Colors

Part 3

"Your car is nice." I said from the back seat. Dean and Sam were in the front, Dean smirked.

"Yeah, I've fixed it up myself more times than I can count."

"You'd die for your Impala." Sam muttered. 

"Of course I would." He replied with a cheeky grin. He pulled into a driveway of a two story house and we all got out. "Welcome to my house, angel."

"M-my name is Cas, not angel." I clarified.

"And?" Dean said sarcastically, walking up to the front door. Me and Sam followed, I looked around some as the tall guy took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

"Hey, this is my neighborhood! I live down the road." I pointed to a yellow house a bit further down.

"It took you a while to realize that?" Sam thought aloud.

"Well, I've only lived here a few months. I'm new to this town."

Dean rolled his eyes and we all went inside. The walls were lined with strange symbols, souvenirs from their travels, and all kinds of weapons. The dark grey walls also had very small bags of rock salt hanging in various locations. I went to touch one, but Sam grabbed my wrist. He shook his head and let go, I cautiously pulled my hand back. Dean stepped forward and rested his hand on my shoulder, leading me to the stairway. But before we could go up, he turned and pulled me to a door under the stairs. He opened the door and we went inside, Dean angrily shut the door before Sam could join us.

We went down a small staircase and ended up in the basement. It was decked out, too. Dark red walls and shaggy black carpet. Lots of posters for shows and movies and stuff. Some guns and knives hung on the walls, the rock salt bags joining them even down here. A small window in the corner let a but a light illuminate a bed in the corner. A table was at the end of it, a laptop sat on it. Dean grabbed a couple of beanbags chairs from a different corner and threw them into the empty space on the floor. He collapsed on the black one, I sat on the blue one.

"You're room is... Interesting." I said, looking at everything.

"It probably scares you." He said nonchalantly.

"Not really. I'm not usually scared by this stuff. Mostly things that jump out at me are the only thing that freaks me out."

Dean nodded and leaned forward. "So, this art project. What should we do for it?"

"Um, we have to draw our most common emotion, I think. So, I guess we should pick out colors that fit them first."

"Alright, bright pink and dark blue." I raised an eyebrow, he sighed. "Pink for your cheery-happiness. Blue for my sadness."

"You're kinda emo, also no. Pink wouldn't fit me if it's happiness."

"Uh, still blue for me. I am sad... A lot. What about you then?"

I thought for a moment. "...Grey?"

"Grey?"

"Y-yes... I think grey is like, loneliness. It fits, right?"

"Loneliness?"

"I think you need to get your hearing checked." 

Dean chuckled. "Nah, it's just weird. You, lonely? Pfft."

"It's actually pretty accurate. I didn't have many friends in my old home, and then I had to leave what little I had to go here. I don't have much in the way of belongings either, having to leave a lot of it behind."

"That's... Really sad. I've had to move a lot, too." He lifted an arm. "See?" He laughed at his own joke, I giggled some but ended up practically crying from laughing so hard. I leaned back in the seat and covered my face with my hands.

"Wow... That's a good joke. You got me." I mumbled, giggling again. Dean smiled triumphantly. He pulled my hands away from my face and stood up. He went to his table and opened a drawer on it. He pulled out a large sheet of paper and a box with some paints.

"Alright, time to work on this project." 

"Yeah! So, what should we draw?"

Dean sat back down, putting the stuff on the floor between us, and frowned. "Hm... We could do... Maybe a person in grey and blue, standing in a crowd of people- all normal looking- staring at a sunset. Like, despite seeing something beautiful with a bunch of people, the person is still sad and lonely."

My jaw dropped. "That's a good idea, where did you come up with it!?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm a natural at being sad."

"That's sad."

"No duh." He grabbed a few paints from the box and a couple of paintbrushes. "Crap, we're gonna need water to clean the paintbrushes. I'll be back, don't leave." He jumped up and left the basement. I sat in silence, just admiring the decor of the room, and then heard something behind me. I spun around to see Sam and another man.

"Who the hell are you?" The unfamiliar man asked.

"I-I'm Cast-tiel." I whimpered, intimidated by him.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

"I have an ar-art project to do with Dean-"

"Lies! Dean don't have art class!" He yelled.

"Dad! What the hell!?" Dean cried, running down the stairs with a glass of water. He set the cup on the table and I stood up, backing up. I tripped over Dean's beanbag chair, though, and fell. My wing hit the corner of the bed and I gasped in pain.

"Who is this idiot!?" Dean's dad demanded, pointing to me.

"He's a student. I'm doing school stuff with him. Now get the hell out of here, you too Sam!" Dean pushed them away. The dad frowned and stomped out, Sam refused to move.

"You know dad doesn't like visitors." Sam mumbled.

"Well it's not like I have a choice, now piss off."

"No... I wanna stay in here with you, make sure he doesn't hurt you."

"He's an angel, both literally and figuratively. He couldn't hurt me, probably wouldn't even try. Now fu-"

"I'm staying, end of discussion." Sam said, sitting at Dean's desk. Dean frowned and turned to me, he saw me hugging my wing and rushed over.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt from falling?" He asked, concern in his voice and eyes.

"I-I'm fine, it just hurts a bit."

Dean smiled. "Okay, good. Now, we should get to work. Disregard my jerk brother." I giggled and we stood up.

"Let's get painting!"