Chapter Text
Castiel packed the last few things he owned into his duffel bag. His third year of college was over. He had started this last semester out just as well as all the others but had barely passing grades now. His finals had been a disaster. His final projects had been subpar. All his professors knew him better, encouraging him to rejuvenate over the summer and finish strong next year.
Castiel thought that was an insurmountable request. The death of his mother had come as a shock. Like ripples in a pond, the waves of shock and despair lapped over him repeatedly. He had never had a father in the picture. Now, he was left an orphan. In a month, he would turn 21. He and his mother had joked about going on a bar crawl together. What made it hysterically funny was that his mother never drank. But she had sworn she would. It was a silly plan. And now…there was no plan at all.
He glanced around the room. The bed was bare, the walls blank, the desk empty, the closet open and vacant. He tucked his wallet into his back pocket and slung the duffel bag onto his shoulder.
He should have taken Anna and Gabe up on their offer for him to move in with them over the summer. He could have shared an apartment with them. Slept on the couch. But at the time, he felt like he needed out of Cambridge, Massachusetts. Now, he was not so sure.
He left the dorm, pulling the door shut, locking it. There was nothing great about his dorm room. Or his roommate, who had left already. Ishim was pushy. Opinionated. And Castiel felt relieved to be leaving. He would most likely see Ishim around campus next year, but not as a roommate. He would be moving into an apartment with Gabe and Anna. Uriel would be moved out by then, and he could have his old room. That was the plan. The plan for mid-August.
With no energy and zero enthusiasm, he turned his dorm key in to the kid at the desk, signing out. He walked slowly out of the dorm, into the bright, sunny day. It was the end of May. Anna had agreed to store most of his things while he was away.
A wave of nausea passed over him, a slight sweat chilling quickly on his skin in the breeze. He was not going home. He was just going…away. Away was a strange house in a strange state. And where his mother had died.
He blew a fortifying breath out and headed for the bus stop. He would take the bus to the airport and from there, fly to Kansas.
As he found a seat next to a seriously chipper girl (who was so FREAKING thankful her first year was over) he gave her the standard, polite smile but kept his earbuds in. There was nothing playing in them. He often found music had unexpected effects on his mood, of late. It could make him angry, or worse, sad. He preferred the quiet numbness of nothing at all. And people generally ignored you with earbuds in. Win, win.
He went through the motions of airport security, taking his bag and moving into the waiting room at his gate. He had gotten the ticket on his own, something his mother had always taken care of. He had not even called the number to the house she had lived in. The plan had been for him to go there this summer, get to know the boyfriend she was planning on marrying, get to know his new ‘brothers’. That had been the plan. So, here he was…carrying on with the plan.
He bought a coffee and sat down to wait. He had said goodbye to his friends this morning, promising to keep in touch over the summer. Anna would call him. Gabe…probably not unless he needed to be bailed out of jail.
He boarded the plane, letting the guy next to him sit by the window. He had no curiosity to watch the patchwork of America below them. He was leaving nothing and going to nothing. Who cared what it looked like.
Landing in Garden City Regional Airport was a silent affair for Castiel. As he exited into the gate waiting room, he headed straight for a bathroom and puked. His mother had understood him like no one else in the world. They were close. It had just been the two of them for years. So long, in fact, he almost didn’t make it through his first semester. He had wanted to go back home, which at the time, was Illinois. When he left for school in August last year, his mother called him two weeks later, saying she was moving to Lawrence, Kansas with the boyfriend Castiel had met a grand total of three times over the summer. John. An enigma in his mind. John seemed like a nice enough guy. But not so much his mother’s type.
His mother had dated. Castiel had entertained their company as pleasantly as possible. But he had not really liked any of them. John seemed rough around the edges. And not a fan of Castiel’s ‘lifestyle’. He was not outright rude about it but tended to not say anything if it came up. He recognized the disapproving looks, but nothing had been said.
And now it did not matter. John would never be a part of his life. He was dead too. They had died in a car accident on an icy night. Castiel hated the cold. Hated snow, slush, ice, even snow days. It had been quite a deterrent for him when accepting his acceptance at Harvard because it was in Massachusetts. But he figured he could deal with it for four years. Then, he was moving south. It was happening. It was one of his plans. And there was no one to stop him.
