The first day of school was a rough one for Castiel –he was very late for starters—but also for more reasons than he thinks he really deserved. Sometimes he wondered if his supposed guardian angel had said fuck this and bailed on him.

Castiel wasn't terribly great at making friends. He was a good person, he knew that much, but he was also painfully awkward. He didn't go out often, and wasn't always caught up on the latest pop culture. Many jokes went over his head, and few people seemed to understand his incredibly dry sense of humor in turn. He didn't date, but then again he wasn't really all that interested in dating to begin with. He had this way of making others feel uncomfortable – though he never did it intentionally. He was… intimidating? Strange? Different? Just…

Castiel.

He made decent enough grades, got along with teachers and classmates when he needed to, but still could call very few people in that school "friends". He hadn't spent any time with anyone over the summer break, and his parents had taken a "private" vacation without him for the majority of it. In a way he was glad to be back at school and around other people again—but the school obviously didn't feel the same way.

It all started with his backpack tearing halfway to school. His books tumbled out of the tear and on to the sidewalk. He frowned, furrowing his eyebrows as he carefully retrieved his books, bundling them all in his arms with much difficulty and carried on.

Then came the rain. It was a light sprinkle at first and Castiel could have lived with that – but then it escalated to a light rain, then to a hard rain and went straight in to a downright monsoon. His too-long jeans were muddy and soaking and his books likely ruined beyond repair when he finally reached the crosswalk adjacent to the school. He scowled at how his sweater clung to him and made him shiver at the coldness of it, and his hair was a huge mop plastered down on to his face.

Perhaps that was why he didn't see it coming, that damned car. He was a few steps across the crosswalk when he glanced over and saw the car hurtling towards him. He thought, of course it would stop, it's a damn crosswalk and he has the right of way, but he swallowed when he realized it wasn't slowing down. In fact—it seemed to speed up.

Castiel tightened his jaw, visibly nervous but holding his ground. The car was a stark black, but he wouldn't have been able to tell you the different between a sedan or SUV. All he knew was that it would flatten him.

The tires screeched as the driver swerved to avoid the boy at the last possible second, and Castiel in turn jumped out of the way, narrowly escaping his fate. He dropped his books and fell flat on his back as the car took the turn up to the school way too fast to be safe. He was barely able to catch the shadowy figure of two people inside.

He gritted his teeth as he pulled himself to his feet. He'd scraped his elbows and had a nice knot on the back of his head, but other than his pride nothing seemed to really be hurt. He bent over to retrieve his not only soaked, but now also muddy books and began climbing the hill that led to the school entrance.

He was already greatly enjoying his day so far, but slipping and falling face first in to the mud on a slippery rock up the hill was really the icing on the cake.

After cleaning himself in the bathroom (but not without garnering quite a few stares at his situation), Castiel dropped his dirty books off at his locker, holding on to the calculus textbook as he made his way to first period, referencing the room number on his now nigh unreadable schedule.

By the time he'd reached the classroom, he was late. The teacher gave him a hefty glare as he took the only available seat towards the front of the room by the large window.

"Sorry sir, I got caught in the rain," he said, avoiding eye contact. "Then almost killed while trying to cross the street."

"That's a nice story, any other excuse you'd like to share that I that didn't ask for?" the teacher scowled. Castiel slumped down in to the seat.

"Wait—that was you?"

Castiel turned towards the deep voice from the back of the room to see an older boy lounging in a desk by the wall, his feet stretched out in front of him and his arms crossed. His leather jacket—slightly too big for him and popped up at the collar—was wet from the rain outside, as was his hair. Castiel's rage was only quelled by knowing his would-be murderer was also soaked in the rain.

The kid flashed him a lopsided smile. "Sorry man, didn't see you." He made a vague hand gesture. "Rain and all."

Castiel clenched his jaw and steeled his glare on the boy before slowly turning his head back to the front.

"If you two ladies are done, I'd like to start class," the teacher grumbled. "Let's start with introductions, because administration makes me even though I really could care less about your likely very exciting lives." As he wrote his name on the board (Mr. Schwartz, and don't you dare call me anything else you brats), he turned to point at a student. "You start. Name, grade, and something boring about yourself."

As the students started introducing themselves half-heartedly around the room, Castiel let his gaze wander back over to the driver of the black car, curious. He had worn jeans with holes in them, and work boots that were covered in mud and grease. His hair was short—like a botched military cut, and styled slightly up in the front. When he caught Castiel staring at him and flashed that arrogant smirk again, Castiel quickly frowned in response and turned back to face the front.

