a natural part of life," he shot back and grinned as Thunderstruck started up. They needed to stop and grab lunch but for now Dean just enjoyed the open road and good company beside him.

Dean had loose intentions of taking Castiel up to Bobby's place, he’d be safe there and could figure out the normal world at his own pace. Dean hadn't figured out how he was going to get Bobby to let Castiel stay with him, but that was a problem for later. Right now his top concern was the shackle around Castiel's right ankle. It was tight to his skin, Dean couldn't even work a finger between the metal and Castiel's pale skin. Two inches thick with no obvious seem it was certainly magically put on and Dean can't figure out how the hell to get it off. Castiel hasn't complained once, but the skin around it is red and sore, Dean can see the boy trying to discretely wipe away blood when they stop for gas and he thinks Dean can't see him.

"Bobby will know how to get that thing off, he'll have a spell or something that will undo it," Dean mentioned once and Castiel had gone completely still.

"He...uses magic?"

"Not like that, he's not a bad guy or anything, just a few things here and there. He's a real expert like my dad, he'll know exactly what put it on you and how to get it off," he had tried to be reassuring but Castiel only looked more horrified the longer he talked.

"Trust me Cas, he'll help."

"I'm not so sure," Castiel replied quietly and looked out the window silently for an hour, his arms curled around himself as he hunched in and looked tiny. He had been slowly relaxing and opening up, but now he seemed closed off and weary again. He wasn't the first person to be afraid of magic in the aftermath of a monster kidnapping and Dean felt worse for him. Castiel had clearly had it tough before the witch and who knows what she promised him, maybe offering to help him with her magic or some other bullshit to lure him in. The thing was, Dean had no idea how to get the shackle off him without magic.

They stopped in a smaller city just off the highway for the night and Castiel was more quiet then at breakfast. He asked Dean to order for him and sat quietly the whole time, not opening up to Dean's prodding questions. Staring out the window, Dean eyed an auto wrecker sign across the street silently. The longer he looked at it the more a crazy idea began to sound ok.

"Kid, how bad do you want to avoid magic?"

Castiel looked up from the cracked plastic of the table and met Dean's gaze for the first time in hours.

"You have no idea, I want nothing more than to be nowhere near it."

They waited until the midnight hours to sneak into the auto yard. Dean checked for cameras before cutting the chain around the main gate. It was an old worn down place and they slipped in quickly. Castiel followed him, never asking what they were doing or why. The cover of the night let them sneak around, Dean careful for any parts lying discarded as they headed to the back garage. Typically heavy duty tools were kept in the garages off to the side, the lighter and easy to steal stuff would be in the main building. Half way there a low growling made Dean freeze but Castiel knelt down and extended a hand to the dog that had found them.

"Hello," he offered in a soft tone, not animal baby talk but just a soothing sound. The dog sniffed the air and stepped forward, Dean shifted, ready to yank the idiot by the back of shirt if the dog lunged at him but then the tough guard dog turned into a softy, tail wagging as he whined and licked Castiel's fingers.

"No one likes being trapped," Castiel mused softly, fingers unbuckling the thick collar around the dog. The animal ran off right away and Castiel examined the blinking red light on the collar, a thick capsule sitting at the base.

"A shocker or an underground fence, kept him here in the yard probably," Dean explained and Castiel stood there, staring at the collar with a strangely blank expression. Dean reached out and tugged his arm gently.

"Come on,"

Castiel finally looked up, turning and following Dean.

The back garage door was locked but it was a simple one and it took Dean no time to pick it, Castiel learning over him silently and watching as he worked the tumblers to get the door to pop.

"You're very good at this," Castiel whispered as they entered the dark building.

"No long can keep me out," Dean agreed.

"Or in," Castiel added with a wistful tone.

"I can show you how, it's not hard." Dean found himself saying, not many people who found out he could pick locks thought it was a good thing.

"It would be very useful and I would appreciate it," Castiel told him seriously and Dean smiled in the dark. For certain a weirdo all the way, but Castiel was genuine in a way Dean really liked, the kid wasn't going to lie to him. It didn't even occur to him to do so.

"Alright, we need a metal saw, something electrical," Dean announced, turning on his flashlight and looking around. "We should be able to get it off with that."

Castiel made a surprised but hopeful sound, walking alongside Dean carefully in the shadows.

There was a variety of metal cutters, but Dean needed something for precision, anything less would take the kids foot off with the manacle.

Dean knew the click of a safety being switched off a gun and froze at the sound, Castiel bumping into him lightly. The boys hand curled around Dean's elbow worriedly.

"What's wrong?"

"You're trespassing," a gruff voice replied and Castiel turned, innocent and dumb to the sound of the voice.

An old grizzled man stood in the doorway, gun aimed and ready with the bloody dog at his heel, tail still wagging. Without taking the gun off them, he reached out and flipped on the lights. Castiel stepped back at the sight of the gun and Dean twisted them so he was in the front and the boy behind him.

The old man wrinkled his nose and lifted the gun, pointing it up and hitting the safety. "I'm not going to actually shoot you, thought you were those damn kids again."

"Nope, sorry man," Dean replied with a shrug and the man fixed him with a glare.
"What the hell are you doing in my garage boys?"

Dean didn't appreciate being labeled a boy, but he figured the man was the kind that would like the truth and if they lucked out, he might help.

"Listen, in the world of fucked up I get that you don't appreciate having you place broken into, but my friend here needs some help."

"And it's in an auto yard garage?"

"Unfortunately. People can be messed up but the ones that had him take the cake. We're trying to fly under the radar, stay hidden and safe so no cops. It'll just land us back where we started," Dean lied smoothly, trying to work some pity out of the old man.

"Show him Cas."

Castiel just blinked at Dean looking confused, bewildered and a tiny bit afraid weirdly.

Dean frowned at the fear in the boys face but then motioned to his ankle. Castiel's face cleared up and he easily stuck his foot out.

"Jesus Christ," the man muttered, staring at the thick metal wrapped around the boy's ankle.

"We just wanna get it off and be on our way."

"Get it off? Are you honestly dumb enough to think you can take that thing off with something in here?" The old man looked at Dean like he was indeed all kinds of dumb, but he stood firm.

"We can't go to the cops and that means no hospitals which would call the cops for a minor, so how to you think we should get this off?"

He had the gun pointed up still so if he decided to call the cops Dean could rush him, get the gun away from him and they could run for it. The Impala was parked far enough not to be obvious but close enough for a clean get away if need be. The old man eyed them both for a long moment before sighing and shaking his head.

"Come into the main garage and we'll take a better look."

Dean nodded is head and turned to Castiel giving him a grin as he followed the man. Castiel just looked confused but trailed after.

"So who the hell would do something like this?"

The old man questioned, staring at Castiel's shackle. His pants had to be joggers in order to fit around the metal band and so they were pulled up to his knee, his bloody sock and runners pulled off. Dean had wandered to the garage bathroom and returned with wet paper towel for Castiel. The teenager silently took it and started wiping the bloody sores down.

Dean had a lie on the tip of his tongue, but Castiel beat him to it.

"People who do not like anyone different from them," he answered flatly and the tone of his voice was quiet but intense, speaking to a past that was clearly not a good one. The old man didn't prod further, just frowned at the shackle. Castiel was perched up on a clean counter top with his leg up so they could inspect the manacle.

“I don’t think there’s a way for me to get this off without hurting you,” the man announced, face twisted grimly and Castiel just gave a nod.

“I’d rather have a damaged leg and limp the rest of my life then wear this,” he finally whispered and Dean studied the boy’s face, reading the underlining desperation that Castiel had hidden well from him. If he had been this desperate to have it off all this time Dean had no clue.

“I’ll cut it open a touch with a metal saw and then pry the rest of it. Likely break your ankle.”

“Maybe a hospital would be better,” Dean admitted, frowning at the boy’s ankle the idea doing this knowing they were going to do damage. With time, Dean could forge some fake IDs and get Castiel into a hospital somewhere.

The boy shook his head and sat back against the counter, spreading his leg so the shackle was right on the edge of the work counter. “Just do it.”

Dean didn’t like it, this wasn’t what they should be doing but Castiel had been a captive for months and who knows what was done to him. Dean wasn’t going to try and dictate him.

The old man looked grim and shared a long look with Dean before opening a cabinet on the wall and bringing out a hand saw. “An electric would be quicker but if it slips it’ll take his foot clean off.”

Dean nodded his head and ignored the lurch in his stomach. They wrapped Castiel’s leg and foot with heavy aprons and braced him before sawing. Dean worked in smooth motions, trying not to jar the kid too much. After the sixtieth pass Castiel began flinching with each motion, blood was welling up where the manacle was rubbing his skin raw.

Dean hesitated but Castiel shook his head. “Don’t stop, please just get it off of me.”

It reminded him too much of having to give stitches when he was a kid, hands shaking had he helped his dad pull bullets out and stitched the hole closed. Dean dropped his free hand to Castiel’s knee and squeezed reassuringly before he kept sawing. Soundless tears started falling from the boy, but Castiel never made a sound beyond shaky breaths.

Once it was deep enough they twisted and pulled the old metal with pliers and thin pry bars. A single bar was slid between the cut metal, one hard motion would break it, but the pressure on Castiel’s ankle was going to be bad.

The old man offered Castiel a thick leather glove. “Bite down on this.”

Dean snapped the shackle in one motion and yanked the pry bar away immediately. It still left a deep gouge in Castiel’s skin and the manacles twisted edges scratched him up.

