Dean knew something was wrong when Cas didn't know up for their study session in the library.

Castiel always showed up.

It had been two weeks since they'd 'made up', and gradually, they were becoming much closer.

It started with Dean freaking the fuck out when he heard Castiel had never once even listened to Metallica. Ever. And then it became:

"Come over to my house; I'll show you some real music."

Which progressed to:

"Come on, just stay for dinner. I've already kept you late enough."

Which in turn travelled to:

"Cas, you're at my house pretty much all the time. Why not sleep over?"

And so a solid friendship was created. It seemed as if they spent most of their time in contact with each other, whether it involved working on their dreaded project, or just hanging out, or just texting back and forth.

Dean had never hung out with his popular crew much to begin with, but now, they were becoming seemingly obsolete. He'd grown to use the excuses, 'My dad'll kill me if I don't ace this project', or 'I'm just not feeling up to it, family problems, you know?' much more than he had before, as he didn't know what would happen if they found out he was spending all of his time with Castiel, the "bible freak."

These were false, of course, Bobby and Ellen were great, and didn't give a crap about his grades if he was trying his best. But he'd never had one of the jocks over at his house, so they didn't know.

In reality, Castiel wasn't. A bible freak, that is.

They hardly ever talked about God, like they hardly ever talked about Cas' family, both which seemed like sore subjects best left untouched.

They were comfortable with each other.

Dean sometimes felt his eyes wander, taking note of the plumpness of Cas' lips, or the striking blue of his eyes. There would be a vacantness in his chest, an absense, one he didn't like to think about. His feelings for Cas had to stay platonic. He knew Castiel didn't want anything else. And he was mildly alright with that.

And so Dean was getting used to having a concrete friendship, used to meeting up everyday and talking, and so when Castiel didn't show up in the library, he was worried. They had planned to study for their chemistry midterm (they were in different classes, but had the same teacher) together, and then head out for pizza afterwards.

He tapped the end of his pencil against the desk impatiently, eyes searching for the pale swish of a trenchcoat, or black tufts of hair.

But a half hour after they had agreed to meet, Castiel still wasn't there.

"Shit, Cas, what the hell is taking you so long?" Dean muttered to himself, running his hands through his hair.

He took out his phone.

Right as he was about to type out a message, it rang, making him jump just a bit. People around him turned, and he laughed nervously, picking it up. The name 'Castiel' flashed across his screen as he pressed it to his ear.

"Hey, Cas, buddy, I need you. Where'd you go off to?"

"Dean." Castiel's voice was raw and breathy, with a hint of urgency he'd never heard before. His voice was quiet.

"Cas, what's wrong?" He leaned forward, listening close to hear him.

"Dean. It seems I won't be able to make our appointment."

"What? Why?"

"It seems-" He heard Cas wince in pain, and his heart flipped. What the hell was going on? "It seems that someone at our school found out about my sexuality."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Crowley, he, er, found me afterschool. Made it clear he wasn't very accepting of the fact that I was gay."

"Are you saying he did something to you?" Dean lowered his voice, jaw set and hard. If Crowley laid a hand on Castiel, he swore he would-

"Yes. But you don't need to-"

"Where are you?"

"Dean, I-"

"Cas, where are you? I'm coming to get you."

He heard Castiel sigh, defeated. "Outside the gym, in the alley."

"Don't move."

Castiel laughed, breathily, then coughed several times, what seemed very painfully. "That shouldn't be a problem."

SPNSPNSPN

"Jesus Christ," Dean hissed, as he came around the corner, and the image of Castiel, very obviously bruised, crept into his line of vision.

He rushed over, kneeling down to his level. Instantly, he could see his arm bent at a really, really wrong angle, and the right side of his face was a flushed purple. The sight made Dean's stomach twist.

"Hey, hey, you with me?" Dean muttered, using his hand to steady Castiel's back, to hold him upright. Cas mumbled something, his lips rose red with blood.

"Cas, come on. Here, we need to get you to the Impala." Dean tried to ignore the slap of his heart against his chest as it beat furiously against him. He felt physically ill, looking at Castiel broken like this. He tried to ignore his ocean floor eyes as he slipped his arm around his waist, and lifted him up.

Noises of half gargled recognition sounded in Dean's ear.

"Dean..." Cas whispered, eyes shut tight.

And then he was silent.

"Fuck, Cas, don't black out." He shook him lightly. Again. "Cas?"

No response.

"Alright, let's go." Dean grimaced, rising and lifting up the dark haired boy in one swift move.

Subconciously, Castiel nuzzled into Dean's side, cheek burrowing into the fabric of his leather jacket. Dean felt his heart do somersaults.

He moved quickly, but cautiously, as to not cause his friend any more pain.

SPNSPNSPN

Castiel's eyes fluttered open, the right one only halfway, as it was swollen shut. His head rested on many pillows positioned so he was somewhat upright. His eyes recognized the ACDC posters and the Playboy calenders scattered along the walls, and he knew immediately where he was, though not exactly.

He knew he was somewhere safe.

He could see the darkness of night through the windows, and he wondered what time it was.

