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It’s been two weeks since Dean had been forced to stay at Sonny’s Home for Boys, and if he was being completely honest to himself, it wasn’t that bad. It’s… pretty nice, actually. Good, even. Well, it’s certainly a hell lot better than being on the road all the time and staying in crappy motel rooms. The food’s better, even if they were sometimes forced to eat what he likes to call rabbit food (which, admittedly was better than he expected, but there’s no way he’s gonna say out loud that he loved the garden salad and asked for seconds). The farming and the chores they were made to do were tiring, but was surprisingly calming in its routine. And it was non-lethal and didn’t involve monsters and hunting, which was certainly a nice bonus.
He missed Sammy though.
It felt weird and disorienting. In his first week of stay, he woke up at the middle of the night in alarm, panicking, because he can’t feel Sammy anywhere near him and he feared and dreaded that something happened to him. It took Dean a while to calm himself after, and a lot more to go back to sleep. Still, once he got used to it, being free of the responsibility of taking care of his baby brother was… freeing.
But, as freeing as it is, it was still kind of lonely. He’s still the new kid at his current school, and while some of his classmates were nice enough, nobody really wanted to hang out with the new kid, and he’s not that much interested with school in the first place. There were two boys a few years older than him at the Home, but they were too caught up with each other to pay attention to anyone else. (Dean saw the two of them once, talking and laughing about something, the blond one sitting while the redhead laid his head on the other’s lap. It felt wrong to intrude, somehow.)
As for the younger ones at the Home… Well, they only made Dean think of Sammy and the guilt of leaving him alone plagued him at the most random moments, along with shame and a voice in the back of his head berating him for having fun and being a bad son.
So it was for that reason (even if he convinced himself he was just curious, not lonely, no) that Dean, who was doing the early morning sweeping, walked up to the boy standing in front of the Home’s sign.
“Who’re you?” he asked. The boy was… weird, now that he was close enough to get a good look at the other. Well, not so much as weird as it’s as if there’s something off about him. His feet were bare, caked with mud and littered with shallow cuts (from rocks, Dean supposed). His left foot seemed slightly swollen too, by the looks of it. He’s wearing a nice suit with a loose blue tie around his neck, but the trenchcoat he’s also wearing was slightly frayed in the edges (and, if Dean wasn’t imagining things, spattered with blood).
His black hair was a tangled, greasy mess. There’s dirt and scratches on his face, but his eyes—freakishly, almost luminescent blue eyes—spoke of fear, and of pain.
It took Dean about ten seconds to realize he was staring, and the unknown boy was staring back. Dean was starting to open his mouth to ask who the guy was again when he spoke.
“Can I stay here?”
That was a curveball Dean wasn’t expecting, and so only managed to give a quiet “Huh?”
The mysterious boy was still staring, and Dean was getting pretty uncomfortable, but he can’t seem to force himself away to stare at anything else. The boy spoke again.
“The sign says this a home for boys. I am a boy, so I am asking if I can stay here.”
Dean finally found his voice. “Uh, I dunno man, lemme ask Sonny. Don’t move, okay?”
The boy gave him a small nod and stared at the sign again.
Dean ran back to the house and found Sonny in the kitchen preparing the breakfast of the day (eggs, toast, and bacon). He was whistling a tune Dean recognized, although the title of the song he can’t remember. “Sonny, there’s a kid out front asking if he can stay.”
Sonny stopped whistling, flipping a pancake before turning around and facing Dean. “What’d he looked like?” the man asked.
“Well, black hair, blue eyes, kinda average, I guess. A bit weird too. He was wearing a suit and a trenchcoat, but he’s got no shoes on and his feet are wounded pretty badly.”
“Hmm. A runaway probably. Well go on, invite him then,” said Sonny, turning his back and continued cooking.
When Dean came back out front, Blue Eyes was standing in the exact same spot. Thankfully, he seemed to have stopped staring at the sign, although now that exact stare was now following Dean himself. (He can’t decide which one weirded him out more.)
“So uh, Sonny says you can come in,” Dean said, and the other boy nodded in reply. “Ah, I forgot to ask, what’s your name?”
“Castiel.”
Somehow, Dean was not surprised.
“Right then, Castiel. Let’s go.” He turned around and walked back towards the Home. Dean didn’t look back to check if Castiel was following him. He can hear footsteps other than his own, soft and quiet it may be. Besides, He can still feel the guy’s blue eyes on the back of his neck.
Well, this should be interesting.
It took blue eyes—no, Castiel—about six eggs, four toast slices (generously slathered with butter), and three-fourths of a plate of bacon to even notice Dean and Sonny were staring at him. Then he abruptly stopped, swallowing as his eyes widened and cheeks burn red with embarrassment. He hung his head down and quietly said, “I’m sorry.”
Sonny chuckled at that. “It’s alright. How long was it since you’ve eaten, boy?”
“Two days ago,” he said. “A homeless woman shared her food with me.”
“Why’re you on the run anyway?” Dean asked. He was curious, because, dirt (and blood) aside, Castiel’s clothes were nice—the suit fit him nicely.
His head shot up and stared at Dean again with wide, frightened eyes. His lips were slightly trembling, like he was forcing himself not to tear up, and his breath turned shallow. His hands clenched into fists and were also slightly shaking.
Shit. “Uh, sorry, you don’t have to—” Dean started, but Castiel cut him off with a shake of his head.