Castiel sat on the counter, eyes closed tight as he cried silently. Dean carefully pried the last of the manacle off and revealed Castiel’s blue bruised and bleeding ankle.

Without thinking, he lifted Castiel carefully and walked him over to the sink. Castiel jolted at the first touch but then sank against Dean, shivering just once.

“You did amazing, you were so brave,” Dean whispered, remembering when he would say the exact same thing to Sammy.

Carefully Dean washed Castiel ankle, the blood rinsed away to show two deep cuts that would need stitching. The ankle was already swelling up too.

“There’s a house at the end of the property, nothing in it but it’s got electricity and running water. You can stay there until he’s better, a few weeks or something,” the somber man told them, looking awkward and Dean realized he was essentially cradling Castiel with the boy clinging to him, face pressed to Dean’s neck. The man thought they were a couple.

Dean carefully shifted the boy’s weight and nodded his head. Despite his own awkwardness, he wasn’t going to put Castiel down of anything, not when he clearly needed someone.

“Thank you, for all of this.”

The man nodded and walked away without a word.

Dean carefully walked through the yard, still carrying Castiel. The guard dog trailed after them quietly whining.

The house was a small one, single story with kicked in steps on a small porch. Dean managed to keep a grip on Castiel and try the doorknob, it was unlocked and opened with an eerie creek.

There was an open kitchen and living room, a bathroom with a old ass tub and a single backroom bedroom with nothing but a mattress on the floor. Dean didn’t even want to know what had happened on it. There was a busted kitchen chair and another that looked stable. Testing the weight with his foot first Dean figured it should be ok and gently set Castiel down on it.

“I’m gonna run and get the impala and bring it back, there medical supplies in it and some sleeping bags, alright?”

“You’ll come back?” Castiel asked, sounding so young and broken like he was certain Dean was going to just leave him there, tear stained and blood dripping.

“I promise,” Dean swore and pulled off his coat, dropping it around the teenager’s thin shoulders. “I’m not gonna leave you alone here.”

While it would be smart to stop and grab some warm food from a convenience store Dean drove straight over to the house. There was water and some snack food in the car, they could make the night.

Dean packed in everything they would need. He pulled the mattress into the main rooms and covered it with a plastic sleeping bag before lying a nicer one over and moving Castiel onto it. He laid the boy out on his back and propped his leg up so Dean could tend to it.

He gave him some codeine to lull the boy into a sleepy high. Dean stitched his thin ankle with a flashlight held in his mouth. Castiel blinking down at him with a wide doped up smile.

“I don’t understand why you’re helping me, why you haven’t just left me yet,” he admitted and Dean focused on the stitches more then the babble. “Everyone leaves you know, my father never even looked back at me. Just walked off and never came back. Years and years, I waiting thinking to myself ‘today’s the day he comes back. Today he’ll just appear and say he’s sorry.’ Every night I realized how stupid it was and then I’d think but maybe tomorrow…”

Dean tied the string off and pressed a clean wipe to soak up any blood.

“What fools does that? Over and over,” Castiel asked him, voice far off as he stared unseeing at the wall.

“Someone who want’s his family back,” Dean replied, voice tight and rough with emotion. Sammy had been gone three years now and Dean still thought sometimes that he was coming back, that he would call Dean and say he was on his way to him and that he missed him.

“When you love someone for so long it can be hard, I dunno, just to be afterwards, once they're gone,” he explained to the boy, knowing Castiel wasn’t going to remember the conversation.

“He’d been there my entire life and one day he just…left. I’d never been without him and suddenly I was. I didn’t even have a choice.”

Dean reached out and took Castiel’s shoulder squeezing it and patting his chest.

“If you need to leave please tell me. Just tell me your leaving so I don’t have to wonder.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean quickly assured him, feeling over emotional as he wrapped Castiel’s ankle and pulled a sleeping bag over him. “Get some sleep alright?”

The boy nodded his head, blinking his eyes owlishly and he was out almost immediately.

Dean went to the car and dug out a bottle of whiskey, settling himself into the rickety kitchen chair.

His dad didn’t answer the phone, but there was a message left on Dean’s. His father told him to stay put with the victim and keep clear of the witch until his dad was finished a different hunt. Bobby was with him so they needed to wait a bit before going up to his place. Dean would have been more annoyed but Castiel honestly needed someone around and Dean wasn’t in a hurry to leave him on his own. For certain he would take him up to Bobby’s and beg the old man to look after the kid, Castiel deserved that at least.

Dean spent the rest of the night trying not to watch the sleeping boy and drinking away old memories.

A car horn woke him, Castiel was curled up on his side, the sleeping bag pulled over his head to block the sunlight coming in.

Someone was honking their car horn over and over accompanied by a dog barking and Dean nearly fell out of the chair he nodded off in. Stumbling, he went to the front windows, there were no curtain so he could see someone in a car standing at the gate.

Rubbing his face he looked at the other side of the yard but the old man’s truck wasn’t there.

The dog was in front of the car on the other side of the fence barking whenever the man came too close to the gate.

Dean walked out of the house, the morning air cold without a coat. Walking over he called the dog and realized he had no idea what said dogs name was and peered at the angry man watching him. Thankfully the dog decided it liked him because it trotted over to his side.

“Tell that son of a bitch to get his crap in order. I was supposed to drop my car off an hour ago.”

“Ya, I’ll pass it along,” Dean grumbled and pulled the gate open so the man could drive in. The man listed all the issues with the car as Dean led him to the garage. The door wasn’t locked and it was a small place so Dean found the office easy enough. He’d work enough part time jobs to have a sense of things and found a book to record the man’s info down.

“I need it in two days, that’s what we agreed on,” the middle-aged man growled, slapping an envelope and leaving.

Dean frowned after him and shared a look with the dog.

The envelope had eight hundred dollars cash in it. Dean didn’t even blink as he counted it, wrote the number on it and then shoved it between old repair manuals. After what the old man had done for them Dean wasn’t going to even consider robbing him.

He checked on Castiel and after some deliberation he left a note for him before walking to the diner across the street. The dog followed him but stopped at the door, sitting patiently as Dean went in and ordered two full breakfasts to go. He got some extra toast for the dog, who was on the skinny side.

“Saw you in the Savage yard, what you doing over there?” The waitress taking his order inquired, curious but not overly so.

“The old man’s putting me up there for a bit,” Dean replied and then complimented the woman’s hair to distract her.

“Anna, did you hear?” A woman who walked in greeted with, excited to whisper with the waitress serving Dean.

“Margret Mathews is dead! Drove home drunk and lost control of her car.”

The gossip didn’t seem to inspire much sadness in either woman.

“A terrible way to go for certain, but you know how she was. Always running around on her poor husband. Raising kids he knows aren’t his.”

Dean tuned them out eventually and watched the dog sitting outside the window waiting for him patiently.

He got a few slices of bacon as well and fed the mutt on the way back to the house.

“I’m not about handouts, but you could use some more fat on your bones,” Dean told the animal. In the daylight, it was obvious the animal was half starved.

Dean put the food on the stained and dusty kitchen counter build into the wall and then proceeded to throw the old boards and garbage out into the back yard. It was a small area with long dead gardens that looked like they flourished once. Curious, Dean checked the front and there were rows of flowerbeds that were dried and dead now. Someone had liked gardening long ago.

“Dean,” Castiel called, his voice groggy and confused as Dean walked back into the house.

“Moring sunshine, time for some breakfast and drugs. How’s the leg feel?”

“It hurts,” Castiel replied bluntly and the dog wandered over to him snuffling his cheek and getting a few pats.

“Well, I’ve got a whole bottle of Codeine so you should be fine. Pop one of these and drink a bottle of water. After that, you can try some pancakes.”

Castiel dutifully followed Dean’s instruction and was both bewildered and delighted by pancakes. The dog got plenty of bits of food with his toast so he was happy too.

Afterward, Dean walked around the house and inspected it more carefully.

The kitchen was rough, the sink didn’t run and the ancient fridge and stove hadn’t been on in years. Neither of them sparked or threw the breaker when he plugged them in so that was a win. The bathroom was surprisingly ok, if old, faded, and covered in dust. The toilet was disgusting, but it flushed with minimal pipes clanking. The sink didn’t work, but the tub sputtered and spat some brown water.

“Will we be ok here?” Castiel worried, peering at the busted up walls and damaged counters.

“We’re good. We got electricity but no bulbs, water but it needs a tune up. The filters down stairs are probably rough and I doubt the furnace will go, but there’s a little fire pit there. It doesn’t get cold here right now anyway.”

“Do you mind, staying here, it’s probably not what you're used to,” Castiel shifted uncomfortably and made no mention of himself so Dean figured the boy had been homeless for awhile before the witch caught him.

“You’d be surprised, the rentals we stayed in could get pretty bad. This place has the basics so we just need to run to a hardware store and fix this place up, it’s honestly in decent shape once you get passed the busted wall and piss smell.”

Castiel wrinkled his nose at the mention. “Can we please get some sort of cleaner for that?”

“Tons of it,” Dena agreed brightly.

Castiel opted to stay at the house since he wasn’t mobile; Dean couldn’t see any hint of it on his face but had to be sore as hell.

Dean had used the fake credit cards so far but for this trip he used cash and bought carefully. Wanting things that weren’t gonna bust immediately but not stupidly overpriced. He got what they needed to get the house into shape and cleaned up and then grabbed lunch for them both.

The yard was still empty when he got back and he frowned at the car waiting to be fixed. The issues weren’t big ones, but they would take time. The man had said the appointment was agreed on so where was the old man?

