"You excited, Sammy?"

"Dean, I… I just want to fit in."

Dean nodded noncommittally and shouldered his backpack as they made their way across the parking lot. Sam loved school, but Dean knew that he hated having to start over so often. At least this time they would stay a while –Dean had made their father, John, promise to that.

It was October: students had already made new friends or had gathered with their old ones, and were conversing in groups by the lockers before class. As the boys made their way down the hall, students did double takes, watching the new kids pass through. The atmosphere of the room changed. Students spoke more excitedly to their friends, pretending not to stare as Sam and Dean walked by. A couple girls winked at them and Dean was given an approving nod from one of the boys wearing a football jersey.

Sam found his locker and Dean watched for a moment as his brother nervously fumbled to put his backpack and books inside.

"'Kay, Sam, I'm gonna go find my locker upstairs but I'll meet you right after school, yeah? Just call me if something comes up." Sam looked up at him and nodded solemnly. Dean threw him a grin. "No worries, kiddo, you'll be fine. Just don't act too nerdy and scare everyone off. Alright, bitch?" A small smile pulled at Sam's lips.

"Yeah, whatever, jerk."

Dean winked at him and headed off to find his locker and then his first class, English.

The morning went by fairly quickly. Teachers introduced Dean and asked if he wanted to share something about himself. He would just give everyone a cocky grin and say, "Nah, I'm good," and sit down to an ambush of whispers from students around him. He offended one jock, who had asked him if he wanted to join the football team, by responding, "A bunch of sweaty guys running around, trying to pin each other to the floor? No thanks." He even got suggestions from a couple of attractive girls about going to Homecoming that weekend, to which Dean shrugged and said he might go to the after party. He liked girls, a lot, but wasn't really into relationships much, and paying for dinner and dance tickets didn't sound that appealing when he didn't even know anyone at the school yet.

Other than that, classes were pretty uneventful. When Dean wasn't talking to his curious classmates, he paid enough attention to the teachers to see what the class had learned up to that point in the semester.

Fourth period came along and Dean slid into the only empty seat, in the front left corner of the room, with a boy to his right and a pretty girl behind him. As the history teacher prepared his notes and PowerPoint, the girl behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi there," she said sweetly. "My name's Lisa." Dean put on his best smile.

"Hey, I'm Dean. My brother Sam and I just moved here from Kansas." It was a lie. They originated from Kansas, but in the last year alone they had lived in Texas, Louisiana, Washington D.C., and Kentucky. Saying they were from Kansas was just easier to explain than the complication that was the Winchester family's true lifestyle.

"Well, Dean, if you have any questions about school or want a tour around town I'd be more than happy to help."

"That's very kind, thank you." He let his gaze linger a little longer, making her smile grow at the attention. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned forward.

"So. Will I see you at Homecoming this Friday?" She cutely tilted her head to the side, her chin propped on her hand, elbow on the desk. Dean hesitated once more. He already really liked this girl, but he wasn't terribly keen on large-scale school events. "Uh…" he stalled. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a bit of movement and turned toward his other neighbor for respite from the awkward situation.

"What do you think?" he asked the boy with a cocky tone in harmless tease to break the tension. "Is this thing as great as everyone says?"

The boy had been taking out his notebook and at first ignored Dean, as if he hadn't heard. Noticing the silent pause, the boy turned looked at Dean with a raised eyebrow, as if trying to figure out why on earth this new student would be talking to him. Dean found it a little off-putting.

"Pardon?" the boy asked.

"What do you think about Homecoming?"

The boy's eyebrows knotted momentarily and he shifted ever so slightly, his eyes flickering to Lisa before returning to Dean.

"I think that the Homecoming Queen would not appreciate my thoughts on the subject." The boy pursed his lips and looked down, waiting for the answer to sink in. Before Dean could reply, Lisa spoke up from behind him.

"It's fine, Castiel. I know that you're not really fond of school activities, although I still think you should try going to one. You never know, it could be a lot of fun." Castiel merely regarded her for a moment longer before pursing his lips and turning back to his desk with an air of finality to flip through his notes. Dean frowned at the boy for his coldness but relaxed when Lisa placed a gentle hand on his forearm.

