Dean and Sam left my house after about an hour. For the remainder of the night, I stayed in my room, doing the math problems Mr. Crowley had assigned for homework. With my stomach still full, I felt my mind grow weary as I ran my pencil across the page. I picked up my phone, aiming to put on a song that would keep me awake while I finished my work, but before I could, a message popped up on the screen.

From 4075553452:

Hey, it's Dean. I hope you don't mind, but Gabriel gave your number to me. I had a good time tonight, next time you should show me some more of your music :)

I read each word over and over again, trying to imagine them in his voice, trying to imagine him sitting in his darkened room at this hour, typing this message to me. Two small words stuck out at me. Next time. Dean wanted there to be a next time?

I quickly saved his number in my contacts, and tapped my fingers against the surface of my notebook, deciding what to reply. I typed slowly, careful not to make any spelling or grammar mistakes, and then read it three times over before hitting send.

I had a good time too. I'm glad Gabe has Sam as a friend, he's a good kid. How about next time I introduce you to the Dickies and Stiff Little Fingers?

I had barely set my phone down before it vibrated again, Dean's name on my screen making my head spin.

From Dean Winchester:

Never heard of them. But if you like them, I'm sure I will too. I trust your judgement :)

Before responding, I finished the last few calculus problems, and shoved my notebook into my backpack. The rest of the house was quiet, my siblings either sleeping or working still, so I shut my light off, and crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over my bare chest. Then, I responded, catching myself smilling as I typed the words.

Well that would make you the… second person I know to like the same music as me. Why don't you tell me other favorite bands of yours?

I set my phone down on my stomach, rubbing my eyes to erase the weariness that grew in my body. I felt it vibrate again, from under the covers.

From Dean Winchester:

Led Zeppelin, as you know, AC/DC, Rolling Stones, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Bob Dylan, the Ramones, etc. But enough about me, tell me more about you. Like, what's your favorite movie?

I didn't even have to think before responding, that was an easy question.

Easy, Fight Club.

Without noticing, I stopped setting my phone down between each text sent. I kept it held in front of my face, my tired eyes squinting against the glow that illuminated my face in the otherwise pitch black room.

From Dean Winchester:

Solid choice. Favorite TV show?

That question was a bit more difficult. I couldn't narrow it down to one, so I instead chose three.

Hm, it's between Game of Thrones, Doctor Who, and Sherlock.

I was self conscious over delivering details of my life to Dean Winchester in the form of text messages. In sending each one, my mind mulled over the possibility of him finding me strange at my choices. Before I could see his response to my favorite television shows, I felt a blur nipping at the corner of my eyes, pulling me into a deep sleep.

I awoke the next morning, my hair piled on top of my head in a mess of dark wisps, my eyes struggling to open, pulled closed by unpleasantness that generally came with waking up at six o'clock in the morning. I trudged to the bathroom, turned on the shower, pulled my clothes off, and climbed in. I allowed the steamy water to fall on my face and neck, pulling me from the transition between asleep and awake. I stood there for a moment, lingering in the heat of the spray that felt good on my stiff muscles.

I looked at the time upon climbing out, and it was later than usual. I ran a towel quickly through my hair, pulled on a "the Clash" tshirt, and a pair of black jeans. Before running out the door with my backpack slung over my shoulder, I picked up my phone. I had an unread message from last night.

From Dean Winchester:

I love Game of Thrones and Sherlock, but I've never watched Doctor Who. Maybe there's something else you can introduce me to?

an hour after that text was sent, I received another.

From Dean Winchester:

I guess you fell asleep. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Cas :)

In the process of running down the stairs, I typed a hurried response, before yelling Gabriel's name to come downstairs.

Sorry, I did fall asleep. I think I went into a bit of a food comma after our pizza binge. See you in physics?

My brother was still no where in sight.

"Gabriel, we're going to be late if you don't get your ass down here!"

"I'm coming, Castiel! Just relax." At his words, my phone vibrated in my hands.

From Dean Winchester:

No worries. See you in physics :)

Gabriel came trailing down the stairs behind me, his hair sticking out in odd places, and purple bags framing his eyes. He had a disgruntled expression on his face, clearly not accustomed to the early start of high school.

"Gabriel, what did I tell you about high school? You have to go to sleep early or you won't be able to function in the morning."

He rolled his eyes at me, forcing past me and running out the front door toward his car. "Yeah, well I can see that now," he snapped, pulling open the passenger side door, and slumping down into the seat with his eyes closed.

I lifted my leg, and sat down in the driver seat, putting the keys in the ignition. Before I set my hands on the steering wheel and took my car out of park, I picked up my phone again, allowing my fingers to gloss over the words of my new friend, smiling as I read them in my mind again.

We arrived at school, the sky heavy with gray clouds as a sign it might rain. We got there several minutes later than usual, the parking lot already teeming with parked cars and students as they made their way until the building.

I parked my car, my eyes scanning the parking lot as I pulled myself out the driver's seat for that black chevy impala. It stood several spaces away, but the Winchester brothers were already gone. Gabriel and I made our way toward the building, and went our separate ways as we reached the front door. I walked briskly toward my locker, with only five minutes until the first bell rang.

I kept my head down, my arms crossed on my chest and I moved down the hallway, dodging groups of students who walked in groups to their first class. With my locker only several feet away, I felt a force struck me from behind, my backpack falling to the ground, and my body thrown into the set of lockers next to me.

