Later that night when Dean came home, Charlie had stayed with him, making sure that he followed his concussion protocol. Dean's phone had died in the process of being evaluated at the hospital, but Charlie had made sure it was plugged in the moment he arrived home. Dean was not up to reading any messages, so he allowed Charlie to unlock his phone and read them to him. Suddenly, she shrieked in excitement, causing Dean to instantly wince.

"Oops, sorry," she grimaced, making sure Dean was okay before continuing on. "It's him! He emailed you!"

"Read it," Dean grunted, relaxing back into the recliner.

Charlie read it to him, and Dean let a smile slowly spread over his face, "Do you want me to respond to him for you?"

"No," Dean said quickly, "I'll do it myself when I feel up to it."

Charlie smirked, setting the phone down before turning the TV on low.

Dean was extremely sensitive to light, and became easily nauseous when moving, so he was given permission to stay home from school for the first few days of the following week. He had received lots of texts and calls from friends, even from his father who had managed to remain sober since their conversation in the kitchen. He had offered to come home and help with Sammy, but Dean had insisted that he not miss work. He may have kept his promise so far, but Dean had watched his father relapse over and over again. He was still weary of his presence, especially in his current state. He had ignored most of the messages, but he did not dare to ignore Charlie.

She had brought his work to him, the new semester having started Monday. To his dismay, he had discovered that due to a conflict with classes he had taken before transferring, he still needed to take an economics course. Which meant that his study hall had been replaced with Economics 1 taught by none other than Michael Novak.

Charlie was in the class with him, but when she had come over with his schoolwork and a note from Michael Novak demanding an excuse for his absence, he was already dreading this semester.

By Thursday, he was back to normal, and attended school with his completed work. He produced the expected excuse for his fourth period class, and the rest of the day had gone by smoothly. He had an appointment the next morning to clear him to play in the game that night and was more than a little nervous.

As he entered the classroom, he was met with a glare by the man he had been dreading to see all week, "Nice of you to finally join us, Winchester."

Dean glared back at the other man, pulling his doctor's excuse out of his pocket, "It's good to be back." He turned and headed for his seat, exchanging a smirk with Charlie as he sat down.

At the end of class, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, "Mr. Winchester."

He turned to face Michael Novak, bracing himself for whatever this was about "Yes, sir?"

"Just a reminder that in my class, you are like any other student. You may have had special treatment in my younger brother's class, but you would be a fool to expect anything of the sort here," he smirked.

"Don't worry, sir, I would never expect something like that from you," Dean countered, holding his head high.

"You would do well to watch your mouth, boy," Michael snarled, "Perhaps you would like to think about that attitude of yours in detention?" He opened his desk, tearing off a slip and quickly signing it.

Dean clenched his jaw, accepting the detention slip that was given to him, "Of course, sir."

He showed the slip to his friends at lunch, Charlie immediately outraged on his behalf, and threatening to report him to the principal. "Relax, Red. Novak's just a miserable man, and he just happens to be obsessed with me."

He did not notice Castiel passing by their table at that exact moment, nor did he notice him rushing out of the lunchroom in anger.

To Dean's surprise, he learned that Castiel would be staffing detention this week, and he knew that it wouldn't be that bad. He actually arrived for detention that afternoon with a smile on his face, excited to see him. He was completely caught off guard by Castiel refusing to even look at him.

He took his seat, not bothering to mask the hurt and confusion on his face. What is going on? Did I do something wrong? He sat quietly for the two hours, working ahead on his work for next week. When it was time to go, Castiel still hadn't looked at him. He waited for the others to leave, and he approached Castiel's desk, ready to confront him. "So, am I just destined to piss off every Novak brother today?"

Castiel's eyes flicked up to meet Dean's, pain clouding his expression, "I don't know, Dean. Maybe we're just miserable men that just happen be obsessed with you."

"What are you," Dean started before realization dawned on him. "Cas, it wasn't like that. I was talking abou-"

"I don't really care to hear anymore from you today, Dean. Just go home," Castiel sighed, shrugging into his trench coat.

"Castiel," he said angrily, "How could you possibly think I meant you? Do you really think that after everything I would say something like that?"

Cas froze, looking down at his feet, "But I heard…"

"I was talking about your brother. He gave me detention for standing up for myself because he hates my guts," Dean continued, taking a step closer. He glanced to the door for a long second before lowering his voice. "Look, I don't know exactly what's going on here, but I could never say something like that about you." He tentatively reached for Castiel's face, forcing him to look at him as he cupped his cheek, "You have to know that."

Castiel gulped, his cheeks flushing as he gazed into Dean's eyes, "I…I believe you."

Dean took a deep breath, and let his hand fall to his side, "I'll see you later, Cas."

Castiel sat down hard, trying to gain control of the situation. A major line had just been crossed, and he suspected that there would be no turning back now. He was in love with Dean, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it. He only hoped that they would both survive the fallout.