There was a chain link fence around the entire yard and the house was included but near the actual house there was a gate and decorative wood fencing. Dean noticed it was open. There was a lady on the porch with Castiel, the boy looking exceedingly awkward as the older lady chattered to him. There was clear relief in his eyes when he caught sight of Dean.

“This is Dean,” he introduced as soon as Dean was close enough, motioning to him so the lady turned her focus onto him and leave Castiel alone.

“Hello, I’m Sara from just down the way. I saw your brother sitting out here on the steps and-”

“We’re not brothers,” Castiel cut in, more confused then rude and the woman paused, looking between them both for a long second.

“Oh.”

There was an entirely wrong conclusion in the tone and Dean opened his mouth to correct her but paused. What could he say? Not siblings, cousins maybe, friends, Castiel was his girlfriend’s kid brother?

It took Dean a second and in that second Sara barreled on. “It was just saying how nice it is to have someone around here. The old man Savage never comes around here, leaves the place for months, off out at his farm drinking away,” she tutted and Dean blinked, glancing at the car with a new worry. Dean had taken it thinking the old man would be here to fix it. Now he’d accepted business on someone’s behalf that might not be coming back anytime soon.

“But enough gossip, my son will come by at six and he’ll bring the furniture over, I’ll see you then, bye,” she waved at Castiel who returned it weakly and watched her wander out of the yard. Once she was gone the dog slunk out of the house and came to sit at Dean’s feet. He pet the dog absently as he looked after the woman.

“What was she on about?”

Castiel looked guilty before busting out. “She wanted to see the house, like a tour,” he rushed with a worried tone. “I didn’t know how she’d react to it so I said she should wait until we got come furniture in there and then she said she had heaps in her basement and would be happy to sell them for a good price and I didn’t know what to do.”

Dean blinked, amused at the boy’s flustered tone and then the words actually sank in.

“Wait sell?”

Castiel nodded his head miserably. “She’s expecting two hundred in cash”

“We don’t have two hundred dollars Cas!” Dean hissed and the boy rubbed his forehead.

“I know.”

“Great. First I bring in a car to get fixed in two days and apparently that old man is never here and you start buying shit with money we don’t have.”

“I panicked!”

“Awesome. Alright. The guy left money to pay for the work. I can do it. The old man might get pissed but I can fix it and two hundred out of the entire thing is still a steal for him. We got,” Dean checked his watch.

“Five hours to get the house looking like an actual house before nosy neighbors show up. What are they bringing?”

“She didn’t say!”

“You,” Dean pointed at the teenager firmly, “are not allowed to talk to anyone anymore.”

“We could just leave, or tell her we changed our mind,” Castiel offered, but Dean shook his head.

“That old man said we could stay here, we need somewhere, you need time to let your ankle get better. And stay off it, pushing your body will only make you sorry for it later.” Dean was only in his twenties and he had aches all over his body, bones he’d never let heal properly. His dad was far worse, he bore it silently, but Dean could tell when his dad was physically sore by the way he carried his shoulders.

“We need furniture anyway, it could work out. If the guy is pissed about the money I’ll find some somewhere else, tomorrow I’ll give a few towns over and hustle some pool or something.”

Castiel nodded quietly.

“Help me back into the house then. I can’t help much, but I can start scrubbing the bathroom floor or something.” Castiel explained and reached out a hand, Dean lifting him up carefully.

Dean dumped industrial strength cleaner on the floorboards and left it to soak before he started patching the walls and using a crowbar to pull off the busted up counter in the kitchen. A lifetime of odd jobs was finally paying off as he knew what he was doing while he was around fixing random damage throughout the house.

Castiel rested his leg, kept it propped up on a rolled up sleeping bag as he did indeed scrub the tiles in the bathroom with bleach. He was a stubborn kid and years of Sammy had taught Dean how to deal with it. He let him work for a bit so he could feel like he helped and then he got him to take a ‘brief’ rest which turned into Castiel falling asleep.

The mattress was tucked back into the bedroom, up against the wall and sad looking, but Dean wasn’t going to toss it if he didn’t know they had something better. The house was pathetically empty, more so cleaned up but Dean figured it was good enough. If the lady judged them afterward it was her problem. Dean had grown up with people looking down on him and didn’t care, but this was more about Castiel then anything. If Dean could set him up, get him cozy with these people and fix the house up maybe the kid could stay there. The old man who owned obviously didn’t care about it and if Dean played his cards right he might be able to help Castiel beyond a temporary stay with Bobby.

The yard between the auto shop and the house was an empty lot with dead grass and a few rusted trucks so Dean drove the guy’s car closer to the house. He could work on it there and still be close enough to hear Castiel if he woke up and wanted to know where he was.

The dog laid out in the sun dozing while Dean listened to rock on the radio and changed out spark plugs and screwed around with the timing belts.

Soon enough the Sara woman was coming over with a young man, late twenties maybe.

“This is my son, Ryan,” she introduced and the guy nodded, friendly but more interested in getting the job done.

She led Dean back to her house to start moving things over.

The basement was packed full of furniture.

At first is seemed like Sara was giving them a few odds and ends but when she saw the empty house her face went strangely polite. It wasn’t pity exactly, but she was determined to fill the place. A little kitchen table and chairs, a couch, side table, lamps and an old TV. It was all dated furniture, worn around the edges, but none of it was busted or anything.

Dean and Ryan tried to be quiet but Castiel woke midway and Sara caught sight of the bare room. They ended up with a bed frame and mattress set, old sheets with flowers, pillows, and a matching quilt. It was all feminine style but soft and worn in the best way.

When it was done Dean offered her three instead of two and the old lady seemed hesitant.

“Just take it, this stuff is worth way more and we’re not… we don’t need pity or anything like that,” he explained. Dean honestly didn’t know what to think. He’d lived off other people kindness before, he’d taken it with a smile and used them for all they would give. This was different, though, it wasn’t some pity give away or a woman who thought she was better than them. Dean could see it in her eyes and the way she chatted with Castiel and fussed over his leg, she didn’t think she was better then them, and didn’t look at them like they were orphan puppies.

“We agreed on two hundred,” she replied firmly, taking the money and counting out two before offering the extra hundred back. “We both know I bullied that poor boy into taking the furniture and it was honestly just sitting in my basement taking up space.”

Castiel was sitting on the couch now, his leg propped up on the footstool as he skimmed through one of the books Sara had packed over, a box of odds and ends.

“Sometimes people just need a fresh start. It’s not a weakness to want things to be better.”

“Mom, easy on the life lessons,” her son teased lightly, sharing a knowing look with Dean. He didn’t really understand what the look was about, but Dean gave a nod and after a hesitation he took the extra money back.

“You use that to go buy some kitchen things, the dollar store had surprisingly decent stuff. Fill this little house up.”

“You got a good start,” Ryan added easily, looking around the place. “My mom was always dead set on keeping that furniture, I’m surprised she’s parted with it but now at least it’ll get some use.”

Sara frowned at her son for a moment before nodding. “It’s true I suppose. I’m glad you boys came along or I would have kept my basement packed full for no good reason. Maybe I’ll give the rest of the house a spring cleaning. There is a lot that needs to go.”

Dean had only seen her basement but from the look of it, she was certainly someone who packed crap away. Her son looked genuinely shocked for a moment before he started agreeing, talking quickly about when he could get a friends truck to haul things.

“You got crap you don’t want and think we can use it, send it our way,” Dean offered. “If you need help or something let me know. I’ve gotta fix a car and some stuff around here, but other than that…”

“Don’t worry about me, I got my kids for the dirty work,” the old woman cheered and they finally left.

“We need curtains.” Castiel commented when Dean got back in the house and he snorted.

“Forget curtains, we need toilet paper.”

Deciding that he didn’t want to chance Castiel going stir crazy or feeling like he was back in that basement again, Dean packed him over to the dinner for supper. They ate roast beef, mashed potatoes, corn, and heaps of gravy. Dean turned the charm way up for the waitress and did his best to endear Castiel to everyone. The boy watching him with a silent curiosity, obviously knowing something was going on but quick enough not to point it out.

The drove over the shopping area and picked up toilet paper and towels, the staples of food, some dog food, and a pair of crutches for Castiel. It used up the hundred Dean kept but he was sure he could have the car fixed by tomorrow and if need be he cold hustle pool at a bar.

Dean didn’t think about the bed situation until he was helping Castiel get into said bed and the boy made sure to leave room on the other side.

“Should we share covers or will you use a sleeping bag? I don’t mind either way,” Castiel commented idly, more focused on settling his leg on a pillow then anything.

Dean hesitated. There was couch he could crash on, admittedly it was a lumpy couch but it would work. The bed was a queen though, huge with plenty of space on the other side for him. More so there was Castiel to consider, Dean didn’t want to make the boy feel like Dean was secretly homophobic or anything. Realistically he knew that Castiel wouldn’t actual think that, it was all in his own head. There was room on the bed and no reason not to use it unless Dean actually did have a problem with Castiel’s sexuality. He knew he didn’t, he just wasn’t sure why he was so aware of it.

Not it a bad way or a good way, just aware.

“Yeah, I’ll just crash on top of the blankets, it’s too warm for a quilt.”

Dean got up when the sun rose and hit him in the face, frowning as he realized they really did need some damn curtains. How much did shit like that cost?

The toilet worked but it sounded rough and the sink didn’t run. The bathtub water was still brown and the shower sputtered weakly and offered the same off-color.