When it was his time to introduce himself, he nervously stammered, "Castiel, Junior."

"Got a last name?" his teacher asked.

Castiel looked around awkwardly. "Yes?"

He heard a roar of laughter from the kid in the back, and it made him tense.

"Fascinating. Thank you so much for sharing," the teacher growled as he marked Castiel down on the attendance. "And lose the fucking attitude."

They continued around the room until the only student left was the rugged boy in the back, and when Castiel turned to look at him he found the guy had fallen asleep. And he was snoring. Loudly.

So the teacher chucked the whiteboard eraser at his head, and it found its mark right on his jaw. He startled awake.

"The hell," he stammered, rubbing over his face with one hand.

"Kid, this is probably the only question I will ever ask you in this class, so let us not make each other's life harder than it needs to be, yeah? Name, grade, fact."

"Winchester, Senior, I just moved here," he said.

"And you got a first name, Winchester?"

"…Yes." He grinned, glancing at Castiel and winking. Castiel narrowed his eyes. So he thought he was clever.

The class started snickering and the teacher threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "Fucking teenagers, I swear to God," he snarled as he started his lesson on the board.

The class passed by with nothing else exciting happening. Castiel tried to follow the lesson best he could – math wasn't his strongest subject and calculus gave him particular trouble. Note taking was also difficult when all of your notebooks were caked with mud.

When the bell rang he stood up immediately, trying to get out of the room before the rest class to avoid traffic. When he reached his locker and stashed away all of his things, he felt someone walk up behind him.

"So what kind of name is Castiel, anyway?"

Castiel turned, already knowing the owner of the voice.

"Don't you think it's somewhat unfair that I don't know your name and therefore can't adequately make fun of yours in return?" he mused as he met the boy's gaze. He realized too slowly that he was uncomfortably close. "Did you want something in particular?"

"Just waiting on my baby brother. His locker is right here," the kid said, kicking at one of the bottom lockers. "Forgot to give him lunch money."

Castiel nodded. His eyes locked with Dean for a few long seconds before he finally broke the contact. "Supposedly I'm named after the angel of Thursday," he said.

"Huh, weird. Your parents religious or…?"

Castiel didn't respond, instead turning back to his locker. The older kid looked around awkwardly, not sure what to make of the silent treatment. He shifted around on his feet, surveying the hall and checking his watch in an attempt to look like he really cared what time it was. Finally he locked his gaze on the back of Castiel's neck, at the way his black, slightly too messy hair brushed against it. He averted his gaze and coughed.

"Dean."

Castiel looked back at him.

"My name is Dean," the older teen said, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I'm sorry I almost—almost killed you. And stuff."

Turning again to face his locker once more, Castiel simply replied, "Hello, Dean."

Dean was about to say something when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and smiled. "Hey Sammy, you forgot your lunch money."

"Please don't call me that Dean, especially not in school," Castiel heard a boy reply. He shut his locker and turned to face them, only to be met with a shaggy haired brunette rolling his eyes at his older brother. He was almost as tall as Castiel, though the he only gave it a year or so before the younger brother surpassed them all in height.

Castiel gave Dean a look. "Baby brother?"

"Yeah, so what? He's going through a growth spurt," the eldest brother said, annoyed, as Sam's ears went red.

"Looks like he doesn't intend on stopping any time soon," Castiel deadpanned, his lips barely twitching in an almost smirk.

"Hey Sam, this is the kid we almost ran over today!" Dean exclaimed, attempting to quickly change the subject and patting Castiel on the shoulder heavily. Castiel twitched at his touch and stared at his hand. Or more…glared.

"What?" Sam hissed. "Dean that wasn't funny!" Sam turned to Castiel, adding apologetically, "Please excuse my brother, he's completely messed up in the head and should be shut away for everyone's safety. I really hope you're alright."

Castiel just looked down at Sam's locker, the gears in his mind already turning.

"It must be painful having a bottom locker," he mused, continuing to look between his and Sam's.

Sam blinked at the sudden change in subject. "Y-yeah, it kind of sucks. My knees hurt having to bend down all the time. Guess that's what we get for being so late to register," Sam replied, pocketing Dean's money and bending over to start his combination.

"…Would you like mine instead?"

