Hell's Interlude

Disclaimer: All characters, unless otherwise stated, in this fanfiction are not mine, and belong to their rightful owners. This is non-profit.

Overall rating: M (Vulgar/triggering material, sexual relations, angst, and strong language)

This chapter's rating:PG13 (Mild language)

Author's note: Hello! Nice of you to stumble in. I haven't written fanfiction in years, so bear with me as I attempt to string words together to do this ship some justice. I thought taking the usual highschool AU and twisting it into a twisted, pretentious fine arts academy would give this a subtle dash of creativty. (Unless it's already been done before. Sigh) Enjoy! Sorry the beginning is slow, expositions are important to me, haha.

Chapter 1: Overture

Hearing the blood curdling wail of his archaic alarm clock, Dean's eyes fluttered open with a start. Without a single moment's thought, he could feel his hand gravitate to the obnoxious device, throwing itself onto the rough surface and searching for the godforsaken off button. As his fingers wandered around helplessly, the young man shifted atop of his bed, the soft sheets that enveloped him comfortably suddenly turning into a treacherous death trap as he felt his legs tangle themselves in the tricky fabric. He rolled around for a few minutes, eyes shut tight again and alarm clock still singing the song of its murderous people, when the machine finally stopped. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, slightly confused when he finally worked up the will to dare look at the face of his savior.

"Dean, get up." His brother commanded sternly while slinging a single strap of his backpack over his shoulder, letting the rest of the baggage dangle on his side, like most teenagers seemed to do these days. "We're going to be late," Sam started. "Again." With a slightly annoyed, albeit loving huff, Dean hoisted himself up with his toned arms and sat at the edge of his bed, separating his extremities from the mess he had gotten himself coiled in. It was slightly embarrassing at this point, being eighteen and a senior at one of the most prestigious fine arts academies in the country but having to count on your kid brother to help raise you from the dead each morning, but Dean didn't seem to care. "Yeah, yeah Sammy. It's a new year, but nothing's changed. You still got that stick up your ass, and I'm still in no rush to throw us back into those hell holes." The older sibling joked, quickly rushing over to the restroom to both change and go through his morning routine.

It didn't take very long for the young man to go through the motions, brushing his teeth in an almost violent manner and sprinting into the shower, the warm water trickling down his built stature. Before he could let his mind stray from over-drive mode, he threw on his usual attire- A navy blue denim jacket over a loose button up, straight jeans and casual shoes- and headed to the door, gesturing toward his younger brother to follow suit with a simple tilt of the head. "Come on, Sammy." He started, a devious smile crossing his features. "We're..." Dean mimicked Sam's infamous 'bitch face', "going to be late."

The two Winchesters hopped into Dean's beloved Chevy Impala, its rims scintillating in the harsh sunlight and its paint looking crisp and new. It was interesting having to get his ass into gear after an entire summer of bumming around, but now that school was starting again, he'd have to play the role of soccer-dad...er, brother. Whatever the case was, he had to conform to a goddamned schedule again, and man, he would be lying if he said he was exhilarated to do so. It was as follows; Dean gets up, he gets nagged by Sammy for oversleeping, he drops the little dweeb off at his fancy technical high school while he indignantly rides over to the fine arts academy, where he would spend the rest of his day with a bunch of stuck up pricks who somehow convinced themselves that they'd actually get somewhere in life with their half baked "talent". Now, there were a few people at the academy that Dean could tolerate, but overall, he could hardly stand to breathe the same air as them. His parents, John and Mary Winchester, struck him a hell of a bargain his freshman year.

"Now Dean, you have a gift," He remembered his mother coaxing him into the topic at dinner that fated night, her eyes lighting up as she continued to speak. "and it would be a shame if no one ever got to see it." John was sitting across from him at the time, his dark brown hair ruffled up in a state of obvious disorient. He'd propped an elbow onto the solid ebony table, a sigh escaping his lips as he searched for the proper words to persuade his thick headed son to make the right decision. "You're not dumb." The older man started bluntly, his gaze narrowing in on the adolescent. "And you put violinists who have been playing for twice as long as you to shame. How about this," He shifted his weight onto his legs now, making a sure stride toward the curtains shielding the windows right beside the driveway. He lifted a hand to remove the thick piece of fabric to the side, revealing the sleek Chevy Impala in all of its glory, just perching itself onto the drive way as if it were giving them all the show of a life time. "You enroll in the academy, and the Impala is yours as soon as you get your license-" He began, watching his son light up immediately as he eyed the Impala with some twisted kind of lust. "But after that, you have to stay on top of your class, or you're going to be rolling around in your mom's neon yellow Toyota. Am I clear?" And even now, Dean still cringes every time he would recall that idiotic moment when he winked and enthusiastically said, "Yes, sir; Just call me valedictorian."

