Tutoring (Destiel)

Chapter Twelve

Balthazar didn't know where to go, not until Dean finally gave him directions to his house. He said they could stay there till they found out what they were going to do, which they had no idea of themselves. Castiel was so deep in thought about his brothers and Michael and what was happening he didn't realize Dean was holding his hand. He looked down at their intertwined fingers and wondered how on earth he hadn't noticed before. It was probably when we were running out, he kind of did drag me behind him. Wait, but why didn't he let go? Castiel actually didn't care why he didn't let go, but he couldn't peel his eyes away.

Dean eventually noticed, "Sorry," he said sheepishly and pulled away. Castiel frowned, wanting to tell him he would love for him to hold his hand longer, or hold him in general, or even just to be near him for the rest of his life.

Castiel felt something drip from his face and land on his pants. He looked down and saw red. "Shit." He cursed wiping his chin quickly so the blood wouldn't fall anymore. He knew he had a nose bleed, and more then likely a busted lip...again. He has had the worst two weeks of his life, but the only good side was that now he could talk to Dean Winchester, although he knew too about Castiel to love him- and there was that whole Dean Winchester is straight, which especially sucked considering the way Castiel felt about men. He had been beaten up before by Crowley & Co. and Michael, but not that bad, not that often... his whole lift was going to shit.

"Cassie," Gabriel spoke up after a moment of silence. His tone was weak- scared.

"Yeah, Gabe?" He asked.

"What's going to happen?" He questioned. That was what everyone was wondering, Gabriel, Balthazar, Dean, hell Castiel didn't even know. "We aren't going back to Michael, are we?"

"No." Castiel returned fast. He wouldn't let that happen, he would run away, he'd hide, he do anything he could before Michael could get to them. "I just- I don't know what we're going to do...yet." He added the last part to try and assure his brothers. He didn't know if he'd ever have a plan.

"I'll help," Dean said from next to him. Castiel looked over. "I mean, like, in whatever way I can." Castiel nodded, silently thanking him.

A few minutes passed where all of them said nothing. Gabriel was scared, Castiel was bleeding, Dean was confused, and Balthazar- well- Balthazar seemed completely numb. They drove up to the salvage yard, Bobby wasn't anywhere to be seen, so they just stepped out of the car and went inside. Gabe and Balthy sat down on the couch, looking to Castiel for guidance. Dean, however, grabbed Castiel's arm and told the other two they'd be right back.

Dean took him into the bathroom, asked him to sit on the toilet seat (the lid was down), and then he started to rummage through the cabinet under the sink.

"What are you doing?" Castiel asked quietly. Dean pulled out a rag and soaked it in water. He rung it out and then went back over to Castiel. He brought the cloth to Castiel's face. Dean gave a few rubs before Castiel grabbed his hand and stood up. "I can clean myself up, you know." Dean frowned but didn't give the cloth to Castiel. "Dean?" His tone was confused. Dean looked away, staring at the ground.

"How long was he...?" Dean couldn't finish the sentence, his voice was quiet and unlike his usual self-confident facade.

"Dean," Castiel didn't want to talk about it...he never wanted to talk about it. In fact Castiel had been avoiding the problem for the five years he's lived with his brother. It all started happening when his parents died.

Michael wasn't drinking a lot when he turned eighteen and took his brothers in, but he'd still shove him around -it almost seem playful to someone who didn't hear the way Michael yelled at him or said their parents were dead because of him. Castiel never believed that lie, and looking back he should've realized that was the start of all this shit. When Michael turned twenty one the physical abuse followed when he would drink too much...

Although somewhere in Castiel's mind he almost wanted to thank his brother, he'd never be standing this close to the love of his life without him.

"Him and Crowley..." Dean continued, still averting his eyes. "How the hell did you make everything seem okay?" Castiel shook his head and started to pull the rag from Deans hand. Dean held on and Castiel decided to give up. Dean brought the wet cloth back up to Castiel's face.

"I had something to hope for...I think...I mean...I honestly have no idea." Castiel knew Dean was that something, of course he was looking directly in those emerald green eyes, so he had to cover his ginormous crush on the boy up by using his natural born awkwardness. Dean can't help but let his lips twitch up to a smirk and Castiel smiles, but regrets it because his face (mostly his lip) starts throbbing.

Dean pulls the rag away to reveal it's covered in blood. He washes it, rings it out, then goes back to wiping Castiel's face off. "You're a mess," Dean laughs under his breath, cleaning what Castiel could only think was the last of the blood from his face.

"Your pretty busted up too," Castiel joins in a light chuckle, raising his hand to brush against Deans cheek. Castiel suddenly gets over come by a powerful feeling of guilt. "Sorry about that." Castiel's fingers stay touching Deans cheekbone just because he can't believe he's this close to him. Because he can smell what Castiel can only describe as what he'd imagine Dean would smell like; leather, motor oil, and almost too much cologne. Castiel thinks it's an odd combo for a teenager to have on him, but considering where he lives and the aroma of the house that he's now in, it's almost expected. Castiel also stays where he is just because he knows he'll never be this close to Dean, he probably will never be able to feel his surprisingly smooth skin. And because he knows he will never be able see Deans eyes this close up. There's the perfect shade of green that Castiel assumes a painter can only dream of having in their color palette, and then there's the tiny flakes of gold which Castiel actually pulls back once he notices. It reminds his of the liquor Michael would drink; for some reason it had tiny flecks of gold on the bottom, and they'd float to the top whenever Mike would take a sip.

Dean notices the gesture and wants to ask why he pulled away (if he's being totally honest he loved the feel of Castiel's slightly callused but incredibly soft fingers on his cheek. He also wants to feel Castiel's hand in his own, because again, being brutally honest, he's been noticing himself staring at Cas and getting a heavy/hot/numb feeling in his chest and body and hands...but mostly head. Why the hell do feel like I want to kiss my tutor? That was the question he was struggling to find the answer to right now -that and, is he even gay? Or bi? And even if by the small chance he is, why the hell would he like me?) yet, instead of exploring these questions, asking them aloud, or just going on impulse, Dean Winchester decides to stick with the last thing Castiel said.

"It's not your fault." He paused. "I don't blame you if that's what you think."

Castiel wasn't thinking about that, he just felt sorry Dean got dragged into this.

A few seconds pass before Castiel speaks again. "I should probably go out and talk to my brothers." Dean understands and let's him go. Castiel wishes this private moment could last forever, just him and Dean, semi-well and close together for the rest of their lives, but he knows better, and he could sense his brothers uneasiness when they stepped into the house a couple of minutes ago.

Dean lingers for a moment, to put the rag in a laundry basket and curse himself for being a coward (he really wanted to slam his lips against Cas' after their stare lasted more than two seconds). Dean sighs, pushes his fingers through his hair, and goes out to join Castiel and his brothers.