A/n: Hello this is my first longish fic? I've used 80's slang so basically bad and righteous mean good and bogus means bad. Rated M for later sexy scene ; ) reviews mean the world to me and I will love you forever ok so tell me what you think thankyou for reading, enjoy!

Spit It Out

1981, The South of England.

It was that time of the morning when Dean wanted nothing more than to stay in bed for the rest of eternity. But he found himself tying his laces and packing his bag for his first day at Shurley College. He stopped in the hallway as Sam, the younger brother, wished him luck.

"Pfft…I don't need luck," Dean said half-jokingly, smiling up at him, "Stay punk, Sammy." Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname and watched Dean leave the house. It was supposed to be summer, keyword here being 'supposed'. People were still wearing hats and scarves. Dean increased his pace to a brisk walk. He wouldn't admit it, but the cold was getting to him.

Dean made his way through the unfamiliar faces of other college students. Preening his hands through his tall blue Mohican, he shuffled into the college. He'd tried to be as conspicuous as possible, going for his slashed 'The Clash' t-shirt, a padlock hanging round his neck, a leather jacket covered in badges, tight tartan trousers and safety pins running from his lip to his right ear. Self pierced, of course.

The punk revelled in the sneers and glares he got. He wound his way through the college, eventually finding his Politics class room. Around him was what he assumed was the rest of the politics class, making friends, introducing themselves and stealing nervous glances at him. A few minutes later, their teacher opened the door to let them all in, looking warily at Dean, as he had seated himself right at the front. Dean grinned back a little too eagerly. This was going well.

The rest of Dean's day went quite well. He got called a punk faggot and knocked into a wall. This resulted in him punching one of his attackers and grabbing the other one in a headlock. That was when he was sent to the principal's office. He considered his day to be a fulfilling one.

Once inside the office, Dean grinned confidently at the old man sat behind the desk.

"Hello, Dean," he smiled (or grimaced), exuding smugness and dickishness and absolutely no charisma whatsoever.

"Hello, Zach," Dean replied, checking the little gold nameplate on his desk. Exquisitely pretentious.

Zachariah made a face at the nickname, but continued. "Normally, I don't deal with small student scuffles, but I thought I'd better get to know the trouble makers early on. It's your first day, and you're already getting a reputation."

"I got shoved into a wall. " Dean stated indignantly.

"So, you're using the excuse that they started it?" Zachariah smirked superciliously.

"They called me…what was it? 'Punk faggot' I believe. Extremely creative choice of words, don't you think? I don't think I deserve to be picked out just because I dress differently," Dean said lightly.

"In this college, we do not pick people out for dressing differently. We pick people out for punching other students in the face, Dean."

Dean dragged his lips down in agreement with Zachariah. "If you're finished, Zach, I'm late for Philosophy. Excuse me." He exited the office, hearing a creepy 'I'll be keeping an eye on you, Dean' following him out.

By the end of the day, most students had found themselves a good group of friends. By the end of the day, Dean Winchester had found one energetic guy called Gabriel, who'd come in half an hour late to politics with not one but two lolly pops sticking out his mouth to walk out of college with. He liked Gabriel because he had a righteous taste in music, and a bad Ramones t shirt. All day, Dean had been getting the feeling that he was being deliberately isolated from the other people at Shurley College. He felt quite proud really. But it was nice to have found at least one friend. Even if Gabriel was annoying and never shut up and had already pushed Dean into the girls toilets twice.

Once out of the college, Dean recognised Meg's dark hair through the crowds of students, lounging around with a group of punks across the street, so he and Gabriel walked over to join them. He'd met Meg at a local gig that summer, where she'd convinced him to let her sit on his shoulders throughout the set so she could get a good view, and now found out she was in the second year here.

"Hey," Dean greeted the group. Meg introduced the rest of the people to Dean, and Gabriel introduced himself. There was a guy called Ash with a bad hair style, who he discovered would be in his Chemistry class the next day, a blonde chick called Jo, Anna who he thought he'd spotted in Philosophy, Ruby and a weird guy who insisted on everyone calling him Lucifer, when his real name was Nick. With punks being a minority in this college, the students bonded quickly, over music and complaining about Thatcher.

"And there's also a far out teacher called Crowley," someone was explaining, when - speak of the devil - he appeared behind them.

"Hello, little punks. Zachariah's told me to stop you loitering outside the college. You're giving us a 'bad image'," Crowley chatted congenially, his English accent somehow adding more sarcasm to his words. His voice was mocking, and he laughed about it, taking the piss out of his boss with the students, until he got them to leave for real.

College was going quite well for Dean. He was still treated like shit, but hey, he wasn't going to change his life choices just to fit in. He was a 'dirty' punk in a posh area. There was still the group of punks that stuck together, and he got to know them pretty well over the next few weeks. He found out that Crowley had the attitude of a punk, if not the right age-range and liked being a teacher because it meant he could control a load of people, and make their lives a living hell if he chose. He fondly called the group, 'little punks' and complained with them about Zachariah, who would always send him out to 'deal' with them, as Zachariah didn't want to get his hands dirty.

Dean discovered that Gabriel was from a well off family, but as rebellion and for independence, didn't take any money from them. Or at least, as little money as possible. Anna loved the attitude of punk more than the style. Lucifer only had a taste for punk music in its purest form. The 'crappy pop punk' and 'psychedelic punk' could 'go to hell'. Ash was always at least half drunk, but was a genius which stopped him from being kicked out. They all hated authority and they all agreed that The Sex Pistols were heavy.

"Guys, how about we go pay Stiggface a visit this weekend?" Ash slurred out.

"Come on Ash, Gabriel isn't that bad," Anna replied sardonically.

