Chapter One

If there was one thing Dean Winchester could hold responsible for causing the mess that was the last five months of his final year at school, it would be the result on the test paper Mr Cavanaugh handed back to him, a disapproving expression on his face.

Dean had never liked math. In all honesty, he'd never liked school, and today was not going to be the day that he suddenly started enjoying learning about how to analyse a picture or how to ask for extra ketchup in Spanish – or, in today's case, how to pass a fairly important math test.

Despite how seriously nerdy it was, Dean still felt that familiar disappointment jolt through him in one quick, painful stab. 34% wasn't even close to a pass. Not that it should matter, but...

"What'd you get?"

Dean looked up from his paper to see Gordon Walker leaning back in his seat, a curious expression on his face as he tried to see the mark on Dean's paper. Dean casually folded the paper in half and tucked it inside his workbook, flashing Gordon a relaxed grin.

"Doesn't matter," he said, pushing his workbook away from him and turning to face Gordon. "You going to practice today?"

Gordon grinned widely, his expression eager. "Yeah," he said happily, nodding as he spoke. "Can't wait. Only a week 'till the game, you know that?"

"Course I know that," Dean scoffed, slinging his arm over the back of his chair. "Been practicing for it enough, past couple of weeks."

"Winchester," Mr Wyatt called from the front of the class, "face the front. You too, Walker."

Walker grimaced and turned in his seat to turn his disinterested eyes to Mr Wyatt. Dean followed suit, allowing himself to shoot a quick smart-ass grin at the teacher before settling back into his usual indifferent, I'm-only-here-because-Dad-would-kick-my-ass-if-I-skipped-again demeanour. Mr Wyatt waited for the class to fall into a familiar almost-silence and then began to pace the front of the room.

"Now, guys," he said, clasping his hands and not looking directly at anyone, "the test I just gave back to you was pretty hard, and I know that. But you had a month in advance to study for it, and don't say I didn't remind you, because I did. The fact that almost half of you failed... it's disappointing, guys." Mr Wyatt turned to face the class front-on, and paused before continuing. "I know some of you" – Dean could swear that Mr Wyatt's eyes rested on him for a moment as he spoke – "find this class difficult, but you need to pass to be able to graduate." His eyes swept the classroom as he paused for another long moment. Dean glanced at the people around him. Two of the smart kids in the class were watching with almost gleeful expressions on their faces. One of the girls looked like she was about to burst into tears. Gordon just looked bored. Mr Wyatt seemed not to notice any of this, apparently caught up in the glory of his own speech. What a douche.

"I'd just like to remind you all," Mr Wyatt said solemnly, "that study group is on every Monday and Thursday. It will help you, guys." He stared very seriously at the class, and then... continued staring. Almost five awkward seconds had passed before Mr Wyatt cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked up toward the clock expectantly. A few people at the back of the class tittered, and Dean saw Gordon smirk in his direction. He made a face at him in reply, then jumped slightly as the bell signifying break rang loudly, blasting through the classroom and piercing everyone's ears with its whiny, metallic undertones. God damn it. What kind of sadistic bastard would put the school bell in the same corridor as all the math classrooms?

Mr Wyatt looked back down at the class, who had already begun packing up and chattering amongst themselves. "Winchester, could you please stay behind?" he called over the babble of the other students, looking Dean directly in the eye. Aw, hell. Wasn't any getting out of this one. Dean glanced at the door anyway, evaluating his chance of escape without detection. As several of his classmates filed out of the classroom and blocked any extra space in the doorway, he began to reluctantly accept that there wasn't any chance at all.

He sighed, then picked up his backpack and shoved his books into it, then grudgingly slung the backpack over one shoulder. As he walked over to the front desk, he noticed that Mr Wyatt was occupied with one of the smarter kids in his class, a guy named Castiel. Dean evaluated the exit again now that most of the kids had gone into the corridor. Maybe, if he was quick about it –

"Dean."

Damn it.

Mr Wyatt was looking at him expectantly, and Castiel just seemed to be looking at him. Dean felt a little uncomfortable. Guy was nice and all, but no normal kid stared at people like that for so long. He grinned at him, injecting a little arrogance to cover up any insecurity that might be showing, then looked back at Mr Wyatt, still wearing the same confident smirk.

"Look, if this is about my test result –" he began, but Mr Wyatt interrupted him.

"Dean, you've failed the past three tests," he said seriously. "We need to discuss this." He looked aside at Castiel, who was watching pretty much without blinking. "Castiel, you're dismissed. You're doing fine, there's no need to worry about coming to group anymore."