Dean resigned himself to amateur plumbing after he fixed the guy’s car. He ran over to the dinner and ordered breakfast for them both, leaving Castiel’s share on the table set up in the kitchen. Outside he tuned the old radio he found in the shop to rock and went to work.

The car ran fine and the guy was happy with it, calmer when he showed up and Dean was waiting. He drove off and Dean headed into the house to start screwing around with pipes.

Castiel was in the house eating dog food.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

Castiel frowned at him, face twisted bitterly as he spat out the kibble.

“This is terrible!”

“Well yeah, it’s dog food,” Dean pointed out, the beginning of a teasing smirk starting on his face as he waited for Castiel to realize his mistake. The boy didn’t deliver though, because he already knew apparently.

“Dean, he shouldn’t have to eat this, it’s horrid.”

“It’s good for him, has nutrients and stuff.”

Castiel just fixed him with a doubtful look.

“Sara came by, she had some book she wanted to give us since I’m hurt and she didn’t need them,” Castiel explained and held up a book about dog care. “This says that making food for your animals is the best option.”

“Cas, we can’t make food for us much less a dog.” The mutt was thin looking which was why Dean bought dog food in the first place. He walked around the yard and couldn’t find any evidence of food being left out. Dean didn’t feel quite so bad for taking the old man’s job and cash after that, if he was off drunk at a farm for weeks who the hell was feeding his dog. But they couldn’t afford to get him some fancy ass brand of dog food.

“I know. I’ll figure it out. There’s a book on cooking for beginners,” Castiel showed him and Dean frowned at it because it was clearly a new book. There were cardboard boxes stacked with books, fiction titles and romance novels, a wide variety of them and a whole heap. Dean realized there were also boxes in the kitchen.

“Where did all this come from?” Looking in, Dean could see various kitchen paraphilia, bags of plastic utensils and Tupperware. Random stuff like tea cozies and empty jars. Two packed boxes by the backdoor were loaded with gardening stuff.

“I like gardening, there are seeds for herbs that I want to plant,” Castiel explained. Still seated in the living room and leaning forward to watch Dean.

“Ryan, brought it. He said there was more if we wanted it. There are more blankets and sheets in the bedroom too. Some rugs and things. A whole box of hand soap. No curtains, though.”

“Why, though? This is random shit?” Dean frowned, toeing the box and noting everything looked brand new but dusty. Like it had sat for a long time and was never used.

“Ryan said his mom is a hoarder. I didn’t understand the word.”

“Huh. Means someone who collects things obsessively, fills their house to the brim, floor to ceiling with random crap,” Dean explained. In the context, the random things in the boxes made more sense.

”I guess seeing this house made her realize how bad she had gotten so she’s been cleaning. Ryan said that anything that was still good and they didn’t need, he would bring over. He’s very happy about it.”

Dean made a noise in agreement, walking to the front window he peered out and could see a dumpster in Sara’s driveway, overfilled already.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Castiel asked curiously and Dean told him about the dumpster and what it meant, noting that Castiel hadn’t known what a dumpster was. Add a love of gardening and Dean was thinking some religious commune with farms and shit.

“Well good for her, Either way I’m going to see if the plumbing can be saved.” Dean decided.

“Ryan left tools, he says the man in the blue house down the street owns them and will need them back by Monday.”

Dean nodded and eyed the toolbox by stairs.

Sighing, he picked it up and headed down into the basement. It was only a half room with an ancient furnace and pipes crammed into a tight space the walls were dirt but packed tightly. Dean could see leaks already and eventually he figured out that the water system was supposed to have a filter. There was nothing there so he wrote down the model number and went to pick one up. He had to pay in loose change, barely making it under the line. The cashier frowned at him and Dean took the stupid filter and left the store, hating the way the woman looked at him like he was less because he didn’t have cash or some crap. It reminded him too keenly of younger years, trying to pay for food for him and his brother with pocket change saved up.

Dean grabbed lunch from the dinner with what little they had, getting a single meal to share.

The plumbing needed more work Dean discovered, frustrated as he realized there was a crack in the filter system and it would need to be replaced. It would be at least a hundred dollars and the thing wasn’t going to be at a hardware store. It would need to be ordered. Swearing, he resisted the urge to kick the toolbox and instead hauled it all back upstairs. He was sweaty and soaked in dirty water and they had no clean bathing water. Disillusioned about fixing up a wreck of a house Dean ran a hand through his hair and sat on the edge of the stairs.

“Are you done for the day?” The house was set up so Castiel could see him from the living room where he was laid out on the couch.

“Yeah, I’m done,” Dean replied, knowing he was going to have to take more cash from the auto shop to get them dinner as well. That or they would eat peanut butter sandwiches.

“Good, I want to go over to Sara’s house for a shower. I’ll need help, so prepare yourself for some awkward situations.”

Dean’s immediate reaction was to complain, but he stopped himself. They didn’t have clean water and they couldn’t very well go without showering. During high school Dean and Sam would use the showers at school. The local pool if needed. But with Castiel’s messed up ankle it would probably be better to use a close by private place. There was a certain sort of humiliation that came with having to accept other people’s kindness. Dean knew it was knee jerk reaction and that being stupid and stubborn could land them in worse trouble. Sara had been and was being kind to them and she was doing it judgment free.

Dean nodded his head at Castiel. “We’ll go over in a bit.”

It turned out Sara wasn’t actually home. The back door was left unlocked and the bathroom was easy to find, a pile of clean towels waiting. The house was over packed but nothing extreme. Still from the garbage Dean had seen and the boxes at their place the house had to have been packed tight until only recently.

Dean hopped into the shower first and gave himself a quick scrub over.

Castiel was another matter. He couldn’t stand on his own and the tub was facing the wrong way for him to keep his ankle propped up out of the water. Dean had dealt with busted legs before, though, he’d helped both his brother and father numerous times.

“Sponge bath style, we’ll turn the shower on and get you wet then sit down on the edge and wash up, then you’ll stand and rinse it all off.”

“This is much less satisfactory than previous showers,” Castiel grumbled as he lathered himself up. Dean sat on the toilet within reach if he slipped.

“Welcomed to being hurt. It sucks,” Dean cheered back and Castiel spared him a dark look. With his back to Dean, it allowed him to study the boy’s body unwatched. Castiel was still thin, his ribs visible and Dean wanted to put more weight on him. Teenagers were always lanky, but Castiel looked on the unhealthy spectrum of it.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen or so now, I came of age in that basement.”

“Didn’t even get a party? No cake?” Dean had always supplied a cake or cupcake or even a muffin with a candle in it every year for Sammy. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the thought he figured.

“Nothing like that, a quiet evening in,” Castiel replied, a tiny smirk flashed at Dean to let him know it was a joke. Or Castiel’s attempt at a joke.

“I wouldn’t have figured you for eighteen, sixteen at most. You’re a little guy huh?”

Castiel stopped washing his arm and twisted to fix Dean with a firm glare this time.

Dean chuckled and grinned back at him. “Just saying.”

His dark mood lifted and Dean tried to let his frustration go.

Castiel had stood under the shower on his own to get wet but now that he was slicked up he needed help and Dean stood beside the shower curtain with his arm in, Castiel’s soap hand using him as a brace. Normally Dean would have just got in, living in motel rooms had killed privacy long ago for him but he thought maybe Castiel would like some. So far he showed no indication of it, not remotely shy about his body.

When he slipped, Dean swore and pulled the stupid shower curtain away so he could grab the boy around the waist and hoist him up.

“You ok?” He asked urgently and Castiel nodded, leaning against Dean to stabilize his balance again.

“Sorry, I thought I was fine,” he apologized and slowly stood up on his own again. Dean’s hand let go carefully and once he knew Castiel was ok, he stepped back. His shirt and jeans were damp, but they’d dry in the heat. It was mid summer and they were down south enough that it was stupidly warm. Still he yanked off his shirt and left it on the sink to dry.

Castiel finished up and sat on the ledge again, scrubbing his hair through while Dean leaned against the wall and watched him. His ankle looked better, the swelling down and no obvious red infections. Dean hoped in a few weeks he would be good as new.

They rinsed him off and Dean had Castiel sit on the toilet so he could kneel down and wipe Castiel's feet and ankle for him, carefully drying it without irritating the stitches. It had been an act of good intentions, Castiel had a towel around his waist and was wiping his head dry with another, not paying attention to Dean really.

With one hand carefully wrapped around Castiel’s ankle Dean’s other hand slid up his calf with the towel, drying away. The motion should have been nothing but Dean was abruptly aware of Castiel nudity and sexuality. In the sense that Dean wanted to rub his bare hand along Castiel’s bare leg. The thought caught him off guard and Dean ducked his head down as his face heated, focusing intently on helping Castiel while quietly freaking out that he was attracted to him, that he wanted Castiel.

The kid was cute enough, clearly a man but with a few softer features, full lips, and a round face. Dean didn’t go for guys often but when he did he liked them petite and a tiny bit feminine. Guys who took care of themselves like a woman did, shaved and used lotion to have silky soft skin. Castiel hadn’t looked for a razor or anything, but his skin was pale and soft, smooth with barely any hair. He hadn’t need to shave yet either despite being a supposed eighteen. Dean needed to stop thinking about it but knowing Castiel wasn’t actually a young boy but a young man changed things. Dean’s brain was eager to inform him he was attracted to the kid he just hadn’t let himself linger because jailbait was not his thing. Except how it apparently was.

“Are you ok?” Castiel asked and Dean blinked at him, he was sitting there on the floor with Castiel’s foot resting in his hands still.

