Dean adjusted the wool scarf around his neck as the chill, crisp air of winter in Kansas stirred. He pulled his bookbag smoothly over one shoulder before closing the door to the Impala and turning to face the Lawrence High School and walking towards the doors.

..

…

..

Attending Lawrence High School is a peculiar experience, Castiel notes; much different than the private boarding school he'd called home just a few short months ago. The differences are glaringly obvious, he decides, standing at his locker when he sees his cousin Gabriel approach from the corner of his eye. He turns to fully face him, only to see his mouth twisted in its usual grin and an arm thrown around the shoulders of a green-eyed boy blushing a curious shade of red, but grinning as well.

"Cassy!" Gabriel bellows. His voice seems to boom in the hallway, quieted and filled with grim and stone-faced students undoubtedly made miserable at the shortness of their winter break. Castiel's grits his teeth at the dreaded nickname that Gabriel refuses to let die and his swear is drowned out at the sound of slammed locker doors.

When Gabriel is within reach, Castiel steps close – in his space, something he knows Gabriel hates. "Please do not call me that. Especially not here." Gabriel's golden eyes flicker mischievously and the boy, still trapped under Gabriel's arm despite being taller than them both, snickers to himself.

"Well," Gabriel begins, slapping his open hand against his chest dramatically, "excuuuse me for being happy to see you."

Castiel rolls his eyes and huffs a breath. "You saw me this morning when we drove to school together."

"Yeah, well…" Gabriel releases his hold on the other boy and shrugs, "maybe I just missed your pretty little face." Castiel rolls his eyes again but Gabriel pointedly ignores him, turning towards the other boy. "Dean Winchester," he begins, gesturing at the other boy – Dean – like a game show host, "meet my cousin Cassy, er, Castiel Milton. My apologies. Castiel, this is my friend Dean."

Dean tips his head in a nod of greeting and Castiel returns the gesture before speaking. "I don't believe I've seen you around here before break." He knows this immediately when Dean stares at him. He'd never forget eyes that green. "Are you new here?"

Dean huffs a small laugh, but there is no happiness in the sound. "Uh, no. Born and bred here in Lawrence."

"Oh? Did you transfer from another school?" Castiel knows his curiosity is bordering on intrusiveness, but he speaks before he can control his own tongue.

Gabriel chirps up with a response before Dean can successfully blink away the surprise that colors his face. "Nope! Our pal Dean-o here just magically disappeared, what was it? Last March? April?"

"Christ, Gabe. I thought we went over this already."

Gabriel shrugs. "Well, it's been a while. Refresh my memory."

It's Dean's turn to roll his eyes now and Castiel notes fondly that Dean seems to have practiced patience for Gabriel and his seemingly unmatched level of energy, even at 7:30 in the morning. Castiel isn't easily impressed, a jadedness his learned with a life spent around the rich and the shameless, but the purity of Dean's green eyes and the sea of freckles over his nose is working overtime to chip away at that. He turns and faces Castiel when he speaks, all but ignoring Gabriel's pout at his side. "I had a family emergency down in Witchita last year. It took up a lot of time."

"Sure as hell did," Gabe mutters. "But little Sammy was still here, if I recall correctly. And I do."

"'Little Sammy'?" Castiel echoes. "Who is that?"

"My kid brother," he starts, craning his neck to look around the hallway. "He beat me here this morning – some stupid club meeting or something. He should be around here somewhere. Ah! There, "he points, "the kid with the stupid hair." Castiel turns in the direction of Dean's outstretched finger and watches as a boy, who does not fit the moniker of 'little' anything talk animatedly to a girl with a head full of blonde curls.

"He is…not litte."

Dean barks a laugh and Gabriel snickers beside him. "No, he's not. He's only, like, a year younger than me so… Anyway, he stayed around with my uncle while my Dad and I spent some time in Wichita."

"Doing God-knows-what because you sure as hell won't tell me."

"Gabe…"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll let it drop. For now, I guess. Anyhow, Dean-o, what's your first class?" Gabriel seems remarkably unfazed by the intensity of Dean's gaze and Castiel has to wonder how close the two of them are to be so comfortable around each other even with Gabriel's tiresome…personality quirks.