He washed his shaky hands in the sink and put a piece of gum in his mouth. Throwing up, unfortunately, was how his body most often dealt with anxiety. It wasn’t the plane trip. It was the lack of what usually awaited him at the gate. No welcome. No Mom.
He splashed some water on his face and dried it with a paper towel. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was pale. And thin. Over the past few months he had gone down two holes on his belt, and he needed new pants.
He left the bathroom, duffel bag on his shoulder, and headed out to a taxi to get to the bus station. From there, he boarded a bus from Garden City to Lawrence.
He held his phone in his hand as he neared Lawrence. He really should call the house. Tell someone he was coming. But every time he thought about it, he just couldn’t. The thought of his mom not answering the phone always sent his stomach into eject-mode. Besides, he was shy by nature, and in general not a people person. He preferred books. He used to prefer music. But not right now.
He got off the bus, feeling exhausted. Here was the plan. Go to this house John owned. Spend the night. Pack up his mother’s things, get a storage unit, and…. That was the extent of his summer plans. He had nothing tying him down. And some money in the bank from the settlement. He should go see the world. Or not. Even that sounded unenjoyable.
He called for an Uber to get to the address he had from his mother’s will. To say he was nervous was a total understatement. The car that picked him up took him much too quickly across town to the correct street. And then the correct house. He paid the quiet driver, taking his bag and closing the car door.
A pang of insecurity hit him hard as the little white car drove away.
He turned back to the house. It was a two-story house with white siding and a black roof. Three windows across the top, one large picture window, a door, and another window across the bottom. There was no garage. A black car sat parked in front of it. Black metal numbers, 148, hung by the white front door. The mailbox at the sidewalk read ‘Winchester’ in faded letters. It was the right house. It was a nice house. Small but neat. The bushes were trimmed and the porch tidy. A large tree stood between it and the next house. It certainly was not picturesque, or ramshackle. It was…average. Castiel found that comforting for some odd reason. It was average looking. So maybe the people inside were average. Average meant normal. And normal meant safe.
He climbed the five steps of the front porch, taking a deep breath as he knocked on the door.
“Just a minute!” Came a yell from inside.
Castiel stepped back, tugging nervously on his jacket sleeves.
The door opened. “Can I help you?” A brown-haired kid Castiel’s height asked.
“H-hi, um,”
“I told you to do the dishes, Sam!” Another yell came from inside.
Sam turned with a glare. “I will in a minute!” He turned back, brows raised in question as to why a stranger stood at his door.
“My name is Castiel.” As long as he had agonized over coming here, he should have at least prepared what he was going to say when he arrived. But, of course, he had not, choosing to ignore the situation until he was confronted with it.
“Wait,” Sam said with a look of dawning understanding. “You’re Castiel! Naomi’s son.” He grinned. “What are you doing here? I mean, come in!”
Castiel smiled back nervously, stepping inside. Hardwood floors and white trim gave the house clean lines. Stairs lead upward, and a hall led back to a kitchen.
A guy came around the corner from the kitchen with an irritated look on his face. “Who’s this? Who are you?”
Castiel began to answer but Sam turned to his brother excitedly. “This is Castiel. Naomi’s son!”
Sam turned back to him. “I’m Sam. This is my brother, Dean.”
Castiel nodded, finally putting faces with names.
Dean joined his brother, looking at Castiel as if he were an unwelcome problem. “I’ve seen pictures,” he said quietly, “but we never met.”
Castiel swallowed nervously. “I-I just got out of school and the plan had been to come here. So…I came here.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”
“Are you…staying here?” Sam asked, eyeing his bag curiously.
“Well, I thought I should collect my mother’s things and…I’m not sure.”
Dean looked less than enthusiastic at that. “Dude…we don’t even know you.”
Castiel took a step back closer toward the door.
“Dude,” Sam scolded, whacking Dean on the shoulder, “he’s here to…” he turned back to Castiel. “Of course, you can stay here.”