“It’s fine, it’s fine… I…” Castiel closed his eyes, took a deep breath and spoke again. “A week ago, there was a… man. Father and Mother and I were in the living room, getting ready for Church when the man came into our house. He… he killed Father first, slit his throat. Mother screamed, and the man snapped her neck. And then he came for me, slowly, and he was grinning… he called me ‘little angel’. I tried to run, but I couldn’t move and then…”
Goosebumps erupted on every inch of Dean’s skin as Castiel progressed throughout his story, his voice getting more cracked as he went. But it was the last bit that made Dean’s blood run cold. Castiel opened his eyes and looked Dean straight in the eye again.
“…and then… his eyes… they turned black.”
Monster. Cas’s parents were killed by a monster.
Cas’s appetite vanished after that, and Dean really couldn’t blame the guy. His own appetite was pretty much gone too, but Sonny insisted he eat something, so he took a piece of toast and a strip of bacon and ate it while leading Cas to the upstairs bathroom for a shower. The guy seemed reluctant getting inside the bathroom, as he looked at Dean, his eyes hesitant. His lips opened and closed like he wanted to say something but decided against it, and resignedly entered the bathroom, closing its door.
While Cas was busy cleaning himself up, Dean went into his room and dug into his clothes for a spare shirt and pants. Cas needed something to wear, and they seemed to be the same size. Dean grimaced when he remembered that Cas would need new underwear too, so he picked the pair of boxers he remembered wearing the least.
The door to his room creaked open, and when he turned around he was greeted by the sight of Cas, naked (and slightly wet from not drying himself properly) except for the fluffy, white towel wrapped low on his hips. Dean’s eyes widened. He should back off, because the other boy was way too close, but he got distracted. Cas was not the skinny guy he thought he was. Rivulets of water coursed down his neck, to his clavicle and his well toned chest, down to his flat stomach and—
“Uhm…”
Cas’s voice startled Dean out of his reverie, and he hurriedly looked away. His face felt hot, and he’s pretty sure his whole face is red from mortification. He then remembered the clothes on his hands and thrusted them towards Cas. “So uh, here’s some clothes. They’re mine, but you can have it.”
He was pointedly looking anywhere but Cas when the clothes silently left Dean’s hand. “Okay! Time for you to get dressed! I’m just gonna—” he pointed to the door and almost started running towards the exit, but Cas’s hand shot out and gripped his left shoulder tightly.
Dean froze, and Cas’s grip immediately slackened, but he didn’t let go. “I’m… I’m sorry,” Cas whispered. “But I… I don’t want to be alone right now…”
His voice was rough and pleading, and Dean’s embarrassment quickly faded as concern quickly took its place. He looked straight into Cas’s eyes—so blue he felt he could almost drown in it—and gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “I’ll be here.”
Cas’s smiled. It was just a small one, but the gratitude in it made Dean’s chest flutter with warmth. He turned his back and said, “Go get dressed then.”
Dean instantly regretted his decision to stay when he heard the towel softly hitting the floor. He swallowed, and tried not to think about Cas or his current nakedness, or how easy it is to just turn around and have a look.
He’s not going to have a look.
Nope.
“I’m done.” Cas’s voice broke through Dean’s thought one more time.
“Oh thank god,” he whispered to himself. He turned around, and Cas was smiling at him again, this time just a bit wider Dean can see some of his teeth. He couldn’t help but grin back too.
“Thank you. I… I realize I never asked for your name,” Cas said.
“It’s Dean.”
“Thank you, Dean.”
Dean scratched the back of his neck as he looked away and muttered, “I didn’t really do anything.”
Cas shook his head. “No, you did. You… you believed me. About that… man. And his eyes.”
“Ah, that,” Dean said, his nose wrinkling. He should probably tell Cas. “It’s a… well, I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s definitely not human.”
“I figured as much,” Cas said. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he was interrupted by his own yawning.
“You should sleep. We’ll talk later,” Dean said while gesturing towards his own bed. “When’s the last time you’ve slept?”
“Truthfully I haven’t slept well since…” Dean winced at that. He could relate—he remembered only sleeping after he’s too exhausted to be awake weeks after the fire that took his mom.
“You take my bed,” Dean walked to his bed and motioned for Cas to do the same. He then pointed to the bedposts and the symbols he carved there during his first night at here. “See this? They’re protective sigils. They’re gonna keep the monsters away, okay?” Well, he’s not exactly sure if it would be effective against whatever that black-eyed man was, but Cas needed the reassurance.
“Thank you again,” Cas said with a smile, and Dean was gonna reply it wasn’t much, and that he should stop smiling because it’s making him look really cute, but of course, Cas threw him another curveball he wasn’t expecting.
Before Dean knew it, Cas wrapped him around his arms and pulled him in a tight hug. For a split second Dean froze, but he soon melted into the embrace and tentatively hugged Cas back. It was nice. The loneliness Dean felt (and didn’t acknowledge) abated just a little bit.
Dean pulled away and said, “Okay, that is enough chick-flick moments from me.” He clapped Cas’s shoulder and pushed him to the bed. “Get some rest dude. You need it.”
Cas lied down and surrounded himself with Dean’s blanket. He gave a sigh of comfort (not that Dean’s bed was particularly comfy, but it must have been a nice change for Cas, who probably slept outside all this time). His eyes were half-lidded too, as the exhaustion must have caught up to him by now.
“Will you be here, Dean, when I wake up?”
He was looking at him again, with those blue eyes of his.
“Yeah, Cas. I will,” he promised.
It was a promise Dean intended to keep.