Both brothers looked to Castiel, their eyes wide in surprise.

"Why would you give up your top locker? Those things are hard to come by, man," Dean said.

Castiel shrugged. "I'm not as tall as Sam. It would benefit him more and I'm sure his knees would appreciate it. It's simple logic, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I suppose it is," Sam stammered, rising back up to his feet. "Are—are you sure? I'm really grateful for the offer."

Castiel pulled out a sheet of paper from his binder and wrote his locker combination down before handing the scrap to Sam; then Sam did the same.

"Damn. Thanks, uh…"

"Castiel.

Sam smiled. "Thanks Castiel. We'll change all of our stuff later." Sam gave a flip of the hand for a wave goodbye and shuffled off down the hallways.

Dean beamed at the younger boy. "That was really awesome of you dude. I appreciate you helping my baby bro out."

Castiel nodded, shoving his books under one arm as he turned to walk down the hall.

"Goodbye, Dean," he said, not looking back.

Castiel's stomach dropped when the bell rang to signal school was out for the day and he saw that it was still raining. He had wanted to avoid taking the bus – but walking was now out of the question. Sighing, he gathered his books and headed for the lockers.

He found Sam pushing his books in to the top of his new locker.

"Hey, Castiel," Sam said as he shut the door. "Thanks again for the switch, it's been a huge help."

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement as he bent down to open his new locker. He picked out his history and math books, intending to use them later for homework, but as he was reaching for them the locker was suddenly kicked closed on his hand. He flinched, more out of surprise than pain.

Sam was already leaning over him, asking if he was alright. He glared up at the tall, fit teenager in the track jacket sneering down at them.

"Castiel," he cooed. He kicked one of the books lying on the ground down the hall. "Thought you'd finally given up and was homeschooled by now." He paused, glancing up in thought before his grin widened. "Oh right—I forgot. Your parents aren't ever around anymore are they?"

Castiel got to his feet. The older teenager leaned in close to Castiel's face, but Castiel didn't back down, only returned with a glare of his own.

"What the hell is your problem, man?" Sam scowled from behind the taller boy.

"Don't provoke him," Castiel warned to Sam over his shoulder. "Let Connor continue bullying his way to better self-esteem."

"You know this asshole, Castiel?"

"Cassie and I, we go way back," Connor sneered. "Don't we, Cassie?" He flung a heavy arm around Castiel's shoulder, pulling him in too tight to be friendly and ruffling his hair too roughly to give off anything but animosity.

"If you're referring to the occasion in seventh grade when you had a sexual identity crisis after you pushed me against a wall in the janitor's closet and forced my hand down your pants," Castiel began, and Connor's smile dropped, his face blanched. "Then, yes, we go 'way back'."

Sam stared at Castiel in shock, his eyes wide and his mouth trying – then failing – to form coherent words. Connor's lips peeled back in to a snarl and he instantly pushed away from Castiel like the shorter boy was on fire; then he grabbed the boy by his collar and shoved him against the lockers; the sounds of the clanging lockers drawing attention from the students passing through.

"Now you listen to me, you little faggot," Connor hissed, his eyes locked on Castiel as he pushed his arm into the other boy's throat. "You know and I know that isn't how it went down, and if I hear you ever mention a word of it like that again I will end you."

Castiel leveled his gaze, his stark blue eyes narrowing. "Let go of me," he simply replied, his deep, gruff voice unwavering.

"Why? Isn't this like, your greatest fantasy? A man holding you down and having his way with you? Huh, Castiel?"

Sam came up behind Connor and pushed his shoulder violently. "He said to fuck off," Sam said, shoving him again.

"You sticking up for your boyfriend, kid?" Connor backed away from Castiel and put his face inches away from Sam's, his glare menacing. They both stared each other down for a few very long seconds, neither blinking.

"—There a problem, here?"

Sam broke the staring contest to whirl around and find Dean standing right behind him, his eyes locked on Connor, his voice dripping with venom. Connor instantly took a half a step back.

"Winchester?"

"Yeah, Wachowski. There a reason you're up in my brother's face?" Dean asked, his eyes still narrowed.

Connor looked between the two brothers as if trying to possibly see the resemblance. He backed further away. "Sorry man, didn't know it was your brother."

Dean bent down and lifted one of Castiel's textbooks lying in front of his feet. Seeing Castiel's name on the cover, he gave the younger boy a look. "Time to go home, Sammy," he called to his brother, handing the book back to Castiel, who took it while avoiding eye contact.