There were just a few minor complications that went with that brilliant idea; Firstly, Dean was not exactly what one would call the "school type". Sure, he was intelligent in his own respects, but when it came to forcing himself to buckle down and soak in the intangible crap the system shoves down all of the students' throats on a daily basis, Dean had to undergo dramatic changes. It was nearly impossible to evolve from barely grasping the concept of studying to studying practically every day, but as fate would have it, the tenacious young man succeeded in his endeavors- Sometimes. John and Mary weren't around nearly as much anymore, John now playing the part of the "trucker dad" and his mother taking on the graveyard shift at the hospital. The distance between the parents not only weighed on their own relationship, but it also sank the entire livelihood of their house. It was hard for Sam to have to adjust to the absence, and it was even harder on Dean to have to feel the need to compensate for all of their familial shortcomings. It always went something like this: "Dad's only home for a single afternoon a month? Well that's okay Sammy, we can go to that museum you really like." "You haven't seen mom in a week? Maybe we should go catch a movie." "Dad came home smashed again? Go to your room, I'll make sure he sobers up before he hits the road again..."

The weight that Dean bore on his shoulders was about an ounce away from crushing him under its immense proportions. He felt the need to be the perfect brother, mother, father, student, and god forbid boyfriend when his brief flings called for it. (Which they often did if the girl was persistent enough) He would've taken it all in stride, if it weren't for the main obstacle standing in his way: Castiel Novak. Now, Dean had never seen the little shit in person, but it was senior year; if his graduating class wasn't talking it up about who was valedictorian before, they certainly were now. It had always been a constant duel between him and the mystery man, starting from sophomore year when he first transferred into the Academy. He would be at the top for one grading period, and then miraculously Castiel would trump him the next. John would stumble into the house eventually, making a bee line to the computer where he would check Dean's rank online; (He never felt that it was necessary to do the same for Sammy, as he would undoubtedly hold his position as if malicious demons from hell itself safeguarded him from any offenders- And they definitely would be demons, because angels just couldn't get the animosity quite right) If he was still at the top, he'd shut the machine off and plop down on the couch, usually in the company of many, many beers at his disposal. If he fell behind, Dean's precious baby would go missing until the next time the drunkard had solid evidence that the poor boy busted his ass off again. It was all too depressing for Dean to handle, really; You can take away his leisure, his childhood, and his sanity, but you could not take away his baby. It simply made his life that much harder to deal with; And so the unadulterated hatred for Castiel goddamned Novak brewed on.

"Jo, this isn't really my thing." Dean argued, the jubilant, blonde haired girl beside him leading him to the gym by his wrist, her firm yet dainty fingers tightening after he spoke. "Shut it, Dean. Nothing is your 'thing'. It's senior year, and you're not graduating having never gone to a pep rally. Besides, it's the first day. Try to enjoy it." She said with a tender smile that starkly contrasted the manner in which she aggressively plowed through the plethora of students in their way. "Not true, Jo. My 'things' include everything that's not this high school." That quickly earned him a jab in the ribs, the pain radiating through his body. "Ow," "Just come on."

"But seriously, what's the point of going? We could always skip it and head down to the diner to chow down on some grub. Sounds like a great plan, if I do say so myself."

"Quit tooting your own horn for one second and deal with it. You only suggested the Roadhouse because we get an employee discount," Jo retorted, laughing at how ridiculously hard the boy was trying to get out of going to the pep rally. "I heard Castiel will be opening for the band,"

"Castiel-the-son-of-a-bitch Castiel?" Dean questioned dubiously, his eyes widening and his blood pressure rising exponentially at the mere mention of the cursed name. God, he couldn't even stand the way it sounded rolling off his tongue. Who names their kid that? His parents obviously must have been those strange hippie folk that tripped on way too much acid.

"Yes, that one." Jo laughed, fully cognizant of what she was doing to persuade her friend of many years into the gym. She was beautiful, her fair tresses falling down onto her shoulders in elegant semi-waves, not to mention determined and strong willed. Dean enjoyed her company, but at times like these, her assertive attributes never failed to sway him into ways he never thought he'd bend toward, such was the case when Dean suddenly took the lead, pulling Jo through the remainder of the crowd and frantically searching for an empty space on the bleachers to sit on.

"Someone's excited. Do you have a man crush on Mr. Valedictorian?" She teased, not making any attempt at concealing her ever-widening smile.

"I don't think you could call it a crush, more like self confidence. Of course I think I'm drop dead sexy and admirable. Who wouldn't?"

Dean spotted a small group of their friends near the first few rows of bleachers. Ash, Chuck, and Lisa waved the dynamic duo over as soon as eye contact was made. It didn't take long for them to hustle to the compact area, Dean barely having time to settle himself into the hard seat when there was an irritating screeching noise filling the room. He clenched his jaw slightly, his foot tapping against the surface beneath him as he became increasingly impatient.

"Ladies and gentlemen of LAFA, welcome back! We hope you all had a very fun-filled, safe summer with your family and friends, and we're excited to see your shining faces in our facility again!" The announcer began, sounding much too cheesy and overly zealous for Dean's taste. A snort of discontentment escaped him. "For some of you, this is your first year here at the Lawrence Academy of Fine Arts, and for others this is your second, third, or even last year! No matter how long your stay here has been, we will all continue to push you towards the paths of success to the best of our ability. Master your own fate, Angels! Without further adieu, we'll start our first annual pep rally with a performance from the talented Castiel Novak. Round of applause, everyone!"

