Chapter 2:

It's the first day of classes. Castiel should be excited. Why isn't he excited?

Well, a part of him is excited. Most of him is terrified. As much as he's ready to learn, he's not so sure about the 'whole interacting with other students' thing. At least it's not in a purely social environment like the Orientation, it's a contrived and specific type of socialization.

Castiel can handle academic conversation. He's got his books, his class schedule printed out and laminated; he even bought a new computer though he prefers taking notes on paper.

He should be ready. He is ready.

Gabe is still in bed, mumbling something about the 'Candy Mountains' and a man named Charlie when Castiel leaves for his first class. He arranged his schedule so all his lectures are earlier in the day. He wants to be surrounded by people are as interested in learning as he is. He hopes the lazy, 'sleep-in' students will steer clear of his morning courses and possible group projects. Plus, he figures the earlier he wakes up to absorb information, the more time he will have to retain it the rest of the day.

Though his first class does not start until 8:30 AM, Castiel leaves Simcoe at 7:34 AM to choose the seat that he wants. The early bird gets the worm, right? But he overestimates the time it takes to get across campus and finds the door to the lecture hall still locked. He shudders. The last thing Castiel wants is a lazy or tardy professor.

He figures he needs to find a way to waste the time. The library definitely isn't an option so with a sigh Castiel decides to go on a mission of caffeine. He doesn't need any coffee, nor does he approve of it (in his opinion it's a crutch), but it's better than sitting alone in the hallway. It doesn't take long to locate a coffee shop, tucked in between the science and the English buildings.

Castiel walks through the door and is bombarded by the smell of coffee grounds and vanilla syrup. There isn't much of a line so it only takes him a few minutes to get to the front. It's at the counter that he instantly regrets his coffee decision.

"Fancy meeting you here!" Anna greets him cheerfully. Castiel wishes it were appropriate to groan in someone's face. "I feel like this is a sign. First the bathroom and now my workplace? The universe intends for us to be friends."

Castiel doesn't believe in fate or destiny. He believes in concrete evidence shown through calculation, trial and error, and empirical data. This meeting is mere happenstance and yet Anna is declaring it a sign from someone up above. The audacity of the suggestion boggles Castiel's mind.

"Um, can I get a black coffee, please?" Castiel requests blunty.

Anna looks bewildered momentarily before a smile breaks across her lips. "Okay, Castiel, I get it. You're all business."

Finally someone understands how he operates. He appreciates her ability to read him so well. She rings in his order and he hands her his meal card. She swipes it before handing it back to him.

Anna turns away to prepare his coffee before placing it down on the counter separating them. "You know, I think you could afford to let down your guard every once in a while. You never know what you might miss because of it."

Without another word, Castiel snatches up his coffee and escapes Anna's honesty.

His first few classes fly by in a blurry combination of introductory PowerPoints and ridiculous YouTube videos to illustrate mundane points. He's frustrated by the end of the day but he's got a whole new set of classes tomorrow. First weeks are always sort of lame, anyway.

Nonetheless, Castiel is still disappointed by the time he flops down on his bed that afternoon. He's never been a flopper but he's too preoccupied with his disappointment to be respectful of his bed frame.

Gabe wanders into the room and is shocked to find Castiel staring up at the ceiling instead of in a book. "Did you get body snatched? 'Cause you are seriously weirding me out right now."

Castiel wants to tune his roommate out but Castiel also knows Gabe won't stop pestering him until he gets some answers. "Still me here. I'm just tired. Long day."

Castiel's short answers alert Gabe that something's up. Castiel isn't just being his reserved and closed self; he's emanating something Gabe might even describe as grieving. If Castiel starts wearing all black Gabe's suspicions will be confirmed but Gabe needs a more immediate answer than that.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Gabe prompts gently. He has to make a conscious effort to sound genuine after receiving a critique back in high school that most of his attempts to comfort came across as sarcastic or mocking. "I'm your roommate."

"Just because we share a room doesn't mean my shit is your shit." Castiel snaps harsher than he means to.

Gabe doesn't flinch but he knows better than to keep pushing. He gets on his feet and heads toward the door, "I'll give you some space. I just want you to know I don't feel obligated to be your friend, Castiel. I want to be your friend. I'm going to be keep trying until you stop fighting it."