“Oh, sorry. Just thinking about dinner plans,” Dean hastily explained and Castiel went along easy enough, still far too naïve for Dean’s liking.

“The diner right? I wanted to try a hamburger.”

Castiel freaking loved hamburgers, he ate three of them happily along with fries and a milkshake. Where he put them all Dean had no idea but either way the kid racked up a bill. Dean paid with what little they had left. The waitress took the money happily and paused to eye Dean for a moment. It wasn't a flirty look so Dean wasn't surprised when they were approached when they left. An older waitress stopped them at the door asking if they were the young 'boys' in the Savage auto shop.

"My car is running odd, Maria said her husband got his car fixed there and it's run perfectly since. I took mine into the main shop in the city, but it's still stalling. Could you look at it?"

"I could, but the owner isn't around right now," Dean hedged, not wanting to steal business from the old guy but knowing they needed cash.

"Honestly," the waitress frowned a bit, "he doesn't have the best reputation. Plus he's never around. Comes in a few times a month, makes appointments and never keeps them, that sort of thing. If you could look it would be great."

Dean agreed and promised to be there when she brought it over in a few hours.

"Maybe we can get the water filter fixed," Castiel commented idly, more focused on navigating the dirt of the auto shop yard than anything else. The dog had come to greet them and was walking along the Castiel, his pace slowed to match his hobbling.

"Maybe," Dean agreed, eyeing the shop with a speculative look.

"What's wrong?" Castiel asked, pausing to peer over at the shop as well. It was an old worn place, but the tools were stored well and in decent shape. But something didn't sit right with Dean.

"It's probably nothing. Come on," turning his attention back to Castiel they went back to the house.

When Dean went to let the waitress, Beth, drop her car off he went into the shop and took the rest of the money from the envelope. When the old man returned Dean would pay him if he wanted something but Dean wasn't going to let the money sit there when they needed it. He leaned against the worn counter in the shop and listened to his father's messages. Dean hadn't caught him yet, but it was common enough for them to play phone tag, usually leaving messages back and forth. His dad wanted him to stay put still. The hunter he was supposed to meet up with had gone missing so now both his dad and Bobby were going to start researching carefully before going to poke around. Dean was supposed to see if he could get anything from Castiel about the witch.

He left a message on his dad's phone promising to do so and hung up. Leaning back he wondered if Castiel would be ready to talk. Dean usually pushed things away and never wanted to look at them again. Castiel struck him as the sort to also follow that method.

"When you go to find a filter system can we go shopping for more food? I'd like to try a few things." Castiel greeted him, looking at the book in his lap.

"Yeah, I guess. A few things, nothing crazy," Dean added automatically from years of Sammy asking for extra stuff. Dean had always hated the feeling of not having enough money to buy what his brother hoped for. He eventually got into the habit of telling Sam before hand so he wouldn't ask when he saw something he wanted. They had never had the money for it anyway, if they did Dean always made sure to buy something extra for his brother, Sam always lighting up upon finding it.

"So we need to talk," Dean began, pulling the kitchen chair over so he could sit and face Castiel. The teenager blinked up at him and set the book down.

"I doubt you wanna talk about this but I need to ask you about the witch, my dad's going after her and he needs to know everything you can tell me."

Castiel's face closed off as he looked away from Dean and focused on the book in his hand, fingers picking at the corner.

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Castiel nodded his head, eyes drifting closed.

"Her hair was dark and her eyes were light, she looked about middle aged and...kind. She was very kind. Soft-spoken and sweet, you would never have thought she was... she was understanding and willing to listen, always so patient and warm..." Castiel trailed off with a shiver, his voice trembling and his eyes shining when he opened them.

"She was beautiful."

Dean nodded his head, filing everything away carefully. The witch clearly preyed on people who needed someone, played the sympathetic face to lure them in.

"Did she ever say anything to you, was there anything distinct about her, the way she walked or spoke, any marks."

"Quiet. She was very quiet, I barely heard her and she startled me a lot. Often she would explain what she was doing, what she was putting in the bowl and why she was mixing it, that sort of thing. I can't remember her beyond her long dark hair and bright eyes," Castiel closed his eyes again and Dean could see something disturbed pass over his features. "No matter how hard I try, I can't picture her," he confessed, a single tear tracking down his face.

"That's alright. It's common for witches to covered their tracks like that, wiping memories and stuff. Be glad you remember anything. If that's a good thing."

Castiel blinked his eyes open, turning his head to blink at Dean thoughtfully. "That's a strange thought. I wouldn't regret losing my memories of that basement, but I'd also be much more naive."

Dean couldn't personally picture Castiel more naive than he already was, wide-eyed and far too trusting.

"Life makes us tougher," Dean offered and Castiel seemed to consider it before nodding his head in agreement.

"We are who life make us."

They went to bed earlier than usual, but Dean could see that Castiel was still off from talking about his abduction. The boy curled up into the bedding and seemed to drift off right away, but Dean knew better. Soon enough he felt Castiel shuffling closer and he raised his arm to let him press in. When Sammy had been young, before he decided he was too old, he'd often want to curl up on Dean, clinging tightly. Castiel was doing the same thing now, pressing in closer with a slight tremor in his shoulders.

"If something happens, something goes wrong or whatever," Castiel whispered into the dark, "If you think I'm going to be taken back there, please don't let it happen. I'd rather you kill me then being back down there."

Dean turned his head and pressed his cheek to Castiel's brow, his arm curled around the teenager's shoulders.

"You're not ever going back there Cas," Dean assured him, voice low and solemn. "I won't let you."

"But if, please just...put me out of my misery."

"I won't let you," Dean repeated, letting it be a vague agreement rather than admitting he would never be able to kill him.

Dean woke with Castiel still clinging, pressed up against him. The blanket was kicked down around their feet and Dean's shirt had ridden up. Castiel's bare palm rested on his stomach, the skin surprisingly calloused. The boy didn't look like he'd worked a hard day in his life, but his hands were worn from years of labor. Another new aspect of him that Dean was learning. The sunlight was pouring in without a curtain and Castiel's face was pulled in a frown, he made a low unhappy noise and tried to hide his face from the light. Dean grinned as Castiel burrowed down against his shirt trying uselessly to escape.

His fingers twitched and pulled at Dean's hips, fingers pressing in as they sought the blanket to pull over him. The tips of his fingers dragged against Dean’s skin, digging in a touch and sensation of it went straight to his dick. He winced as he felt himself stiffening up under Castiel’s sleepy and innocent pawing. Dean grabbed his hand, sliding away from Castiel and out of the bed. The boy made a sleep noise but slumped into Dean’s spot, curling up with a sigh while Dean stood on the side of the bed and felt like an utter pervert.

Dean spent the day working on the car, it took far more time not knowing what the issue it but as he test drove it and works he eventually figures out its the timing belt going too fast and a few spark plugs not working properly. He could have finished the job in half a day, but Dean dragged it out, lingering in the shop rather than going back to the house. At lunch, he loaded Castiel and drove him to the nearby market to buy groceries, the staples of food and a few baking things Castiel wanted. Dean was easy smiles and did his best no to feel awkward around the teenager. If Castiel picked up on it, he didn't comment thankfully.

"I'll drive into the city tonight to get the water filter system replacement," Dean commented idly as they drove back to the house. Castiel blinked, looking out at the houses as they passed and gave a little nod of understanding.

"It's a long way to the city and then to find a place," Castiel offered quietly, his features carefully neutral in a telling way. Dean had no real reason to feel guilty, but he felt it gathering in the pit of his stomach anyway. "You'd be back very late."

Castiel stared at the houses as they drove back, scrutinizing them with far more intensity than they deserved. "But you will be back?"

"Shit, of course, I will. I wouldn't do that to you Cas," Dean shifted in his seat.

Castiel just nodded his head and Dean stared at the road.

They unloaded the groceries and Dean headed for the door.

"Have a good evening," Castiel called, his voice not remotely bitter or judging but knowing all the same.

Dean nodded and got the hell out of there.

There was a bar half an hour away right off the highway filled with people who would likely never return.

Dean found a seat and sipped a beer, looking for someone. A blond with a full chest was smirking and Dean returned the glance. It was a fluke this morning, he was horny enough that any hand would work and this woman would prove it.

"Dean, good to see you!" Ryan suddenly appeared, clamping his shoulder and sitting beside him, blocking the blond from sight.

"Hey man, how’s everything," Dean eventually offered, Sara had saved their asses so Dean could make nice with her kid.

"Good, good. You? How's Castiel?" There was a sharp point to the question, a dig that Dean didn't miss.

"Listen, that’s none of your business-"

"I get it," Ryan shrugged easily, taking his beer as the barkeep put it down. "But you're a piece of shit for it. More so if your willing to take back whatever fucked up STD she's got and give it to Castiel." Ryan gestured to the woman and then pushed away from the bar. "You see the news?"

"Are you going to bug me all night?" Dean snapped and the guy shrugged again and stepped away.

"Just saying, he deserved it in a way," Ryan offered before walking off.

Dean watched him go with a frown before looking at the TV playing some local reel, a woman talking in front of a house. The headline read 'Cheating Man Stabbed to Death by Wife'. Dean glared at it and turned to glare at Ryan's turned back. Finishing his beer he paid and left without looking at the woman again. No doubt Ryan would be telling his gossipy mother all about the meeting. It sat sour in his stomach and bothered him more than anything, picking away at him. He could imagine people talking about it, how he was running around on Castiel and how he knew it and looked the other way.

