Author's Note:

Another story written between myself and Touta Matsuda (my awesome co-author!) Hope you like it, I'll warn now: It is Wincest this time around, sorry my beloved Destiel fans, my friend has insisted this time :) But no worries, our little angel is always present.

Twelve years ago my mom ran away from my father. She took nothing with her except for me –her oldest son. I was almost five, and I don't remember too much about life before the city. Mom never told me exactly why she left. She said that karma had a way of working back to you, and so you should never say anything negative about someone, "even if the fucker deserves every word of it." She's always done a really good job of keeping me clued out about my father. I can't even remember his face, not really. The more I think about our past, the more I wonder if I'm missing something, like I forgot something important that mom won't tell me.

Everyone in this city knows my mom, even the people who you'd think wouldn't have a clue. I know the fathers of all my classmates, and now that we're older, some of my classmates come calling too. Through my mom's work, I know many of my teachers, the principal, my doctor, and our preacher; the mayor, our dentist, and all of the city's sports teams. People travel in from out of town and out of state, just to see my mom. Because of her work she has a lot of 'friends' and that's alright. They usually help us out, in one way or another. I've never failed a grade yet, and we've never paid for hospital visits. Well, we've never paid for anything in the conventional sense.

Growing up without a dad has been tough. My mom's done the best she can, and I've never gone hungry thanks to her hard work. Every night she'd tell me that everything would be ok, that everything gets sorted out in the end and the deserving get their justice –and eventually their peace. She would remind me that I'm never alone and that there are angels watching over us. Sometimes I wonder if these are the same angels working for that god she screams for when her 'friends' come calling.

People are disgusting. Most of those men have wives at home, and children too. No one has any sense of family or loyalty anymore –and the whole thing is one big secret. A secret that everyone knows, but no one talks about. When we go out they all whisper and stare. The same men who'll visit her twice a month will whisper to their wives that she shouldn't be allowed to raise a son, that it's not decent. I can't stand them, any of them –not anymore.

I want to do something about it, but my mom tells me to calm down, that I can't let my anger issues get the better of me. And when I do get angry, she cries and tells me that I remind her of my dad. What can I do? When stuff like that happens, I take a deep breath and apologize profusely. From what I understand, dad never did that –never apologized for anything. And I'd bet there's a lot he has to apologize for, a lot that he needs to answer for. One day I'll find him, and I'll make him pay. What kind of man treats his wife like that? Let's her leave to take care of herself and raise his son, and doesn't do a damned thing to stop it? I don't know the whole story... maybe he did try.

I'll always be there to comfort my mom, and I feel awful when I make her cry. Though it seems like that's becoming more common lately. I'm trying really hard to make her happy, but everything about this life looks bleaker by the day. Mom's getting depressed, but I know that she's been fighting depression off for years. She's getting older, and though she's well known and reputed, business is slowing –and the requests are changing. Eventually mom's not going to be able to take care of us anymore... and that'll be up to me.

Day 1

Dean Winchester walked through the doors of his high school, the first day of his last year. The usual whisperings stirred up as he passed his classmates in the halls on his way to homeroom. The big joke last year was to call him Jesus, you know: son of the virgin Mary. They all thought it was a riot. If he didn't already know it would make his mother cry he would've gotten himself good and expelled over that. Instead he remained quiet and let them joke. What they say in high school is of no consequence when living your life in the real world. They would never understand how difficult life is for some people. This was never a fight of pride, only survival. Pride brought on needless battles.

Dean passed several familiar faces, people he'd seen far too much of over the summer break. He passed by the preacher's son –Castiel Novak. The boy tried so hard to remain ignorant of his father's activities, trying so hard to believe that his father was a righteous man, doing the work of his Father in heaven and all that. Dean was pretty sure Castiel blamed Mary for his father's corruption. The 'whore of babylon' as it were. Dean had never spoken with Castiel –which wasn't uncommon of Dean's interaction with other students.

Seating himself at the back of the class, Dean waited for the morning procession of 'welcome back' to occur before class finally started, so the day could finally end. The teacher was beaming upon entry to the classroom. Smiling brightly, she opened her arms to the class.