"You asked me that not even ten minutes ago at my locker."

"My, oh, my. I guess my mind my really be going in my old age. Be a dear and remind me again, will you?"

"Physics. With Henrickson."

"Oh." Castiel remarks with surprise and blinks at Dean and Gabriel's twin raised eyebrows. "I believe we are in the same class, then."

"What a funny little coincidence! My genius little cousin in a class with my genius dear old friend. I think we've all got the same lunch period, too." Dean flashes Castiel a small smile as the bell rings.

Traffic in the hallway begins to move as students trudge to their first class of the new year, sleepiness or annoyance etched on their faces and shoulders slumped dejectedly. Dean's eyes flick from Castiel, who feels himself finally exhale from under Dean's green eyes, to his brother who walks toward them with the blonde girl's arm wrapped securely around his waist. His smirk is so playful that it rivals even Gabe's. "Yo, Sammy!" he calls. Sammy stops and exhales an annoyed huff.

"Dean…"

Dean laughs. "Right. Sam. My bad. Look, you're gonna either have to find your own way home from school or hang around and wait for me. I gotta meeting with Chuck at the end of the day."

Sam squints at his brother. "I don't think Mr. Shurley would appreciate you calling him that."

Dean shrugs a flannel-clad shoulder. "What can I say? We've bonded." At that, Sam shakes his head in amusement.

Beside him, the blonde girl looks up and between brothers. "Hey, Dean."

"Howdy, Jess," he says with a wink. "Lookin' especially gorgeous today."

Sam attempts to stare daggers at his brother but is ignored as Jess only laughs beside him. "Sam, if you need a ride home, I can give you a lift," and Sam nods shyly.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Don't do anything I wo—" Sam nudges Dean's shoulder, much to Dean's mock offense, before he and Jess walk away.

"Jesus, Dean. It's only the first day back. What the hell did you do to wind up with an appointment with Shurley?"

"He, uh, I guess he wants to make sure I haven't fallen behind." He shrugs and rubs his neck nervously and Castiel finds the gesture oddly enduring. "Guess I'll find out after school." He turns back to Castiel, who draws himself up under his gaze. "Wanna walk to class together?"

"Uhm. Sure." Castiel gives a small smile of his own and ignores Gabriel's snickers as he and Dean head off in the direction of Henrickson's AP Physics.

"Your cousin, huh?" Dean says when they are out of Gabriel's range. Castiel nods an affirmative. "Your family gatherings must be interesting with him around, Cas."

"To say the least. You have no idea. Christmas was…a shit show." Castiel emphatically ignores the flutter in the pit of his stomach that Dean's nickname and laugh causes.

..

…

..

The first physics class of the semester is as uneventful as one would expect. Dean stares at the chalk board and scribbles notes but finds his mind wandering to the blue-eyed boy with the messy hair and ridiculous trench coat. Cas, Castiel, is sitting in the desk next to him and Dean has to try his damnedest to not spend the entire class staring and resisting the urge to reach out and touch. Instead, his hand wanders subconsciously to his own chest, where he rubs a palm against his sternum at an imaginary itch. Henrickson notices the tick before Dean does, who promptly allows his hand to fall in his lap at his raised eyebrow. Fuck.

When class is over, Dean tries (although he would beat the shit out of anyone who calls him out on it) to keep in time with Cas, Castiel, as they pack their belongings away, hoping to walk to his next class in his company. His plan, however, is shot straight to hell when he notices a tall figure looming over his desk. He looks up from his bookbag on the floor to see Henrickson standing there with his arms crossed expectantly over his chest. Dean swears internally and gives Castiel a wink before Henrickson has a chance to speak. "May I see you at my desk, Mr. Winchester?"

"Sure."

"Finish packing up quickly, unless you want to be late to your next class."

When Castiel is gone and the classroom is empty, with the exception of the two of them, Dean walks nervously up to Henrickson's desk. He knows what's coming.

How are you?

Is everything alright?

If you're feeling overwhelmed…

It the same series of lectures that he'd gotten when he met with his teachers over break to turn in the last of the work he'd missed by being away. It's a tiresome loop of vaguely concerned questions and pitying stares that make his heart speed up in his chest. He takes a steadying breath and waits.