"This ain't finished, Cassie," Connor smirked as he patted the side of Castiel's face none too gently. He then turned to walk away, but not before nodding at Dean and whispering, "I wouldn't trust that kid, Winchester. He's bad news—also can't keep his hands to himself. See you in English." He turned around the corner and left just as the crowd watching began to thin.

Dean didn't respond.

"You okay man?" Sam asked, tossing his books in his backpack. Castiel nodded, thanking him when Sam gathered the rest of his books and handed them to him. "What an asshole."

"I can handle him," Castiel replied, stuffing his backpack with his homework materials. "You shouldn't get involved, Sam. He'll just come after you when he finally gets bored."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Dean said gruffly. "He's in a few of my classes."

Sam sighed. "Dean, contrary to what you believe I can fight my own battles. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, yeah. C'mon Sam, let's go already."

Sam waved good bye to Castiel, giving him one last apologetic look. Castiel nodded in response.

Dean avoided eye contact altogether as they left.

Castiel waited by the entrance to the school for his bus to arrive. The bus driver disliked him because his house lengthened her route significantly, and even then she usually dropped him off a quarter mile away from his driveway anyway—but walking a quarter mile in the rain was definitely better than walking three.

The arch above the doors provided him shelter as he opened his English book and started reading the passage for homework. Groups of kids ran past him to the parking lot as they scrambled to shelter themselves from the rain. He wasn't even a paragraph in before he heard a car come to a halt in front of him, the engine purring loudly.

He looked up to see that car, the black one of death feet away from him. The two occupants inside seemed to be having an argument of sorts – Dean, in the driver's seat, was shaking his head at something Sam said from the passenger side. Sam gave him a stern face and nodded curtly. When Dean shook his head again, the younger brother said something through gritted teeth that Dean rolled his eyes at. It was then that Sam caught site of Castiel peering right in to the window.

Sam's stern expression melted away and he smiled and waved. Castiel didn't do anything in reply, but instead watched as Sam said one last sharp thing to Dean and then pointed to Castiel himself.

So they are talking about me, then.

Dean let out a very heavy sigh. Then he began rolling his window down, the squeak from the rain-soaked glass the only noise as he met Dean's gaze.

"It's raining," Dean said gruffly, shifting his eyes.

"Yes, it is," Castiel replied as he eyed the car warily.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck again. He looked over at Sam, who nodded. "You shouldn't be walking in the rain. Aren't your parents coming to pick you up or something?"

Castiel only shook his head.

"So then how do you plan on getting home?"

"I'm taking the bus."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "Didn't the last bus leave ten minutes ago?" he asked as he pulled out the bus schedule.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "No, it's only—" He glanced as his watch.

It was stuck—it was stuck on exactly 8:45 am. The rain, Castiel thought with a groan. It must frozen after getting completely soaked. He sighed in exasperation.

"It's just not my day today," he said under his breath, more to him than anyone else.

Dean tossed his head back in acknowledgement of his car. "Does that mean you need a ride then?"

Castiel was taken aback. Before he could stop himself from saying it, he replied, "No, I usually walk, it'll be fine."

"Look—I know that today wasn't the best example," Sam started, leaning over his brother to get a good look at Castiel, "but Dean is usually a good driver. Besides, walking in this weather is just insane. You'll get soaked."

"Again." Dean added.

Castiel looked around, shifting his books from one arm to the other. He didn't necessarily distrust Sam or his brother, but he also had had enough high school experience to know that they could just as easily decide he was too weird, too awkward for their precious reputations and drop him. It was always better to not get involved in the first place.

"Look dude, I ain't got all day," Dean said, and it snapped Castiel out of his thoughts. He ignored it when Sam hissed Dean disapprovingly. "Are you coming or not? Because I'm fairly sure mom has fresh apple pie waiting for me at home, and I don't think Sammy's gonna leave me alone until you get your ass in here."

Castiel gave one quick nod before stepping out from underneath the arch and opening the door. This couldn't be too terrible. Sam seemed like a genuinely nice person and had even attempted to stand up for him; and though his brother wasn't the warmest person he'd ever met, he still felt one lift couldn't hurt. He quickly tossed his books in to the back seat and climbed in himself before the rain could get him too drenched. When he shut the car door, he took a sharp breath.