"Welcome back, everyone." She looked over her new flock for the year, and pointedly avoided eye contact with Dean. "For our final year I'd like you all to welcome your fellow graduate. He's just transferred here with his father's detail, and will be joining you for all the ups, downs, and celebrations of your graduating year. I'd like everyone to warmly welcome Sam Winchester." At the mention of the name 'Winchester' the class broke out in a quiet riot. Upon Sam's entrance, however, they were immediately silenced.

As the class took in the sight of their incredibly tall, incredibly built classmate, the teacher proceeded to give a little back story for the boy. "Sam here is a little younger than you all, by about two years. He's incredibly smart –having been offered membership to MENSA, but declining. He has won several awards for research projects and national spelling bees, and has been employed by the government's scientific community on several groundbreaking projects. Sam," the teacher moved to relinquish her metaphorical talking stick, "would you care to share a little about yourself with the class?"

Dean couldn't help but stare at the boy. The teacher said that Sam was younger than them, but judging from his superior intelligence and well developed body, no one would give him any flak for it. The teen looked like he was tough as nails, and wore the most nonchalant expression. If more of Mary's clients looked like that, accidently walking in on a business transaction wouldn't be so traumatizing.

Sam stared at the classroom ahead of him, his eyes looked cold and his stance told the same story. His gaze shifted to the teacher, not really wanting to take her up on the prompting. It was bad enough she went on about his spelling bees, now he had to talk about himself. What student, especially in grade 12 regardless of age, wants to do that? A shallow breath was all he needed before speaking, his tone reminiscent of someone answering to a drill sergeant. "Thank you for welcoming me to your class," his gaze drifted over the faces staring at him, "I'm not easy to push around so don't try it. I'm not here to be your friend I'm here to study, please don't be offended if I ignore you. I will only accept being referred to as Sam, Samuel, or Winchester. If you call me Sammy I will punch you. I hope I've made myself clear." He looked to the teacher, ignoring her expression, "I will seat myself now." Sam's introduction had matched his stance and expression perfectly: Fuck off. Of all people Dean could respect someone's wishes to be left the hell alone; after all, those were his wishes as well.

With that, Sam found an empty seat and faced the front. He was taller but the only open seat was near the front, he ended up sitting ahead of Castiel who was much shorter. Cass scratched the back of his head in contemplation; he could either ask his new peer to trade spots or just accept that he'd sat in a bad place. Cass decided against bugging Sam.

The teacher started her lesson, the intro to the year that no one really wants to sit through. Cass glanced over at Dean sitting across from him. They'd never spoken, not much anyway. After having decided that this year would be different than the rest, Castiel knew that Dean was where he should start. Dean was an outcast and Cass was tired of being grouped in with the rest of the assholes that bugged him, even though Cass had never done it himself. The black haired male leaned over in good will, "Hey, Dean." He smiled and motioned toward Sam, "Are you two related? He's a Winchester too, figured I'd ask."

Dean looked at Castiel with a slightly perturbed expression, not sure if he was being teased again, or if Castiel was seriously curious. "I have no relatives, it's just my mother and I." Dean looked Castiel in the eye, still unsure of what this was all about. Maybe he asked just so he could drop the name 'Winchester' around the new kid, and maybe get a reaction out of him.

Dean leaned in closer and whispered harshly, "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here, but I don't want to have any part of it, do you understand me?" Dean's tone indicated how serious he was, but his eyes had the expression of a wounded animal –instinctively defensive. Years of cruel high school peers and twisted social interactions had left him hurt and closed off. Castiel's attempts at a mended relationship would take a fair bit of time.

Cass flinched at Dean's reaction and nodded his head, "I'm sorry, I was only curious if you knew Sam, that's all." He spoke softly, hoping Dean wouldn't take further offense. Cass had never been one to insult Dean, though he'd never helped his peer either so he deserved the reaction he received.

Sam hadn't flinched at the sound of his name; he was too busy thinking over the course of the last few days.

Sam walked into the house and spotted several boxes stacked in the kitchen. Curiosity was the first feeling that rose in his mind though he quickly answered the questions on his own. John Winchester came into view moments later, his tired form continuing to throw things into random cardboard containers. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious." John's voice was harsh and agitated as always.