It was starting to rain out now and Dean knows there's another bar a few miles down he could go to. The rain was thick though, fat steady drops and Dean wondered if the house was leaking everywhere, Castiel stumbling over himself to put bowls down or something. Not that they even had bowls at the house. Swearing softly, he ran his hand through his hair and got in his car.

He arrived home to Castiel not fixing leaks but curled up around a cardboard box with the dog, the two of them peering in carefully, a blanket placed over the top.

"What's in there?"

"A cat was meowing outside. I though she wanted a warm place to rest and then they starting popping out of her," Castiel explained with wide eyes, looking back into the box that contained a calico cat and a line of newborn kittens.

"She have a collar?"

"No but she's well fed, someone is probably missing her," Castiel mused. "She's very friendly."

Dean peered down at the squirming mess and then looked at the dog who was watching them carefully.

"He's ok with them?"

"Wilson is fine, he's been guarding the box and the mama cat seems fine with him"

"Wilson?"

"It bothered me he didn't have a name," Castiel admitted quietly, still watching the feline family. Finally, he pulled the blanket back over the box and sat back so his back rested against the couch.

"How was your night? Did you find the water filter system?" Castiel asked easily and looked at Dean directly, nothing about him seemed upset, but Dean still felt guilt stirring.

"Yeah, found a used one but it works. The guy showed me and all. I stopped at a bar after for a few beer too."

"Should you drive and drink? I thought that was a bad thing?"

"Not that much, just a few beers Cas, I was fine." Dean sat back and then stood, stretching his arms out. It was around eleven, but he wasn't remotely tired. "I'm going to put it in now, see if we got ripped off or not."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

He expected a complaint, but Castiel just shrugged. "Can I help?"

"Wanna hold a flashlight?"

The filter change was surprisingly easy. Dean popped the broken one off and the water immediately started pumping everywhere, Castiel gave a startled yelp and the dog barked upstairs. Dean swore as he struggled to get the new water filter system in place.

"Forgot to turn off the water line," he admitted breathlessly once the chaos was over. Dean was soaked in freezing water and Castiel's shirt was dripping, his hair flat and dripping.

"Did it work?" He asked curiously, not even pausing to berate Dean and more keen on the water situation. Something in Dean had been braced for a dark look or cutting comment and it threw him that they never came. The filter needed to be secured but once it was done Dean flipped the switch and the water moved through it. He made Castiel go to the stairs just in case and then carefully lit the water boiler. It hummed to life and stayed strong despite its age. Dean stepped back and waited for it to break down, but it kept going. When he was fairly sure it wasn't going to give out he turned to Castiel.

"Wanna check?"

They crowded into the bathroom and the tub sputtered but slowly started to rain down clear water. Dean put his hand out and it felt like decent water, not slimy or smelly. Just water slowly warming up. It was strange how proud he felt over such a dumb thing but Castiel was beaming excitedly and he felt the good mood catch.

"The heater needs time to work but in the morning we can probably shower," he declared.

"That's amazing!" Castiel grinned and leaned against the high tub, placing a hand out to let the water run over it.

"Dude, it's just water." Dean smirked, bemused at how pleased the teenager was.

"Still, we fixed it, well you did mostly but we now have running water properly. Water we could even drink!"

"Now that the filter is in place properly you could drink the toilet water," Dean teased and Castiel blinked down at the toilet thoughtfully.

"Not that you should," Dean added.

It was nearly two in the morning before they crawled into bed, Dean helping Castiel get in and put his bad leg up. The boy was chattering about a recipe he had read in his book, about natural dog food or something. "Forget the dog, make me a pie."

"We don't know if the stove works, but I'll try," Castiel promised brightly, settling into the bed and pulling the blankets up.

Once the lights were out Dean laid out on his side, staring at the ceiling with his mind circling Castiel's excited smile and the woman from the bars sultry smirk.

"I didn't you know. I thought about it, but I didn't," he confessed in the dark and he heard Castiel shift beside him. Dean wasn't perfect and with all the girls in and out of his life he had run around a few times, but he'd also never promised anyone anything. Castiel was different from all that, Dean hadn’t promised, but he felt like in some unspoken way, he had.

"There was a boy once, a few years older than me. We used to work in the garden together. He held my hand once and kissed my cheek like the other boys did with the girls." Castiel explained into the darkness, Dean wasn't looking at him but listening intently.

"Flowers were a big thing, boys would give girls they liked flowers. I used to daydream about him giving me some even though I knew it was silly and dangerous. If anyone knew... but I used to think about it. Eventually someone said we were alone too much, just an off-hand comment or teasing I think. But after that he stopped ever coming around and the next spring he married a girl. After the wedding, he came to visit a few times and I know he nearly..." Castiel trailed off again, but Dean could see it, some macho idiot playing at being the straight man while sneaking around to eye another guy on the sly.

"But my dad was still around then and he was starting to suspect so he watched us. I remember thinking about that boy and his wife and knowing that I would if he wanted, just because I wanted to be wanted so badly. You don't owe me anything Dean, if you want someone else it's ok," Dean heard Castiel move, felt the teenager looking at him. "I know how this sort of thing works, you can go and do what you want, I'll be here waiting. And if...if you wanted that...I'd I would...I don't mind if you don't want anyone to know."

Dean sat up abruptly, getting out of the bed and stumbling out of the room, ignoring Castiel calling after him with rising panic.

The dog looked up at him from his spot on the couch, the box of kittens settled on the floor with the blanket over it. Dean leaned against the wall and slid down, his ass hitting the floorboard jarringly.

Castiel's fumbling footsteps followed him eventually, the teenager standing beside Dean silently before carefully sitting down beside him. Dean was grateful for the quiet as he buried his head in his hands and tried to calm himself down.

He knew exactly what Castiel was talking about. He knew the first time his father frowned when a boy at school had a crush on Dean or the way a waitress had wrinkled her nose when she saw an openly gay couple. An unspoken thing in the air that Dean had always noticed. He could rail against the world because they didn't always have money or a nice place to stay, but this was something far more intimate, something personal. It was a part of Dean that just was, he liked girls, but he also liked guys and that always had been and would be. It made him think of his father's frown at the boy and waitress with the disgusted look.

"I'm sorry I made you feel like that," he finally rasped out, turning his head to Castiel a fraction. "I'm fuck up Castiel, that’s just how I am, but I'm so freaking sorry that you thought I would be someone like that. Who would mess around with you and then pretend not to know you around people."

"It doesn’t matter," Castiel tried to dismiss, but Dean cut him off.

"It fucking matters! Don't say that Cas, you're not someone's secret. I don't know who told you what, but your not less or something like that. You can like guys and it's no ones business. People will talk or have some messed up shit to say, but it's your life. You get to be with who you want. No one can stop you." Dean felt stupid for saying such corny shit, but Castiel looked like he needed to hear it. Pushing away from the wall Dean turned so he was facing him, reaching out he cupped Castiel's neck and made the teenager look up at him.

"You're worth way more than some married guy's whore."

Castiel just looked confused, staring at Dean who stared right back. After a long moment, Castiel gently nodded his head. "O-ok," he whispered and Dean felt Castiel's hands timidly touching his stomach, curling around his t-shirt and pulling.

Dean didn't hesitate to lean forward and kiss him.

It’s a soft chaste thing more than anything. Castiel was clearly inexperienced and nervous as hell, pressing too hard. Dean took his chin and tipped Castiel back a touch, angling to kiss him more fully. The boy went pliant against him, sagging against Dean’s side and crawling closer.

Dean ended up with a lapful and he pulled Castiel in closer, pressing their chests together and rolling his hips.

Castiel broke away from the kiss with a shiver, mouth open as he stared wide eyed at Dean. Grinning his best Dean cupped his ass, squeezing and dragging Castiel closer. Following his hands, he let Dean guide him and soon he was grinding on him, rubbing himself in long rolls of his hips.

“Dean,” Castiel panted, face flushed and so deliciously open. Dean knew it was perverted, but something in him kinda liked that he was the first one to touch Castiel like this. Not a messed up purity thing but just knowing he would be the one to show Castiel how good it could feel. He liked watching the boy learn new things and bedroom games were bound to be that much more.

Castiel bit his lip, leaning forward he hid his face against Dean’s neck and gave a sudden wet shudder. Dean felt the heat of his breath on his neck as Castiel slumped again him.

Dean blinked and swallowed a laugh when he realized the boy had come. Just from rubbing up against him.

“You ok?” He asked softly and Castiel nodded against him, his arms slid around Dean and clung to him.

Sitting there with his back against the wall and a lapful of a blushing, climaxed glazed, boy Dean dropped his head against the wall. Holding Castiel close with an arm around his waist Dean shoved his other in his jeans. He yanked the button open and jerked off, fast and rough with a tight grip.

Castiel made a low almost scandalized sound as he pulled back a touch, not enough for Dean to see his face, but enough for Castiel to watch him. Dean grunted, liking the thought of it. He’d give Castiel a full demonstration later. Right then though he was already heading for the finish, he could feel it rising in his body. Dropping his head he nipped at Castiel’s ear and neck, mouthing on any skin he could find as he shoved into his fist.

A timid touch, fingertips, right on the head of his dick made him swear and come. Dean panted for breath and realized he was holding Castiel’s middle in a too tight grip and he made himself ease up and relax.

Castiel had an adorable blush on his face, peeking up at Dean.

“Can we do it again?”

Dean grinned at him.