I looked up to see Raphael, along with a group of people I recognized as Anna, Alastair, and Lilith. They all laughed as I slumped down the wall of lockers, my back and head aching. Raphael stepped forward, bobbing his head to look me in the eye with a menacing look plastered on his face.

"No one here likes you. Just go back to wherever you came from, loser." His words were followed by a howl of laughter from the students who stood behind him, and he kicked my backpack, making it slide several feet away. Before I could respond with a line that would probably get me assaulted again, I heard a deep voice come shouting down the hallway.

"Hey, Raphael, why don't you stop being a douche. What the hell did Cas ever did to you?"

I turned my head, and saw Dean stomping down the hallway with his fists balled up by his sides, and his jaw clenched.

Raphael laughed again. "Really Winchester? You're going to stand up for this fag-" His words were cut off as he was thrown against the lockers next to me. Dean pinned him back with his right hand on his shoulder, and his left arm pressing against his chest. He drew his face in, hovering close to Raphael's with anger lacing his eyes.

"If I ever hear you call him that again, I will kill you. Got that? Now why don't you and your empty headed buddies run off before I really hurt you."

I sat there, amazed at the fear that spread on Raphael's face, as the taller and stronger boy held him down. He held his hands up in surrender, as Dean began easing away. Dean turned his face and smiled at me, as I sat still on the floor, eyes wide with surprise.

He tried to take a step toward me, but the side of his face was immediately met with the fist of the other boy. He stumbled back in shock, and then lunged forward to again press Raphael against the lockers, his fist wrapping around the fabric of the boys shirt. His first was hanging high in the air, in anticipation of swinging down against Raphael, but before he could do so, Mr. Turner came running down the hallway.

"Dean Winchester, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean let go, taking a step back, but his eyes still mad with fury. He stood between the two boys, peering at the side of Dean's face where a purple bruise was beginning to form.

His face turned to Raphael, who looked at the floor, trying to hide the fact that he had started the fight. The teacher shook his head in disappointment, and leaned over to grab the arm of Raphael, in promise of taking him to the principle's office. Before he walked away, he turned back to Dean.

"Dean, I'm disappointed in you. It's only the third day of school. First, I caught you with th-that note, and now, I see you trying to fight another boy in the hallway? You know better than that. Next time I see you acting out, I will talk to your Uncle."

Dean did not respond, but kept his eyes aimed at the ground, his hand pressing against the side of his face, slightly wincing in pain.

I pulled myself off the floor, grabbing my backpack as I stood, and ran toward Dean. Before he could say a word to me, I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the nearby men's restroom, closing and locking the door behind us.

"Dean, what the hell was that?" I asked as I grabbed a paper towel and turned on the tap to run it under the cold water.

"What? I can't stand up for you?" he paused and winced as I pressed the paper towel against the purple mark under his eye. "That kid… he's a dick. And you don't deserve that."

I looked at him, his eyes filled with sincerity as he looked back. "You don't have to worry about it. It's not the first time I've been thrown against some lockers. It's really not a big deal."

He gently pushed my hand away as I dabbed the damp paper towel over his skin. His green eyes pierced mine. "Yes. Yes it is a big deal. So you're different. So fucking what? So you don't conform to social norms, and you don't chase after stupid girls in short skirts, who gives a fuck? That's what makes you special. I mean, that's why I…" he trailed off, taking a step back to lean against the sink.

"That's why you, what?" I asked, balling up the paper towel and throwing it into the trash can behind me.

"Never mind."

I brushed it off, more concerned with the swelling that had already started across his otherwise flawless skin. "Are you sure you're okay?" I asked, my eyes squinting in worry.

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, I'm used to this kind of thing too."

I moved, and leaned up against the sink next to him, turning my chin to face him. I held my hand up slowly, shakily setting it down on his shoulder. "Thank you, Dean," I whispered with a smile.

He grinned back. "Don't mention it. And I would do it again. Next time those neanderthals give you a hard time, you tell me, okay?" His eyes were serious at his words.

I nodded slowly. "Okay." I said back softly. It would, after all, be nice to have someone on my side. Then my mind fell on a different subject. "Dean, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Well, I noticed Mr. Turner got kind of… uncomfortable when he read that note yesterday in class. If you don't mind me asking… What did it say?" I bowed my face but kept my eyes aimed up at him in embarrassment, not quite sure if it was okay to ask that question.

He laughed, and blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Well, you asked me… why I wanted to hang out with you, right? And, I-I said… because there's something about you. Something that draws me in. You're different, and I like that. I-I like you… Cas." His eyes softened at the end of his words.

I blushed wildly, my mind growing dizzy as I stood at a loss for words. His eyes remained on me, studying every inch of my face as my mouth subconsciously broke into a wide smile. He laughed, and pushed himself away from the sink.

"What do you say we get out of here? You know, go take a drive or something. I really don't feel up to sitting in a classroom today," he asked, picking his back pack off the floor.

I thought about it. With everything that had happened in the first 5 minutes of my arrival, I imagined the day would only get worse if I stayed at school. Fuck it.

"Sure," I said with a smile, picking my backpack up and following him happily out the door.

The hallway was empty at this point, class having started a few minutes before, except for Dean Winchester and I, making our way to the front door, skipping our third day of school, together.