"Don't worry about him, he likes to keep to himself. You'll get used to it in no time, he sort of prefers to fade into the background." Lisa whispered, "When he first arrived we all thought he was so brooding and mysterious." She rolled her eyes and winked. Dean opened his mouth to reply, but the teacher began the lesson and everyone was at attention.

After class, Lisa invited him to sit with her table group for lunch. It mostly consisted of some cheerleaders, the class officers, and a couple of well-known students on the school's award-winning newspaper's staff. The table sat adjacent to the football team's table. At first Dean was uncomfortable sitting with so many others –especially because they were obviously the students that currently held the most power in the school—but was eventually put at ease by Lisa's amazing smile. He listened with a dreamy look on his face as she talked about her work volunteering at the animal shelter and told stories about Ben, a six-year-old she often babysat and whom she absolutely adored. However, when she brought up Homecoming again (not having received a proper answer the first time), he politely declined in spite of the assertive encouragement from the rest of the table. Dean was quickly learning that Lisa was the loveliest person he had ever met; she certainly deserved someone much better than him.

After lunch was gym class, which Dean immediately decided he hated. He walked up to the teacher, a gruff older man, whom he immediately recognized from the auto shop he had applied for a job at the day before. Mr. Singer remembered him, as well, and assured Dean that he had planned to call that evening to state that Dean could start work the following Monday. With that extra bit of confidence, Dean then asked about the school's baseball team, explaining that he had played at his previous school. Well, schools, but he wasn't about to get into that. The teacher set aside his clipboard and went to a shed on the side of the field and got out a couple gloves and a ball. They threw it back and forth for a short while and Dean even showed off his knuckle ball and a couple curve balls.

"Congrats, Winchester, you're on the team. We could always use an extra pitcher but since you said you played center field before, I might place you there, 'cause Johnson's an idjit. Get your schedule changed ASAP so you can get out of this godforsaken Phys. Ed. class; any varsity sport will earn you the gym credit you need to graduate. Once your courses are all set, you can start practice. Spring is our official season, so we only have a few more games left for the fall half-season, but the team trains throughout the year to stay fit. Just bring whatever gear you've got and what you don't have, you can either borrow from the school or we'll order it for you off of team funds."

"That's great, Coach Singer, thanks a lot." Mr. Singer ruffled his hair and pushed him toward the main buildings as the bell rang. "Yeah, now get outta here, ya idjit. I don't wanna see you until you set it up with the office."

After that, Dean walked with a spring his step. His soon-to-be coach and employer seemed really cool, even if he was a little grumpy, and baseball and fixing cars were something Dean understood and enjoyed. At the end of the day, he went to the office to make the necessary changes to his schedule, only slightly irritated that he had new Spanish, journalism, and sports medicine time slots, meaning he would have to go through the whole "new kid in class" ordeal.

On the way home, Sam talked about making two new friends –sophomores whom he had met in his Algebra 2 and honors biology classes. Sam was only a freshman, but he was so smart, he was often put into classes in the next grade level and other honors courses. Dean figured that Sam would already start on the Advanced Placement levels by his sophomore year, and Dean couldn't be more proud of his little bro. He, on the other hand, was content with a B or C average; he was an eighteen-year-old (nineteen in January) who just wanted to get out of high school and start working full time to support Sam's dreams of going to Stanford. He figured if any of the Winchesters had a chance of actually making something of himself, it would be Sam.

A/N: I went to a "Distinguished School" on the West Coast so pardon me if my depiction of high school doesn't match your experience. I'm not trying to brag or anything –it's just that I am generally unfamiliar with what goes on in other schools, as most of my classmates were liberal and A/B-students. We didn't worry too much about who was in what social group because honestly, the jocks got decent grades and the AP Calc students did varsity sports, so the lines were blurred anyway. People were petty, of course, but more in a "if I don't like you, I won't talk to you" way and less of a "I'll pound your ass into the pavement sort of way." So, you'll see some of that 'overachiever' influence in this story, and whenever I venture outside of my knowledge of high school social hierarchy, I'm pretty much grasping at straws.