Castiel climbed out of the car seat, feet firm on the cement as he took in the sight of his surroundings. He took a deep inhale of the fresh air surrounding them, and breathed out the oxygen that delightfully filled his lungs. This was their new home. They've never been to Redwood before, much less heard of it. It was a small town, and nothing like what they were use to. They were use to cities and fancy state buildings, not trees and old fashioned, battered houses. He wasn't use to change, and never liked it all that much, but he could definitely get use to it here. He liked the scenery the town possessed, it was calming and had an unusual aesthetic to it. There was even a difference in the air that he couldn't bring himself to explain. It was nice and mysterious, sending thrills under the surface of his skin until he could feel it run through his bones. The atmosphere the place gave off was like some foretelling, that something would change, that things would take a turn. For better or worse, he didn't know.
It was just a house, he couldn't comprehend the feeling it gave off of he examined it. Like it was a new beginning, a fresh start. His little brother, came out of the car soon after, not bothering to close the attached door as he faced the the house. He looked down at his little brother at the other end of the car, and could tell he was goggling the setting in astonishment. He smiled down at him, and looked back over to the large structure before them.
"What do you think of the place, Jesse?" Castiel asked the boy who seemed too excited for his own good.
Jesse turned his head quickly with passion, eyeing his big brother as he stared back. "It's huge!" he described enthusiastically.
It wasn't that big, but it probably seemed that way to him since there would be three people living in the house now, and it would be mainly just him and his brother since their father would be at work most hours of the day.
He turned back to the view, and attempts to run towards the front door.
"Jesse, aren't you forgetting something?" Castiel hinted with clouded eyes of disbelief, gesturing his head towards the front of the car where Audrey's mother claimed the seat.
"Oh, sorry!" Jesse was a polite kid, but was sometimes too preoccupied with certain things that he completely forgot about that part of him.
He sprinted back to the opened passenger seat and leaned his upper body in just enough so he could say his thanks to Mrs. Elmer for dropping them off. Without as much as a pause, he continues his dart towards the house, hearing little thuds as he runs up the door steps.
"Wait up, Jesse!" He shut his side of the car door, thanking Audrey's mom for dropping them off, and watched as she drove down the street. He walked briskly to the front steps, taking out keys that once use to reside in his jeans pocket. Jesse was waiting impatiently, signalling the teen to hurry up when he couldn't take the wait.
"If I didn't have the keys right here, I wouldn't be surprised if you broke the front door down," Castiel chuckled at his eagerness. Jesse rolled his eyes at that, and watched as castiel turned the keys in the lock.
He unlocked the door, but kept the key in, and looked at the little form of bottled energy next to him. He looked up at him with impatience.
"I'll let you in once you calm down," he reassured the boy who appears to be experiencing the effects of a sugar rush, and couldn't help but let a chuckle fall off his lips, leaving the corners of his mouth stretched to mold a small smile. Usually, Jesse was quite the serious child, but when it came to new things and places, he couldn't contain his excitement.
"Please!" The little boy cried. "You already got to see it, it's not fair that I had to wait so long."
"I also had to do all the heavy lifting and planning by myself, all while you decided to stay at Audrey's house all day." To say he did all of the work wasn't entirely true. His father, Bartholomew had hired a few movers to help get the furniture into the house, but the actual designing and moving was on him.
His father was at work all day, not even lending as much as a hand in the process. In a way, he was grateful for that. That way he could organize the house the way he wanted, and if his father were to help, their whole house would look like a replica of his office.
Jesse gave him a pleading look, managing to feign guilt at the same time. He wasn't mad at him for not helping out, not when he probably wouldn't have allowed him to in the first place, he was just fourteen years old.
Castiel gave in and decided to let him enjoy a few minutes of merriment, removing the key, and letting the boy rush through the front door to examine the rooms.
"It's looks even bigger on the inside," he commented as he stood in the hallway. Jesse quickly took off his shoes one by one from habit before he continued his search around the house. Castiel removed his own sneakers, leaving him with just his white socks.
To the left was an open kitchen that lead to an extra room in the basement, and to the right was the living room, all of which he was proud to say he arranged himself. Down the hall was was the bathroom on the left wall. Opposite it was a set of stairs that lead to the second floor, which had both their rooms and his father's, including an extra bathroom, which was convenient since they tended to use the bathroom at the same time in the morning for school.
He walked up the stairs where Jesse seemed to have headed, and wandered to the room on the left, which he decided to be his brothers while he was moving everything around earlier today.
He saw his little brother sprawled on the bed, looking at the ceiling. He turned over to his older sibling who leaned against the doorway with his shoulder, arms crossed. "I really like this place", he said with a straight face, which was actually quite hilarious considering how energetic he was just a minute ago.
"Yeah, I know you do," Castiel smiled.
Sometimes, Jesse felt like a real brother to him. They weren't related by blood, he was the son of a family friend who disappeared a while back and never returned. Bartholomew, his father, agreed to let him stay with them since he was close to Jesse's parents. Castiel was great with Jesse before that all happened, and was responsible and trusted enough to take care of him when his mother wasn't around, so it all worked well. He knows Jesse still misses his parents, but he takes the place as his guardian.
He looked back up to the ceiling and asked, "Will things be different this time?" Castiel was taken aback by the sudden mention. They were silent for a moment as Castiel's thoughts were sent back to the recent past, a time he doesn't want to think about. He quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of his head, and attempts to reassure his worried little brother.
"It'll be fine this time, I promise," Castiel assured, but didn't notice a change in the little boys expression.
"How can you be so sure?" He looked genuinely upset. He didn't like it when he lied to him, but sometimes, it was necessary.
"I'm not, but things could really be different here, for the better," he tried to convince even himself. If Jesse was like him, which he was, he'd be skeptical too.
"What if it's for the worse?," Jesse asked. Castiel couldn't count the amount of times he's thought the same thing on his two hands.
He scanned his mind for a good enough reply, one that would at least temporarily ease his brothers negative thoughts.