Castiel nodded once, then promptly turned around and left the classroom. Dean watched him, frowning slightly. Weird kid. Nice, but weird. Remembering why he was here, he looked back at Mr Wyatt.

"So," he said, shifting his weight. "I failed my third test, I'm not gonna graduate, all that crap. Can I leave now?"

"Dean, have you been having troubles at home?" Mr Wyatt asked seriously, leaning against his desk. Dean felt a shock run through him. There was no way this guy could know about Dad, right? Right?

"No, sir," he said, injecting false cheer into his voice. "Just my lack of math skills. I'll do better next time, and stuff."

Mr Wyatt frowned at him, looking doubtful. Dean stared right back, determined not to let this guy see anything. He couldn't see anything anyway, though. He couldn't have any idea. Finally, Mr Wyatt sighed and looked away.

"If you wanna pass – if you wanna graduate – Dean, you're gonna have to pick up your game," he said, sounding frustrated. "You have so much potential. Use it."

"Yeah," Dean replied, smirking. "Totally worth using." He turned and left the classroom, the smirk still playing on his lips as he walked out the door. As he turned into the corridor, he felt it fade off his face. God, math was so useless. But he needed it. That much was true. He couldn't graduate without it, couldn't join the family business without knowing how to complete ten lines of algebra within two freakin' minutes. Well, crap. Maybe he'd have to do something drastic, like learn how to study or throw himself off a cliff.

"Dean."

"Holy crap!" Dean stumbled back as Castiel stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Jesus, this kid was fast. He looked at him reproachfully, unhappy with the fact that someone had actually been able to get the jump on him. "What, uh... What do you want?" he asked, deciding to go with his tough alpha-male persona.

"You failed your test," Castiel said, looking extremely grave. Dean stared at the shorter boy, trying to figure out if he was taking the crap or not.

"What's it to you?" he said finally, frowning and walking around him. He just wanted to get his crappy burger from the cafeteria, damn it. Why was everyone so obsessed with his mark today? It sounded like some ridiculously convenient plot device for a crappy story or something. He could tell Castiel was following him, and chose to ignore it for the time being.

"You should come to study club," Castiel's voice said from behind him, proving him right. "It will help you to get better marks."

"No thanks," Dean replied, searching for his locker in the hall. "I can study at home."

"Mr Wyatt thinks I should help you with math," Castiel said seriously, as Dean found his locker and approached it. "I could teach you how to study for it, and help with your equations."

Dean concentrated on opening his locker as he digested the fact that Mr Wyatt had actually suggested to one of his students that they, as opposed to a teacher, should help him with his math work. "Why?" he said finally, turning around and glaring at Castiel. "Shouldn't a teacher be helping me with this kinda crap? Why you?"

Castiel paused for a second, looking slightly confused. "You seem to respond better to students than teachers," he said slowly, "but I don't know why Mr Wyatt said I should help you study." He looked off into the distance for a few moments, seeming utterly bewildered. Dean waited for him to come back to earth, but to his slight alarm Castiel's eyes glazed over a little and he didn't seem to be moving anytime soon.

"Uh... Castiel?" Dean said uncertainly, starting to worry a little. "You awake?" He clicked his fingers in front of the shorter boy's face, and Castiel jumped slightly, his gaze refocusing onto Dean's.

"Sorry," he mumbled, shaking his head slightly. "Where were we?"

Dean closed his locker and frowned at Castiel, unsure as to whether this guy was playing some kind of weird joke on him or not. He'd talked to Castiel a few times before, but he wouldn't really say they were friends. Acquaintances, yeah. Maybe this was a joke set up by Gordon or someone. Then again, why would a guy this distant and weird want to play a stupid prank on someone he'd barely even spoken to? And what kind of prank is aimed at helping someone?

Dean took a deep breath. "Study group's on Tuesday and Thursday after school, right?" he asked, half of him wondering what the hell he was doing.

"Monday and Thursday," Castiel corrected.

"Oh." Dean nodded slowly, then fell into an awkward silence that was filled with Castiel staring almost unblinkingly into Dean's eyes and Dean becoming more than a little uncomfortable with the small amount of space between them. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes.

"So, guess I'll see you at study group," he said, repositioning his backpack on his shoulders and beginning to back away as casually as he could.

"Goodbye, Dean," Castiel said solemnly, still watching Dean as he walked away. Dean turned around and walked rather hastily out of the hall and into the cafeteria, a little amused and a lot more weirded out. He didn't know why, but something was weird about that guy. Something about him was just different, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

Well, he thought to himself with a smirk, could be the weird way of talking, or the sneaking up on people, or the creepy stare of doom.

Although Dean didn't realize it at the time, he'd just listed the reasons why he would later fall for Castiel Novak.