Castiel winces and expects the door to slam shut upon Gabe's exit but all he hears is a soft click of the lock. His head hurts. He doesn't understand why people are reaching out to him.

He's here to learn. That's it.

Castiel mopes to class the next morning. He doesn't get up early to detour to the coffee shop because he's afraid of running into Anna again. He shows up to class only ten minutes before it's scheduled to begin and surveys the crowd. There are only two empty seats left.

He slips into one of vacant chairs. He doesn't recognize anybody in the class. But then just as the professor clears his throat to start talking a familiar face stumbles into the classroom muttering apologies.

It's a bird. It's a plane. Nope, it's just a stumbly, knock-knees ManBoy named Sam.

Castiel notices the anxiety on Sam's face and begrudgingly motions toward the empty seat next to him. If there's anyone he doesn't mind on campus, it's Sam.

Castiel notices the anxiety on Sam's face and motions begrudgingly toward the empty seat next to him. If there's anyone he doesn't mind on campus, it's Sam. A relieved smile stretches across Sam's face when he sees the invitation. He bounds up the stairs like a happy puppy and collapses into the seat next to Castiel.

"God, you're a life saver." Sam whispers, sounding breathless "I seriously owe you, man. A round on me at Mahoney's tonight."

But before Castiel can object the professor launches into the introductory lecture.

"My brain feels numb. Does your brain feel numb?"

The lecture was actually an informing one, much to Castiel's surprise. He walks out of the classroom, Sam trailing behind, with a hopeful air about him. Maybe this university thing wasn't a complete waste of time.

Sam is a bit overwhelmed but Castiel has never been one for comforting others. "I think that might be my favorite class."

"Are you insane?" Sam accuses, running his hands through his long locks. He looks stressed enough to pull clumps of it out. "It's the first day and we already have fifty pages of reading assigned… for Friday!"

Fifty pages is nothing to Castiel but he ought to be a little sensitive to Sam's view of things.[MK6] "Yah, I guess that's a lot, huh?"

Sam smirks, eyeing Castiel in an accusing manner. "That's probably nothing to you. Right?"

Castiel's cheeks burn. He knows he's been caught in a lie. There's nothing worse than people calling him out for trying to be sympathetic to their academic challenges. "Uh, well, it's half of a hundred, so…"

Sam bumps his shoulder against Castiel's. "You know, you don't have to hide the fact that nothing gets your panties in a twist quite like learning. I think it's brilliant. I wish I were as passionate as you about reading. For me, it's about interpreting what I already know through my writing. But I only know so much about the world. My challenge is expanding it. That's what you lust after."

"I don't know if I would use the word 'lust'." Castiel murmurs squeamishly.

Words have always been a force that Castiel couldn't wrap his mind around. The placement of a word could make the difference in one's interpretation of an entire situation. It's mind-boggling. No matter how hard Castiel tries master it, it confounds him. He's sure that Sam doesn't have the same struggle.

"Well, I'm off here." Sam announces, coming to a halt in front of a building that Castiel isn't familiar with. "I'm meeting my brother for lunch. He's always checking in on me, demanding a status update. I think maybe he's afraid that I don't want to be here or something…"

"Do you?" Castiel blurts without thinking.

Sam rocks back and forth on his heels, something that Castiel recognizes as his thinking stance. He must need movement to process things. In contrast Castiel requires complete silence and stillness.

"I think so." Sam finally produces a response he still seems tentative about. "At first I thought the idea of going to university for something I already felt like I could do was a waste of time. My brother reminded me of how many authors studied before they even wrote their first novels. I guess it's something I just have to condition myself with. It's a good way for me to learn discipline and practice focus."

Castiel nods, "There's lots of time to get your work out there. It's good to learn the techniques before breaking the rules."

Sam's brows knot together in confusion and Castiel clarifies, "You take in the skills and 'proper procedure' before throwing it all away and becoming your own artist. That's how you set yourself apart from the rest."

It makes perfect sense in Castiel's mind because he can still remember the page and paragraph he took the advice from. While he never intends to be an artist it seems to be pertinent advice to keep. Finally he's put it to use. Based on the inspired look on Sam's face, it's been shared at the right time.