"If it is, we'll handle it when we get there. We can't forget about what happened and change it if we keep thinking about it." Jesse gave no response other than a slow shake of the head.
"I know you're worried, but you don't have to, I'll be okay," he added. Castiel kept his eyes on him for a few seconds before heading out the door.
"Make sure to set your alarm for tomorrow, and don't stay up too late," he warned his little brother.
He had a habit of acting like overprotective parent around him sometimes, but it came naturally with him. He felt responsible for him since his father was almost never there to take care of him, Jesse barely knew the guy other than from the time when his parents were around. He wasn't sure when they'd come back, but given they've been gone for three and a half years, he's not sure what to think. A wave of sadness washes over him, but again, he can't think of that, not right now.
Castiel opened the door to his room, just opposite of his brothers. He stood a few feet in front of the ajar door, taking the time to admire his newly owned room. Looking left to right, he was greatly satisfied with the how he made his room. Everything just seemed to fit into place. Like a key in a lock, everything looked to be in it's rightful spot.
His bed was just to the left side of the room, fitting in just perfectly between both the left and furthest wall. His desk was positioned right beside his bedside table, with a bunch of unread books filling the surface in an organized stack, along with his old laptop. A window right above, proving just how late it's become since finished with the house, it was already dusk outside. Beside it, he had a medium sized bookshelf to keep all of the books he's bought and read in it, neatly tucked against each other. A closed closet to the right wall of the room, just left of a small dresser with a simple TV on top.
Castiel was a pretty boring guy, he didn't have much to decorate his room with other than a fancy carpet that laid in the middle of the floor that he got at a yard sale for just a few dollars.
A few picture frames were hung on the wall next to his door. One of his deceased mother in a frame on the wall next to his door. Long brown hair flowing in the wind as the shot was taken, with dark cobalt eyes, a color you'd only think to find at the bottom of an ocean. He doesn't know much about his mother, but he knows where he got his looks from.
Next to it are pictures in smaller frames with a few good memories with his siblings, Gabriel, Anna, and Jesse. He misses his older brother and sister, and has been missing them ever since they'd gone off to college. Those photos were about all that made his room stand out.
After hours of moving furniture on his own, his legs ached, his muscles were sore, and he was tired out of his mind. He swore that if he had laid down on his recently made bed for even just a minute, his body would call it a day and he drift off to sleep without realizing. He would have been completely okay with that if not under these certain circumstances.
But considering he is under these certain circumstances, he can't, at least not yet. So instead of relieving his tired eyes, he prepares for school tomorrow.
He steps into the bathroom on the right of Jesse's closed door, and in front of his father's room. He feels the cold ceramic floor tiles sticking to the bottom of his feet as he strips off his clothing, placing them neatly on the surface of the marble sink counter. After giving himself a quick look in the mirror above the sink, he sees the exhaustion on his face, and under his eyes. It goes bone deep, and he hopes a good night sleep would fix it, but it never really does, not wholly.
He steps into the warm shower, craving the touch of his soft pillow and warm blanket against his skin, but settles for the relaxing, warm droplets falling onto his skin. He makes sure to wash himself thoroughly after a long day of moving. He steps out of the shower, changing into a white Star Wars t-shirt along with comfortable sleeping pants he laid out for himself prior. He brushes his teeth meticulously, and towel dries his not so short brown hair to the point where it would dry well on it's own. He liked the naturally messy result it gave, and that was all that had to be done.
He finishes loading his backpack with binders, writing utensils, and picks out a book for his habitual lunchtime reading. He sets his ready dark grey backpack on the floor at the end of his desk, and lays down on his bed, arms behind his head, looking up at his now cream colored ceiling. Flashes of light occasionally dancing with the beige on the wall from the window as cars drove by in the night.
Soon, his father would be home, but he wouldn't get the chance to see him like usual. He hoped he would like the way he arranged everything, especially his room, but his father was always pretty much indifferent to everything he did. Maybe because he wasn't home enough to truly appreciate it.
He knew Jesse was worried about him, and it was understandable with what happened at their old school. A lot of bad stuff happened there, and not much good. If he had to admit it himself, he was worried too. He was scared that things would end up the same as last time.
He'd be berated by his father again after a heated argument, or rushed back into a hospital after a bad day at school again. He didn't want that, he wanted this time around to be normal, but he didn't expect it to be. Life at home and school would always be the same, and he'd come to terms with that, for Jesse. He didn't want to worry his little brother any more than he already does, so he deals with it so he doesn't have to.
His eyes grew heavier and heavier as minutes passed by, thoughts only just lingering at the back of his mind, until eventually, he falls asleep.
Dean jolts awake to the sound of his phone alarm, set on the highest volume with the most loud and annoying tune known to man. Without even thinking, he knows he's going to have to get back at Sam for that, as well as changing his lock code. Even if Sam is a clever little genius who has his ways of figuring out a four digit code every single time. He sits up at the side of his bed, feet firmly placed on the floor below. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he hears sounds coming from the kitchen.
It's unusual hearing such activity this early in the morning, not to mention waking up this early in the morning. Why was he awake so early? It was seven thirty in the morning, no one should be up this early, unless you're the type of person who likes to eat fruit for breakfast that is. Then, it hits him.
"Right, of course, school starts today," Dean mumbles, still trying to get the tired out of his eyes. That must be why Sam set his alarm, even if in the most annoying way possible. He gets up and walks out of his bedroom, going down the stairs.
At the last step, he sees his little brother, with his messy bed hair, and a shirt much too large for him, making whatever it is he's making on the stove. He can't see the food, but he can hear the sizzling and smell the bacon and eggs enter his nose as he inhales, exhaling in appreciation. What a good way to start the day.
His stomach growls with hunger and craving. If there was only enough bacon left for one, he'd have to resort to stealing from Sam's plate to fulfill his craving, even if they did have a no food stealing policy in this house. This was implemented by Sam because of Dean's apparent preoccupation with food, as also stated by Sam. He did not have a preoccupation with food, Sam simply ate like a bird, and snacked on rabbit food for a living. At least that's how he likes to think of it; Sam disagrees.