Gabriel snorted out his soda and it took him a while to recover.

"The only Stiggface I see is yours. Besides, he's talking about the band. They're playing local gigs this weekend," Gabriel replied.

It was a great night out and Dean took Sam. Sam hit it off with his friends immediately and was accepted into the group. They all had loads of fun that night and Dean had a chat with the guitarist of the band. They talked about how influential music was and how much punk music had changed their lives, and Dean brought up his hero, Gary Floyd, lead singer of The Dicks. Dean felt inspired.

The next day, Dean gathered up all the money he'd earned from helping Bobby out at his workshop and bought a cheap second hand guitar, bass guitar, microphone and some old amps for him and Sam. He got home and set it all up in their unused garage. Sam stood next to Dean as he gazed at his own handiwork admirably.

"This is gunna be bad," Dean said to Sam, his eyes glittering with excitement.

"-and it's going to be bogus. So, you in?" Dean asked hopefully. He and Gabriel were sat on a wall at lunchtime, picking at their cafeteria food.

"Hell yeah, it sounds great, but I've never touched a drum set in my life," Gabriel tilted his head questioningly.

"S'fine. We've never played instruments before either. We'll wing it."

"Just like the Ramones did," Gabriel added, smiling.

That week, the three started learning to play, Dean on lead, Sam on bass and Gabriel on drums. Gabriel somehow managed to persuade his parents to buy him a drum kit and let him keep it in the Winchester's garage. Each of the newly formed band members knew how important music could be to someone. Wanting to use this band for good, even though they barely knew how to play yet, they decided that their band would be a symbol for the young punks of their generation. Against Thatcher and the Tory government, and for expressing yourself, and freedom. Freedom to be whoever the hell you want to be, and do whatever the hell you want to do. Their influences were the greats: The Clash, The Sex Pistols, and the Ramones. Ideally, the band would be playing in London clubs, where the punk scene was growing fast. Even though they didn't know how to write songs yet.

"For punk. For anarchy. For us," Dean finished his speech. "Now, what are we gunna name our band?"

The band was going great. They were learning to play their instruments through covering all their favourites. It turned out Dean had the best voice, so was now the lead singer as well as the guitarist. Gabriel had enjoyed playing in the band, but didn't have a very good attention span, so had quit two weeks in. He told them to keep the drum kit, and soon enough, Meg joined. Dean had even written half a song. He was good with words, less good with the music theory, just singing it to a random tune that sometimes fit to the music.

At college, Dean was still getting a hard time from the teachers and some of the other students. He'd hardly got into any fights since that first day, and never slacked in class, but alas, he was a no good dirty punk in their eyes. One day he was cleaning the halls as punishment from a teacher who found an anarchy symbol graffitied on her classroom door. And okay, even though it was Dean that had done it, she only assumed it was because of the way he dressed. He muttered to himself, calling the teacher an evil son of a bitch from hell, when he heard what sounded like a harp coming from one of the music rooms nearby. Weird, he thought to himself, it's a bit late for anyone to still be here.

Throwing the sponge he'd been using to the floor, he marched off to find the source of the sound. There was a door, slightly ajar, that the sound was coming from. The punk poked his head through the door, mohican first, to see who it was. Inside, there was a guy playing the harp, with his back to the door. Dean didn't recognise him and edged in to get a better look. He guessed it was a student, by the look of his young face, and he had a vague recollection of seeing him in the canteen before, but never really got a good look. The harp-playing guy was completely oblivious to Dean, lost in his music. His hands glided over the strings expertly, making beautiful music. The anarchistic punk was quite enjoying the relaxing, heavenly sound. He also got quite a good look at the guy. Dressed quite formally, hot, kind of sleepy looking, Dean felt a crush developing. This is weird, he thought, he's so not punk, he is the opposite of punk and he looks like a complete snob. But so hot and talented, he thought, admiring how easily his fingers found each string.

He cleared his throat, causing the guy to jump and turn to face Dean, who smiled warmly at him.

"Hey, sorry, didn't mean to make you jump," he started sheepishly. All he got in return was a faint nod. The guy was staring at him, and Dean only noticed now how startlingly blue they were.

"I'm Dean," he offered. Again all he got was a faint nod, and continued nervous staring.

"What's your name?" A few moments passed.

"C-c-" the guy stuttered.

Dean realised the guy must be quite spooked. A random punk with a bad reputation for fighting cornering him in the music room, with no one else around. And his smile probably looked less friendly when framed with the safety pins. He sighed, because for the first time, he didn't want this reaction to his appearance. He wanted the guy to like him.

"Spit it out," Dean joked, hoping it didn't sound too mean.

The guy cleared his throat. "Castiel."

Finally, Castiel averted his eyes and just sat there nervously, fiddling with nothing. Dean understood that Castiel probably didn't want to be harassed by the punk any more, and understood how hopeless this little crush was.

"Well, um, stay punk Cas," Dean nodded and made his exit.

After he'd left the room, Cas relaxed. Yes, it was a bit alarming when a guy with Dean's reputation randomly starts talking to you in a near empty building but that wasn't the only reason Cas' voice had been caught in his throat. All of the 'normal' students disliked and stayed away from the punks but Cas secretly admired them for being so fearless. He had noticed Dean round school before, in awe of the confidence he oozed, the individuality and the raw attitude of him. And maybe, because Dean was really hot.

Later that week, Dean, Sam and Meg decided to call the band Spit It Out.

They managed to play a few very small gigs, thanks to a friend of a friend of Bobby's, and they completely sucked but were not disheartened. Except Meg left the band. She was replaced almost immediately with Anna. The band continued, and life went on.