A/N: WARNING: This fic contains issues dealing with abuse, depression, self-harm, and suicide. Just a forewarning, if any of you are easily upset or anything like that. This is a very serious fic and none of these issues are portrayed as a joke (mostly because I have personal experience with all of those listed in one form or another) and I just want to warn you. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

Extras: Pairings info, just so you aren't confused: Romantic Dean/Cas, (VERY)brotherly Sam/Dean, no other pairings, but Jo is gay, so no, there is nothing hidden between Dean and Jo.

"My parents are out of town Friday night. You guys wanna come over and play some Call of Duty or something?" Adam said to the others around him.

"I'll bring the beer and the cool," Ash replied, pushing his long hair over his shoulder with a laid-back grin.

"Don't lie, you'd totally rather stay home hacking the FBI or some shit." Jo glanced at him with bright eyes.

Ash shrugged. "Gotta give 'em a break sometimes."

Adam laughed, but he quieted and nudged Dean when he realized the fourth man wasn't paying attention.

"Dude, you okay?" Ash asked him, snapping Dean out of his glassy eyed oblivion.

"What?" Dean glanced at him stupidly before his brain interpreted the message. "Nah, man, I'm fine." A light smile brightened his young features and everyone seemed to relax a little. Everyone except Jo, who gave Dean a look that said "we'll talk later".

Meanwhile, Ash and Adam were arguing over whether Star Trek or Star Wars was better. It still amused Dean when his friends argued like children though they were all in their senior year at Lawrence High. After a while the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. The boys' argument was postponed as they parted for their various classes, but Dean waited for Jo before they set off together for history.

"You're really out of it today," Jo remarked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"I've just got a lot on my mind," Dean replied vaguely. He looked at the ground and barely noticed when he bumped shoulders with someone.

"Watch it, Winchester," Luc snarled, stopping just behind them.

Dean barely spared him a look but replied with contempt, "Watch it yourself, asshat." Jo backed him up with the silent threat of her fists and whisked Dean away, leaving Luc to be livid by his lonesome self.

"That sounded a little more like you." Jo nudged his side and sent him a smile, but Dean couldn't return it.

"I'm gonna chill on the roof for a while," he said, subdued once again.

"'Kay. I'll cover for you," Jo assured him. He grazed her shoulder with his palm before turning away, feeling her gaze on his back as he headed for the fire escape at the south end of the first floor.

It had long-since been broken—the school was pretty damn old—and Dean's mother had told him about it when he was a freshman. She'd spent her own four grueling years at the same school and, like him, enjoyed spending a little time on the roof every now and again. Dean glanced around as the final bell rang before slipping out unnoticed. He climbed up the long three flights before reaching the gritty top and dropping his backpack.

It was an overcast day, fitting for Dean's mood, and a cool breeze touched his cheeks. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the fresh Kansas air and relaxed his shoulders, safe from the questioning glare of his best friend. He and Jo had been in the same class in fifth grade, but they hadn't become friends until late that year when forced to play card games together. They'd both cheated so much that neither could ever win, but both had gained a fond memory of hearty laughter. Ever since they'd been like peas and carrots. Dean's heart clenched at the feeling; it'd been too long since he'd laughed like that.

"Why are you just standing there?" A rough voice cut through the memory and Dean's eyes snapped open. On the other side of the roof he saw a boy a year or two younger than him standing awkwardly. Dean moved closer and saw the boy had thick black curls and bright blue eyes that were slightly rimmed with red as if he'd been crying recently.

"Um," Dean started hesitantly. "Well, I come here all the time. The better question is why are you just standing there?"

The boy tilted his head. "I've been here all day." He was by the edge of the building so Dean stepped up next to him and sat with his legs hanging off. After a moment the boy sat, too.

"What's your name?" the boy asked.

"Dean. Dean Winchester. Yours?"

"Castiel Novak."

Dean scoffed. "Who the hell names their kid 'Castiel'?"

"I was named after an angel," he replied quietly.

Fitting, Dean thought, then mentally smacked himself. "I'm just gonna call you Cas then. It's shorter." He glanced at Castiel and found the boy staring off into the clouds and absently rubbing his arms. "Why are you up here anyway, angel-boy?" Dean asked after a long moment.

"For the same reason as you," Cas replied, still not looking at him. "To get away."

Dean nodded in understanding. "What are you trying to get away from?" He paused, then added quickly, "Sorry, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

But those blue eyes finally turned towards him and Dean was struck by how piercing they were. "Myself," Cas answered simply. They stared at each other for a long while before Dean glanced away at his hands.

Suddenly, Dean jumped as the bell rang. "I have to go to my next class. You coming?"

"No. I'll stay here. But thank you, Dean." Castiel's eyes burned into Dean's another moment before he retreated back down the stairs and into the building.