"I'll call you for your wisdom every time I have an off day." Sam responds, mussing Castiel's hair before trotting off toward the front doors of the building. "Thanks Castiel! See yah later!"

Because of Sam's brash exit people are looking Castiel's way. He wishes he could turn invisible. It's always been an appealing power to him.

And yet, he can't help but smile. He's chosen to become Sam's friend (if that's what they are, Castiel's never been good at defining stages of relationships). It's sort of freeing.

Not only has he found someone who appreciates literature, he's also found somebody who values his fervor for education as well. His hunger is insatiable and the university is the perfect environment to quell it (or deafen it slightly).

Maybe being social isn't entirely painful.

"WE ARE HAVING A PILLOW FIGHT!"

Gabe's announcement upon Castiel walking into their dorm makes Castiel turn on his heel and walk back out into the hallway. Gabe bounds after him and drags him back into their room while Castiel claws at the doorframe.

"We are not!" Castiel objects. "I already told you this isn't going to be an eternal sleepover!"

Gabe relinquishes his hold and Castiel tumbles toward his bed, flailing his arms to catch himself. Castiel turns himself over and glares in Gabe's direction.

"Okay." Gabe perches on the edge of his own bed. "Then at least tell me how your second day went."

"Better than the first." Castiel offers, loathing the fact Gabe cannot handle silence. "You're never going to stop pestering me, are you?"

Gabe shrugs, "Maybe when you stop looking like you're scared of everything. I have to make sure my roommate isn't about to go Dexter on me."

"The last thing I am is a serial killer." Castiel promises the blond. He fishes in his bedside table drawer for the list of assignments he has to complete for his classes. It's growing steadily and Castiel can't help but be excited by that. "Although I do have some homicidal thoughts every once in a while when I'm behind someone who walks too slowly."

"Me, too!" Gabe agrees enthusiastically, snatching away the list from Castiel's grasp.

Castiel pounces for it and somehow manages to get it slips the notebook under his pillow and sits on it. He hopes Gabe doesn't bother to make another swipe for it.

"You're no fun." Gabe grumbles, returning to his side of the room. He climbs onto his bed and settles in a cross-legged position. "Do you even know what fun means?"

"Fun is one of those unique words that's definition changes with every individual." Castiel retorts in a tone that's sure to frustrate Gabe. Before his roommates can object, Castiel continues, "I like to read. That's what I think is fun. You like to mess around and annoy people. That's what you think is fun."

A hurt look crosses Gabe's face and Castiel regrets his words. Gabe gets off his bed and heads to the door. "I guess I'll leave you to your fun then. I'm sorry for trying to reach out to you. I guess it's a waste of time."

But Castiel doesn't have time to feel guilty because his phone rings. Assuming it's one of his parents checking in, Castiel answers:

"Hey Mom or Dad. How are you?"

"Um, is that how you always answer the phone?"

Castiel's brow furrows and he begins to panic. Who has his cell phone number aside from his parents? "Um, I'm sorry. Who's calling?"

"Oh! Sorry, man. I probably should have mentioned. It's Sam!"

"How did you get my number and aren't you supposed to be at lunch with your brother?"

"You sure like to ask questions. Anyway, I found it off the class list that the professor sent out. As for lunch, we Winchesters are quick eaters. In fact, we don't really eat, we devour."

"Thank you for that disgusting imagery."

"You're welcome. Now, I forgot something!"

"Do you need the page numbers for the reading?"

"You're hilarious. No! I promised you a drink at Mahoney's! Don't think you're going to get out of this. I owe you."

Castiel had been hoping that Sam might just forget about the invitation, but Castiel doesn't have the heart to mention this to Sam. "Um, well, I…"

"I'll meet you at eight, okay? Do you know where the bar is?"

"We're not even legal..."

"They don't I.D. Stop making excuses and promise you'll meet me."

Castiel takes a deep breath and contemplates his options. He can hang up now, drop out of all his class with Sam, and avoid the ManBoy for the rest of the semester… or he can suck it up and go out for a drink with his new friend. He knows the choice a normal freshman would make but he's not exactly a typical eighteen year old.