He makes his way to the kitchen, and instead of sitting at the nearest chair, he makes his way over to walk past Sam just give his little brother the noogie he deserves.
"Oww, stop!" Sam protester as he dropped his spatula on the counter.
Dean stops, not because of Sam's cry of disapproval, but because he just wants to make his way to the table and sit down, still trying to acknowledge the fact that he has to get up and go somewhere today for seven long hours.
"That's what you get for messing with my phone, bitch."
He would have actually done it whether he touched his phone or not, it's practically tradition at this point to do it a few times every week. Dean places both elbows on the counter, and holds his phone out, unlocking it, and checking his messages. No important one's, just his so called friends trying to strike up unnecessary conversation that he has no interest in this early in the morning.
Sam heads over to the table, a plate in both hands, including forks, one with an obviously more copious amount of food.
Sams gives the larger plate to Dean, and in doing so, looks dean in the eyes, and solemnly swears, "Jerk." Dean nudges him in the arm as some kind response. Another tradition that these two share that just never seems to end. The little boy then goes to the fridge and returns with a box of orange juice along side with two glasses, setting them on the table. Dean decides to help out and pour them both a good amount of the beverage.
Sam sits at in his usual chair, and starts eating his food, at a quicker pace than accustomed. He can only guess Sam doesn't want to be late. "We have to leave in twenty minutes, so eat fast." Dean picks up his fork and is pleased to see that Sam made him a few pieces of bacon. He remembers not having much left in the fridge, so he must have used it all, he takes note to buy some more later.
"So, what did you do?," Dean asks.
Sam looks up with confused and innocent eyes, with a hint of guilt that is so subtle, only he would notice. Dean sighs, he knows Sam far too well.
"You're making food for me, usually you don't even let me near your bag of chips." Dean takes Sam's silence as an opportunity to take a drink of orange juice while he decides on an answer.
Sam is not one for sharing, at least not with Dean, because he knows he'll just eat the whole damn thing. When it comes to making food for him, Sam just doesn't. Or at least not in the morning, they take turns at dinner. It's some kind of intervention into getting him to stop being so lazy and do things for himself, which really irritates him. Especially when he see's Sam with a plate full of delicious food in front of him, leaving Dean with nothing.
Sam, deciding to be honest says, "I broke your favorite mug."
"You what?" Dean practically chokes on his drink. This was a great way to start the morning.
He looks at him with wide eyes, as if he just told him he murdered a person and buried him in the backyard. He loved that mug, it's the only Star Wars mug they have, and he loves a good Star Wars movie. "I was just putting away the dishes and dropped it." Sam looks at his older brother, giving him the puppy eyes.
"Sorry," Sam adds quietly.
Dean rolls his eyes, ruffles his brothers hair, and gets back to eating.
"It's just a mug, I'll buy myself another one next time, probably with your money."
Sam immediately looks relieved, as if he just got off the hook for actually murdering someone, and doesn't take the last of his comment seriously, because he obviously knows he would never steal from him.
"Good thing I chose to make bacon this morning, it always puts you in a good mood."
"Right, because if you didn't make bacon, who knows what I'd do, breaking a mug is a serious crime." Sam just laughs and continues eating until they both finish their food.
Dean gets up and puts his plate in the sink, heading up to his room to get ready. "Alright Sammy, get ready and wait for me in the car."
Dean changes out of his pajamas and changes into his usual dark wash jeans, t-shirt, plaid long sleeve, with leather jacket to top it off. He grabs his school bag, not bothering to check if he had everything he needed, and flings it over his shoulder. It was only the first day anyways, he didn't care all that much like Sam did if he had the right materials or not. He makes his way out the front door and see's Sam already waiting in the Impala, shotgun as expected. He climbs into the front seat, and drives to school.
This year, he doesn't have to drop Sam off to elementary school since he's now a freshman. He himself is on his last year of high school, and after that, he won't have to bother with any of his annoying classmates any longer. It would be just him and Sam, like it's always been. Dean did have friends, just none he considered important enough to keep in contact with after graduation. Some of them he even disliked, but he couldn't do much about it, that's just how high school is.
Parking his car in the school parking lot, he gets out and gives Sam a few words of advice on high schools unwritten rules. He could tell Sam is nervous for his first day, but knowing him, he'll be fine once the day is over, coming back home with a whole bunch of new friends, as well with some of his old ones that decided to go to North Vale High. Everyone adored his little brother, no matter where they went, or who they met, so he didn't worry.
He takes his schedule out of his bag, the only thing he knew that he'd packed prior, and looks it over. He'd have English for home room, then Math, lunch, Science, and Spanish to end the school day. He was lucky to have lunch early on instead of before fourth period like last year. That semester was just a tedious, unnecessary wait of pure torture. He walked through the doors and was almost immediately greeted by his friend Crowley with a pat on the shoulder.
Crowley was one of his friends he actually sort of liked, that is until he became a great big bag of dicks. He still liked him though, to an extent, he could still sense the guy he use to be lingering around in there, and was still an overall hilarious guy to be around. One of the reasons why is that he started being a scumbag to other students. Dean didn't care much for it, and didn't participate other than occasional name calling, but it definitely changed Crowley as a person, and made him downright arrogant.
"Hey squirrel, you ready for your first day of school?" Crowley grinned, speaking in a voice you'd only hear directed to a kindergartner.
"Oh, shut it."
They make their way down the hall, and Dean checks the number on each passing locker to match the one written on his schedule.
"So, how was your summer?" He knew Crowley didn't really care, but what else was there to begin their talk with when they haven't seen each other in weeks? It was a typical first day of school conversation starter.
"Not much, Sammy broke my favorite Star Wars mug this morning though." Smiling at the thought of his clumsy brother. He turns to Crowley, and his pretend hurt expression was almost laughable.
"I loved that mug", he confesses. He's been to his house a few times since the beginning of high school when they first met. He wouldn't be surprised if he ever mentioned the mug to him. Either that, or he's just humoring him.
A few students bump into them, and apologize as they continue to make their way to their own classes, Crowley warns them to watch where they're going.