"I'm glad to see you changed your mind about taking this class, Mr. Winchester." Henrickson begins, not looking up from a stack of papers on his desk. Dean recognizes them and his scribbled writing sprawled across the pages. It's the work he'd turned in two weeks ago; extra, extra assignments that Henrickson had given him because the guy's a power-hungry douchebag that likes to see Dean squirm. Bastard. Dean hums in acknowledgement. "I was extremely impressed with the quality of work you turned in from your leave of absence."

Dean's usual comeback dies in his throat at Henrickson's praise, who must have expected it because he looks up just in time to see Dean's stunned expression with a smile. "I mean it, Mr. Winchester. You have a great mind for this sort of thing."

"Uh. I—thanks?"

"Don't thank me, Dean. Those extra assignments? That was college-level work. I have a friend down at the university and asked him to send some things that he gives his students. He's an engineering professor and was extremely impressed."

"Are you shitting me? Uhm, I mean…shit."

Henrickson laughs at this, stands, and comes around his desk to stand next to Dean. "It's fine. Have you thought about your options for when you graduate? I know you've had a lot going on when most of your peers are cramming for the SAT or their college essays, but you have a great deal of potential. It'd be a shame to let it go to waste."

"Actually, I, uh, took the ACT a few weeks before…everything."

"And?"

"35." Dean mutters.

"What was that?"

"I scored a 35."

"Dean! That's fantastic. With test scores like that and the quality of work you've been turning in with everything you've dealt with recently, you could get into any college you want." At Dean's silence, Henrickson places a hand on his shoulder and continues. "You do know that, right?"

"I. I hadn't thought about it, really."

"Well you should. Given your extenuating circumstances, I don't think submitting a late application would shut you out of the running. Think about it, Dean. And if you need a letter of recommendation letter for Kansas State or Harvard or wherever, don't hesitate to ask. I mean it. Despite what you may think, I actually kinda like you, kid." Whatever expression is on Dean's face brings another laugh out of Henrickson, who quickly scribbles a note down for him as the bell for second period rings. "Have a good semester, Dean. You deserve it."

Dean walks out of his Physics class with Henrickson's note jammed into his pocket and his words a pulsing replay in his head.

..

…

..

Castiel's day until lunch drags on so slowly that it's almost painful. In several failed attempts of gaining any ounce of self-control, he wills himself to not watch the clock tick by, if only to preserve his sanity. He fails more than he succeeds, however, and finds himself slumping further and further into his seat when he sees just how slowly 60 seconds can drag on and on and on.

In the mess of frenzied teenagers breezing by to class and slamming locker doors and shouting teachers, Castiel catches sight of Dean Winchester at least three more times and he stops himself from approaching the first two times when he notices the thin line carved neatly between his brows and the tension in his shoulders. The last time, he's listening to a petite blonde chatter and chirp in his ear with their arms linked. Castiel swallows and does his best to resist the hot flash of jealousy that flares through him.

Lunch comes at last and Castiel finds himself sitting at a table, listening to Gabriel prattle on and on and on about Kali, a girl who attends Castiel's former private where he (regrettably) "introduced" her to Gabriel. His attention is drawn back to the story by Gabriel's wild gestures and exclamations at how heartbroken he is.

"-and she's just…fuck. I don't even know! She just keeps busting my balls and…I think I like it. Is that weird?"

"Gabriel. She's broken up with you four times. Four. In the last three months."

"But she keeps coming back, though. Just like I know she's gonna do this time. I mean, with charm and a body like this," he gestures at himself, "she won't be able to stay away long."

Castiel nods. "Kali could eat you alive."

"I know, okay! Cassy. You're killing me here." He throws his arms up in a dramatic flourish of defeat.

"Gabe, be careful!" a voice calls. Castiel looks up behind Gabriel to see Sam Winchester jerking backwards with a tray of food in his hands that Gabriel nearly knocked to the floor. At his side is the petite blonde that was talking to Dean earlier. He tenses and forces himself to stuff another bite of mystery meat in his mouth.

