Forget Me, Forget Me Not
Chapter 1
(Author's note: Currently includes themes of homophobia. Watch out if that is a major trigger for you, lovelies)
Life had its ups and downs, as the universe had its way of ensuring, but all in all Castiel was satisfied with his life. He had a beautiful girlfriend, a handful of good friends, a herd of siblings...not to mention the stack of money waiting for him in his bank account.
Castiel's family owned a successful business, and though they were extremely strict at times and perhaps took their religion too far, he loved them. He preferred public school to the boarding schools they had forced him to test in the past, and at last they allowed him to go. There were restrictions, of course, keep at least a 3.8 grade point average, have perfect conduct, all of those exciting things. It was worth it. He had a heart of gold, and it was in the right place, just...perhaps not quite as open as it could be. Oblivious to this, Cas went on with his life.
Every day was the same for him, really. He would wake up at six thirty in the morning to the blaring sound of his alarm clock, shower, and spend a good twenty minutes attempting to tame his perpetual bedhead. His girlfriend liked to call it "an angel's sex hair", but he still wasn't much of a fan.
After that and a quick breakfast provided by a sweet woman his father had hired, he'd pack up his overstuffed leather bag with all of his AP books and head out in his own car. Some mornings were worse than others, but he figured that was just how the world worked. He still managed to wake himself up each morning even if it sometimes took three cups of coffee to get the job done, maintaining his perfect attendance record. After that was when he could begin to enjoy his day.
Upon arriving at school, his girlfriend would be waiting for him at his locker each and every day without fail. Today was no exception. Castiel smiled as he walked up to her, his girlfriend all sly smiles and playful touches even this early in the morning. She had her moody days, but Cas could manage. Today was going to be a better day, anyway, he could tell. Besides, it was Friday. Rich and nerdy or not, everybody loved a Friday.
"Hey, baby," Meg greeted with a grin, tugging him down by the tie and planting a kiss on his lips. "How many cups did it take this morning?"
Cas just laughed, returning the kiss with a brush of lips to her forehead, sweeping her hair aside with the back of his hand. "Just one," he replied. "Who could resist a Friday morning with you? Here, I brought you some," he tacked on, handing her a cool cup of her favorite iced coffee. Even with autumn approaching, the air was still warm and a little sticky outside.
Meg flashed her pretty white teeth, threading her free hand in Castiel's hair as she accepted the cup. "You know me so well," she purred, her soft yet skillful hand trailing slowly down to his shoulder as she captured his lips in another kiss.
Cas was just about to risk deepening the kiss just a bit when a strong shoulder smashed into his own, sending him to the ground. He hadn't bothered to open his locker yet, so his books slid out of his bag, sending paper and pens flying through the air. It was just a lucky thing he'd finished his own coffee before getting to school.
"Aw, sorry, was I in your way?" came a smug voice as Castiel began to collect his things, earning a groan from the blue-eyed boy. Jesus Christ Almighty, here we go. He looked up with exasperation etched onto his face, seeing exactly who he'd expected.
Dean Winchester was a quarterback extraordinaire. He was the boy every girl wanted, and even Castiel's own girlfriend had admitted to having a small crush on him once. He was failing almost every class, but he didn't care as long as they didn't threaten to kick him off the team- yet, anyway. He had the popularity, the classic car and the leather jacket, what else could a high school senior with an ego the size of the moon want?
To Castiel, he was nothing but a dick with legs. Not in a gay way, he mused to himself in the split second between Dean's words and his own reply coming to his lips. Not to Castiel, anyway, though he was certain Dean's boyfriend probably had that covered.
Cas shook himself out of his thoughts, scowling up at Dean as he scrambled to collect his things with help from Meg, who had set her coffee down on the tile beside her as she worked collecting the various sheets of his unstapled essay. He'd planned on stapling it in class, now it was a crumpled mess. God, he'd probably be docked points for that.
"Would you mind telling me what your issue is, Dean?" Castiel snapped, storing a few books in his locker and brushing himself off as he stood in an attempt to maintain some of his dignity. "Does my face offend you? Perhaps I should just buy you a few more mirrors, though I'm sure you own dozens already."
The other boy offered little more than a snort and a roll of his famous green eyes. "Ouch, Cassie. That really hurts, you know? I think you popped a hole in my fragile ego." He flashed a lopsided smirk, messing up Castiel's hair condescendingly. "Lucky for you, I think I'll recover. No need for me to sue and take away your daddy's money."
Castiel's lips were already parted in preparation of a reply, but before he had the chance Dean was already walking down the hall with a small pack of laughing ignoramuses trailing behind him.
Meg glared at Dean as he left, though she'd be lying if his ass didn't look nice in those jeans. Still, he was a dick, so she brushed the image aside and picked up her coffee again, straightening Cas's tie for him as she stood as well. "Ignore him, baby," she crooned in hopes of soothing Cas's temporarily frazzled nerves. "He has nothing on you." She stretched up on her tip-toes, kissing the tip of his nose as he sighed.
