Castiel walked out of school completely exhausted. He hadn't slept much the last four nights, and Dean's endless pursuit didn't help. He just wanted to find Gabriel and get out of there. Unfortunately, Gabriel was talking to Dean. Castiel stood there, wondering what to do, when he saw Sam walk up to them. Castiel couldn't hear what Gabriel said, but he guessed it was flirting judging by how red Sam's face got. Castiel kept watching, taking slow steps forward until he heard something that stopped him in his tracks. Dean threw his head back, then doubled forward, laughing. Castiel had never heard Dean laugh before, but he liked it. He kept staring at Dean until he realized Gabriel had pulled up in front of him.

"Hey, lover boy, get in. We need to talk," he said. Castiel opened the door and dropped into the passenger seat, dreading the conversation he knew was coming.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a panic attack?" Gabriel asked. He was trying to sound calm, but Castiel knew he was angry. Castiel rubbed his arm and picked up his phone.

I didn't want to worry you

"I'm always worried about you, Castiel. You need to tell me this stuff," Gabriel said. Castiel just stared at his shoes. Gabriel sighed.

"How did you get out this time?" He asked. Castiel paused for a moment before typing out his answer.

Dean found me

Gabriel smiled.

"Good." And with that, he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot towards home.

Castiel didn't like art anymore. At least, not after his art teacher decided that they were going to draw portraits of each other. And he didn't like Gabriel anymore, because he'd invited Dean over to work on it without asking Castiel first. And now here he was, sitting in his living room while Dean stared at everything.

"Dude, your house is amazing," Dean said for the fifth time. Castiel just picked at his sweater. After another moment of uncomfortable silence, Dean spoke again.

"I'm probably going to need some help with this portrait stuff. I suck at art, as you probably know," he said. Castiel nodded, more out of habit than as an actual response. Dean pulled out a sketchpad that looked very new and started working, which made Castiel very self conscious. He pushed his glasses up his nose and tried to fight the blush creeping under his cheeks as Dean examined him.

"If you want to work at the same time you can, but I warn you, my concentrating face isn't pretty," Dean said. Castiel almost smiled, picking up his sketchbook and flipping to an empty page. He'd already drawn Dean more times than he cared to admit, but he liked the sound of capturing Dean's "concentrating face". He lost track of time as he drew, and by the time Dean stretched and stood up, Castiel was half done.

"Okay, I'm calling break. This is the worst looking thing I have ever seen," Dean said, staring at his paper. Castiel stood up and walked over to look at it. He was sure Dean was exaggerating. He wasn't. Castiel felt Dean watching him and tried to manage an "it's not bad" shrug.

"Oh it really does suck," Dean said, apparently seeing through it. Castiel just walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water. When he saw Dean had followed him, he gestured to the glass and raised his eyebrows. Dean shook his head.

"No, I'm good." He said. He sounded kind of nervous, so Castiel narrowed his eyes.

"Do you mind... if I see your drawing of me?" Dean asked. Castiel glanced at his sketchbook, sitting on the island. After a second, he nodded and slid it over to Dean.

"Wow. Dude, this is amazing," Dean said. Castiel blushed and looked down at his hands. Dean put the sketchbook back down.

"Why don't you like to show this stuff to people? It's so good," Dean asked. Castiel shrugged, picking up his book and walking back into the living room. He sat back down, but Dean stayed standing up.

"Castiel?" Castiel looked up. "Did... did something happen to you when you were a kid?" Dean asked tentatively. Castiel stiffened.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, never mind, it's none of my business," Dean gushed, turning red and sitting back down. Castiel flipped a few pages back in his sketchbook, staring at the latest picture. He shouldn't trust Dean... but he wanted to. He wanted to so bad. He looked up to find Dean watching him. He stood up and walked over, his hands starting to shake.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, looking up at him. Castiel flipped to the beginning of his sketchbook and handed it to Dean. The first few pages told it all.

Castiel was sitting in the back seat, listening to his mother singing along with the radio. She smiled back at him as the song ended.

"Did you have fun at your party, Cassie?" she asked him. Her voice was so clear and beautiful.

"Yes! It was so fun, Mommy, I wish you could've been there!" Castiel said.

"Well I'm here with you now, my angel, and that's all that matters." Castiel smiled.

"I'll take you to the next party, mommy, and I'll never leave you alone again." he said.

"And I'll never leave you either, angel," his mom said. She returned her main focus to driving. Castiel smiled, but suddenly his mom shrieked. Castiel never saw exactly what happened, all he knew was that something was wrong. His mother had always been so calm, but now his ears were filled with her screams. He could tell that the car flipped, and he felt his seat belt jerk against his chest, and then it was over. They had landed right side up, luckily, but Castiel couldn't get out of his seat belt. All he could see was his mother's arm and a few drops of blood across the dashboard. 

"Mommy! Mommy  my arm hurts! Mommy, help me!" Castiel cried. 

"It... It's okay, Angel... It's going to be okay, Castiel..." he heard his mother's voice, but it wasn't smooth like normal. It was choppy, raspy. 

"Mommy, what's wrong?" Castiel asked.

"Castiel... I love you. You know... You know I love you, right?" his mother asked.

"I know, Mommy. Please help me," Castiel said.

"I can't... help you, Castiel, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." his mother said. Then she stopped talking, and she never started again.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Castiel screamed. He screamed and screamed for what felt like hours, but no one came to help. Eventually his head cleared enough for him to slide out of his seat belt, crying as his arm stung. He crawled up to the front seat with his mother, only to see her glassy eyes staring out the windshield, blood running down her head, her body twisted. Castiel shook her.

"Mommy," he begged, his voice raw and broken. But she didn't respond. Castiel climbed out of the car into the ditch they'd landed in. He tried to climb back up to the highway, but his arm hurt too much, so he just crawled back into the car. And that was how they found him: With almost destroyed vocal chords and a broken arm, sitting in his dead mother's lap and crying.

A/N: So I need you guys' input. I was thinking about writing another version of this story where Cas is more of a bad boy. I would probably finish this story first, but I thought it might be fun. Anyway, leave a comment and tell me what you think! Thank you for reading! ^.^