He stayed like that, lying on his back for several minutes, scared to move and accidentally break, or pull something. He tapped his fingers against the soft fabric of the sheets below him, to the beat of the Led Zeppelin track vibrating in the room like electricity.

"Castiel?" A familiar voice broke into his thoughts.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a tall, gangly figure, and he smiled softly. He'd recognize that hair anywhere.

"Sam." His voice startled him, being soft, and broken, and so quiet, he'd doubted whether or not Sam had even heard him.

"Hey, man, you alright?" Sam asked, walking over, and kneeling down next to the bed. Castiel nodded, throat closing up.

"What the hell happened to you? Dean never explained," Sam continued, and the realisation dawned on Castiel.

He was in Dean's room.

Oh.

Dean had been the one to rescue him. He vaguely remembered passing out near him, though like most of his memory of what happened, it was fleeting.

"I don't-," Castiel coughed, clearing his throat, or at least trying to.

"Cas," a new voice interjected, and Cas strained his neck to look up, blue eyes meeting Dean's green.

"Hello, Dean." He said, tone completely scratchy.

"I'll leave you two," Sam said, before standing up and leaving, giving Castiel a quick smile.

Dean waited until the door closed before going into full panic mode.

"I'm going to kick Crowley's ass so hard, Cas, I swear, he'll be limping for weeks, Jesus Christ, look at you-"

"Is it really that bad?"

"Oh. No. Not at all, really, just-"

Castiel chuckled. "I was kidding, Dean. I am well aware I look like I was in a bar fight."

Dean smiled a half smile, sitting down on the bed, careful not to get to close to him. His eyes wandered to how roughed up he looked, and Dean felt like vomiting. He caught Castiel's gaze, not able to tear away from heavy lidded, ocean eyes.

"I am afraid I am going to fall back asleep soon," Castiel noted.

"Alright." Dean kept on staring. "Are you... in pain?"

Cas winced. "Yes. Very much."

Dean nodded, looking at his lap. Abruptly, his eyes felt wet, swimming with his stupid ass feelings, and his dumb fuck emotions he wish he could press down deep inside, tuck down into his carcass, so that no one could see, but now here he was, about to cry in front of the boy he was in love with.

He pursed his lips, jaw tight, as he tried to pull back the tears.

"Dean?" Cas asked, worried.

"I just- um-" He pressed his palm across his jaw, stroking the short hairs of stubble that rested there, catching his thumb on his lower lip. "I feel like- I feel like I have all these friends, but I only really have one. You, Cas. Everyone else, man, they don't know shit about me, and I could have lost you, today, Cas- that-" he let out slow, shaky exhale. "That is something I don't know I could live through.

"And I know we've only been friends for a couple a' weeks, but Castiel-" it was the first time in two weeks he'd called him by his full name. "God, man, just be careful, alright? Please."

On impulse, Cas' hand leaped forward, grabbing Dean's, taking ahold of his fingers in one swipt motion.

Dean took an intake of breath, not sure what to do next.

Tension shook between them.

Dean squeezed back, knuckles turning white as he clenched his hand, tight.

"I will try to be more careful, Dean. I am honoured to be your friend." His words were stiff, but Dean could see Castiel's eyes, warm with something.. an emotion he couldn't quite place. "Thank you, Dean, for getting me back here."

Cas did not let go of his hand.

"Yeah. Of course."

"Did you take me to the hospital?"

"No, uh, you were mumbling something about not wanting your parents to know, not wanting Gabriel to find out- somethin' like that, so we just took you home."

"We?" Castiel asked, ignoring the comments about his family.

"Sam and I. Mom fixed you up when you got home."

Castiel nodded. He had met Mary Winchester many times before. Castiel let go of his hand, trying to ignore the falter in Dean's expression.

"I am very tired."

"Oh- okay."

"Can you sleep with me?"

Dean's eyes blew wide.

"No, no..." Cas shook his head, already yawning. "I can't explain it, but I feel uneasy. I think I would like you, uhm-" He lifted his gaze, and tilted his head. "If you could just be here, with me." Castiel breathed out.

Dean figured he was afraid.

Afraid of being alone, afraid of getting attacked again; Dean wished he could push all of his fears away.

Well.

He could try.

"Ye- Yeah. Sure, Cas." Castiel groaned as he turned on his side, ribs aching as he did so.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded, but just barely.

Dean laid down, and Castiel felt the bed dip with his weight. He immediately let out a breath, before reaching back behind him, and taking Dean's hand in his, and bringing it around to his chest, so Dean's arm wrapped around his torso.

"Cas- are you-"

"Just, Dean, please. I feel safe right now. Please."

Dean had never heard Cas' voice so needy before. So he nodded, cuddling up against his back, ignoring the thumping in his chest, the whirring in his brain, the feelings in his heart. His cheek laid on the fabric of Castiel's trenchcoat. He smiled against it.

Dean's stereo system was still playing; this time a song he'd learnt to love, though the genre usually wasn't his favourite, White Blank Page, by Mumford and Sons.

The steady strum of the guitar lulled his eyes to close, as the lyrics strangley matched the situation.

Can you lie next to her
And give her your heart, your heart
As well as your body
And can you lie next to her
And confess your love, your love

And so, there Dean stayed, until sleep took them both.