"I just fail to see why he feels the need to be so cruel to me. There was only the one incident in middle school, could he really continue to be so bitter?" Cas asked. The question sounded rhetorical, though his head tilted to one side and his eyes narrowed in a squint of curiosity. He sighed, but she didn't reply. She just grabbed his hand in her own, guiding him to his first class.
It had been seventh grade when this ridiculous rivalry began. He and Dean had been good friends, actually, though a scarce few could even remember the days Castiel Novak laughed with Dean Winchester. The days Dean Winchester took the shy kid to the nurse in gym class claiming he had an injured ankle when Castiel was too nervous to kick next in kickball. To be fair, everyone would have laughed if he messed up.
It was dumb, really, Castiel thought. Bobby Singer, Dean's second father of sorts, had taken them home from school one day. Dean seemed different than usual, fidgeting in his seat and picking at the hem of his shirt, his self-assured smile gone. Dean asked if he could spend a couple of hours at Castiel's, to which Bobby agreed as long as he was ready to leave by six thirty so he could finish his homework that night with enough time to go to bed at a decent hour even after, no doubt, watching a movie with his little brother.
Bobby was good to Dean. Unfortunately, perhaps that was the one day Bobby should have said no. No, Dean, I need you to help with one of the cars at the junkyard. No, Dean, I want to show you somethin' down at the garage, new kinda spark plugs.
But no. Dean came inside with Castiel as the rich boy giggled, dropping to a crouch to ruffle his puppy's fur. His Siberian husky had been so small and fluffy back then, now a big ball of clumsy fur. Still, the smile remained absent from Dean's face. Cas at last grew concerned and tugged Dean upstairs by the sleeve, asking if he was alright. He said he was.
He wasn't.
"Cas, I..." he'd started, and Cas could still picture the way Dean had looked down to the floor of Castiel's room, scuffing his sock against the plush carpet. He'd swallowed hard, his cheeks and ears flushed red. "I'm scared."
That had really worried Cas. The boy moved closer, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. "What is it, Dean? Is something wrong?" he recalled asking, head still tilted. That habit had just always been a part of him. "Is your father...did he...did he drink too much beer again?"
John Winchester had been getting better in those days, but less alcohol and shouting matches had meant he left Dean more, Cas knew. There was a time just months before that when he and Mary had nearly decided to divorce, but the one thing no one could deny was that they loved each other. Sometimes Castiel would get jealous that Dean had two real parents, even if one wasn't always fantastic.
Still, each time Mary had to go out of town for a work thing, Dean had started to spend more and more days per week at Bobby's with his little brother, Sam, a Freshman this year. He'd only been a fourth grader back then.
Dean shook his head, his teeth grazing over the curve of his lower lip. "No, but I don't know what's happenin' to me," he'd replied.
"What do you mean, De?" came Castiel's soft reply, genuinely concerned.
"Sometimes when I see boys...I feel stuff. Like, stuff I should feel when I see girls. Except I think I feel it for both of 'em."
After that, it was a blur. Cas had misinterpreted, thinking Dean had needed help. Castiel's own father was almost always absent, leaving him with his very homophobic stepmother Naomi. Cas had given Dean a bible.
That was when the shouting began.
It was barely four when Dean ran home, his green eyes filling with tears. Cas still didn't understand.
"Earth to Cas," Meg chuckled, throwing a potato chip at him. Cas jolted out of the hazy memories, blinking long lashes at his girlfriend. He glanced around, pushing a hand through his hair. Oh, right. Lunchtime.
"You sure you got enough sleep last night, Castiel?" she went on, smiling as she gently prodded his arm. "Maybe you should go home and take a nap."
"I'm fine," he mumbled half-heartedly, poking at his lunch with a plastic fork. The disinterest was clear on his face, though he tried to conceal it. He wasn't hungry. Something was eating at him, and he wasn't even sure what. Not precisely, anyway. Why couldn't Dean just leave him alone? Stupid Dean and his stupid boyfriend, they could go off and fuck each other as often as they wanted. Why bully Cas?
Meg shrugged and delved into some story about her parents, but Cas was only half-listening if he was going to be honest. He meant to, really, but Dean was off in the corner with his lips locked with some other boy's.
Well, that was hardly a private place to cheat, but Cas had only even seen the boy whose face was attached to the Winchester's a couple times before. Maybe Dean had figured three weeks was a long enough relationship and broke it off with the boy from the swim team, because even Cas knew this one played baseball with Dean when the season was right.
Not that Castiel cared. He just thought Dean was being ridiculous if he thought he could do such things and expect everyone to accept them. Those things were wrong. Boys kissing other boys or having sex or even lusting after such acts were wrong. Naomi told him so. He sighed and shook his head, getting up to put his tray away. He'd forgotten Meg was still speaking.
Well, shit.
"Where are you going?" Meg demanded, scowling. "I wasn't even finished talking."