"Sorry, Sam."

"It's cool. Mind if we join you guys?"

"Nope. The more the merrier! Speaking of, where's that brother of yours?"

Sam shrugs. "I haven't seen him this morning." Castiel watches from the corner of his eye as Sam brushes his bangs back away from his face and smirks at the memory from earlier: the kid with the stupid haircut.

"What's so funny, Cassy?"

"Cassy?" Sam and the blonde girl echo while Castiel growls Gabriel's name.

"Hey," the girl speaks up. "I've seen you around. Name's Jo." She extends a hand and Castiel tentatively extends his own and they shake. He's almost surprised by the strength of her grip.

"Castiel."

"I'm Sam. You were with Dean and Gabe this morning, right?"

"Yes. Gabriel was just introducing us."

"Oh. Cool."

"Dear, littlest Winchester. When are you gonna spill the beans and tell us where Dean's been all this time? On the run? Prison?"

Sam swallows a bite of salad before running a hand through his hair in another failed attempt at controlling his bangs. "One," he begins, holding up an index finger, "I am not the 'littlest Winchester' and I haven't been since I turned 15. That's all Dean. And two, he's right behind you, dorkface. Why don't you ask him?"

Castiel looks up at Sam's words and there is Dean, standing right behind Gabriel with a triumphant smirk panted across his lips. In one hand, he balances a tray of mystery meat and there's a fifth chair in his other hand that he's dragging over to the table. "Move it, Gabe." Gabriel dramatically rolls his eyes before sliding a chair closer to Sam so that Dean can sit between him and Castiel. If he notices the exchanged looks between Jo, Sam, and Gabriel, he chooses to ignore it and Castiel does the same. "Hey, Cas," Dean smiles and Castiel swallows. "And Sammy, out of the two of us, you're the 'littlest Winchester' in every way that matters."

All talk of Dean's absence die when he joins the group and diverts the conversation to lighter fare. Castiel notices quickly how the mood changes when Dean becomes an addition to the group – how much lighter the air becomes. The banter between him and Sam is amusing and good-spirited in a way it tends to be between siblings so closeand Jo fits into the puzzle like a sister. When he realizes that, the coldness he felt towards her washes away and he simply relaxes in the comfort of Dean's laughter and Gabriel's familiar taunts.

Dean leaves before lunch is over, saying he wants to get to Mrs. Mosley's AP English Lit class on time or that she'll 'beat me with a wooden spoon.' Castiel stands to throw his trash away only to feel a small hand grab his arm. He turns to see Jo, Sam, and Gabriel all smiling goofily at him and blushes.

He asks, "Is there something on my face?" to which Gabriel snickers. The assbutt.

Jo places her chin in her hand and smiles fondly and Castiel feels the blush creep from his cheeks to his ears at the gesture. "Someone is sprung," she announces.

"What?"

"You. Are. Sprung." At that, Castiel decides he hates her again.

"Told ya, Sammy." Gabriel says and victoriously folds his arms over his chest and Castiel resists the urge to chuck his plastic cafeteria tray at his head. "I should've bet money on it."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you three are talking about."

"Is that why you just spent the entire lunch period staring at Dean like a love-sick Disney princess?"

Sam and Jo laugh and Castiel's grip tightens on his tray but he can feel his self-control wavering. "Look, Castiel. Or, wait, didn't my brother call you Cas earlier?"

"You are correct, Samuel! Already with the pet names. Isn't it cute?"

"Shut up, Gabriel." Castiel growls.

Sam tries desperately to hide a snicker behind a hand before continuing. "Our friend Charlie is having a get together at her house tonight. It's nothing crazy, just a few movies or a video game or something for her and Dean to geek out over. You should come. Really. Gabe'll be there. I know my brother better than anybody and he'll be glad you came."

The tension bleeds away from Castiel so fast that when he catches Jo's eye again, she's smiling sweetly at him like she can feel the flutter of hope in his chest, too. "Sure," he nods. "I'd like that."

"Great! Well, I gotta get going. Gabe knows Charlie's address."

"I should get going, too. Gotta change for gym."