"Yeah, that's what I said."
When he finally finds his locker, Dean just finishes sharing a couple of funny stories about him as his brother that happened while he was away. He puts all of the unnecessary stuff that he won't be using until after lunch in it. He takes his own lock from his bag where he remembers last putting it and secures it onto his locker, remembering his code from last year.
"Enough about me, what about you? Break any mugs this summer?" Dean joked, earning a laugh from his friend.
"No, because sadly, my Summers will never be as exciting as yours." Dean smirks as Crowley playfully points at him.
He gives Crowley a playful nudge on the shoulder, accidentally knocking him into a couple of students, not bothering to say his apologies, causing the two girls to grumble in complaints.
They meet Jeffrey and Gordon along the way, and talk a bit until they walk over to his home room, which is conveniently close to his locker. He bids his friends a farewell as he walks into his English classroom.
The room was pretty much full, and the teacher was already up front. He could only guess he was late. He eyed the seat of the second row, closest to the door, with no one sitting in the seat beside it. Thank God for that, he hated sitting near people sometimes, most of his classmates were just idiots. He covertly tried to tip toe his way to the available seat that was nearly calling to him, hoping the teacher didn't notice him walk in.
"I see you, Dean Winchester," Mr. Wyatt cautioned him not to even attempt at sneaking past him.
He recognized him from last year, he was a great teacher and seemed to like Dean, despite his attitude and disinterest in his, or any lessons for that matter. He was just starting to write his name on the whiteboard with a red marker, meaning he wasn't as late as he thought.
"Yeah, yeah." He quickly takes his seat and sets his bag next to his desk, and leans back in his chair for comfort, readying himself for a good seven hours of misery.
Giving at least some effort, he takes out a pencil from his jacket pocket, and fidgets with it while he waits for class to start. However, once it does, it doesn't start off the way he expected it.
"Good morning class, I'll skip past the introduction since most of you already know me by now." He sets the marker down on the Whiteboards edge. "Instead, there's someone else who will be making one, come on in", he signaled out the classroom.
The door opened, and in came a face he's never seen before. He had blue eyes as deep as the ocean, so blue that you could get lost in them if you wanted to go out for a swim. He had messy brown hair that complimented his sapphire eyes, just waiting to be ruffled up, with just a simple dark sweater and jeans. He walks up to the front of the room beside the teacher.
"This is Castiel Novak, he will be a student here from today on, would you like to introduce yourself?"
"I decline your offer, may I take my seat now?" A few students burst into giggles, and he couldn't help but grin himself.
This guy was definitely weird. What's weirder is that normally, this school doesn't get many new students. It's a small town, not to mention people don't usually transfer on their last year.
"Uh, yeah, sure, welcome to North Vale High," Mr. Wyatt concluded, and began to sit at his desk and take attendance.
Castiel walked over to Dean, and sat in the seat next time him. Damn, he really wanted to sit alone for homeroom, especially if it meant not sitting by the weird new guy. Dean gives a glance to his apparently now desk buddy, and sees him take out some paper, a pencil, and a book that he doesn't know from the looks of it. He promptly opens his book, and starts to read where he last left off near the middle as he waits for the roll call to end. It's seems to be a pretty long book, not one he would choose to read for a book essay, he usually goes for the ones with less pages.
He stares for a bit too long and accidentally drops his pencil from loss of focus, rolling off his desk and hitting the side of his new desk neighbors chair. The blue eyed boy, or Castiel as he remembers it, seems to notice and bends down to pick it up.
He grips the pencil loose between his thumb and index, and turns towards Dean, offering his pencil back. Dean thinks he looks into his eyes for a bit too long, and realizes when the guy coughs the silence away, that he in fact did.
"Oh, right, thanks," Dean quavered, taking his pencil back with a firm grip amidst his two fingers.
Castiel nodded his head in reply with an annoyed look in his eyes and turned back to his book, continuing to read as if he had completely forgotten their interaction. What was that about? Dean didn't fail to notice the revulsion in his behavior. Was he like that with everyone, or did Dean unknowingly offend him within the past 10 seconds? Dean didn't believe in the latter, so he just assumes he's one of those annoyed, fed up teenagers that's angry with life. Those are the kinds of people he just couldn't stand to be around, they're no fun at all. Sure, he may not like his life very much all the time, and he can be cranky sometimes, but he still knows how to be the life of the party.
Dean listens to the lecture for the next 15 minutes since he has nothing better to do, whilst still fidgeting with his pencil. English was his favorite subject anyways apart from construction and gym. It was the easiest for him, and didn't take much effort. Mr. Wyatt went right into talking about Shakespeare, a play he's never heard of from previous English classes. He guesses they're going to learn about a lot more new stuff this year rather than re-learning the same stuff like last semester. They'll apparently be reading a play called As You Like It by Shakespeare.
"Has anyone read this before?," Mr. Wyatt asks, as if expecting people would read this stuff in their spare time over the summer.
"I have, and I found it very enjoyable," A voice to his left speaks out. Everyone turns their head to the voice, not expecting anyone to answer. He can hear a few giggles from around the room, possibly the same giggles from the beginning of class.
"It's great to see that someone appreciate the classics, Mr. Novak. I hope you won't mind giving it a second read." Castiel flexes the corners of his lips into a bright smile. Mr. Wyatt nods in approval and gets back to his lesson.
It wasn't hard to guess who had the highest chance of being this year's teacher's pet. This guy was definitely strange if he thought reading Shakespeare's works over the summer was fun. He can also cross off being an annoyed, fed up teenager that's angry with life off the list of reasons why this kid seems to dislike him right off the bat. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy that gets easily annoyed with people after seeing his true colors. He could totally see him giving out free puppies to little children on the streets in need of a best friend, so why did they already seem to get off on the wrong foot?
He doesn't fixate on it, he didn't want to get a headache from the lack of answers during the middle of class. It was probably just him over thinking. I mean, who could dislike him? Especially when he's done nothing to them. He was a very likable person, at least the parts of himself that he shows.
