I'm baaaaaccckkkkkk!

I'm so sorry I haven't posted in like a year. School was hard, my mom's computer went to hell, my computer went to hell, I lost the USB key that had everything on it (I seriously don't know how people manage to keep those things for so fucking long...)

IMPORTANT READ THIS BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING ELSE OR I MIGHT HAVE TO SLIT A COUPLE THROATS (not yours of course because you are reading my stories and why would I do that to you?) This is not original... If you could move your eyes to the title up there, you will notice that this says Part 2. There is a reason for that. I read a fanfic that had a great plot, but was kinda written poorly, so I messaged the person if I could rewrite it for them (Some other things were said and they made me blush and be very happy for about a week). So before you read this, I want you all to go find the fic by Probablycryingoverfanfiction called Can I Call You Cas? Go read it, Now.

Have you read it yet? No? Go.

How about now?

Did you read it now? Yes? Good.

Now you can read this one.

This is my first Supernatural fic, I have one of my own, in the writing process currently, very long, pissing me off. I will get back to my other ones as soon as my bitch of a brother (No, not Sam... But he is a fucking moose like him as well) fixes my damn computer.

Till next time- Idontgiveaflyingfuck


"Deeaaannn!"

Dean Winchester looked up from the last of the notes he was copying from the blackboard as everyone else packed up. He huffed a small sigh that went undetected by the "blonde". You could see the dark brown roots poking out of the top of her bottle blonde hair.

"Hey Lis," he replied as he finished off the notes with a line across the paper and started packing his things.

Lisa Braedon half ran/half waddled into the classroom, her skirt too constricting, her four-inch stilettos clicking on the tile. She hopped onto his desk and crossed her legs, not batting an eyelash at the notebook she pushed from the surface.

Sometimes Dean didn't know why he dated her. He put it to the fact that he was the football team's captain, and she was the head cheerleader. Social norms dictate that that is how it must be in high school. The toughest of the jocks date the most airheaded girl in school. When he listens to her, the only strong opinion he can get out of her is which of the Kardashians are better. (He likes that one Rob guy or whatever his name is, because he's sassy as all hell and Lisa made him watch the whole first season with her when she was sick once… He still shudders at the memory, and that was five months ago…)

She's cool and all, just not his type. But breaking up would mean a social suicide, not to mention a bunch of angry pom-poms chasing him though the hallways every damn day.

So, for the sake of being normal, he puts up with her.

"Deeannn," he hated it when she stretched his name out like that, "Crowley is looking for you. Something about the Lecture Room or something…" she said as she tilted her head to the side and looked up in thought. She shut the compact she held with one hand and shoved it in her purse. Dean didn't even realize she took it out. Shows how much he pays attention to her…

"Oh!" She hopped off the desk and turned on her heel to face him, bending over low and close so he could help but look down the cleavage of her too-low-cut shirt. "Don't forget to come over today for Anna's party." She looked him up and down like he was the piece of cake she hasn't allowed herself to eat as part of her new diet. She walked to fingers up the side of his arm, up his neck and to his mouth where she pulled down his bottom lip to touch his chin. "Wear something cute," she said seductively as she straightened, turned on her heel once more before swishing her hips side-to-side as she walked out of the classroom.

Dean covered his face with his hand and trailed it down as he groaned. He'd forgotten entirely about Anna's party.

Anna was a pretty red-head on the cheer squad, but not very cold-hearted. In Dean's mind, she's actually pretty down to earth, and very nice. A sweet kid, dating his younger brother Sam.

He stood from his desk and shouldered his bag, giving a wave to the teacher as he left the room. Might as well get on their good sides, he thought. Although, at the moment, he didn't think he was doing very well at the moment, not if Crowley wanted to see him. Dean didn't know what he did to make it on his radar, maybe the fact that he would rather break his ankle attempting Lisa's stilettos than listen to his lectures.

Crowley wasn't even his real name. The rumor mill spit out something like Fergus… Scottish, although the man sounded positively British. But he never told anyone his real name, from day one it was Crowley, and Crowley taught Physics. Which was on the other end of the school. Which meant passing a bunch of people that would want to talk to him. Crowley was going to be very pissed.

And Dean was right, because not ten minutes later he was in the Lecture Room and Crowley was fuming.

A kid in black skinnys, a long sleeved Nirvana tee, short black hair that was gelled similar to Dean's. Dean was sure he knew the kid.

"Mr. Winchester, about time you showed up. Have a seat," he scowled as he gestured to the empty chair next to the kid.

The teen turned to face Dean and he immediately remembered who he was. You never forgot a pair of piercing blue eyes like that.

Castiel Novak was in Dean's year, little on the emo side. He didn't wear eyeliner, he wouldn't need to anyway. Crazy smart, but always wore long sleeves and dark colors. Dean hated him for it because all it did was make his eyes pop. Way too attractive to be street legal.

