The first thing Dean noticed when he walked into his first class of the day was a strangely familiar shock of dark, disheveled hair buried behind a book. His curiosity was piqued as he attempted to catch a glimpse of the face behind the book. Did Dean know this person? Something in him told him he did.

Dean sauntered towards his mysterious classmate, as casually as he could. He was just about to pass by and surreptitiously determine whether or not he did in fact know the boy, when he was shoved forward. Dean stumbled clumsily past the object of his interest without as much as a peek. A surge of disappointment washed over him as he turned to see who had pushed him.

"Winchester, pick up the pace, would you?" Andy Gallagher walked up next to Dean, placing a steadying hand on his arm, grinning playfully. Dean tried to return the smile, but it turned out more like a grimace. Though Andy had meant no harm, Dean couldn't help but feel irritated at his friend's boisterous attitude. He'd been so close to ascertaining the identity of the boy in the blue shirt.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled distractedly, glancing behind him at the spiky tufts of hair he was so very intrigued by.

Andy removed his hand, shrugging, before turning to join his group of friends at the back of the classroom. He cast one last curious look in Dean's direction, to which Dean was completely oblivious.

Without taking his eyes off the bookworm in the front row, Dean sat himself in the desk to the right of the one directly behind the boy. He was pretty sure he'd never been sat so close to the front of the class in his life. What had gotten into him? Dean was being ridiculous. He didn't know this person. Hell, he didn't even know what they looked like, except for the fact that they had the hottest sex hair he had ever see─

Fuck.

He did not just think that. No, boy's hair wasn't hot; boy's hair was never hot. In fact, nothing about boys was hot. Girls were hot. What with their soft curves, and their delicate features. Dean loved long hair and miniskirts, but more importantly, Dean loved breasts. He couldn't give that up for some nerd with stupid, messy bedhead.

Shaking his head self-deprecatingly, he focused his attention onto his teacher, Mrs. Tanner. She was a kind older woman, who had clearly been very attractive when she was younger. Dean had had her teaching his History class last year, so he knew just what to expect from her this year. At the moment, she had managed to quiet the class and was taking attendance.

"Adam Milligan?" Mrs. Tanner, called scanning the mass of students for Adam's raised hand. When she had spotted him, she turned back to her list and checked him off, moving on to the next name.

"Cas…Castiel? Milton?" his teacher stuttered over the unusual name.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Bedhead whip his head up from his book so fast he looked as if he had been electrocuted. Bedhead glanced at the clock, confusion clouding his features. Sharp, strong features Dean tried not to notice.

"Is Castiel here?" Mrs. Tanner asked after several seconds of silence.

"Present," Bedhead, no, Castiel responded lifting his hand slightly. His voice was deep and gravelly, making an unwanted shiver run down Dean's spine.

It took all his willpower to shift his gaze in a much safer direction. He caught sight of Lisa Braeden blatantly checking him out. Their eyes locked and a slow, flirty smile spread across her face. Dean's answering smile was cocky and suggestive as he wiggled his eyebrows. Lisa bit her glossy lower lip, peering at Dean under her eyelashes.

"Dean Winchester!" Mrs. Tanner sounded exasperated. She was staring him down, hands on her hips, "How many times do I have to call your name before you answer?"

Dean gave her his most charming smile, widening his eyes innocently, "But, Mrs. Tanner, you already know who I am. Do I really need to tell you something you already know?"

Several students let out small chuckles as Mrs. Tanner rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, "All right, Dean. Just make sure you pay attention for the rest of the class," she said smiling at him fondly.

Dean nodded as he pulled out a notebook and pen from his backpack and began doodling. This class was going to be a piece of cake.

Dean had no idea what was happening in his class. Mrs. Tanner was talking about the course outline, or maybe something that had happened to her over the summer break. Either way, Dean didn't really care. He was much too absorbed in his thoughts. He had stopped doodling when a patch of scribbles began to take the shape of the back of a certain someone's head of hair.

You're only thinking about him because he looks so damn familiar, Dean told himself. Maybe if he just figured out where he knew him from, it would stop his eyes from being drawn to him.

