In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Dare Elsewhere

Castiel's Mom

Castiel decided to do his homework in the library and take a later bus home. Auto shop was his last class, and Dean's sudden interest in him — and Dean's connection to Alastair — made him nervous. That was all he needed right now. It was bad enough having Alastair harassing him. He didn't need the new guy who shared homeroom, English, and auto shop with him to cause him problems, too. He figured discretion was the better part of valor and made himself scarce when the final bell of the day rang.

The late bus let him off on the corner of his street. Castiel lived in a large apartment complex, which consisted of squat, two-story buildings each surrounding a common parking lot. He lived in a two-bedroom with his mother on the ground floor of Building Ten.

It was a short walk to reach the back of the complex where his apartment was, so he decided to cut through the parking lots. On the way, he stopped every once in a while to test the neighbors' tires with his newly acquired penny skill.

He meandered through the parked cars in their lots until finally popping into the one for his building. The old lady in apartment 122 who drove the Cadillac needed new tires. The guy with the beard from 136 had a Dodge truck with tires that were balding. The new guy who just moved into apartment 162 had a really old, giant, boat of a car. Castiel couldn't even tell what model it was without looking for some sort of identifier. The black four-door with Chevrolet written on its grill had tires that were practically brand new. It wasn't surprising; for an old car it looked to be very well maintained.

He left the parking lot and walked up the sidewalk to his apartment.

"I'm home," he called, closing the front door behind him.

His mother came out of the kitchen into the living room. "Why didn't you call?"

"I remained after school to finish up my homework in the library, and — "

"Castiel, how many times must we discuss this?" his mother asked, visibly distressed. "If you're going to be late, you call."

"Nothing happened."

"You always say that. You know I worry! I don't want to fear for your safety after I say goodbye in the morning."

Freshman year he had been pushed down the stairs. Castiel always suspected it was the boy who had been bullying him that year, although he could never prove it. His severely sprained arm had to be wrapped up in Ace bandages and was nearly immobile for three weeks. His mother contacted the school, but since Castiel didn't see the boy do it and no one else came forward, the incident was dropped by the administration. Castiel had had run-ins with other bullies besides the one freshman year and Alastair, and his mother had been fighting a losing battle to get someone to do something to protect her son. Castiel was of the opinion that since the administration didn't seem to care, calling the school only made his situation worse every time. He tried to discourage his mother from getting involved, but she was insistent.

"Mama, I can take care of myself."

"If you're being bullied again I want you to tell me, Castiel," she said.

Castiel had been homeschooled because his mother thought he could receive a better education with her instruction. For years she split her time between homeschooling and her other two jobs required to support the family: adjunct English professor at Del Mar College, and data entry on weekends. Beginning a public school education in eighth grade was a huge shock for Castiel, and he knew his mother felt guilty about it, especially after he suffered from bullying.

"I'm not."

"If you were being bullied again, would you admit it? Or are you trying to live up to Michael?"

The summer he turned thirteen, his older brother Michael had been killed in a motorcycle accident. He was everything Castiel wasn't: athletic, gregarious, and confident in his abilities. He played football with a social league in the area, he went on dates, he had friends. The moment Michael was old enough to work, he helped support the family enough to allow their mother to go back to school for her doctorate. Michael had been attending college courses and working at a local bookstore when he was struck from behind while waiting at a red light. After that, his mother had to return to work full time and Castiel was at the mercy of the public school system.

Each time he was bullied, Castiel would think about how Michael would react. Michael would've been tough, and aggressive, and fought back. He never would have put up with what Castiel suffered on a daily basis. Michael was too much of a man for that.

"This has nothing to do with Michael," he answered, staring at the floor. He knew he'd been caught in a lie the minute he looked back up at her.

His mother sat down on the couch, and patted the cushion next to her to usher him over. "Sweetheart, you mustn't feel obligated to try and live up to your older brother. You are one of the most artistic, well-read, and emotional young men I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

"Everything Michael was not."

"That's why you are you, honey, and I love you for exactly who you've become. You have to find your own way. There's nothing wrong with being different."

"Around here there is, Mama."

"I know," she said, putting her arm around him. "I find it distressing that someone who is as sweet and caring as you can earn such contempt."

"It's the nature of high school."

"It is, unfortunately. But listen to me, Castiel. If you are having difficulties in school, I want you to tell me. If those boys are picking on you for...for whatever reason, you come to me. If you need to talk — even about something you think I wouldn't understand — I don't want you to be afraid. I'm your mother, and I will never stop loving you, no matter what."

There was a force behind her words Castiel had never heard before. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." She brushed his hair out of his eyes and away from his glasses. "Go wash for dinner."

He walked away into the bathroom, wondering exactly what it was his mother was talking about.