Dean out-right frowned at that. “Dude, you don’t just invite people into our house.”
“He’s family,” Sam insisted. “I mean, he was going to be.”
The brothers stared at him briefly, Castiel feeling a growing flush heat his cheeks.
Dean rolled his eyes, shrugging. “Whatever.”
“Come in,” Sam waved, heading toward the kitchen.
Castiel followed hesitantly, walking past Dean.
The hardwood continued into the kitchen with dark brown cabinets on two walls. A square table sat in the kitchen’s centre, cluttered with books, papers, mail, and cans. The counter beside the sink was covered with dirty dishes.
“Can I get you a drink?” Sam asked, opening the fridge.
Castiel swallowed. “Just water is fine. Thank you.”
Sam got a glass and ice. As he filled the glass at the sink, Castiel’s curiosity drew him to the fridge. There was a picture of John and his mother with Sam by a tree somewhere. They were all smiling. It was strange to find his mother’s picture in a stranger’s house. Another picture showed Dean and Sam standing by a lake with fishing poles. Another was a familiar picture of Castiel and his mother at a restaurant in Illinois. She looked just as happy with John and Sam as she did with him. It was strange. All of it was strange.
He turned, realizing Sam was standing there with a glass of ice water. “Thank you,” he said quickly, taking the glass.
Dean was leaning against the other counter, watching him.
“Sorry about your mom,” Sam said with an apologetic grin.
Castiel nodded. “And I’m sorry for the loss of your father.”
“You gonna go stay with your dad?” Dean asked.
“No,” Castiel looked back at his water. “I don’t have a dad.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Castiel nodded awkwardly.
“So…you don’t have any parents either?” Sam asked, watching him curiously.
“Jesus, Sam,” Dean scolded.
“What?” Sam said defensively. “I mean, it’s just kinda crazy. None of us have parents anymore.”
Dean sighed with annoyance. “Let it go, Sam.”
“You don’t have a mother?” Castiel asked. He had wondered why Dean had come back to the house to take care of Sam. That was what the lawyer had told him, anyway.
“She died when I was a baby,” Sam said, not feeling the sting that Castiel felt so strongly. “But…I really liked your mom. She was really good to us. Both of us.”
Castiel smiled at that. Yes, she would have been. “I met your dad last summer. He was…nice.”
Sam and Dean nodded. He was sure they had wonderful relationships with him, unlike his own awkward one.
“Just what were you planning on taking?” Dean asked.
Castiel was reminded of John with Dean’s bluntness and rough exterior. It rubbed him the wrong way and made him nervous, like he was intruding.
“I don’t know, really. Just…her personal things, I guess.”
Dean nodded. “I was gonna order a pizza. Sound good?”
“Sure,” Castiel agreed. He probably could not eat, but he could try. “I have money,” he offered, pulling his wallet out and holding out a ten.
“Awesome.” Dean crossed the kitchen, snagging the money and heading for a phone in the living room to call them.
Sam started doing the dishes, glancing at Castiel frequently. “Are you 20?”
“Yes,” Castiel answered automatically, taking a drink of his water.
“I’m 16. Dean is 20 too. Not 22,” he grinned. “He’s 20 also.”
Castiel grinned back shyly. Sam was sweet. His mom had talked about him a good bit. Dean had already been moved out of the house and she did not know him as well. But she had liked him. She said he had good manners and was very nice to her. The thoughts made Castiel smile.
“I’m gonna go pick it up,” Dean called from the living room. He then walked back into the kitchen, looking at Castiel again. He seemed to measure him up somehow, judging and weighing with his eyes. Whatever it was he saw, he seemed to deem Castiel acceptable of something.
He glanced at Sam. “I’ll be back in twenty.”
“Alright,” Sam answered, rinsing a washed cup.
Dean left without another word.
Castiel pulled a chair out, putting three books that sat on it onto the table. He sat, not sure what to look at or what to do. He sat his big duffel bag on the floor by his chair.
“Don’t mind Dean,” Sam said over the running water. “He’s still pretty upset about Dad.”