Class ends, and he makes his way to math after meeting a couple of friends in the hallway, incidentally, being the reason he was late again. Dean notices that Castiel shares the first half of his own class schedule when he sees him sitting in the middle of the classroom. He takes his seat next to him since it's the only seat left, but is glad that Crowley was sitting in front of him in at least one of his classes. Overall, it was a pretty boring class, so he didn't bother listening, occasionally talking with Crowley throughout the class in secret. He could've sworn Castiel took a few side glances at him when he wasn't busy taking notes.
He then goes to lunch with Crowley by his side, and gets his tray of food, going to his usual seat with his friends already there: Alastair, Jeffrey, and Gordon. He didn't like any of them if he was being honest. Especially Alastair, he was downright creepy with his nasally voice, and was the source of pure evil. He sometimes thought of giving him the suggestion of getting his throat checked, half for jokes and the other so he wouldn't have to shiver every time he heard him talk. He almost did once, but decided not to. He was more than sure that Jeffrey had some ties with a demon, no matter how innocent he acted around the teachers and his parents. He knew something was up with him behind closed doors, but didn't think twice about it, because he really didn't care. Gordon was the most sane in the group, that is, until you pissed him off. You did not want to offend him or try to go against his word, because he wouldn't tolerate it.
They acknowledge their arrival, but carried on talking about whatever it is they were talking about as Dean sat next to Jeffrey, and as Crowley sat next to Dean. He ignores them for a minute and enjoys his lunch. The cafeteria food isn't necessarily enjoyable per se, it's just kind of similar those foods that you don't necessarily like, but for some reason, you can't stop eating it.
Dean continues to ignore them until Crowley mentions something. "Hey, has anyone else seen that new kid?" Crowley indicated, causing deep furrows in his brow.
Everyone at the table looked up at him, with knowing looks. No one sets foot in this school without being known. This school is small, just like it's town, and not enough people come here for it to be a normal thing. He doesn't bother to look, and takes a bite of his Ham and Swiss sandwich.
"He's really strange, he knows the answer to every damn question the teacher asks and talks like some college professor," he adds.
"I've seen him around the halls, I could tell he was off just looking at him," Gordon adduced, and Jeffrey agreed with a shake of the head, but too focused on his own sandwich to pitch in.
"Well, I think we should give him a nice, warm welcome," Alastair suggested, but it didn't seem like much of a suggestion.
He looked up at Alastair, who looks to be contemplating just how many ways you can greet a guy on their first day. He knew that look, and he knows Alastair's definition of a nice, warm welcome. He already feels kind of bad for the new dude. He normally doesn't care for Alastair's victims, and will even participate in some non physical way every once in awhile, but always felt for them in the end, just a bit. It's not like they deserved it, he was just going with whatever everyone else did. But hey, it's their job to stand up to dicks like Alastair, so it's not his problem. Alastair gets up from his seat, throwing a napkin into a garbage in the distance and motions them the follow his lead outside the cafeteria.
Castiel spends his lunch outside the school's cafeteria at a table no one appears to sit at. He hasn't made friends so far as expected, but he was sure everybody knew him by now, which was a weird feeling because he liked to be discreet. He took a bite out of his turkey and whole wheat sandwich, looking out at the students playing soccer on the field. He didn't like sports, they took too much physical effort, he'd rather challenge his mind. Though, he'd be lying if he said it didn't intrigue him. It looked fun from a distance, like watching a TV show without actually being in it.
His mind wanders through a series of thoughts until a certain name crossed his mind, which he knows from English class' attendance. Dean Winchester, he was a popular guy from the looks of it. He didn't look violent, but he could definitely throw a good punch or two, possibly three if he wanted to, or get his friends to pitch in if you as much talked to him in the wrong way.
He didn't like Dean Winchester already, he was the popular kid who did absolutely nothing to earn anyone's reverence, just took everyone's empty admiration and took advantage of it. He could tell there was more where he came from, and didn't take any joy in that speculation. They were the kinds of people he just didn't want to be in proximity with. Not only for his safety, but for his own sanity, he avoided them like he would any contagious disease.
Things have been pretty decent so far for his first day, but he still have his doubts. Things always seemed to be going well, but it seemed to be going well at his old school too, and that didn't turn out as planned. He expected by tomorrow that he'd be the jocks new toy, and he'd just have to deal with it until the school year was over. He was like some kind of magnet, all kinds of trouble was just attracted to him like a force of gravity, and you can't reprogram physics, he learned that the hard way.
Just before he could take another bite of his homemade turkey sandwich, a large shadow cast over him, blocking the sunlight that once situated warmly on his face, deploring silently over the loss. He looked up, and saw two figures standing in front of him.
Both looked too old to be high school seniors, but too young to have graduated. They watched him intensely, observing his every move, making him feel very uncomfortable under their gaze. They seemed to notice how uneasy he was, and gave out a laugh as if someone just told the funniest joke. He placed down his sandwich, already expectant on what was about to go down.
He looked past them and saw three other guys sitting at the table closest to him, but far enough to not have noticed before now. All of them giving their full attention to the scene, paying close regard to detail, smirking as the two in front of him burst into laughter. One of them being Dean Winchester. He was the only one not seeming to find some sadistic pleasure in the situation, but not disapproving either. He stared at Castiel with blank eyes, the corners of his mouth relaxed and remained slack. He drew a cigarette from his lips between his two fingers, sending grey smoke into the thin air, which he could barely make out from the distance. He could smell it from all the way over here.
He looked Dean in the eyes, seeming to catch him off guard as he squinted, but kept his scrutiny strong. Castiel wrinkled his eyebrows in response, thinning his mouth with distaste, seeming to get another face out of the grassy eyed boy.
He then looked over to the two in from of him awkwardly, tearing the bit too long of a gaze asunder. "Do you want something?"
As if questioning them would make a difference, all they wanted was trouble with a side of reaction. Determined not to give them one, he sat straight with fake confidence in his eyes, hoping they'd back off. He'd been through this a great number of times. It never worked, but it was always worth a try. The guy to the left chuckled again, and getting a grin out of the guy next to him.