Sam almost growled, his muscles tensing, "Alright fine, why are you packing?"

"We're moving." John spoke simply and to the point, as if his answer was the end-all be-all.

"No, we're not!" Sam shouted, taking several steps forward. "You didn't even mention this, you can't spring up moving out of the blue!"

"Too bad," John turned to face him, anger and frustration growing in his eyes, "We're moving and that's final. I was transferred to a place in Lawrence,"

"I'm graduating this year! Why can't this wait? My friends are-"

"It can't wait, Sam. Now go pack your things."

"No."

"I'm not asking, Sam." John turned and continued tossing things in boxes.

Sam clenched his fists. He knew there was nothing he could say. A frustrated shout escaped him and he stormed to his room, following his orders. His mind racing, looking for a way to stay though he knew he was too young to live on his own.

They'd arrived at their new house and Sam was put through the usual drills. John being ex-marine and somewhat of a control freak, he tried to keep Sam under his thumb and forced him to train. He'd lost his wife and oldest son; he wasn't going to lose Sammy too. He'd never told Sam about his brother or mother, he'd lied and said they had been killed in some accident. That way Sam would never leave him to find them. At that time John had no idea that Mary and Dean were living in Lawrence.

Dean looked over at Sam, the tallest guy in class, now seated in the second row. Dean looked back at Castiel, who appeared helpless in Sam's shadow. Dean didn't particularly want to be seen by the teacher, and leaned back in to Castiel. "Did you want to switch?"

Cass looked up in surprise and quickly nodded his head, "Yes, thank you." Maybe his friendly attempts were working after all, though he mostly doubted it. Just to be sure, Cass decided he'd stay back when the class let out; knowing Dean had a habit of lagging.

Dean collected his books and shuffled desks with Castiel, and happily sat behind Sam –hidden from the teacher's judgemental stares.

The teacher's name was Gloria Lanset, and her husband was a city police officer. He frequently made midnight stops at the Winchester residence to call on Mary, which wasn't unusual of anyone in town really. What was odd was that Officer Lanset shared his endeavours with his wife. On occasion Gloria would accompany her husband to watch the deed, and possibly join in. Two weeks ago she asked Mary to bring Dean into the room. Mary promptly refused, and when Gloria pressed the matter, Mary turned on George and reminded him that his wife was requesting sexual interaction with a minor. He wasn't keen on supporting Mary's argument over his wife's, but with that reminder came the underlying threat of ceasing her services. Dean was left alone.

Dean was last to exit the class for break, straggling behind to avoid the main surge of bodies into the halls. Castiel had been terribly "smiley" with him today, and it was extremely off-putting. Apparently the preacher's son wanted to continue his attempts at small talk, and had stayed behind with Dean.

"Alright Castiel, really. What are you doing? It's really... freaking me out." Dean shifted uncomfortably, fully distrusting of this social interaction. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam, the one he really wanted to talk to –figuratively speaking, of course. Sam wanted to be left alone, and Dean didn't want to disturb him, but the guy looked like an upright individual. And he was... attractive.

It was inevitable that Dean would ask. Why would someone who barely spoke to you for over four years start now? "I didn't mean to freak you out," Cass adjusted his books as he approached Dean's side; "I just wanted to... well, mend the 'relationship' between us. I've been cold toward you in the past and I wanted to change that. If it's alright, I'd like to be friends." Cass didn't expect it to work right off the bat but it didn't hurt to try early.

Dean paused, not just his speech and not just any movements he may have been carrying out with his book bag –his mind ground to a halt. Part of him wanted to write off everything Cass was doing as a trick to get him to drop his guard, and that was a pretty big part. But there was some truth in Cass' voice that carried through. The preacher's son had never been one to pick a fight or to start a rumour. Actually if Dean thought about it, Castiel followed the integrity portions of his religion rather well.