Cas bit his lip, giving a weak smile. "Sorry. I'm sorry, maybe I really should skip out early," he muttered. Before she could continue, he scurried off to put his tray away and headed for the nurse. Usually the nurse that worked during lunch periods hardly cared who asked if they could go home, and he figured she'd let him leave without much fuss or any rounds of 20 Questions.
Of course, he'd failed to notice Dean leaving the cafeteria. The next thing Cas knew, his collar was being grabbed and he was dragged out of the building. He blinked against the bright light of the early afternoon, fruitlessly attempting to push Dean off of him.
Except there was more than one set of hands on Castiel. Dean had brought friends this time.
"Get off of me!" Castiel shouted, pushing against the bodies as they continued pressing closer. Their chests vibrated with laughter, shoving him roughly against a brick wall and pinning him there as Dean emerged from the small crowd of football players, a smirk on his face. Cas glared, kicking and shoving and trying to get loose.
It was a hopeless attempt.
"What's the matter, Cassie? You don't like boys touching you?" Dean asked, stepping ever closer.
Cas could remember the days in sixth grade when Dean had to teach Cas about personal space. Now it was Dean who was invading Castiel's space, and it put a knot in his stomach.
"What's your problem?" Cas yelled, frustrated now...or maybe frightened. Perhaps an unfortunate mix of both. His hands balled into fists where they were pinned at his sides, keeping them from shaking.
It was an odd time to notice Dean still had his freckles.
"My problem? My problem's you. I heard you were giving one of my boys shit the other day, Saint Cas. You got a problem with gay guys, huh? Bi? You ever tried it, Cassie?" Dean pressed on, not giving Cas a chance to cut in or answer even if he had a reply to give.
"Leave me alone!" Castiel finally got to interject, ending only with a hand over his mouth. Some sweaty, unfamiliar hand. Not Dean's, though Cas wasn't really in any position to look around and see whose it was, as if it made a difference.
"What if I just showed up at your big ol' mansion on the hill over there and let you try it out? No one would have to know," the quarterback purred.
It was an even stranger time to note that he still used the same cologne as in middle school.
Castiel knew Dean didn't mean his words by the playful tilt of his mouth and the brightness in his eyes, but it wasn't the same kind of teasing as when he hit his growth spurts first and held food out of Cas's reach. It was more bitter. More intimidating.
Dean wouldn't do the things he was going on about, but he liked the way it made Castiel uncomfortable. He deserved it a little, didn't he? This was all just a harmless prank.
Cas was never meant to get hurt.
"Let him go, boys," came the command at last, Dean's lips settling right into the same expression after. The sun hit the pinkness of them, highlighting the single freckle on his upper lip and the slight sheen of the Chapstick Dean loved so much. Perhaps that was the same flavor as years ago, too.
The other players seemed reluctant, almost disappointed they didn't have a chance to rough Cas up. Rather than listen to their quarterback and captain, they looked to each other with almost evil glances.
Cas lost track of whose fists hit him, perhaps most of the team but for Dean and Balthazar. Balthazar wasn't out here, of course. Couldn't have Castiel's brother knowing he was being pranked. Or, well, was the victim of a prank turned attack.
Dean tried to stop it, though there wasn't anyone there to really confirm that fact later on. His shouts fell on deaf ears, and by the time Cas fought his way out of the ring of laughing boys, his lip and nose trickled with blood and his body was battered and bruised.
Cas ran.
He ran as fast as he could, but someone had anticipated it. Someone knew that the prank was going to turn more vicious. Someone on the team strayed away from Dean's plan.
Azazel slammed on the gas as Cas ran through the parking lot. There was a sickening crack as the car collided with Castiel's body, sending him flying until he landed harshly on the pavement. His head hit first.
Oh, there was that blaring again. Morning already? That had been an awful nightmare, Castiel thought to himself. He tried to raise his hand to rub at his tired eyes, but someone pinned it down. Castiel frowned to himself, struggling weakly against the hold as he opened his blue eyes.
Someone knelt over him. Someone with bright green eyes and a spray of freckles over a sculpted nose, someone with a perfect curve to his upper lip and the small gleam of Chapstick clinging to his mouth as he spoke. Castiel's head was swimming, his ears struggling to understand what was being said. The world moved as if in slow motion, muted voices dancing through the air as reality hit.
Sticky. Something was sticky. His eyes trailed down to the green-eyed boy's hand and saw that it was covered in blood. Castiel's blood. The face of the other was frightened as he tore off a faded leather jacket, folding it and resting it beneath Castiel's head as the Novak coughed up blood.
A few drops of vibrant red landed on the beautiful, panicked boy's collar as he did so. Those forest green eyes, flecked with gold and swirling with a thousand shades of light, they were scared.
Sirens wailed in the distance. So that was the blaring, Castiel thought. Tears swam in the beautiful boy's eyes, his mouth seeming to form the words I'm sorry.
"Who are you?" Castiel whispered.