With a groan, he responds. "Fine. But I'm only drinking Gingerale."

"We'll see about that."

Before Castiel can protest, Sam ends the call.

Castiel hangs his head, "What the Hell am I getting myself into?"

Castiel shows up fifteen minutes early. Mahoney'sseems to be the place to be on campus, even on a Thursday.

Although Castiel has nothing to compare it to, he's overwhelmed by how busy the bar is. To make matters worse the library is around the corner, calling out for Castiel to seek refuge in it.

"I hate this. I hate this. I hate this."

He's been chanting the three words since Sam hung up on him. Castiel is pacing back and forth manically in front of Mahoney's. He swears he heard a passerby ask if Castiel was on drugs. Maybe this is why people do drugs, to make irrational decisions seem a bit more rational.

Sam arrives five minutes early, shocking Castiel. Sam waves at him as he approaches and Castiel returns the gesture with a nervous nod of recognition. "You came!"

Sam's enthusiasm calms Castiel slightly. "Y-yeah, I'm here."

"Well, I'm glad. Want to head in?"

Castiel's mouth is dry and his palms are sweaty. "I don't know. What if they can tell I'm underage? What if a telepathic bartender calls me out? At least you look twenty-one! I look like a freshman in high school."

"We both have baby faces." Sam counters. "But it doesn't matter. I'm not going to get you in trouble, okay?"

Something about Sam's honesty is refreshing and comforting. Castiel follows him toward the front door of the bar and holds his breath as they enter. He feels naked but nobody bothers to look away from their drinks and conversation.

"See?" Sam leans down toward Castiel discretely. "Just stay cool and we'll be fine. Now, let's go meet up with my brother. He grabbed a table for us."

Castiel nearly chokes on his own spit. "Brother?"

Castiel almost chokes on his own spit. "Brother?"

Sam chuckles, putting his hand on Castiel's lower back to stop Castiel from escaping. "He's totally harmless. You're going to be fine and plus, he's paying."

Castiel doesn't do strangers. He can barely handle making friends in class (Sam is a gift from above). Forcing Castiel into a social situation like this is enough to make his sanity dwindle.

"Sam," Castiel protests in a whimper. "I really can't. I'll see you later, okay?"

Of course, Sam isn't having it. He guides a flailing Castiel through the bar to a booth tucked away in a dark corner. Castiel sees the back of Sam's brother's head and Castiel wonders if he can make himself faint if he holds his breath long enough.

"Sam…" Castiel objects one last time before they're standing before Sam's brother.

Sam's brother.

But the person in front of Castiel isn't a stranger. He should be a stranger but by some cruel twist of fate (which Castiel still doesn't believe in) he finds himself staring at the last person he ever wants to see again in the history of ever: Green Eyes.

"Well, hey there Book Thief!" Sam's brother- who- is –also-Green-Eyes [MK9] greets with a warm chuckle that liquefies Castiel's insides. "Sam, did you know your new friend is a criminal?"

"So, you two know each other already! Perfect!" Sam grins widely before sliding himself into the cheap plastic upholstered bar booth. The sound the movement makes causes Castiel to internally cringe. "Now I want to hear this story."

Green Eyes launches into an animated retelling of one of Castiel's most horrifying moments. Castiel blocks the explanation out, while staring blankly at the two brothers. Every so often Sam looks his way and laughs. Castiel feels his sanity slipping away.

"That's amazing," Sam concludes once Castiel tunes back into the conversation. Sam grins at Castiel and pats the seat next to him invitingly. "Well, are you going to join or gawk at us all afternoon?"

Castiel wishes he could give an honest answer. He lets his gaze fall to the floor before taking a seat next to Sam. He's thankful he hasn't been forced to sit next to Green Eyes.

"So," Green eyes drums his fingers on the table, catching Castiel's attention. "Are you going to properly introduce us, Sam? Or am I going to have to take initiative as usual?"

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother, "Castiel - Dean." He pauses. "Dean – Castiel."

Dean. "Your name means law in Hebrew." Castiel blurts out. It also means valley, or the occupational title of a church official or an alternative title for a head of a school.