"You want to be... friends?" Dean's confusion was evident, laden with disbelief. He looked Castiel over again, just to be sure. Having some kind of social connection at school wouldn't be a bad thing –not in his last year of school. It could also be a very very bad thing. "Alright, I guess so." Dean didn't have to ask if Cass knew his reputation –the guy was more than aware. It still baffled Dean, but he'd at least test the waters.

Sam, who had stayed for a moment to be spoken to by Mrs. Lanset, pushed past the two conspiring near the door and down the hall.

Dean let out a forced gulp of air when Sam shoved passed. "Watch it," he answered out of habit. Keeping on good terms with his peers didn't even exist on his priority list, and it just sort of slipped out. As far as Dean could tell, Sam hadn't actually heard him.

Sam's strides were long and carried him like he knew exactly where he was going, though he didn't know the school at all. Those green eyes drifted over the faces ahead of him for the second time today, many faces turning to look. Apparently he already had several rumours about him floating around, though he didn't care. He would have just walked to his locker, exchanged his books for the next class' and gone to the classroom. That's what he would have done, if someone hadn't shouted from behind him; "Hey Sammy!"

Sam's head snapped in the direction, it was one of the males from his first class, surrounded by several friends. 'He hadn't had the balls to call me Sammy earlier on, so he waited until he had back up. Very cute.' Sam turned around, a friendly expression and a smile on his face. He walked over to the young man that shouted down the hall, "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." His voice came across as light-hearted to the bullies, getting a bit of a grin out of the guy that started it.

"See? I knew you wouldn't punch me, Sammy. Name's Tristan." The smug expression he wore was immediately erased as both of Sam's fists, one after the other, came in and rammed him onto the floor.

"Well Tristan, I warned you." Sam spat at him, his gaze shifting to the shocked faces of Tristan's friends. When none of them moved, Sam turned and headed back down the hall without another word.

Cass blinked incredulously and looked at Dean as if to ask 'did you see that!' though he couldn't find the words. Dean exchanged glances with Cass to be sure his classmate had seen the same thing he had. No one really expected someone to start swinging after being called 'Sammy', regardless of the threat he'd uttered earlier. Cass stared down the hall to see that Tristan wasn't just on the floor, he was unconscious. A light "Huh" vibrated in Castiel's throat, "Serves him right, I guess."

"Ha ha HA! Jackass had it coming." Dean grinned from ear to ear –every passing encounter had him liking Sam more and more... well, except that being shoved at the door, but they were standing right in front of it.

The rest of the day dragged on, and Dean vanished during lunch period. Part of it was to avoid the potential bullying, and part of it was stay away from Castiel. He wanted to be friends with him, but being overwhelmed on the first day was a great way to lose it with the eager would-be friend.

Dean walked in the front door, and counted shoes in the foyer –no visitors right now. "Mom, I'm home." Dean heard the quick stifle of tears in the other room, and quickly went to check on her. It was evident by the redness and puffiness of her eyes that she had been crying for some time. "Mom, what happened?" Dean dropped down beside her, placing an arm across her back and trying to comfort her. "Did someone hurt you?"

Mary shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Don't worry about it, honey. We'll make it through."

"No, you're going to tell me what's wrong. You can't just leave it like this. Why are you crying?" Dean's brow furrowed, concern evident in his eyes. His mom tried so hard to keep things together, and to keep him out of it. It was hard to feel like he was capable of protecting her when it was obvious she was the one protecting him.

"We're... going to lose the house. I haven't been able to keep up with the payments lately, and the bank claims that since I'm a single parent with no legitimate source of income, it just looks bad to allow us to keep the house." Mary pulled a letter out, the plain black print clearly read: 'Eviction Notice.'

Dean was shocked. He knew this sort of thing didn't happen overnight –it would have taken months of accumulation. Or possibly she accidently pissed off a banker, who has now decided to get even. "Where are we going to go? Would it help if I got a job?"

Mary shook her head, "Who in this town would hire you? We'd have to move towns, and we still wouldn't be able to get a house. Never mind we don't have a vehicle to move with."

Dean frantically tried running through answers, wanting desperately to fix things. Nothing was perfect, put at least if things had stayed the same they couldn't get worse. "Do you know a Sam Winchester? About two or three years younger than me? He and his dad just moved to town... Are we related? Would they help?"

