Dean's POV

Riiiiing.

Hell yes, I think, gathering my books and returning to my locker. There he is again, that boy Castiel. Castiel Novak. Before today, I would have said he's a non-entity, but something about him is just haunting, and not in an entirely bad way… I stare at him as he walks away. His trench coat makes him stand out from everyone else, but he looks normal enough without the coat. I shove my books into my backpack haphazardly, thoughts still trained on the bizarre, fascinating boy I collided with this morning.

Poor Cas seemed so scared to run into me. You'd have thought I was about to beat him up. He seems nice enough, though. Maybe I'll talk to him tomorrow or something, I think, slamming my locker and walking towards my brother and my car. Now, see, my pride and joy is waiting for me in front of the school. And Sam's okay too. I chuckle at the really horrible not-actually-a-joke, earning me a questioning stare from Sam.

"Hey little bro, what's up? Have a good day?"

"Hi Dean. My day was alright. Some people are being mean to me though. High school's scarier than I thought. Did you know that? Everyone hates freshman. Why is that? This one sophomore was talking to me, and then just told me I was stupid and left. I mean, how does he even get to say that? I don't know… But my classes are fun. Ms. Mills is really nice, and I really liked Biology today."

Sam talks full speed ahead and I can't get a word in, even to register my indignation at someone being mean to Sam, for the entire ride home. 15 minutes later, we pull into the driveway, and Sam miraculously stops his babbling.

We set up shop in the kitchen, pulling out our homework. Sam gets straight to it, but I stare down at the sentences I'm supposed to be translating into Spanish, distracted. I feel like there's something important happening in my brain, but I can't for the life of me figure it out. I attempt my homework instead, and only realize after 5 minutes that I've accidentally been doodling an eye over my translations.

I wake up bright and early (well, not really bright, my shades are closed, but plenty early) the next morning to the torturous beep! beep! beep! of my alarm clock. I roll over, groaning, and fling my arm out. I miss my alarm clock, but succeed in whacking the bedside table. I sit up, gingerly clenching my sore hand. I frown at nothing in particular, and search for the motivation to get up.

Come on. Up and at 'em, tiger! I sigh and get out of bed, padding over to my dresser. I grab a fresh pair of jeans today, throw on an only semi-wrinkled shirt, and slide my arms into my leather jacket.

Downstairs, Sam is eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table, reading a book off to the side. He looks up and smiles when I enter the room.

"Morning, Dean!"

"Morning…" I reply, yawning. "Anything interesting planned for today?"

"Not really, no. Billy and I are gonna eat lunch together again. He's really cool. I only met him two days ago, but I hope we continue to bond. I might even have a best friend!" Sam says happily, hair flopping as he nods his enthusiasm.

I can't help but smile. "Sammy, you dork," I say, rustling his hair with affection.

My thoughts stray back to Castiel, the dark haired, mysterious boy that seemed genuinely impressed by me. I'm not sure why, but I can't stop thinking about our encounters. It's more than just an ego boost, though Castiel does seem awed, borderline reverent of me.

But a part of me wants to get to know him, to know the boy that looks so innocent and pure, but like he's seen so much. The boy with the piercing blue eyes, that I could stare into forever, if I wanted…

Driving to school this morning seems almost mechanical. I maybe talk to Sammy, but I maybe don't. I can't remember. As I walk into school, arm slung around Sammy with affectionate protection, I can't help hoping Castiel will rush around a corner again.

What the hell, dude. Get him out of your head. What is up with you today? I sigh, patting Sam on the back as he heads off to his locker, and open my own. I get my books for English. I don't understand The Great Gatsby in the slightest, but I have no choice but to be here. I sit down with a thump, a little upset I didn't see Castiel this morning.

English passes at a snail's pace. Finally, finally, the bell rings, and I stand up, one of the first out the door. As I'm walking back to my locker, I see him. There, across the hallway, exchanging a calculator for a thin blue book. I walk over to him, though it's not strictly on my way, and stand a few feet away, waiting for him to notice me.

He does almost immediately. "Dean Winchester," He says, locking eyes with me briefly, before facing his locker again.

"Cas." I swear his cheeks go red at that, but I can also see the corners of his lips curving up just a bit.

"How are you today, Dean?" Castiel asks, finally turning away from his locker and giving me his full attention.

"I'm good, Cas, good. Hey, listen, I was wondering if you wanted to eat with me today, get to know each other or something like that?" Castiel stares at me, looking a bit confused. I think over all the words I just said. Oh God, did that sound like I was asking him out? 'Cause I'm not. Absolutely no. I just wanna get to know him. Also, why is he still staring? I cough slightly to try to relieve the awkwardness.

"Yes, Dean, that would be very nice. Where do you sit?" Relief washes over me. A grin slides across my face.

"I usually sit with Ash, Benny, Jo, that crowd."

"No offence, I'm not trying to be rude, but I would prefer not to sit with them as they are very intimidating," Cas says, looking down at his right foot, which is shaking up and down.

"Okay, Cas. I can understand that. Hell, they even scare me sometimes." I laugh, vaguely worried by Castiel's expression. "How about I sit with you instead?"

Castiel looks up again, a brief hopeful look flashing across his face. "That would be lovely, Dean, as long as you don't mind my brother Gabriel. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am already several minutes late to class." Castiel steps around me and walks towards the English classroom.

"Oh, shit!" I say, a little too loudly, and head to my locker to get stuff for Algebra 2.

Fucking tardies, man, I think to myself as I speed-walk down the hallway.