"Nothing you can give me, I'm sure," the guy said with the most unusual, nasally voice he's ever heard.
"But maybe we can work something out." He looked at him as if some sort of agreement had already been made without his choice in the matter.
The guy next to him placed both hands on the table, leaning over and invading Castiel's personal space. "How about instead, you become our new chum?"
He flashed a supposedly benevolent smile at him, which didn't look all that friendly in his point of view. Castiel inhales and exhales through his nose a bit too loud for his self assured pretense, hadn't realized he was holding his breathe. He was nervous, not because of what was happening, he'd gone through this too many times to count. But he knew these guys and his friends meant business, and that this would only escalate, and a lot from the looks of it.
"My name is Alastair, and this is my buddy here, Gordon," the guy next to him takes over. "The guys over there: Dean, Crowley, and Jeffrey, they'll be sure to welcome you to North Vale High too", he points over his shoulder.
"I'm sure we'll get along just fine." He slaps Castiel's left upper arm with more strength than necessary, enough to leave the painful touch lingering, but not enough to leave a mark. He turns around with his friend, and walks over to the rest of the group, who seem to be satisfied with how their two friends played it off.
He looks over at Dean again. He could have sworn his heart skipped a beat when he was still looking his way, not seeming to pay attention to his friends as they made their way to the table. They continued to have this unintentional staring contest until Castiel decided to pick his stuff up and leave, that couldn't have gone any stranger.
Castiel saunters over to his locker after having lunch outside, squeezing past a group of students on the way, going to get the things he needs for the next couple of periods. After pushing his way through, he takes the lock in his hands, and keeps turning the dial until he gets the combination right, opening his locker. Before he can put his binders and his new Math textbook inside, he sees someone walk into his peripheral vision.
He looked to his right, and locks eyes with the forest green iris' from before. This guy was now apparently his locker buddy too, great. After a few seconds, the guy turns away, and grabs his lock. Way to be inconspicuous, Castiel. He fumbles with the lock in his hands and manages to get it off, holding it in his left. Once he opens his locker, he looks back up with questioning eyes.
"Hey, you're the new kid, right?" he says even though he obviously knows the answers.
"Yeah, I could only guess you didn't realize with me sitting right next to you in homeroom," Castiel mocked.
Why was he even talking to him? A guy like Dean shouldn't talk to someone like him, or at the very least, wouldn't. He didn't like people with his status, they always meant trouble. Castiel had a lifetime supply of trouble to deal with, and he wasn't determined to make room for more.
The man's eyes grew wide with shock with the sudden derision, as if it was what he least expected. As if to silently say, who knew he had it in him. Castiel's face grimaced at that.
That look only lasted a second until he chuckled through a grin.
"Hey man, sorry for attempting to make small talk," the man apologized, raising both hands defensively.
"My names Dean, Dean Winchester." Dean raised his right hand, and held it flat in front of him. He looked down at the guys held out palm in confusion, and looked back up. This had to be some kind of joke.
He couldn't help but be suspicious of what Dean wanted from him. Dean didn't look as bad as his friends, especially after they shared that intense moment of visual communication, which he didn't to be reminded of. Because that was just queer, and he meant that in both senses of the term. He was queer himself, so no harm done in that category, but he couldn't seem to find that characteristic in the boy standing next to him. Most of all, it was just uncanny how long they managed to hold their stares, and to actually find it sort of comforting in the moment after his run in with Alastair and Gordon was just plain wrong.
He knew he was still up to no good, so he kept his guard up. After the scene at lunch, he found it hard to believe he wanted to be friendly with him. It was very hard to make friends after the bullying started in his previous school, he just wasn't use to people being kind.
Just try to be nice, Castiel, and then leave for third period. "Castiel Novak, but I'm sure you didn't realize that either," Castiel responded, eyebrows furrowed together.
He held out his hand, meeting Deans calloused hand half way. Dean chuckled again, releasing his hand after a couple of shakes. He opened his bag, and took out his previously used school supplies out, and stuffed them into his locker, taking a few items from it in return, and packing it into his bag.
Castiel used this moment to continue what he came to his locker to do, and was just about to turn and leave before Dean stopped him and asked, "Hey, what classes do you have next?"
He saw curiosity in Dean's eyes, for reasons he couldn't bring himself to fathom. He didn't have any obligation to know what classes he had, but he responded anyways, if it meant he could leave for his next one soon after.
"History, then Spanish for fourth." Dean's eyebrows lifted slightly. Don't tell me we have more classes together.
"I guess I'll see you in Spanish." Damn. Dean's eyes lit up along with what looked to be his signature smile. Castiel forced a smile back at him, and took his cue to leave for his next class, hopefully giving off the impression he did not want to be around this Dean Winchester, and that he wouldn't fall for any of his tricks. Only a few seconds later does he hear an addition of footsteps among the other students behind him, going the other way.
He tried to forget his conversation with Dean, he was not delighted in the slightest to be sharing another class with him, but at least he had history to himself. Making his way to his next class, looking at his schedule for some guidance. He seemed to be on the right track from the numbers of the doors he passes, but stops when he sees a familiar fourteen year old in his vision among the crowd of students. The boy looks up with a smile, and walks over to him.
"Hey, how's your first day of highschool so far, Jester?" Castiel asked curiously. He's more than certain that he's already made a bunch of friends, met up with some of his old ones from elementary school, and made a good impression on all his teachers. Jesse was just like that, everything seemed to go perfectly well for him with his likable personality.
"I thought we decided to drop that nickname?" Jesse put on a fake expression of disapproval.
"No, you did, that kind of decision is a two way street, and I'm not ready to give it up," Castiel smiled. He knew Jesse secretly loved the name like he did, but playful complaining was just their thing.
"I'm going to have to come up with a better nickname for you." He seemed to go into deep thought before he remembered the question.
"Anyways, it's great. I really like this school, it seems like a good place." Castiel knows what he's referring to, and he gets why he'd mention it, but brushes off the topic.