Mary's eyes opened wide, and Dean wasn't sure if it was horror or shock, but there was no glimpse of hope to be found there. "Oh my god..."

"What, mom? What is it?"

"Just go, I'll take care of it."

Dean didn't bother asking 'go where.' She wanted to be left alone, and apparently she did know those other Winchesters. Dean was sick of not knowing and not helping, so his last ditch effort plan started formulating in his head. Of all the people in this town who fucked his mother, how many would help her? Dean figured a big fat zero would be an accurate approximation. But there was one man who'd be an endless case of hypocrisy if he didn't lift a finger...

As the sun set, Dean came up on the church –lead by pastor Novak. In the old days people who needed shelter could call on the church. The icon of Jesus Christ was one who spoke with the whores and the drug addicts, those who needed help. There should be no reason why the pastor would turn them away now, and with enough blackmail there was even less reason for him to turn them away. Dean knocked on the door.

Knock knock knock.

"Castiel," Jimmy called from his study. ...no answer. "Castiel! Get the door please,"

Cass, having been busy with dinner, grumbled quietly to himself before answering, "Yes, father." He lowered the heat on the stove, just in case this took longer than he'd expected. He wasn't sure why his dad insisted on having him answer the door when most people knocked to speak with 'Father Novak'. Regardless, Cass wiped his hands on his apron before quickly removing it and jogging down the hall to the front door. "Coming!" He called as he approached, knowing it took him a bit to get there and didn't want their guests to think no one was home.

Dean thought it sort of odd that the Novak's resided within the church; the house itself was attached to the church, but wasn't really part of it. The set up did make it rather easy to find the preacher when you needed him though.

Castiel swung the door open, "Hello?" His eyes widened when Dean's broken expression came into view.

Dean's gaze rose up from the ground, and his eyes settled into Castiel's; the exchange from moments before with his mother playing over and over in his mind. The implications of his mother's declining business clientele, their depleting capital resources, the potential problems with his own employment, all coupled with impending homelessness and the possibility of his mother now having enemies was just too much to keep hidden from his outward expressions.

"Oh my... Come in," he took Dean's arm gently and tugged him into the house. The distress on the young Winchester's face was enough to warrant letting him in, Cass didn't care why he was knocking on their door just thankful that Dean had chosen the Novak's over anyone else.

Dean followed Castiel into the kitchen and took the seat offered to him. He looked around at the place –apparently the preacher had a fairly good income. Dean wondered how much of the parishioners' donations actually made it to where they thought it would go. Speaking of, where did they think it was going? Everything was clean, spic, and span. But for all of the new and all of the wealth, Dean could tell immediately that it lacked a mother's touch.

"I'd bring you to the living room but I'll burn dinner so we'll talk here." Cass adjusted the heat on their meal again before turning back to face Dean, leaning onto the back of the chair opposite him.

Dean didn't bother asking if he could have any food, he wasn't a mooch and he could find his own way. Just as the thought crossed his mind, his mother's words came floating back: "Don't bother with battles of pride." Dean hung his head, he wasn't sure how, but he had more pride than he knew what to do with and wasn't even sure how he'd come to acquire it. Swallowing pride, Dean looked up at Cass. "Is it possible to get some food?"

Cass looked at the stove and quickly nodded, "Yes! Of course you can, I'm sorry I should have offered." He could see the battle of pride in Dean's face and felt a pain in his chest, he hated to see people struggle to ask for things they needed. "It's no bother, don't worry about it." He looked Dean in the eyes now, "Okay, tell me what's going on." His tone of voice was soft and comforting; he wanted Dean to know he was there to help. He sincerely hoped he didn't come across as pushy.

After having been ditched at school Cass was wondering what Dean really wanted. He hadn't gotten a chance to really expression how happy he was to hear Dean was willing to be his friend, maybe that was why Dean avoided him during lunch. Maybe Dean felt underappreciated; Cass had to make sure he fixed that.