Castiel would have preferred to remain on a no-name basis with Sam's brother. He senses the color draining from his face slowly, feeling as if he might pass out if he doesn't escape soon. But escaping means getting away from Sam. Considering how big Sam's biceps are, Castiel isn't going to be making his getaway anytime soon.

"Does it?" Dean repeats. He doesn't sound weirded out as people usually do when Castiel spews random facts. He sounds amused instead. "I guess I'm not one of those people who Googles their own names, so thanks for that."

"Castiel is a bit of a search engine." Sam shares, bumping his shoulder against Castiel's. "I bet if you asked him anything, he'd have some sort of answer."

Castiel hates being the center of attention. He tugs on the ends of his sleeves to distract himself from how anxious and suffocated he feels. He attempts to smile but he predicts it looks nothing short of maniacal because of its unnaturalness. He gives up and lets his face relax.

"Um, so, uh, Dean." The name feels bizarre and almost taboo on Castiel's tongue. "What do you…uh, do?"

Not the most eloquent segue but at least it takes the spotlight off of Castiel. Dean appears to be mulling the question over when Sam blurts, "Dean goes to school here, too. For physiotherapy. He works at the library so he doesn't have to live on campus. I mean, so that he can pay rent for his own place."

Dean rolls his eyes at his brother. "I probably could have answered the question myself, but thanks, Sammy." He turns his gaze back to Castiel, causing Castiel to flinch from Dean's awareness. "But yeah, I guess that's my story. Well, there's a lot more to me than what I'm studying but it's what matters to me most right now. Can't say the same about Sammy, here…"

It's Sam's turn to roll his eyes at his brother. "Don't start something with me, Dean. I want to be here, I swear."

"Mhmmmm." Dean drawls, clearly dubious of his younger brother's words.

Castiel watches as Dean picks up the pint glass and gulps down the beer, imagining the bitter taste drifting over Dean's taste buds. Dean's Adam's apple bobs as the liquid continues its journey toward his stomach. Sam is making some sort of petty attempt at a protest but neither Dean nor Castiel are paying much attention. Dean swipes his sleeve lazily across his lips, clearing away the foam the beer left behind.

Castiel's mouth is dry when someone clears their throat. Reality snaps back into focus for Castiel and he sees a fourth person has joined them. Hovering at the end of the table is a very unimpressed-looking Gabe.

"I don't really understand you, Castiel." Gabe pouts. "I mean, God, what do I have to do? You're in one class with this moose and you let him take you out for beers?"

Sam glares at Gabe. "I am NOT a moose!" Dean just looks amused.

Castiel has never hated anyone as much as he hates Gabe right now. His cheeks are burning an obviously embarrassed shade of scarlet. He can feel his skin boiling while he searches for the right words to send his roommate away.

"I hope you know I'm very insulted." Gabe explains in a tone that Castiel can't determine as genuinely hurt or overdramatic. "It doesn't help that Mr. Smug over here can't wipe that ridiculous smirk off his face."

A look of recognition crosses Dean's face as he realizes he's being targeted. "Who the Hell do you think you are?" Dean accuses gruffly and Castiel wishes he were never born.

It seems to Castiel that a full-on bar brawl is about to go down between the Winchester brothers and his roommate if Castiel doesn't take some action. He stalks out of the bar with his hand firmly clamped against Gabe's arm, dragging his roommate away from Dean and Sam.

Just before they exit Castiel calls out, "I'M SORRY!"

Thankfully he turns quick enough so he doesn't see Sam and Dean's reactions. Gabe is laughing his ass off as he trails behind Castiel. Castiel doesn't let go of Gabe until they make it back to their dorm room.

Castiel releases Gabe and feels a wave of pure rage throttle him completely. He usually doesn't allow himself get to such extremes but the whole situation has put him over the edge. He can't look in Gabe's direction because Castiel knows he'll just want to hurt his roommate.

But then he realizes the easiest way he can torture his roommate: with silence.

Gabe is somewhere between chortling and acting out the mortifying interaction when Castiel takes three deep breaths:

One. In: I hate Gabe. Why did he have to do that? I want to rip his face off. Can I be charged for that? God, he embarrassed me so much. How can a sane human do that? PROBABLY BECAUSE HE ISN'T SANE. He's like a hyena. He is a hyena.