"Made any new friends?" he asks just to make sure. He'd like to hear about some of his new friends briefly, and then talk some more about it at home.
Jesse takes his time to remember all of the names of the people he's met, ruling in and out who was important enough to mention. He must have made a lot if he had to try and recall them all. He looks back at Castiel with enthusiasm in his eyes, seeming to have gotten a few names in mind.
"Well, there's a lot," Jesse stated the obvious.
"But there's this guy Sam, he's really cool!" Those two must have really hit it off by his tone, he could tell they'd be best friends already. He was glad that he was enjoying his school year so far with a lot of good classmates.
"He's really smart and funny, like you in a way, just more," Castiel smiled at the half compliment.
"He even has a pocket knife!" Castiel was caught off guard by that, what kind of kid carries around a pocket knife? He's sure he wasn't dangerous by how he described him, and Jesse knew better than to befriend bad people. He puts off all of his negative thoughts towards this kid called Sam, and puts his trust in his little brother, hoping for the best in his new friend.
"And there's this girl, Jessica, she's so nice and everyone likes her!"
Castiel smirked, he seemed to have a crush on a girl already.
"Made a girlfriend on your first day too?" Castiel teased, inducing an eye roll from the younger boy, obviously not amused.
"No, and besides, Sam already called dibs." Castiel laughed at the gravitas he expressed when he said it. If Sam wasn't dangerous as he had previously anticipated, he could learn the like the kid. He was excited to hear more about him and Jessica, along with everyone else when they had the time.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I guess you'll just have to find a way to get by for the next few hours". Jesse chortles at that.
He sees some students entering the classrooms ahead of him in a hurry, and he reminds himself to ask more about his day later so he won't be late for class.
"Make sure to tell me more about it it when schools over." Jesse smiles in response and gives a small shove to his arm as he makes his way to art class. At least he thinks he has art this period from the last time he went over his schedule with him.
He walks over to his own class, and looks across the room for any unoccupied seats. He was a bit late after his talk with Jesse, but not late enough to interrupt anything. The teacher didn't seem to mind, unpacking his own books from his bag and onto his desk. He finds one in the middle of the room, but clenches his jaw when he find the only obtainable seat to be in front of Alastair. He looks around the room again to make sure he didn't miss a seat, or to see if a desk had magically appeared to make sure Castiel was comfortable in the walls of his own classroom. He couldn't afford to be picky, so he takes his seat, and could feels Alastair's eyes on him as he sits down. He tries to ignore it as the class lecture begins. He's almost forgotten about it until sometime throughout the class, something hits the back of his head. He turns around only to see Alastair suspiciously minding his own business.
"Something the matter, Mr. Novak?" the teacher called out to him in front of the class, looking at him with an impatient in his eyes. The class is silent, but he can almost hear everyone smile around him. He looked down to his right foot where he spotted a piece of crumpled paper, the one that had apparently just landed off his head.
"No, sir," Castiel informed, and turns his head back to the whiteboard. Because there really wasn't anything wrong, besides the guy behind him of course, but he could let it slide since this seemed to happen all the time.
He listened to the teacher go through the timeline of World War One, when he looked down to the ground at the piece of crumpled paper again. He looked closer, and this time, he saw a bit of writing on it. He knew Alastair was not one for taking notes, and neither was any of his acquaintances around him, so he guessed there was a note inside specifically for him. He bends down unobtrusively to pick up the note, and unfolds the white lined paper under his desk to find a messily written words across the page, which fit Alastair almost perfectly. The note read, See you after school, chum.
Dean just couldn't seem to get his mind off of Castiel as he sat in Science class, tapping the test tube in front of him continuously with his pencil, distracted in thought. He thought he was an okay guy. Sure, he could be an ass sometimes, but it's not like he actually did anything to him. He didn't participate in whatever Alastair and Gordon had done. All he remembers is that they had shared some sort of weird eye to eye communication back there, along with that look he gave him when Alastair and Gordon walked over at lunch practically screamed I hate your guts.
He was popular, and everyone liked him, what reason was there to dislike him? He tried being nice, he showed his good side. He even gave his signature smile, which he only now realizes that only worked on the girls anyways. It's not like he wanted this guy in particular to like him, he just couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't. Charm practically ran in the family, it was in the Winchester blood for people to like them, maybe not so much his father, but that's besides the point.
Science class was over, and Dean made his way to Spanish class, looking for Castiel as his eyes scanned the room. He saw him sitting in the third row near the windows, and marched over, determined to get this guy to like him, and then he'd stopped fixating over this trivial matter. They'd workout their differences over a bit of small talk, and everything would be fine, and Castiel would wonder why he ever felt dislike towards him in the first place when he showed just how charismatic he could be. He sat next to him, and attempted a glance at Castiel to get his attention, but his eyes were glued the page, reading the words from left to right, over and over again.
Dean waited for him to put the book down, trying to be polite, but figured after a couple of minutes that his book was more important than anything the world could offer him right now. There wasn't anything he could possibly do that would get the conversation going, so he decided to start off with a little lie.
With that thought, he made his move. "Hey, what are you reading?" The boy finally lifted his head up from his book, letting reality sink back in.
The second he lays his eyes on him, his eyes widen a bit in surprise, but quickly turns back to his book, and turns his book over in his hands to reveal the title.
"How To Kill A Mockingbird," Castiel remarked. What was so horrible about Mockingbirds that they had to write a book about offing them, and why did it make it onto the shelves?
"Oh, I loved that book, great taste," Dean lied. In all honesty, Castiel could have been reading any book, and he would still have no idea what it was about.
"Really?" Castiel eyebrows shot up with disbelief, scrutinizing him with suspicion.
"What was your favorite part?" Dean turned his head to think what event he could possibly associate with the book, and turned back to him.
"I liked that part where they killed that one Mockingbird near the end, it was intense",,] he tested, knowing he just screwed up as the words rolled off his lips, but covered it up with a smile.
"What about you?" He hoped that despite his most likely wrong answer, he would still share his thoughts, and keep the conversation going.