Come morning Dean called his dad. He leaned on the little porch rail and listened to the ringing with mounting frustration. There was a chill in the morning air, but Dean found it refreshing more than anything, the yard was quite with a certain silence that only ever showed in the morning. It was nice in its own way, but Dean's mind was too worried to really enjoy it.

He turned so he was looking in towards the house. They still don't have curtains and so he could see into the house where Castiel was feeding the dog something from the a Tupperware bowl. The cat had her own on the table and was eating hurriedly, the box of kittens still on the floor in the living room. It was disgustingly domestic and Dean had never been one for that sort of thing, but he can't deny that some part of him was... attached. He helped set up that living room furniture and he could list every little thing that was wrong with the house. He knows more about Castiel then he's know about anyone outside his family in a long time. He liked him. Wanted him.

Dean twisted away and frowned at the yard as his mind processed everything. It reminded him of his time at the Boy's Home. Sunny had told him he could have more, but Dean had known his little brother needed him. So he went with his family. But it hadn't been an easy choice, he had for a brief moment thought of a life outside hunting, something simple and for himself. Looking back in the house he watched Castiel notice him and offer a warm smile.

It wasn't like Sammy needed him anymore.

"Is everything alright?" Castiel asked when Dean came back in the house, the cell phone still in his hand.

"Who knows. He's not answering again. Likes to leave me sitting like a duck whenever he pleases," Dean grumbled, tossing the phone on the table and dropping into the seat. The cat was small to be a mama, a calico with bright green eyes. She watched Dean while she gobbled her food.

"Did you want cereal?" Castiel offered, pulling out the milk from the barely running refrigerator and offering Dean a Tupperware bowl with a plastic spoon.

"So we get cereal and they get handmade stuff?" He complained teasingly as he took the bowl and poured himself some cereal. It looked vaguely healthy so it would probably taste terrible.

"It was a simple recipe from the book Sara gave me. If you can get the stove on I could try to make eggs?" Castiel peered at the stove and Dean figured it would be smarter and safer to try and find one used somewhere.

A knock on the door made them both blink. Castiel hobbled over before Dean could even stand and Dean twisted to watch him answer. Looking out the main window to the yard he caught sight of a cop car and was out of his seat in an instant. Standing beside Castiel he frowned at the officer who was standing there.

"You the boys staying here?"

Dean wanted to roll his eyes at the dumb question, but Castiel nodded his head softly.

"I've got to talk to you both, about the property owner."

Castiel blinked and glanced at Dean as he stepped back and opened the door so the cop could enter. As he stepped back Castiel went stock still for a moment and Dean realized he didn't have his crutches. His ankle was wrapped, but he still shouldn't be on it. Dean said so too.

Castiel shot him a dirty look, but Dean curled an arm on his hip and helped Castiel to the nearest chair, the officer following a tad awkwardly but who cared about him.

"So the owner? Savage was his name right?" Dean prompted, turning the face the officer while keeping his body between the guy and Castiel. While it wasn't likely, there was a slim chance someone in Castiel's abusive past was looking for him.

"You boy's knew him?"

Dean didn't miss the use of 'knew' rather than 'know'.

"A few days ago we met him, he said we could stay here. Haven't seen him since that one night," Dean offered truthfully.

"He wasn't known for being around often, we used to have to come here all the time for half-starved dogs." The cop eyed Wilson who was licking the rest of his bowl and finally looking half decent from his skinny beginnings.

"Is something wrong?" Castiel questioned, peering at Dean as much as the officer.

"We found Karl Savage this morning, suicide from the looks of it," as the man spoke Dean turned away to hide his surprise.

Castiel blinked and frowned at the wall.

"Suicide?" There was a question there and Dean winced.

"He killed himself Cas, suicide means he killed himself."

Castiel looked down then, eyes wide and shocked. "Why?"

"I have no idea, some people just give up, get too down and do stupid shit. I can't tell you why that old man would," Dean offered and Castiel watched him, taking in every word seriously before nodding.

"He helped us."

"Yeah, he did."

"He didn't have too."

Dean just nodded his head and rubbed his face.

"Karl had a lot of troubles, his wife passed a few years ago and then his son died in an accident. He was never the same after, got drinking and got real mean about it. We've had calls about him before for minor things. He was a good man, though, at the heart of it, he was good." The police officer explained, his tone more genuine than what Dean was used too. It had to be because it was a smaller place, people knew each other.

"When is the funeral?" Dean asked.

"A few days from now, the funeral and the reading of his will."

"Will? Why should that matter?"

"Will we have to leave?" Castiel worried, looking to Dean who shrugged. It was likely they would be booted out.

"I'm not sure. Karl went in and did his will up the day before he killed himself. There no kin or anything so I'm not exactly clear on what will happen." The officer told them honestly. "You've been named in it, though, so I imagine he might have thought of you."

The cop left shortly after, Dean showing him out while Castiel frowned at the kitchen table.

"I don't want to lose this place. It was just starting to feel...good."

"Yeah, I know," Dean agreed, drifting close enough so his hip bumped Castiel's shoulder.

"But if we have to go we'll pack it all up and find another place."

"Together?"

"Yeah."

Dean called his father again and left a message, quietly pleading with his dad to answer him, to pick up. "I need your advice here, I need to talk to you about important shit. You're leaving messages so I know you're ok. Just please call me dad."

Sara showed up in the evening with a casserole and her condolences. There was no one to arrange the funeral so the local church had done it. A day from then, in the morning.

"He was a right bastard most of the time, always making trouble, but still. He shouldn't have done such a thing."

"Do they know why?" Castiel asked her. The two of them sat at the table eating while Dean stood willingly, scarfing the warm food silently while they chatted. He felt awkward with small talk, but Castiel was taking to it well.

"Rumor has it he had cancer, bad cancer. But until they do a proper autopsy and release it, we won't know. Even then we might not know." Sara explained softly, her tone and gaze gentle as she looked at Castiel. Clearly she had heard that Castiel hadn't known what suicide was.

Once they had eaten and shared gossip Castiel sent her home with a Tupperware of his homemade cat food. "I saw you had two when we used your shower," he explained. Dean liked that they were giving her something back, it felt less like pity that way.

They crawled into bed and after a moment Castiel slid closer, curling up on Dean's shoulder.

"Hey. You ok?"

Castiel nodded his head.

"I feel bad for him. But mostly I'm worried about us and where we'll go."

"Somewhere, if there's nowhere in this place the next town over or something. Some sleepy place." Dean assured him.

"You really wish to? If we have to start all over do you truly want too? With me?"

Dean twisted around so he was on his side facing Castiel, the boy tucked up close to him. "I already told you so."

"I know, but what if you change your mind? What if you leave?" Castiel stared down and his eyes looked suspiciously bright.

"I won't. I'm not gonna do that. Even if shit gets hard and were living out of my car. You think I haven't had to before? I've had it way worse than this and I was fine. M'not gonna abandon you."

Dean rested his chin on Castiel's dark hair and made himself talk. "I know what that's like," he rasped. "I know what it feels like to watch someone you love just walk away. To want to go, to just leave you with no intention of coming back."

Castiel's shoulders shook and Dean could feel his hands clenching into Dean's shirt, twisting the material as he sobbed once.

"I'm afraid," the boy confessed and Dean hugged him tight, pulling him close so they were pressed chest to chest snugly.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Castiel shook his head in negative.

"It's not that. I'm scared of you."

"Me?" Dean tried to pull back and look at him, but Castiel clung to him, face hidden.

"I barely know you and I'm so scared to lose you already. I don't think I could. If you wanted to leave I would never want to make you stay but I don't know if I could let you go."

Dean rolled onto his side, dragging Castiel with him so he was draped over Dean's front.

"Cas, I'm right where I wanna be. I'm not going anywhere. I've known that for awhile now. For the first time in a long while I feel...good about shit. I'm not just drifting through. I thought a normal sorta life would be boring, but I like it. I like our shitty house with no curtains and a busted stove."

After a moment, Castiel peered up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and weary. "I promise, I wouldn't lie to you about this."

Dean ran a hand through his dark hair and the tips of his fingers ran along Castiel's cheek. "Trust me?"

Castiel watched him, stared right at him unblinkingly and then with a soft smile nodded his head.

Dean kissed his forehead, wanting nothing more than to wrap himself around Castiel and protect him from the world.

The funeral was quiet with few people. Dean and Castiel hung at the back, watching with mix-matched clothing from a second-hand store. Black pants and shirts, not really nice but at least they were black. The priest spoke and sang hymns, Castiel mouthing every single one without ever looking at the book. Dean wondered if he missed parts of old life, church had to have been a massive part at one point. After the service while everyone was in the basement drinking punch and chattering Castiel wondered to the front, passed the closed coffin and up to the cross with Jesus nailed and weeping on it. Dramatic much.

"There was a sense of belonging, when I felt like an outsider for...things, I could find comfort in this." Castiel explained and Dean came up beside him blinking at the cross. He remembered that his mom had kept one, a small thing hung over the door. Beyond that, Dean had no real relationship with this religion beyond hunting the monsters that god didn't.

"I imagine that he would not think me a monster, just because I am what I am," Castiel added softly, reaching out to gently touch the nail on Jesus' foot. Dean felt deeply out of depth but before he could come up with a reply someone coughed and made them both start.

The priest stood at the basement door, watching them both. The little community was as gossipy as anything and Dean didn't doubt the guy thought them a young gay couple.

Dean blinked when it occurred to him that they kinda were.