Out: Carbon Dioxide.

Two. In: He wants to be my friend. How can a friend mortify someone in front of people who they clearly think highly of? How can a friend ruin things so easily?

Out: Carbon Dioxide.

Three. In: He's not my friend. He's just a nosy roommate. Tune him out.

Out: Carbon Dioxide.

With that, Castiel pulls his desk drawer open and takes out a textbook, the one he needs to read fifty pages of before his next class with Sam.

Castiel can sense Gabe is protesting this decision but Castiel doesn't let it bother him. Castiel, instead, sits on his bed and retreats to the place where he feels safest.

Learning.

Sam continues to text Castiel. (Sixteen times to be exact.)

Castiel ignores them.

Gabe tries to talk to Castiel. (Forty-three times to be exact.)

Castiel ignores him.

Anna smiles at Castiel in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. (Just once.)

Castiel ignores her.

Castiel learns to ignore everything but his lectures and the words he reads in his textbooks. Everything else turns into periphery hustle and bustle. It doesn't take much effort to blur it all out.

There is no point in making friends. It's all just a waste of energy he could be putting toward writing, researching, or studying. Even when his parents check in he keeps the interaction brief.

He sometimes stays after class to discuss theories and notions with his professors but it's never on a personal level. They sometimes ask questions about his personal life but he deflects them easily enough by raising another point or inquiring further about an assignment.

Castiel acknowledges he's a hermit but he's an educated hermit who lives in a dorm. He hears the speculative and judgmental whispers of his peers and even some strangers he passes but he always tunes it out. There's no need to retain such superfluous information.

Sam is always late to class so Castiel avoids sitting next to him easily by choosing a spot with no empty seats next. He also makes sure it's by the door so he can escape quickly when class ends. It works every time, so much that Castiel hopes Sam has finally gotten the hint.

Castiel has also developed the habit of reading and walking. His mother always berated him for doing it when he was younger and he respected the advice for a while. Now he employs the tactic so he can avoid social interaction even more. (It also makes him feel like a rebel).

Until he walks right into someone.

"Whoa, there."

Castiel realizes he should look up from his book. He considers walking on and pretending to be deaf but it's a little too politically incorrect for his taste. He closes the textbook slowly, his hands trembling.

"Did you know that some people consider reading to be a type of performance art?"

The question causes Castiel to look up much swifter than he intends. "Sorry?"

It takes a second for the person in front of Castiel to come into focus, what with blurring everything out for the last few weeks, but when they do, Castiel's breath hitches.

Green Eyes.

Castiel instantly chastises himself for referring to Sam's brother by his nickname. Dean. His name is Dean.

Dean smiles before glancing at the textbook in Castiel's now limp hand. "Must be a good read."

Castiel finds himself frustrated by how utterly forgiving Dean is.

"It is," Castiel mutters curtly before forcing himself to move forward, past Dean. "I have to get to…"

Castiel freezes when he feels Dean's hand on his arm. Castiel's blood quickly turns to ice and his jaw slackens as Dean spins him. Castiel finds himself facing Dean once again. This time, Dean looks concerned. Like a concerned older brother. "Are you okay, Castiel? Sammy's been worrying about you non-stop, y'know. I'm not usually the type of guy to stick my head into business that isn't mine but… well, are you? I mean, are you okay, that is."

Castiel can tell by Dean's stumbling he isn't lying about what type of guy he is. Dean is clearly out of his comfort zone and yet it's not as if anyone's forcing him to pose the questions. This realization doesn't calm Castiel's instinct to flee though.

"Fine," Castiel flinches. Dean notices this and removes his grip from Castiel's arm. "I'm fine. I just need to concentrate on my education. It was all just a misunderstanding."

Castiel drops his gaze toward the ground. He begins to count the cobblestones in Dean's silence. Castiel knows there's no point in trying to escape. Dean won't let it happen. He's too much like Sam.

"Look," Dean scuffs his heel on the ground. "I know doing something new can be pretty weird sometimes. I don't know much about you but I'm pretty good at reading people… I have a feeling that you probably like to do things on your own. I used to be the same way. But after a while everything just starts to get out of focus and all you're left with is your own reflection. It can get pretty lonely."

