Lisa wasn't fooling anyone, especially not Dean. He could see right through her pure, innocent little façade; she wanted this "Cas" guy. So that's who she had chosen to replace him? Some dorky kid with glasses and no social life? He didn't understand. What did she see in him? But then again, he thought, it could have been because of him that she was going for the "safe" guy this time around.

Dean signed and kicked the grass at his feet, causing a cloud of loose dirt to lift into the air. He knew it was his own fault that Lisa hated him; he had really messed up, and now he was paying the price. That he knew. He just didn't want to accept it. He loved Lisa, he really did. She was the only girl he had ever had real feelings for. With her it wasn't just sex, they had really had something special. Something Dean had never had before with anyone. (Not that he hadn't enjoyed the sex immensely, but that's beside the point.)

But he had to go and fuck it up, and he hated himself for it. No one knew self-loathing better than Dean Winchester…

He continued on his way, joining the swarm of students bustling about on the sidewalk. With a little over an hour left till his last class of the day he decided to go back to his dorm and clear his head. If that would even be possible with his obnoxious roommate hanging around.

x-x-x-x-x

"Seriously, Gabe?" Dean complained as he opened the door, taking in the mess that was his room, "Clean up your shit!"

"Whaaat?" Gabriel asked innocently, head poking out from around the corner.

"All of these damn candy wrappers!" Dean roared, gesturing to the crumpled pieces of foil and plastic littering the floor.

"Oh, that." He grinned, a mischievous glint in his caramel colored eyes. "I'll get it later." He laid back on his bunk, unwrapping another sucker and tossing the wrapper onto the carpet.

Dean growled in frustration as he opened the small refrigerator, reaching into the back for his hidden bottle of whiskey. Alcohol wasn't allowed on campus, nor was he of legal age to drink it, but he didn't really care. Without wasting any time he flopped onto his stiff mattress and took a swig from the bottle.

"You're moping." Gabe commented, head appearing from the bunk above Dean's. "What's the matter, Dean-o?"

"You mean other than the fact my roommate is a total dick?" He asked, taking another drink and raising his eyebrows at the other man.

"I try." He snickered, tone light and teasing.

Dean rolled his eyes and took another drink. "It's none of your business."

"Sure it is." Gabe grinned, eyes sparkling, "We're friends, aren't we?"

"No."

"Whatever you say, Dean-o." He laughed, disappearing from view. "You'll crack eventually."

"Not likely." Dean sighed as he turned to gaze out the fifth floor window, glass bottle held loosely in hand. The alcohol had already begun to numb his mind, dulling the pain of rejection that he felt. He smiled humorlessly to himself. Mission accomplished.

"I wouldn't get too drunk, Dean-o." Gabriel advised. "Don't you have class in 20 minutes?"

"Shit." Dean mumbled, rising from the bed and putting his bottle back in its hiding place.

"I'm gonna get going." He added, grabbing his backpack and opening the door to the hallway. "See you later, man."

"See ya, Dean-o!" Gabriel called, voice slightly muffled by the sugary taffy gluing his teeth together.

Dean closed the door behind him and raced off, his feet carrying him across campus to the foreign language department. He wasn't really adept at learning new dialects – he had tried with Latin and had only made minimal progress – but he figured it was best to knock out some gen eds in his first year. Plus, if his memory served him correctly, Lisa had been planning to take French during the fall semester.

He slid into the classroom just as the clock tower announced that the time was 3:00 in the afternoon – the time his class began. To his relief, he observed that Lisa sat towards the front of the room, her friend from earlier to her left and the seat to her right unoccupied. Dean grinned and slunk as quietly as possible up the row of desks before plopping down beside her.

Lisa looked over at the sound of his backpack hitting the floor and scowled. She didn't bother to comment, however, as the professor had entered the room and was beginning his lecture.

"Bonjour!" He gave the class a goofy grin. A few students mumbled in response, ready for the day to be over.

"My name is Professor Fitzgerald." He announced, puffed with pride as he turned to write his title across the chalkboard. The students winced as the chalk squealed against the black slate. "I will be your French instructor for this term."

Dean snickered to himself. He would know this short, scrawny, doe-eyed man anywhere – he was a friend of his father's, Garth Fitzgerald IV. He was a caring, yet childish and naïve man that Dean had never in his life been able to take seriously. This was going to be an interesting year.