Dinner at 3 (Destiel AU)

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        It turned out that Dean's father had only found out about Adam several weeks ago.  He was bringing him and his mother to meet Sam and Dean when it happened. 

A truck rammed into the car. 

Adam made it out almost completely unharmed, besides a few scrapes and bruises. 

His Mother wasn't so lucky.  

She died on impact. 

        Dean's father was badly injured, and could barely walk on his own.  He had loads of brain damage too. 

        Dean's dad had to give up his job as a sales man and was bound to a desk, pushing a pencil.  And he hated it with a fury that he'd let out on anyone close enough to be hit.  

        Adam moved in with them; he had no where else to go.  Dean swapped out his Impala for a run down Geo Metro and his natural happiness for a bottle of alcohol.  He didn't talk about it with me or around me; he spent most of his time with me though.  We were constantly exhausted so we slept, ate, and watched TV and...Other stuff.  

        Sam and Dean both spent more time at my house then their own, I never asked why, I thought it'd be rude.   But I assumed it was because things must be awkward with their Dad and Adam.  Dean said Adam was smart, real smart.  He did all his home work and them some, he played all these different instruments and he'd skipped a grade.  Dean was really proud of both his little brothers.  It made me happy.  

        But no matter how many epigrams he used to defer my thoughts on what might be possibly going on inside his head, I knew something was wrong.  It was the way his green eyes didn’t shimmer as much as his bright white smile did.  The way he flinched when I went to put my arms around him.  The way he stared out of the window like he was thinking about something painful.  And we didn't 'sleep' together as much; the more time went on the less we did.  He wouldn’t even take off his damn coat around me; and it smelt like liquor.  The worst part of it all was Sam was the same.  Because that meant one and only one thing.  The two people I loved most were experiencing something deeply emotionally disturbing, and I couldn’t turn to one of them to help the other.  I was all alone.

It was a Thursday.  Again.  I felt like I was trapped in an eternal loop of Thursdays.  I bet you I'd die on a Thursday.  It was a Thursday.  Rain came down from the sky in big fat droplets like angel tears. They splashed on the concrete of the schools side walk and I rushed through the front door of the building.  My hair slopped off to one side, dripping wet with rain.  I started to stomp to my first class my sneakers squeaking quietly among the roar of voices around me.  That's when I saw Sam.  He was sitting quietly in the corner of the commons, his head shoved in a book and his hood drawn over his face, which was weird for Sam, cause he never had his hood up.  He must have seen me coming because he got up and quickly scuttled off into the crowd of people.

Something was up. 

I could feel it.  

 Being the nosy ass hole (AKA a very concerned friend) I am, I followed him.  So this may sound creepy, but Sam was my friend.  And I'm selfish, and I couldn't- no wouldn't loose him.  Not another friend, not again.  Either way, if I lost him I don't know where I would be at. 

He made a sharp turn into the boy’s bathroom, this made me uncomfortable.  Maybe I was wrong maybe he just had to poop really really bad.  Boy, I bet I look like an idiot.  Fuck, I'm going to be late to class.   I took one last into the bathroom, then down the clearing hall way and made the quick decision to get the hell to class. 

I knew he couldn't avoid me at lunch. 

So I made my way to class, quickly rushing down the hall, my sneakers didn't squeak any more.  I just tried to keep my thoughts on things that weren’t gonna rip me apart.

Today was Thursday. 

My name is Castiel Novak.

I have an algebra test today.

My eyes are blue.

Today is Thursday.

The rain continued to pound down in fat, droopy droplets.  Splashing into the concrete and forming a small stream down the side walk I usually sat on during lunch.  But today it rained, and when it rained I didn't eat.  I'd rather starve than have to find a spot to sit and eat inside the jungle called our school.  So I stood under a canopy at lunch, clutching my books and binders and pens in my arms, staring off at my side walk.  I remembered earlier, how I wanted to talk to Sam, but he wasn't any where to be seen.  Maybe he's skipping?  No he's too much of a goody two-shoes.   I went back inside and went to the bathroom where I saw him rush to only a few hours before.  The bathroom was small and smelt like boys and shit.  Literally, there's no way to describe the boy's bathroom than this.  Something caught my eye as I walked in.  Some one was sitting in the corner of the handicapped stall.  And by the looks of what they were wearing, it was Sam.  My sneakers scuffed hesitantly against the tile of the bathroom floor as I approached the stall door.  

I knocked softly.

"Sam?"

No answer. 

"Sam?"

I heard a shuffle and then a groan and then he spoke.

"What?"  He croaked softly.   There was the sound of him shifting slightly against the tile then nothing.

"Were you sleeping in there?"  I questioned.

"Yea."  He yawned loudly.

"Why?"

“I couldn’t sleep last night."

"Why?"

"Just couldn't."

I was tired. Not drowsy tired… Well a little bit of that but mainly tired of not getting the answers I needed.  So I threw my backpack under the door, and then quickly lowered my self under the door.  In the time that it took me to do this he'd gotten up and quickly turned into the corner of the stall. 

"Sam, What the fuck?" I asked putting a hand on his shoulder. 

"Leave me alone, Cas."  He hissed. 

I was taken aback, but mostly mad.  So I gripped his shoulder tight as possible and flung him around to face me.   His face was frightened and angry at the same time, his eyes flung open wide.  He quickly shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground, where our shoes almost touched.  A large purple bruise spread under his eye.  I thought about yelling at him, or punching something, but I understood.  I understood that that's not the right reaction.  And it was my job right now more than anything to make sure he was safe before anything else.  So I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed.  I knew that my hugs wouldn't cure anything but they had to help some how.  He writhed around in my arms for a moment, trying to break free of the iron grip, but I held him as best I could.  And finally he let go, he started to cry.  

"You're gonna be OK Sam, You're gonna be OK."  I cooed, trying to calm him down.  After a while he was just sniffling and we were sitting on the ground.  I pulled away from our hug and looked him in the eyes.  I wasn't sure what to do next, so I just went ahead and asked him.  

"Sam, what happened?"  He looked down at the ground. 

"Sam,” I started again, "Did your Dad do that?"  He softly nodded his head maintaining eye contact with the ground. "

 "You're gonna be OK Sam."  I repeated, no- promised.  And I was always hell bent on keeping my promises.