It occurred to Dean now that it looked like he came here to talk to Cass. It was only earlier today that Cass had proposed friendship between them, and now Dean came calling at late hours and it was evident that something was amiss. How would he tell him that he'd actually come to see Father Novak? Maybe it would be easier not to talk to the preacher, Cass could talk to him instead.

"It has to do with my mom." Dean watched Castiel carefully for negative physical feedback. The one thing he couldn't stand was people talking bad about his family... which happened only to be his mother, but all the same.

Cass' body language showed no signs of judgement, only a sad tint in his bright blue eyes. He nodded his head slowly, urging Dean to continue. He wasn't one to assume anything about people, though he wasn't entirely sure Dean knew that about him.

"We're running on broke, and now the bank has served an eviction notice. We're going to be out of a home, and soon. My mom wouldn't have told me unless she'd already tried everything else. I don't think we have much time left and we need a place to stay." Dean looked somewhat pleadingly at Castiel, "I was hoping that the church would help. Despite everything, my mom does attend every Sunday –almost every sermon. Please, if you could talk to your father, or let me. I just don't know where we can go." Dean looked down to his lap and fidgeted with his hands. "She'll never ask anyone for help, this is all I could think to do."

Cass couldn't help but shake his head, "I'm sorry to hear that." He'd been taught to start by expressing his condolences, second came the advice or bad news, depending on the situation.

Cass thought through several options, one that they could get people to donate to help them out but that wouldn't help fast enough. Another idea involved buying them a house but the Novak's didn't have that kind of money either. Most people that visited them saw some of the lavish things laying about and thought they might have been pretty well off. The truth was that the nice things scattered about were gifts from friends and church-goers. The setup of their housing section looked extravagant because that's how the old church was originally built, made it look 'vintage'. All in all, however, if it weren't for Cass' personal additions to their combined income, his father would have put them out on the street with his ridiculous habits and addictions.

The last idea he could come up with was to offer Dean and his mother to stay with them. "Well," he continued his train of thought after halting it for a few moments. "What if you moved into the church with us?" he paused to check the food and removed it from the heat, nothing like Hamburger helper before bed.

Dean's eyes lit up, that was exactly what he was looking for. It was a church, a sanctuary, it was supposed to shelter people in need... that's what Dean tried to tell himself. That's what his mother would want him to believe. She was so devout, it hurt.

"Angels are watching over you, sleep tight."

Dean shook his head. She was always hoping for that glimmer of light to swoop down and save them. Or maybe she believed that it was always there, stopping things from getting worse. Who knows. All Dean knew was that it didn't work for them. Hadn't in the past, and wasn't helping now. Those useless angels were either complete fiction, or complete dicks. Ironically, the preacher's son was offering help, maybe it was a sign.

"I mean, I'd have to check with my father but it's an option I think." Cass sat down at the table, letting their meal cool.

"What's an option?" Jimmy walked in carrying a coffee mug that said #1 Dad on it, something Cass had given him about ten years ago.

Dean jumped in his seat. He wasn't expecting Pastor Jimmy to sneak up behind him. It was always more difficult for Dean to look in the eyes of men he's seen fucking his mother. It stirred a rage he just couldn't satiate. The preacher was the worst; why? Because he's a fucking preacher.

"Well Dean and his mother are going through difficult times and they need our help." Cass glanced up at his dad though he was a little unsure about how he should explain this. "They're being evicted and we're they're only option."

Jimmy sipped his coffee, thoughts brewing behind his eyes, "Well..." He lowered the mug and looked at Dean, "I'm not sure if we're they're only option, Castiel." He spoke to Cass though his eyes were on Dean, "Have you and your mother discussed this already or are you just looking?"

Looking up at the man, Dean could see the disapproval roaming in those eyes. He wanted to tell Dean to leave, that his mother's problems were no problem of his, Dean could just feel it. His hazel eyes narrowed, rage fluttering in his chest. This bastard was making him sick, the hypocrisy would choke him, but thankfully Cass felt similarly, whether he was aware of it or not.

"That doesn't matter," Castiel stood up and looked Jimmy in the eye, "What matters is he's come knocking and we should answer, let them stay here."

Dean's trembling fists loosened, somehow he knew having Cass ask would work a hundred times better.