So what if Dean was Bisexual? It didn't mean anything and everyone knew. Hey, more sex, right? But he'd never sleep with this kid. Not very high on the social food chain that is high school. He's only got, what one friend? Dean tried to think back to all the times he'd noticed the kid.

Wait… I've noticed him?

Dean shook himself out of his thoughts. He kept one hand in his pocket, the other tightly gripped on the strap of his bag and waved it at Crowley. "I'm good, I think I'll stand."

"Sit down!" Crowley ordered as he moved to sit at his desk.

Dean did as he was told and quickly slid into the seat Crowley had pointed to and let his backpack drop to the floor. He gave a small nod at Castiel who had yet to look away from him.

"Mr. Winchester," Crowley started, shuffling through a few papers until he pulled out the one he wanted, "A, B+, B-, A-, B. All of your classes but one Mr. Winchester, in which you have a solid F. Do I need to clarify which class you are failing?"

"No but I don't understand-

"Don't interrupt me. I just want a yes or a no. Do I need to clarify which class you are failing?"

Dean looked at his desk shamefully. "No."

"Winchester, we only want the best at this school."

Dean scoffed at this. He knew for a fact that two or three were smoking pot out back, two of the cheerleaders were pregnant (from the same guy apparently), and his friend was sleeping with the PE teacher.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and Dean straightened in his seat. "Unless you can raise your grade up to at least a C+, I'm going to have to remove you from the football team."

"But I'm captain-

"I could give less of a damn if you were the bloody Queen of England, I'll do it if it is necessary." Dean's complaint got lost in the British accent. "I've asked Mr. Novak to tutor you, seeing as he is my best student. You'll meet at least once a week, and that will be all unless I don't see some improvement within the next couple of weeks, I will pull you off the team unless you can make more time for each other and get them up significantly by the end of the month. Do I make myself clear?"

Dean muttered under his breath.

"Do I make myself clear, Mr. Winchester?" Crowley repeated.

"Yes, Crowley. Crystal clear."

He sat back in his chair and smiled in satisfaction. "Fine, I'll let you go now, make an appointment to meet up, but do it out in the hallway. I don't want you in my room longer than necessary, Winchester."

Dean stood abruptly, shouldered his bag and hurrying out of the classroom, not even checking to see if Castiel was coming.

When he turned around, Castiel was clutching his books to his chest and standing practically right next to him. Dean had to take a step back to regain his personal space. Castiel looked at the ground shamefully.

Play is cool, Winchester. Don't let him think you know him. "So, uh… Ca…"

"Castiel," he responded.

Oh god, that voice. But smooth my boy, he didn't know. "Castiel… What kinda name is that?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "My parents named me after an angel… I don't know why. I gets me enough looks."

Dean gulped at that. "Well… I don't think I'm going to do well with that, so can I call you Cas? Who cares, I'm calling you Cas." Castiel seemed to glow at that. "I can do Mondays and Tuesdays from around seven-thirty or eightish to ten or so. Where should we meet?"

He took a moment before responding. "I can't do Tuesdays, but Monday'll work. The time will be fine as well. I think we should go where it's quiet, but I'm sure you'll want it somewhere out of the way so your friends don't see me."

Dean almost couldn't focus on his words, his head wrapped around the voice. He wondered what it would sound like if it was his name escaping Castiel's lips while he- No, don't even think about that Dean. Don't even go there.

Dean finally registered that Castiel was waiting for a reply. "Uh… Yeah. Someplace private and quiet. How about yours?"

Dean thought it was a good idea, but with the way Castiel tensed up the minute the suggestion left his mouth had him thinking otherwise. He shook his head, "I'm sorry, that won't work. My place is no good. What about yours?"

Dean thought about it. Hard for him to imagine Cas sitting on his sofa flipping through a Physics textbook. Dean was sure he'd rather see the textbook on the floor along this those tight pants, a silk blue tie holding those hands above his head…

Damn it all to hell, Winchester. SNAP OUT OF IT! Dean mentally slapped himself across the face. "Yeah," he squeaked. He cleared his throat, "My place is fine."

He pulled a sheet of paper from his bag and wrote down his address and his phone number, house and cell. He folded it up neatly and slid it into Cas's hand. "Text me if you need anything. If not, then I'll see you Monday."

Three days Dean had to wait until he saw Cas again. It's not like you can try to throw a very successful party on a Thursday. Dean turned on his heel and started out to leave, getting about five steps before remembering Cas was probably still standing there for him. "Bye, Cas," he threw over his shoulder, but Castiel never replied. He was talking on the phone. Probably to his mom or something.

Dean glanced up at a clock, it had gotten too late and he still needed to get ready for the party.

He ran out to the parking lot where his baby was parked. The black '67 Chevrolet Impala was his pride and joy, taken care of like it was his child.

He rushed home, showered, did not obsess over his appearance, changed and left to have fun at Anna's party. And he definitely did not think about a boy with short black hair and startling blue eyes.