"They're old. How about you? How old are your parents?"

"My parents are dead."

Well, that made the conversation escalate quickly.

Usually, Cas would wait awhile before he drops the whole "orphan" bomb on someone, and he'd never do it so bluntly. I guess, Cas just feels like avoiding the question like normal isn't going to do it, but that doesn't stop Cas from feeling a stab of guilt for dumping it on Ash like that.

Ash is a prick, but that doesn't mean Cas should bury him with Cas' own problems.

"My condolences. My intention wasn't to bring up harsh memories," he says, putting his clothes in his hamper.

Why does Ash always talk so formally? Is it really how he talks, or is it another part of the persona he plays in public? Cas wonders if Ash naturally talks with an accent, and he just hides it very well in front of people.

When Cas was in Sebastian's head, Ash's memories weren't spoken in English. Cas thinks it's German, but he isn't a specialist, even in his own language. Cas has a great urge to ask him to speak with an accent, but not only does that sound really weird coming from your roommate that's only been here for two days, but that would bring up questions about how he even knows that Ash is bilingual. As far as Cas knows, Sebastian knows nothing of his Ability.

Cas shrugs, "No sweat, it was a while ago. Barely remember what they looked like."

That's a lie. He remembers them in vivid detail, and Cas can't decide whether knowing exactly what his missing is better than not. He just says he can't remember them because that way, people won't feel as bad about his situation. No one needs to worry about Cas other than himself, and he lives by that.

As the weeks pass by, Cas spends his mornings in classes, hating the biology teacher more and more and learning more about Mr. Goryn's adventures that happened decades before Cas' grandparents were born. Ms. Davenpore still continuously yells at Cas to use his Ability, and the peers in his class have made it their mission to pick on him, calling him Little Hollow. He still doesn't use his Ability.

Cas has always been stubborn, but usually only when it gives him no benefit. Like not using his Ability in an Ability-oriented class.

Something that has changed over the weeks entering winter is the relationship between our four young teens. They've become a tight-knit group, and Cas doesn't even know how it happened. He doesn't have a lot of experience when it comes to friends. Salem has talked to him through the first hour, and Topher and Ara join at lunch.

Salem and Cas have been staying a few hours later in the training room so Salem could teach Cas some moves. Cas was hesitant to accept the help, but Salem insisted that if Cas wasn't going to use his Ability, Cas might as well be flawless when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. And who's better to teach Cas how to be perfect other than the epitome of perfection himself?

The fallen leaves have been replaced with snow, and Remy has already sent over her third care package. Cas stands in the cold, warming himself up by blowing into his hands and snuggling into his scarf.

It's Saturday morning and Topher thought it was a great idea to spend the day in town. When Ara and Toph are shopping, Cas and Say stand on the sidelines. Salem is decked out with a hat, gloves, jacket, and scarf; he's well prepared, and to the strangers passing them by, he looks like a sophisticated, handsome young man with sunglasses on.

Sunglasses? In December? Yes, because apparently, people are frightened by snake eyes.

"They've been in there for forty minutes," Salem clicks his tongue in distaste. "How long do they plan on staying in there?"

"How should I know?"

Cas is freezing and bored and freezing and crabby and freezing. Cas has never liked the cold, and the isn't very fond of the heat, either. It doesn't help when he forgot to grab his hat and gloves. What if he dies of hypothermia? That sounds like an agonizingly painful death, though if he had to listen to one more version of "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" over the loudspeakers scattering the streets, it doesn't sound like that bad of an alternative.

Cas checks his phone, "No text from either of them saying how much longer."

"Can't we just ditch them? They're the ones that wanted to do this in the first place." Salem asks. With the sunglasses, Salem is even more hard to read, and though Cas has been using his Ability to relieve the side effects, he's only been using it on the teachers to write a better score on his homework, so he hasn't been entering anyone's mind.

This use of the Ability is in no way enough to clear Cas' brain completely, and Cas has been a little more on edge than usual. He's gotten better at hiding it, though. Salem is a tad bit more observant than people give him credit for. Cas has a feeling that Snake-boy knows something's up.

"We can't just leave them, Salem." Cas looks around and sees a Caribou. "Why don't we go get some coffee to heat us up? We'll come back and meet them."

"I don't like coffee."

Cas freezes. He stares at Salem, and all in one second, Cas feels like screaming, and crying, and yelling all at the same time, (he's quite conflicted when it comes to people that don't like coffee. He is very good at avoiding those people.) All that comes out of Cas' mouth is-

Nada.

Cas stares at Salem, not saying a word until "I'll be back."

He walks to the coffee shop alone, and Cas sighs because, even though he's spent the majority of his life alone, he never got used to the feeling that clenches his chest when he sees people hanging in groups. He hasn't felt this way in a while; Topher's pretty good at dragging Salem around everywhere Cas goes, and Ara has kind of tagged along. Apparently, not a lot of people want to hang around a girl that blows things up.

The coffee shop is small with a few comfy chairs scattered around. It's full of coffee decor that you'd find in Hobby Lobby, but the thing that gets Cas the most is the original smell of coffee beans. Cas inhales, and a small hint of a smile reaches his lips.

Cas had coffee this morning before they left, but that was almost four hours ago, and withdrawals aren't lagging.

"I can help someone here," a barista says with a yawn. She has naturally red hair tied in a ponytail and a scowl that is almost as bad as Salem.

Cas orders his coffee, trying his hardest to be an easy customer. Back at home, Cas worked at the local coffee shop almost every day after school. The parents didn't like it; they said he should be more focused on school. Be that as it may, Cas was raised learning to pull his weight, and there's no way he wasn't going to get a job to support his family that was kind enough to take him in.