Jimmy sighed and sat down next to Dean, "I just want him to know he has more than one option." He looked away from Cass and at Dean, "We will help you if you're stuck, Dean." He placed a gentle hand on the young Winchester's, a caring smile on his face. One that, if Dean were to look at Castiel's reaction to it, he would know it was just a habit and not a real smile. "If you decide to move in with us, we'll need you to cover your own expenses like food and we'll ask for a small amount for the use of the facilities, whatever you can manage." "However," he looked down at his coffee then back at Dean, "Have you spoken to the new Winchester's in town? Maybe you know them?"

Dean could tell that, from Castiel's expression, Cass thought that his father was being incredibly fake. What Dean saw was entirely different. The tenderness of the touch was something... less than priestly and the smile wasn't your usual condolence. The fact that the man said immediately after that Dean would have to find a way to pay for their expenses only sealed the unspoken arrangement. Dean nodded somberly, and as if to say that it was optional, and his arm wasn't being completely twisted into this agreement.

"However," Jimmy looked down at his coffee then back at Dean, "Have you spoken to the new Winchester's in town? Maybe you know them?"

"I don't know them," Dean answered quickly. "I asked my mother about them earlier, and she didn't say a thing about them. It's probably just a coincidence." Dean thought about it, and given how awkwardly dire the situation was becoming, it might very well be a good idea to investigate the Winchester residence. Making a mental note, Dean decided that talking to Sam after school would be a good idea.

Cass thought back to Sam's angry march down the hall earlier that day and shook his head, "I think you should get to know them better before asking for help," he insisted, not comfortable with the idea of Dean living with someone so violent.

"It's up to you Dean," Jimmy sipped from his mug, "What sort of plan did you have in mind? We're offering a bunch of things but I'm not sure what you're looking for."

Dean looked up at the man, still sipping away at his damned coffee. "What I'm looking for is some damn empathy. I've already said we need a place to stay, and Cass has already emphasized that need. And I know full well that you are completely aware of our situation and my mother's wary employment. So please, pastor Jimmy, if you could find it in your heart to let us stay here until we can get back on our feet, that would be greatly appreciated." Dean tried hard not to speak through gritted teeth, and when asking for help and shelter it was best not to insult the man. Dean hoped that he hadn't blown the offer sky high. For good measure he quickly added, "Please."

Dean's tone of voice was almost enough to anger the preacher, though he didn't seem to mind it so much. "Of course, when it comes to that our doors are open to you." Jimmy smiled and pat Dean's shoulder reassuringly though it was far from it. "Good to see you again, I must return to my study. Got a lot to prepare for this weekend's sermons." With that, Jimmy walked out.

Cass lowered his head a little, seeing someone have to resort to pleading with his father made him feel sick. If they came in pleading that was a different story, but having to lower themselves to it because he was being an ass? That just wasn't right. "I'm sorry, Dean." Cass sighed and split the meal into three sections, placing the one with the most food in front of his guest. "I'll do what I can for you," He gave a sympathetic smile before heading down the hall to hand his father supper.

After eating, Dean showed himself to the door, though Cass did accompany him. "Thanks again, Castiel, I really appreciate it. I'm going to go tell my mom the good news, we'll pack up our things right away. As for when we move in..." Dean paused to think about it. "It'll probably be sooner than anyone wants. But thank you. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"You're welcome," Cass smiled, "And don't worry, regardless of how my father is, my arms are open with no attachments, you won't owe me anything. Have a good night." He watched as Dean disappeared down the front steps of the church and down the street, even with some good news he was still down trodden. 'Of course he is, if you were evicted wouldn't you be? Even if a good friend let you stay for a little bit? Whatever help they get doesn't fix the problem.' Cass sighed and closed the door.

Unsure of whether or not he'd given his mother enough time or not, Dean quickly made his way back home. Narrowly avoiding homelessness was definitely good news, and he hoped his mother would feel the same way. Throwing open the front door, Dean caught sight of two foreign pairs of shoes, and kept quiet. Mother had guests, and he didn't need to be making a scene and messing it up. He quietly snuck to his room –the news could wait until tomorrow.