"Later, Sam. Jo." Gabriel says as he stands. They smile and wave and Gabriel places a warm hand on Castiel's shoulder. "I knew you and Dean-o would get on. He's a good guy. Now come on. Be a gentleman and walk me to Spanish."

Castiel turns to finally throw out his trash and smiles a small smile to himself.

..

…

..

Dean sits in one of the hard plastic chairs outside of Chuck's office twitching nervously, humming Metallica to himself. The secretary glares over the rim of her glasses at him. He quiets instantly, flashing his most charming smile and continues to drum out of the rest of the song on his knee.

Chuck finally emerges from his office looking as hopped up on caffeine as always and gestures for Dean to follow him. The seat in front of Chuck's desk is plush and comfortable, a major step up from the chairs in the main office and he finds himself relaxing a bit into the polyester cushion (sue him if he knows what polyester looks like from marathoning Project Runway. He spent a lot of time laid up out of school and Heidi Klum is hot). Chuck fiddles at his desk and all but inhales a cup of coffee while his eyes flick from the mess of papers spread out across his desk.

"Should I come back at a better time?" Dean asks. Chuck blinks up at him like he forgot Dean was even sitting there and Dean has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the man. How such a space case got to be principal is a wonder to him.

"Oh. Sorry. Just…wanted to make sure I got everything right, y'know? There's a lot of stuff here. You've been away for a good while, Dean. I was surprised you managed to stay so caught up." He pauses and frowns at a piece of paper with what looks suspiciously like a coffee stain on it before continuing. "Actually, it looks like you're ahead."

Dean would be offended at how shocked Chuck seems by that, but he'd be surprised too if it happened to anybody but him. "Yeah. I had a lot of free time."

"Don't downplay it, Dean. You were – "

"I know, Chuck. I was there, remember?"

Chuck nods. "Right. You know, you're my only student that calls me that."

"Huh. Guess that makes me special, then."

"Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that, kid."

"Is this all you wanted from me? I want to get started on some homework."

"Stop lying. You're just gonna blast that awful rock music in that space ship you call a car."

"Don't insult Baby."

"Right. My bad." Chuck clears his throat and eyes Dean, who fidgets under his stare. "You're looking better. That's all I really wanted to talk about – to see how you were doing and adjusting to being back. I know you know that there were a good deal of rumors going around about where you've been…"

"Actually, Ruby getting knocked up took the heat of me a while ago. At least, that's what I've heard. But I shouldn't gossip," he smirks.

Chuck nods. "Right, right. How are you, though? I know you didn't want to start off with half-days when you got back and I've been worried you'd overwhelm yourself."

"Chuck, I'm good. Really. Honestly, if I'd started off taking half-days, I'd go stir crazy. This is my last semester before graduation and I just…wanted a little bit of normalcy. Just a little bit."

"I get that, Dean. I do. But you need to watch out for yourself, too. Your health is more important than walking that stage, regardless of what you might think now."

Dean bristles at that and swallows down a harsh retort about how he has to graduate to make his mom proud and to convince his dad and Sam and Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen that he actually really, truly is okay. And maybe even himself. "If it gets to be too much, you'll be the first to know. Well. More likely the third."

"That's good enough. Mr. Henrickson mentioned he spoke with you about future plans. Are you giving it any thought?"

"Yeah, actually. I am."

"You sound surprised at that."

"Chuck," Dean sighs in exasperation, "there's only so much psychoanalysis a man can take in a day. You, Henrickson, Mrs. Mosley…What're we gonna do next, watch Lifetime together and cry?"

"Don't pretend you've never watched one of those movies."

"Not my fault. There's a gazillion channels but never anything to watch." Dean shrugs but he has spent many hours on Sunday locked in his room watching more of those sappy movies than anyone should. And enjoying them. (But not more than Dr. Sexy, MD. Nothing trumps Dr. Sexy MD.)

"Uh-huh. Well, that's all I really wanted to talk to you about…make sure you're settling back in alright."

"Yeah, I'm good. 's like I never left."

"Good."

Dean stands and tosses his bookbag over a shoulder and adjusts the collar on his jacket. "See ya, Chuck."

"See ya, Dean."

..

…

..