"I've always thought that he led by example, embracing everyone without judgment. I would think that our lord and his father would not be so cruel as to label anyone a monster, much less for something as pure as love." The priest was a younger guy with a friendly smile and Dean thought he was putting it on thick, but Castiel looked a touch relieved.

"Join us for refreshments? It's not much but I think it's important to know your neighbors," he offered and Castiel nodded, Dean trailing silently.

Castiel was catnip to the old ladies, sensing his naivety or something. He talked about the cat and kittens, his homemade pet food and the work they had done on the house. No one inquired about where they were from or why they had shown up, but Dean could see they already had a story for them. Young lovers running away to be together. It was silly but if it made them welcome Castiel openly Dean was fine with it. He wanted the boy to have everything he missed, even old gossipy ladies.

"You fixed my daughter's car last week?" An old man asked as he came to stand beside Dean.

"Uh yeah? Not a huge job. Runs good now?" Dean was painfully bad at small talk, but this shit mattered to Castiel so he talked about fixing cars for half an hour before finally slipping away. He waited on the steps of the church until Castiel came looking for him. He settled down beside Dean, close but not touching. Dean leaned so their shoulders touched.

"How the gossip?"

"Good. They're very kind."

Dean wanted to snort but refrained. Truth be told they were kind to enfold Castiel so willingly.

"Beatrice and Maria would like me to make them some cat food to see if their own pets like it. They were very shocked to learn pet food isn't inspected for quality to the same standards as human food."

"Scandalous," Dean teased with a raised brow and Castiel smiled back.

"It's different here, there's less condemning for all the reasons I'm not good enough. More talk about love and faith. I like that."

"Most churches are like that I think. If a religion makes you feel like shit every day then something is clearly wrong. It's not usually the person either."

Castiel leaned back and watched the quiet street. There was a park across the way and people walked their dogs and sat on the benches. They watched them silently until someone came to get them for the will reading.

Dean frowned when the room consisted of him, Castiel, and a lawyer.

"Where is everyone else?" Castiel asked curiously and Dean shrugged at him.

"Mr. Savage didn't have any other family. The will is quick and simple," the lawyer explained.

"I'm Derek Kern. Mr. Savage came in a day before his passing. There was some question of the legality of the will given his state of mind, but a judge has ruled it ultimately to be upheld as there’s no one to protest it."

Castiel sat in the chair across the desk and Dean stood behind him rather then taking the other chair. It was clearly the priest’s office, filled with bibles and community events paperwork. Dean eyed the collection of bibles in different languages mildly interested in them while the lawyer talked about technicalities and formal crap before starting with the reading.

"I ask that my house and farmland be sold and the money from it be given to the community center and the local Christian church on 8th street that Emmy liked to attend. Let them use it to help people, she would like that. The auto yard and house on the plot those boys can have. Let them make themselves a life or sell it and get some cash. Emmy and Jon always got upset that I had no love of their type so here’s a big apology for them.”

“Their type?” Castiel blinked.

“The auto shop and the house?” Dean echoed, feeling strangely like the ground had been pulled out from under him.

“Who was Emmy and Jon?” Castiel added while Dean sat hard on the chair.

“The auto shop and the house?” Dean repeatedly.

“Emmy was his wife, lovely lady. Jon was their son. And although it’s unusual, the judge decided to honor the will.”

“He didn’t even know our names,” Dean croaked and Castiel reached out touching his arm.

“Are you ok?” He was watching Dean with wide concerned eyes and Dean sucked in a shaky breath. He’d dealt with monsters for ages, he could handle this.

“So we can stay at the house?”

“Yes,” the lawyer answered Castiel with a wry tone. “You’ll be staying there if you would like.”

It felt surreal as they were given the paperwork. People around the neighborhood started dropping into chat suddenly. It was the buzz of the area that the will had been upheld. Most people speculated it was because the farmland was worth a massive amount and the community center badly needed it. The church was happy as pigs in mud and invited Castiel to attend regularly.

Dean went a few times before Castiel let him off the hook, letting him stay home Sunday mornings.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” Castiel told him and he seemed to genuinely be fine with it.

People started dropping vehicles off and Dean went through the yard, gathering everything worth keeping and then calling a scrap yard to take the rest. The got just under a thousand for it all and Dean got them a decent stove and fridge.

Castiel worked in the garden as soon his ankle was strong enough. It was too late to plant anything, but he still turned the soil and planted more dirt in the dirt, he explained it to Dean, but it mostly went over his head. Moisture and fertilizer not really mattering so long as Castiel was happy.

So Dean bought him flowers.

It was stupid and sappy and oh so corny but Castiel lit up so brightly when Dean offered them. He couldn’t stop smiling and looking at them. It was a simple thing but it clearly made his day.

The next time Dean bought him a potted flower.

“They last longer, makes more sense than flowers that will wilt in a day,” he explained self consciously as he pushed the little pot towards Castiel.

“It’s perfect,” Castiel assured him, picking up the cheery red flowers and smiling at them. It wasn’t that bright smile from before but something that was some how deeper, a warm fond smile that seemed to last for weeks.

Dean was man enough to admit he was gone over Castiel. He spent his free time categorizing his smiles for Christ’s sake.

A month in they went and bought curtains.

Dean put them up while Castiel read instructions. Actual instructions for curtains. The dog and cats watched avidly. Castiel was insistent they would eventually find homes for the four kittens but Dean was doubting it. Castiel already had a reputation for his pet food, people actually gave him money for it. Most of the day Castiel could be found with a trail of kittens behind him, in the yard or house, the kittens always close by. So he could say what ever he wanted, Dean was braced for five cats. The mama had never left either, spending her days in the living room sunning herself.

After he got the curtains up, Dean went out on the porch and called his dad. From the front window, Dean could see Castiel in the kitchen, stirring a pot and frowning at a cooking book. He always made huge messes when he made anything. But it always turned out delicious. Dean watched him as his phone rang and rang, his father’s voice eventually telling him to leave a message.

"Dad...Shit, I don't know how to say this. I'm not gonna just walk away or anything. If you ever need me to help you I will, no question. But...shit. I'm gonna slow down a bit I guess, hang around one area. There’s someone here who needs me and I made them a promise. I'll be in touch, I'll keep this phone on me. You need me just call. I know you're gonna be pissed and all but I can't- Fuck. I'm sorry. I want to hunt the bad guy as much as you, but I also wanna have something for myself too. I’ve found a rare chance, an opportunity I thought was long gone. I really care about them, a-about him. So call me when you get this if you want. Or not. Whatever you want. Bye Dad."

“How long ago did you get this message?" Bobby asked, frowning at the phone that sat on his kitchen table. John and Sam sat across from him, a shared grim air between them.

“Two months ago. I’ve tracked him to the last hunt he was on and then both of us did. A motel worker recognized him. They said Dean brought a young man back one night and then blew town the next day.” John paused, his frustration clear.

“We searched every damn inch of the place, every video camera in the town. There’s nothing. No one knew anything about the hunt either.”

Sam frowned at the cellphone before picking up where John left off.

“Some of the tapes glitch or blurred, but some don’t at all. Dean was in the room the one night, he paid for it the next morning, but he’s never there on their camera.”

“Was there any other messages on the phone?” Bobby questioned and they both shook their heads.

“The number comes up as out of service if we call, if any phone calls it. There’s no way to trace it. We decided to try a location spell,” Sam explained and Bobby felt bad for the boy. He’d gone off to college and wanted out but here he was dragged back in looking for his lost brother.

“It came up with nothing,” Sam paused wearily, his shoulders tight. “It’s not reacting like he’s dead, though, it’s just not working at all. It’ll track me, dad, you, anyone else but not Dean. Something’s blocking it.”

“All we have is the last hunt. Greg never showed up so Dean might have gone snooping around. We found an abandoned house, looked like someone was living in the basement, a witch. There was a chain in the middle of the room, but it was broken, the links were shot apart.” John explained and Bobby frowned harder, recognition at something.

“What is it?” Sam asked, leaning in and focusing on Bobby. There was an air of desperation about him, lingering with John as well. They were both hoping to find Dean alive and well.

“I looked up the lore you wanted, searched the area and turned up nothing. Not a damn thing.” Bobby told them. Both men frowned back at him.

“Nothing?” Sam blinked, “Even the smallest town has some story to it.”

“Exactly. So I dug around some more. No direct lore links to that town. Like someone wiped it all from history and everyone’s brains. But there is some history and a few stories around the area, kept in book protected from magic. From the look of it I’d say something was keeping the information from getting out, a spell.”

“So the witch then?”

“There’s an old account, a story two centuries old at least, about a hunter who married a pretty girl. Settled down built her a house, had a baby, whole nine yards. Turned out though she was a witch. Used magic to dispense her own idea of justice.”

“A hunter never noticed his wife doing this?” John growled.

“It was always accidents or murders, clean cut people hurting other people. Not too often, not too common, she was good at it and gained a lot of power by doing it. Enough to slip by for years but he eventually caught on. He took her out, killed his own wife to save others when she wouldn’t stop.”

“Not our witch then?”

“No. They had a kid, a son. The hunter knew his wife had taught the boy the same dark arts and that if he was left to go free he would only kill like she had, seeing himself doing good work in punishing others for their crimes. A small town was one thing but in a city, any place where murder was common day, there would be no real way to hunt him, to even know he was there.”

“So he killed his son?” Sam muttered and Bobby shook his head.

“Couldn’t do it in the end. So he got himself a chain that magic couldn’t break, only a hunter’s weapon could destroy it by the story. He shackled the boy in the house and left him there.”