"How 'bout you tell me, and then you can ask me anything?" Castiel suggests.
Dean pauses, thinking this over. "Tempting," he replies. "You're a mystery to me and I'd like to figure you out. But this... This isn't just, like, little confession time. This is... This is huge."

"Well, if you really don't want to talk about it, I won't push," Castiel assures him. He's been in that boat a few times before, and he would have appreciated people dropping it then.

Dean hesitates, then asks, "Can I save my question for later?"

"Sure," Castiel replies.

"And you have to answer honestly," Dean adds.

Castiel nods slowly. "Uh-huh..."

"Good. So, uh... My story. Great." He says the last part not so much with sarcasm but with defeat. He exhales slowly, drawing out the breath before he begins. "Well, I might as well tell the whole thing. Um... When I was four and Sammy was six months old, my mom was killed. Burned alive, actually. That was, um, fourteen years ago.

"My dad took it pretty hard. They had been close. Claimed they had the perfect marriage. When she died, he started... Well, he spent more time at bars than at home. But he still managed to work like that, possibly better than without it.

"Within a year — less, actually — he was on the police force. He was convinced she was murdered, and he was determined to prove it. Well, he did. It took him a year or so to convince the rest of the cops, but he figured it out long before that.

"It was a serial killer, and a damn good one. No one had even put it together until my dad. The only clue was that he left sulfur behind at every kill. My dad spent a good ten years trying to find the son of a bitch that killed my mom, but he never did.

"Then, little over two years ago, he was... he was shot. He, um... He didn't make it. He was on duty, and there was a robbery at some convenience store. It got a bit more violent than they thought, and he got... he got shot in the head. The police told me and Sammy that it was a quick death, but I knew they were lying. It wasn't quick. Far from it."

Dean takes a short break from his memory. Remembering it clearly takes a toll on him, and he needs a moment to recuperate before he continues.

"Anyway, uh, back to Adam. He's my dad's son. Judging by the years, my dad only waited about nine months before he... Yeah, you get the picture. But after all that talk about how much he loved my mom and how he wanted to avenge her death, he just... I just can't believe he did that. It's... I'm sorry. I'm ranting."

"That's okay," Castiel assures him. "And I'm sorry about your mom. I didn't realize..."

Dean nods. "Yeah, it's... It was a long time ago, but you never get over that sort of thing, you know?"

"Yeah," Castiel replies, thinking of his own mother. "Yeah, I know."

"What happened to your mom, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Uh... Well, I was four, too," Castiel tells him. "It was a couple months after Anna was born, and she just disappeared. She was presumed dead after a while, and few weeks later, they found her body floating in a river in the woods a few miles away.

"I think they say she drowned somehow, but Chuck tried to keep anything but the fact that she was dead from us. It's probably for the best. A four year old definitely doesn't need to hear how their mom died. But yeah, that's it."

Castiel shrugs as if to say "What can you do?", as if just the thought of his mother doesn't make him want to cry. He fights back the tears; he always does when his mother is concerned. Until he's alone, anyway.

"Oh, that's... That's horrible," Dean says sympathetically.

"Yeah," Castiel agrees. "But at least I'm not alone on that front." He sighs. "This is depressing. Um... Wow, yeah. That's depressing."

Dean nods. "Tell me about it."

The two finally reach the Novaks' house, though neither of them make a move to go.

"We can't leave on such a sad note," Dean says.

"Hey, anything to get me out of going in there," Castiel replies with a glance at his house.

"It can't be that bad."

"It is," Castiel tells him. "Between the little kids and the older cousins, it just... It sucks. Big time. I would much rather hang with you instead."

"The feeling's mutual," Dean replies. "You're way more fun than Sam and Bobby. And Adam," he adds afterwards, just remembering the boy. "Are you sure you can't just sneak back to my house?"

"Ugh, I wish," Castiel replies honestly. "Just shoot me now." Noticing Dean's expression, he adds, "In a metaphorical sense, of course." He glances back at his house and sighs. "Well, I'm gonna risk it."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. I'm gonna need it."

"Bye, Cas. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Castiel replies before making his way to his house. He takes a deep breath before opening the front door. This is going to be bad. It always is.

Strings AttachedWhere stories live. Discover now