The car was warm, a nice contrast to the cold rain outside. But it wasn't the necessarily car that was causing the heat—otherwise Castiel might not have shivered the way he did when he settled in the backseat. Castiel ran his fingers along the seat without thinking, feeling the way the upholstery bumped against his fingers. It felt like electricity was buzzing at the contact. Why did it feel so…?

Even the scent smelled familiar; it was an aroma that immediately put him at ease without Castiel even realizing it.

"Kid?"

Castiel was ripped from his thoughts. He flinched, looking up at the rearview mirror to see Dean eyeing him. "I asked you where you lived," said Dean.

"Oh, I'm… sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. I live right past the pond, it is six lights down this road," Castiel replied, examining the hand that had been brushing over the seat. He stared at it like it was on fire.

Dean watched him in the mirror. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Castiel flexed his hand a few times. "I just—this car—"

It feels very familiar. Castiel shook his head, trying to shake the feeling of déjà vu.

"I know, ain't she a beauty?" Dean laughed, putting the car in drive and pulling away from the entrance. "You won't ever find another car like her."

Castiel heard Sam mutter 'I'm sure he doesn't care about the car like you, Dean' before a smile crept up on to his lips that he couldn't control. He didn't even know what had caused it.

"No, I'm sure that I won't." He mumbled to himself as he placed his hand back in his lap and tried to ignore the tingling coming from it. He looked at both of the brothers. "Thank you again for the ride."

"Not a problem," Sam smiled, glancing back at him. "Least we could do for your help today."

"Dean mentioned that you just moved here," Castiel said as he turned to stare out of the window. He watched the trees blur by and felt a strange sensation build in his stomach.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "We move around a lot. Military dad, et cetera. Not sure how long we'll be here for, but I hope we can at least stay in one spot for a bit. I'm tired of moving."

"C'mon Sammy, it ain't so bad," Dean said, turning his windshield wipers up as the rain came down even harder. Castiel was now thankful he wasn't walking in it. "Dad does his best to keep us grounded. You know that."

Sam rolled his eyes.

The car was awkwardly silent for a long few minutes before Dean asked, "This it Castiel?"

Castiel snapped back to reality, glancing out of the window and nodding as his house came in to view. "Yes, it is." He began to gather up his books as Dean pulled in to his driveway. The rain hadn't let up any, but that wasn't the reason he felt emptiness when he climbed out of the car. It felt like he was missing something—something he couldn't quite remember. Something right at the back of his brain, just out of reach.

There were no other cars in the driveway. His parents still weren't home. The house would be cold and empty as usual. He briefly imagined what the Winchester house might be like. Warm? Inviting? The scent of apple pie?

"Thank you again, Dean, Sam. Perhaps I will see you at school tomorrow," Castiel thanked the two brothers, a barely-there smile twitching at his lips. Perhaps making a new friend or two wouldn't be so bad. Dean nodded and Sam gave a small wave of his hand. He shut the back seat door and walked as quickly as he could up the driveway and under the roof of the porch out of the rain. While he fumbled for his keys, he stole one last glance at the car.

Sam fished a cell phone out of his pocket like it had been ringing and answered it. Castiel could read his lips as he said "Mom," in greeting. He smiled brightly and nudged Dean.

But Dean wasn't paying was staring straight at Castiel, a spark in his eyes that Castiel knew he would never, ever forget. It was a piercing stare, like he was searching over the younger boy viciously looking for something. He wasn't focused on any particular part, but it was like he was trying to read his every thought. For all of the eye contact avoiding he'd done earlier, he was now locking his unblinking eyes right on Castiel with his eyebrows knitted together in concentration, his lips forming a thin line. The expression in his eyes looked like someone does when they have just seen something they thought they'd lost ages and ages ago.

When Castiel's eyes met his, he cursed as he lost his grip on his keys and they clattered on to the wood panel of the porch. He glanced at them quickly, distracted. When he finally retrained his gaze back on Dean, the older teen blinked rapidly, snapping out of whatever thoughts were invading his head. His eyes darted around, trying to look anywhere but at Castiel. He quickly looked down at his gear shift and began backing out of the driveway, not once looking forward to where Castiel was standing, frozen.

Castiel shook his head, trying to cleanse the image of Dean's stare looking straight through him out of his mind. He picked up his keys and unlocked the door; the rain had picked up again, the house was cold and lonely, and Castiel felt this unwavering sense that he had just forgotten something very, very important.

This day really just needed to be over.