Castiel nodded. He could relate to that at least.
*********************************
They ate pizza in the living room while watching TV. Castiel watched with some fascination as the cooks of the show were forced to use strange foods and expected to deliver something unique and spectacular.
“So, Castiel,” Sam piped up during a commercial, “what’s Harvard like?”
“Cold.”
Sam frowned.
Castiel wished he were better at small talk. He just wasn’t. “I don’t like the cold winters,” he clarified, Sam nodding. “The campus is beautiful. The dorm rooms are very small. And the course work is quite daunting.”
“I want to go to Stanford,” Sam grinned. “I’m in the honors program and my counsellor said I have a really good chance to get in.”
“That’s fantastic,” Castiel nodded. “I wish I had gone there. California would be much more to my liking.”
“Yeah, but Harvard! I mean, come on! That’s pretty awesome!”
Castiel smiled. He remembered when he thought so too. Now it just did not fit him anymore. Nothing fit him. He toyed with his half-eaten slice of pizza. It churned slightly in his stomach. He glanced at Dean. He was spread out on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, on his fourth piece of pizza, and staring at the TV.
He wished he could feel so comfortable. Anywhere. Even in his own skin.
“I just hope I can get a really good scholarship. Otherwise…I don’t know what I’ll do,” Sam added, taking another big bite of pizza.
“You’ll be fine,” Dean said. “If Stanford doesn’t snatch you up, somebody else will.”
Castiel watched as the show came back on. His mother wanted this to be home. It was home for her. She sat here and watched TV. Cleaned these floors. Used the phone. But it all felt so foreign to Castiel. His eyes grew heavy as he fought to see which chef would win, but the need for sleep took over.
“Cas.”
Castiel frowned.
“Cas.”
He felt a pushing hand on his leg.
“What?” Castiel’s eyes flew open. He was in the strange living room. The pizza had been cleared away and the TV was off. It was dark outside. He straightened up in the chair, realizing his plate was gone.
“You were sleeping pretty hard,” Dean said. “But I figured you’d wake up with a broken neck if I left you there all night.”
“Yes. Thank you.” He stood up, stretching. He noticed blankets and sheets on the couch.
“Sam has school tomorrow and I have to go to work. So…”
“Do you want me to leave?” Castiel asked, feeling out of place.
“No,” Dean grinned. “No, man. Sorry about being stuck on the couch. I guess we’ll have to figure out a room or something for you.”
Castiel swallowed hard. “I don’t have to stay long. The couch is fine.”
Dean stopped whatever he was doing in the kitchen, coming back into the living room. He had a softer look on his face than earlier. “What are you doing when you’re done with your mom’s things?”
Castiel sighed. “I don’t know.”
Dean sat down on the couch. “You don’t still have a place in Illinois?”
Castiel grinned with an exasperated shake of his head. “I…I don’t live anywhere.” It was kind of horrifying to admit out loud.
Dean leaned forward. “I thought you had an apartment at Harvard.”
“No. Just a dorm room. I’m not allowed back to campus until mid-August. The plan was to come home for the summer. And... home was supposed to be here.” He gave Dean a worried look. “I can probably clear out her things tomorrow. Then I can figure out where to go.”
“Stay as long as you need, Cas. You got kinda screwed out of everything, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Castiel nodded. “Yeah. It just all…my plans got changed. I’m just kinda…lost.”
Dean nodded. “Threw me for a loop too. Had to get rid of my apartment and come live here, for Sam.”
They sat quietly for several minutes.
“Think you’ll be here the whole summer?” Dean asked. There was no pressure to the question and no sense of discontent. But Castiel felt like an outsider anyway.
“I-I just don’t really know. Maybe?”
Dean nodded. “Night, Cas.”
“Goodnight.”
He watched as Dean went up the stairs.
Castiel took his clothes off and pulled on a pair of pajama pants. They were loose, but they would do. He got under the covers and burrowed into the soft couch. He needed sleep. The blissful empty.
He dreamt of school, of work at the bookstore, of riding endless buses and never getting anywhere. He slept fitfully throughout the night.