"I liked how this book had nothing to do with mockingbirds." Castiel forced a smug smiled, and turned back to his book, surely after taking in the dumbstruck look his retort left him.
This guy was ballsy, and was not to be messed with in conversation, this coming from the guy who no one would dare to screw with. This would have went so much easier if he actually read, but he knew that would never happen, no matter how much Sam encouraged him to. Dean turned and faced the front of the classroom, put his elbows on his desk, and balanced his jaw on his right hand.
He did not like me, he thought. If he tried to talk to him again, he was sure it would backfire. But Dean wouldn't stop without getting what he wants, so it wouldn't hurt to try, or at least it wouldn't hurt physically. But how in the world do you converse with a guy like this? He decided to wing it as he turned to Castiel again. Before he could say a word, a loud slam came from the other side of the room as the teacher made his way inside, and to his desk to start taking attendance.
Castiel stood in front of the school's staircase, waiting for his brother to come out the doors so they could head home on the school bus together. He was happy to have his brother in the same high school as him now that he's a freshman, but he's also worried about the events he could possibly witness in the very near future. He's seen more than a kid his age should ever lay his eyes on, and he wasn't proud of himself for that. He should have been able to protect him from all of it, but he couldn't even protect himself. He tried once, during the incident that led him to where he was today.. But he didn't want to think about that right now, so he let his thoughts drift elsewhere. He waited patiently until as he saw a group of teenagers walking towards him, pulling him out of his daydream. My bad, the very, very near future, he thought to himself.
"Well if it isn't Asstiel!," Crowley pointed out as made his way over to him.
He stopped in his tracks when he was about a few feet away from him, The whole group followed his steps, including Dean Winchester, who was standing behind them all. uHe was still in perfect view, staring at him with the same blank eyes before he turned away, paying him no mind.
"How was your first day of school?" Alastair jested, imitating the sound of a sweet, motherly voice. A voice he's never gotten to hear from his own.
"Maybe it's just me, but that doesn't seem to be any of your business," Castiel shot back. Alastair, along with Gordon, Crowley and Jeffrey laughed at Castiel's choice of words. If this is how the school year was going to be, he may as well make the most of it instead of just taking it like a little kid who didn't know how to defend himself. He refused fight back physically, even though he probably could, and that's where his sharp wit comes in.
Dean looked up as he tucked a cigarette between his upper and bottom lip as a result of his snide.
"That's no way to talk to your friends, now is it?" Alastair faked an offended expression, and looked over to his friends, looking for some support.
"No, I don't think it is, Al", Gordon agreed, crossing his arms. Crowley and Jeffrey nodded in agreement.
From Castiel's point of view, he knew that even Dean was the leader of the pack. Alastair and Gordon were the most aggressive and not to be messed with unless you wanted a black eye, and Crowley and Jeffrey were more of bystanders, but were not any less to be screwed around with. He's only been here for a day, and he feels he know the pack pretty well by now.
"You should watch your manners, kid. Wouldn't want you getting hurt for that." He almost couldn't take Alastair seriously with that off-putting, nasally tone of his, but he knew that Alastair was not to be underestimated.
"And I think you should get a doctor to check out that voice box of yours," Castiel snarked, hearing a few snickers from his friends, Dean's appearing to be the most distinct. He was both proud and regretful the moment it slipped his tongue.
Alastair grabbed the neck of his shirt with his fist, and pulled him closer with force to the point where he could feel the light touch of Alastair's breath on his skin. When was the last time he brushed his teeth?
He grabbed Alastair's forearm as to help his balance. Everyone around them seemed to have stopped whatever they were doing to pay attention to what was going on, probably thinking who was going to throw the first punch.
"Watch your mouth," Alastair chided him, looking straight into his eyes, making sure to emphasize and pause between each syllable.
Castiel didn't respond, just stared at Alastair as he let out exhales of rage. Maybe he shouldn't have fought back, because now he was on Alastair's bad side, and he'd rather not be near him at all. But he couldn't take it back, and he's not sure he cares as much as he should.
"Cas?," a small voice fretted from behind. Castiel knew who it was, only one person called him by that name. Alastair look over Cas' shoulder, and snickered as he eyed the younger boy.
He shoved Castiel back with force, almost sending him off balance, but managed to keep on his feet. Jesse ran to his side, and staring anxiously at the tall boy in front of him.
"Next time, choose your words wisely." Alastair walked away after giving him a powerful stare down, his friends following behind him. Dean followed his lead too, but with one sparing glance back at him before heading off. He's not sure what it was with Dean, and why he keeps looking at him, but he doesn't ponder on it.
"What was that?" Jesse questioned. He would never lie to his brother, and he knows he shouldn't. But when it comes to matters like this, he chooses to keep his brother out of it, it was for his own good. Castiel could deal with it alone like last time, and he didn't want to worry him.
"Nothing Jesse, alright? Don't worry about it, those guys are jerks to everyone." He resettled his backpack strap over his shoulder, having been shifted from Alastair's threatening behaviour. He looks up to see the group walking down the sidewalk, almost out of view. Dean isn't with them this time, he wonders why, and how he managed to take off so quick.
"I don't care if they're jerks to everyone, it's happening again."
Jesse looked perturbed after just witnessing what he had, and he couldn't blame him. If he saw his older brother, in this case Gabriel, getting threatened after having dealt with so much physical and emotional pain, he'd be uneasy too, letting his mind stray from positive thought to the worse case scenarios.
"I'm fine Jesse, I'm the one who started it by insulting him, I can handle it from now on."
"You mean with your face like last time?" he ended the conversation as he started to walk towards the bus without him.
"Jesse.." Cas trailed off. He knew his brother meant well, but there wasn't much he, or either of them could do about it, especially when he was so young. He followed his brother into the bus and was a bit surprised to see that Jesse had set his backpack down beside him on the seat, preventing anyone from sitting next to him. He frowned at that. He didn't want things to be like this, but all he could do was give his brother some space and time to think. So instead of bothering him, he takes the seat on the other side of the bus closest to his brother.
He gave his little brother another glance until he decided it would be better to look out the window for the rest of the ride.