Castiel has heard enough.

He certainly doesn't want to hear any more.

"You're right," Castiel replies roughly, gritting his teeth. "You don't know me. I'm nothing like you. I told you already, I'm fine. Please tell your brother to stop calling and texting me. I'm not going to reply."

Castiel feels the bile surging up his esophagus as he charges away from Dean. He has no specific destination. He just needs to get away.

The textbook falls from his hand as he braces himself against the side of a brick building. The wall rips at his hands but the pain pales in comparison to the retching.

There's nothing left in his stomach when he brings his head back up. Dean is nowhere to be seen but everything is starkly clear. This is the type of vision Castiel has been avoiding for weeks and yet his confrontation with Dean has thrust it upon him.

Castiel spots the fallen book.

But instead of picking it back up, he kicks it into the gutter.

"You know, I think you look better with stubble, actually."

Castiel is in the bathroom when everything comes back into focus. Anna is smiling at him in his periphery. He doesn't bother to turn his head toward her; he doesn't ever waste his energy on common courtesy.

He's looking at reflection.

At least he thinks he's looking at his reflection.

He sees a stranger. He can't help but loathe the cliché he's turned into. If he were to break the mirror with his hand he might even be nominated for an Oscar. It sickens him so much that he has to turn away.

Anna cocks her head to the side inquisitively but she doesn't pose a question. The tension in the air is enough to make Castiel want to cry out in fury but he digs his fingernails into the counter instead.

Maybe Dean is right, Castiel thinks. Maybe I'm all I have left.

Castiel starts to laugh, shocking both he and Anna. He brings the heels of his hands up to his face and presses them against his eyes. "Since when is it okay to pilot your own personal tragedy?"

He doesn't expect Anna to answer. In fact, if Anna were sane, she'd vacate the premises as soon as possible. Castiel is in a nuclear state and the last thing he needs is to take down more victims with him.

"You really like to wallow in self-pity." Anna muses, tucking a lock of her wild red hair behind her pixie–like ears. She's like a ginger Tinkerbell. "I mean, you're practically sweating out self-involvement. You're really starting to stink this place up. Maybe I should report you."

Castiel lets his hands fall to his sides. He starts to pace slowly around the bathroom. "Shit. I really hate when other people are right."

Anna practically beams at him. "Well, honesty is my middle name."

"Is it?" Castiel pauses.

"No, you idiot," Anna hops herself up onto the bathroom counter, probably violating about ten different dorm rules. "My middle name is Lee. What kind of hippe-ass household do you think I was raised in?"

"You're talking to the wrong person." Castiel continues with his pacing. "Considering my name's Castiel."

"Your parents must really like pot." Anna smiles devilishly.

"They're both doctors," Castiel shares. "So."

"Doesn't mean they don't dip their hands into the medicinal stash every now and then." Anna swings her bare legs back and forth. "But anyway, back to you. What's with the quarter life crisis? I mean, sure, we all go through it but… it's like you need to torture yourself to take your next breath."

Castiel feels exposed. He scrubs his left hand along his chin and feels the raised hair beneath his fingertips. He's always clean-shaven. Maybe this is the first change he needs to make. It also doesn't hurt that Anna says it suits him.

"I don't know. I'm just used to be alone." Castiel explains of his predicament.

"I think this is bad case of Only Child Syndrome." Anna blurts out her diagnosis.

Castiel flinches and stops in his tracks. "Look, Anna, I know you're trying to help but I really don't need a therapy session. I've had plenty of those. My parents put me through every sort of counseling, 'talking it out', and hypnosis tactic possible. Every 'professional' has always left him with the same word: Detached."

Anna nods slowly. Castiel's mind is boggled by how easily and freely he's talking with a stranger. But this interaction doesn't seem to bother Anna, and Castiel assumes Anna is used to helping people in this way.

"You've always got your head in a book." Anna jumps back down to her feet. "Maybe it's time to move beyond the pages and learn by… well, living."

"This plan of yours involves interacting with other human beings. Doesn't it?" Castiel wonders, his voice dripping with dread.

"Am I… uh, interrupting?" Gabe enters the bathroom with one eyebrow raised.

