By the third day of detention, Dean and Charlie were texting constantly. Lisa had showed up at his house unexpectedly the night before, begging for him to take her back. He had simply laughed, slamming the door in her face. He had gone to visit Benny the day after the fight, and after a long talk, they decided they were fine. Charlie had replaced Lisa at their lunch table, and he felt incredible. He had worked on his essay that first day of detention, but he hadn't finished it until the next day. He had emailed it to Cas, who had looked up from his computer with a small nod in acknowledgment.

Dean knew that Castiel was still disappointed in him, and it left him feeling uneasy. He would rather the man just be pissed at him like Coach was. When Coach had found out about the fight, he had reamed the two of them for being "idjits". He was even more pissed that Benny would have to sit on the bench beside him Friday night due to the state of his nose.

On Thursday, when he normally would have met with Castiel discuss his previous week's essay, Castiel had simply given him his printed assignment with some scrawled comments. He never actually said a word. When Dean looked at his essay, he got to the last page, smiling at the "98. Your brother is lucky to have you" in Cas's signature messy handwriting.

On Friday, his last day of detention, he had waited for others to join him in the room, but no one did. Great. Just me and you, Cas. For the first hour, it had been silent, and Dean had finished the rest of his assignments for the weekend.

He was scrolling through social media on his phone when the silence was broken, "Why, Dean?"

Dean froze, looking up at the other man who was staring at him with unsettling intensity, "Um, I-I'm not sure I understand."

"Why do we hurt the ones we love," Castiel muttered, so softly that Dean barely heard him.

Dean glanced down at his paper, considering how to answer, "Well, I'm not really sure. Maybe because we put so much of ourselves into it that we get scared, you know? We try to protect ourselves." When he was met with silence, he risked a quick peek at the other man, cringing at what he saw. Castiel looked pained, his gaze fixated on his hands. "Is everything okay?"

Castiel blinked, finally looking back up at Dean, "You know what? I think you've learned your lesson. Have a good weekend, Dean."

Dean looked at the clock, realizing that he still had 45 minutes left of detention, "But, there's still like an hour left."

"I am aware of the time," Castiel snapped, collecting his belongings. "Go home, Dean."

He hadn't waited for Dean to get up before swiftly exiting the classroom. Dean sat in shock, wondering what had just happened. He still had several hours until the game, so he decided to go kill some time in the library with Sammy and Kevin. He texted Charlie, needing to verify that what had just happened was weird and out of character.

D: You're never going to believe what just happened

C: Omg you met Scarlett Johansson?

D: What? No!

D: Seriously, do you think about anything else?

C: You know I love me some ScarJo. What's up?

D: So, Novak just got really weird all the sudden

C: Wait, you mean the guy that willingly wears the trench coat every day was really weird?

D: I hate you

C: No, you don't.

C: What happened?

D: He asked me why we hurt the ones we love and then he let me out of detention 45 minutes early

C: Okay, that is kinda weird.

D: Yeah, no shit

C: Did he say anything before that?

D: No, not at all

D: I tried to ask if everything was okay and he stormed off

C: Hmmm. I'm not sure, Dean. Maybe he had a bad day?

D: I have no freaking clue.

C: I wouldn't worry too much about it. He's a responsible adult that can handle his own shit.

D: Yeah, you're right. Thanks for listening.

C: Anytime, dude. Remember, if you talk to any hot cheerleaders tonight, give them my number.

Dean rolled his eyes, pocketing his phone and saying his goodbyes to head for the locker room.

From: Castiel Novak castfromthepast83

To: Dean Winchester allidoiswinchester44

Date: September 26th, 2020, 8:04 AM

Subject: Sorry

Hello, Dean.

I hope that you're enjoying your weekend. I would like to apologize for my actions yesterday. I'm afraid I haven't been myself lately and can assure you that it will not happen again.

Congratulations on the win, and I'm sorry you didn't get to play.

See you Monday,

Castiel N.

Dean had read the email three times, but it had not helped to loosen the knot of concern in his stomach. Did this have something to do with his mother's passing? Something was up with Cas, and as much as he wanted to help, he had to remind himself that Cas was his teacher, not his friend. He doesn't owe you any explanations. He had gone for a drive early Saturday morning, needing to clear his head. What a week. He had broken up with his girlfriend, stood up to his father, pummeled his best friend, and made a new friend.

When he returned home around noon, he froze in fear as he pulled up to the house. His dad's truck was in the driveway. He clutched the steering wheel, debating his next move. Should he leave? What if his dad was drunk again? If he left, he could be putting Sam at risk. With a heavy sigh, he removed his keys from the ignition, going to face his fate.

Entering the house, Dean immediately found Sammy sitting at the kitchen table, eyes cast down. Here we go. He rounded the corner on alert, running directly into his father, who was carrying… pizza? "What the hell," Dean blurted in confusion.

"Watch your mouth, Dean," John Winchester scolded, giving Dean a stern look as he set the box on the table. He gave his son a small smile, gesturing to the other seat for him to sit. "Come on, eat."

Dean glanced at his brother in clear confusion, searching for answers and being met with a shrug in return. He slowly sank into the seat, looking at his father as if he had grown a second head. "Um, thanks?" He took a slice, regarding it carefully as if it might explode before taking a tentative bite.

John helped himself to his own slice, acting as if this was the most normal thing in the world, to be eating pizza in the kitchen with his sons on a Saturday afternoon. Maybe for other families. "I'm sure you have questions," he said quietly, meeting his son's eyes for the first time in years.

"What are you doing here, Dad," Dean accused, sitting back in his own chair and sizing up his father's appearance. "We haven't seen you in almost six months, and suddenly you just show up out of the blue?"

Sammy glanced between the two of them with a wince, expecting a fight. He kept his mouth shut, looking back down at the table.

"I got a call from your principal the other day," John began, wiping his hands with his napkin.

Dean tensed, realizing that he knew about the fight. Of course the principal would have had to contact his father, it was his job. Shit. "It was stupid. I've already paid for my mistake and everything is all good now."

"Dean," his father hesitated, scratching his jaw with discomfort, "I owe you an apology." Both boys stared at their father in shock, clearly expecting anything but an apology. "I was not very kind to you when we last talked." John looked down in shame, refusing to meet his son's eyes once more, "Christ, Dean. The things I said… I want you to know they weren't true. I mean that."

Dean was suddenly angry once more, remembering the pain that his father's sharp words had inflicted, "Well, you said them. You can't take that back."

John winced, quickly glancing up at Dean, "I know that. I know I said them, but I… I wasn't myself." Their father's drinking habits were no secret to either of the boys, but Dean had been dealing with the drunken rages and taking the majority of the damage to protect Sammy. "The things I have put you boys through," he shook his head in disbelief, "Your mother would be so disappointed in me. Hell, I'm disappointed in me." He took a deep breath, meeting their gaze once more. "I've been sober for a week. When I got the call from your principal, I couldn't help but feel like it was my fault."

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, Dad, this isn't the first time you've 'been sober for a week'. Like, if it's true, good for you, but you can't just keep doing this to us, especially to him." He pointed at his brother, getting up from the table, "If you want to even make a dent in all the shit you've done, you're going to have to do a lot more than that. I can't speak for Sammy, but he needs you more than I do. I'm almost 18, Dad. How much time can you honestly say that you've spent with me since Mom died? If you won't do it for me, at least do it for him."

He gave his father one last once over before grabbing his keys and leaving again.

John didn't stop him.