The gym sparked with life, applause coming from every direction. Dean's eyes scanned the room vehemently, his chest burning with an unrestrained rage. Okay, looking for a chubby, pimply kid with huge glasses and a butt chin. He has to have a butt chin, because all arrogant sons of bitches have a butt chi- A lean figure emerged from the side doors of the gym, the male's face not quite within the vicinity of Dean's vision just yet. He wore a fitting white dress shirt underneath his black suit jacket that fell over his shoulders comfortably, his pants properly ironed, shoes spotless, and his silk tie slightly askew. The clothing contoured his body a little too well, the masculine curves accentuated nicely as he continued his confident stride toward the center of the gym, his intricately crafted violin and bow in hand. Scratch that... not chubby. Not chubby at all.

Dean reclined slightly, his brows beginning to furrow. Castiel finally arrived at his destination, lifting his head toward the slew of people and revealing the gorgeous, crystalline blue eyes that made most of the female portion of the population practically tremble with sheer shock and awe. They were astonishingly bright, the artificial lighting striking the mystical orbs in such a way that it seemed as though they produced their own source of illuination. Dean hadn't missed this impressive display, especially not at the vantage point where he was residing. Castiel positioned himself accordingly, raised his bow, and let loose sounds that Dean never fathomed were humanly possible of being produced.

It was as if the gods themselves had descended upon them there in that crowded, musty gym as soon as the other boy led the bow onto the violin's enticing strings, the audience immediately captured and forcibly thrown into a hidden dimension of the mind. They were transported to a romantically-tinged valley, the air heavy with emotions and life, the gentle streams flooding onto the dewy blades of grass. It was almost suffocating how the notes reverberated off of every surface of the room, bouncing from object to object, thoroughly traveling from one ear to the next, mapping out all of the routes in a person's psyche as it unraveled each person's individual soul. Dean's chest tightened, a pit forming at the bottom of his stomach when he realized he'd been staring at Castiel so intently, he managed to forget everything; Where he was, who he was, and whatever problems that plagued his mind before hearing the sweet music that healed him so effortlessly. Castiel's expression was so focused, so intent on maintaining the new world that he'd created, that when the final note was played, Dean could have sworn he saw a faint hint of melancholy cross the student's features as he relaxed himself again.

Not pimply, no glasses... but he has a butt chin. And a shit ton of talent.

Dean let out a groan, inaudible through the loud applause that was coming from his fellow classmates. Jo looked glanced back at him as if to ask what his thoughts were, to which he shut his eyes and simple mouthed the word "fuck".

He couldn't pay attention to anything else after that performance. The school's mascot, an angel, leaped out and pulled its usual stunts, the band started playing, the cheerleaders started to do their routine, and all Dean could think about was how borderline impossible it would be to 1-up that son-of-a-bitch. So what if he was good looking, gifted, and smart? It didn't necessarily mean that Dean's out of the game, it just meant that he has a better idea of the bastard he's up against. He had to have an Achilles' heel. He simply had to.

Dean walked into his last class of the day, his cell phone clutched securely in his hands as he texted his angst away.

Received: Dean

Sent: Jo

Cheer up, Deano

Received: Jo

Sent: Dean

I just found out I'm up against new age Jesus and you're telling me to cheer up?

Frustrated, Dean thrusted the device into the front pocket of his jeans as he absentmindedly grabbed a seat at the front of the room, having come to terms with the fact that he ought to crack down harder than he ever has in the past if he was going to graduate as valedictorian. He refused to settle for less.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he placed his bag down and dug for a pen. Fruitless and even more irascible, he turned toward the student beside him and began to spew words like verbal diarrhea. "Hey, do you have an extra pen? Sorry, I don't usually do this or anythi-" He stopped right in the middle of his sentence, taking in the familiar blue eyes that he'd seen what felt like ages ago. "Castiel."

"I apologize, I don't believe I'm familiar with you. Have we met before?" Castiel asked in a low, gruff voice, his face vaguely quizzical as he carefully examined his new conversational partner.

Shit, he doesn't even sound the way I thought he would. "Dean Winchester."

"Ah," He remarked plainly, not minding the fact that Dean had blatantly ignored his inquiry. "It's nice to finally meet you, Dean Winchester."

"You too, Cas." Dean replied with a smirk playing at his lips, shortening the mouthful of a name to one concise syllable. "It's going to be an interesting year."

"Perhaps."

Author's Note: We meet again. So what do you guys think? Please, please, pleaaase review so I know whether I'm going to continue this or not. I have a ton of crazy plot ideas in mind, and I'd love to put them into action, but writing is so time consuming that I'd only do it if I knew it was truly worth putting the time and effort into. I hope this was sufficient as a first chapter! I'm feeling very rusty. Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me. :)