As usual, Gabe has sickeningly perfect timing. Castiel was just starting to feel comfortable enough to heed Anna's advice. Castiel immediately bristles as Gabe sets down his toiletries bag on the counter.

"No." Anna and Castiel chorus together but their tones are starkly different.

While Anna's is spritely and unassuming, Castiel's is wrought with guilt and frustration. Gabe brushes his teeth in silence while Anna and Castiel exchange a look of agreement.

"I should go." Castiel mutters, snatching up his things from the counter. "Thanks, Anna."

Gabe doesn't even try to stop Castiel from leaving.

The next day, Castiel puts his bag down on the seat next to him. When Sam stumbles in late, Castiel waves to him and removes the bag from the seat. A look of disbelief crosses Sam's face but when Castiel beckons him, Sam trots up the stairs like a joyous Saint Bernard puppy.

"You know I still owe you a drink, right?" Sam whispers in Castiel's ear.

It's the best thing Castiel's heard in weeks.

Beer is disgusting.

And yet Castiel can't get enough of it.

Sam and Castiel are holed up in the back booth of Mahoney's while Sam urges Castiel to finish off the pint. Castiel's stomach is protesting in a way that reminds him that, in fact, he is poisoning his body. He ignores it and slugs down the last bit of the liquid. He slams the empty glass down on the table.

"God, I hate that." Castiel declares with a grimace.

He wants to fold in on himself but Sam lays down a paw on Castiel's shoulder and he feels better. "A man with a beard should have a beer in hand to match it." Sam shares with a giant grin.

Castiel squints at his own stubbly reflection in the empty pint glass. Anna is right, it does suit him in a contrast-y kind of way. He knows he's gone a bit one-to-sixty with the whole living thing but it does feel better than being alone.

Though things are still blurry… but that's probably just the beer.

Information is harder to access with alcohol in your veins. The details always get skewed. Castiel can usually produce any odd fact from his archive but now it's as if somebody's gone and played 52-Card Pickup with all his files. Without his facts, Castiel is nobody.

"Why do you want to be my friend, Sam?" Castiel wonders, resting his chin against his hand.

Sam chuckles deeply, the sound resonating in his chest. His shoulders bounce up and down with a shrug, "I don't know. Do I seriously have to give you criteria or justification? Can't we leave that for class?"

"Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam." Castiel whines, his head slipping from his hand so his chin slams against the table.

Pain sparks as Castiel clutches at his chin but its dulled by all the booze he's consumed. Sam is laughing his ass off but Castiel knows he shouldn't take it personally.

"Fine…" Castiel mutters in a mock-dejected tone.

"Okay, okay." Sam is still trying to calm himself down. He settles his hands down on the table. "I think I want to be your friend because you're… I don't know… you're different. You make the whole introvert thing seem pretty badass."

"It is badass." Castiel slams down his hand on the table with purpose. "Finally somebody gets it. So what if I don't want to be social all the time? I'm social on MY terms. I get to choose when and where to engage with people."

"Plus, I like that you're a little pretentious." Sam admits and Castiel scowls back in response, his fire immediately doused. When Sam sees that he's upset Castiel, he blurts out, "NO. I mean that in the best way possible!"

"How could that word ever be used in 'the best way possible'?" Castiel grumbles, wishing suddenly that he had another beer in hand.

As if on cue, Dean is walking toward them with three pint glasses filled to the brim. Castiel knew he was arriving at some point. Plus, he was pleased to find that booze took the edge off of his anxiety.

"Hey, Green Eyes." Castiel drawls before realizing that the wrong name has passed through his lips.

By some miracle, Dean is too far away to have picked up on Castiel's mistake. Sam, on the other hand, is staring at Castiel with amusement dancing in his eyes. Castiel's cheeks burn as Dean puts the beers down on the table, some of the amber liquid sloshing over the side of the glasses.

"I see you took my advice." Dean is grinning at Castiel.

As much as he wants to Castiel can't look away.

"What advice?" Sam questions eagerly but both Castiel and Dean ignore him. Sam pouts and grabs a beer to slug back.

Castiel manages to smile back at Dean despite the fact that every muscle is screaming for him to keep his mouth shut. "I did."