It wasn't until Castiel slouched in his seat, curling in on himself that a memory flashed through Dean's mind. In his head, he could picture a lonely figure in a blue shirt walking to school, stopping to hunch over. He remembered the mild concern he'd felt as to whether or not the stranger was okay after he'd raced past him at an illegal speed.

So, Castiel was the stranger. Dean inspected him as closely as he could without being noticed. Castiel's face was completely blank, but he appeared attentive, pen poised over his thick notebook. Every so often his pen would fly across the page whenever he thought Mrs. Tanner said something important.

He looked okay. He didn't appear to have ever been upset or in any pain today. Most likely, Castiel had been hugging himself for warmth seeing as it had been fairly chilly earlier in the morning. Nothing to worry about, Castiel was fine.

Dean continued staring longer than he probably should have. After all, he had figured out the reason for the unexplainable familiarity. His curiosity had been satisfied, so why was he still looking? He should have been looking away. He knew he should have, but he couldn't.

Suddenly, Castiel was looking at him. Dean felt his face heat up as he ducked his head, finally able to avert his eyes. His heart was pounding so frantically he could have sworn a stampede of horses had entered the room, it was so loud. Dean had been caught being a massive creep. He didn't think he could be more embarrassed if he tried. Jesus Christ, what was happening to him?

To save the situation from being anymore awkward he pasted what he hope was a casual expression onto his face and glanced at Castiel. Dean's breath caught in his throat and his casual façade faltered. Castiel was staring at him with the bluest eyes he had ever seen. He suddenly felt as if he had been thrown unceremoniously into the freezing depths of a sea or an ocean and was struggling to keep his head above the water. Castiel just kept staring at him, or wait, no, not at him, but behind him? Dean turned hesitantly to look at the girl behind him. She was talking animatedly about something that had happened a million years ago, or some shit like that. Dean wasn't listening. He was overwhelmed with the sense of relief that accompanied the realisation that Castiel hadn't been regarding him as a freak, but was merely paying attention in class, something Dean should have been doing.

Dean wondered how Sammy's first day was going. He was probably being just as attentive as Castiel was being. He was probably learning so much his little nerd brain wouldn't know what to do with itself. Dean was full of affection and pride for his little brother. He really was going to grow up to be quite successful. Hell, he already had his eye on a scholarship for Stanford and Dean planned on supporting him one hundred percent.

Pulling out his phone, Dean sent a quick teasing text to Sam to see if he would reply. There was no response for the rest of the period. It was only to be expected, but part of Dean had hoped his brother would respond so he could pose as a much needed distraction from Castiel.

Dean didn't chance another look at Castiel for the remainder of the period. It was harder to ignore him than he wanted it to be.

Dean's stress and anxiety was greatly alleviated when the bell for the next class rang. He gathered his supplies together and threw them haphazardly into his pack, making a beeline for his English class on the other side of the school.

The pocket of Dean's worn jeans began vibrating as he sat down in his next class. Sam had finally texted him back.

Sam: Don't send me texts when we're in class. Unlike some people I actually want to learn!

Dean could practically feel the bitch face he was getting through the phone and couldn't help laughing.

"What's got you so happy?" Jo asked sitting herself next to Dean.

"Sam's just being a bitch," Dean said smiling.

"How's he liking his first day?" Jo inquired with a knowing smirk.

"It's Sam. It's like he's died and gone to Heaven," Dean replied with a straight face.

"Well, at least one Winchester's enjoying their first day," Jo eyed Dean suspiciously.

"What do you mean? I'm having a fucking awesome time?"

"Come on, Dean. I've known you forever, what's up?" Jo punched Dean in the arm lightly.

"What do you know about Castiel Milton?" Dean kept his face and voice as neutral as possible.

"Not much. Why?" Jo's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Is he new or something, because I don't think I've ever seen him before?"

"Dean, he's been going here for the past four years."

"What? No way. I'm pretty sure I've never had a class with him before," Dean was sure he wouldn't be able to ever forget that hair or those eyes…

"Hmm, it's possible. I think he's mostly in AP classes, and I've never seen him in the cafeteria before," Jo pursed her lips in thought, "Why are you asking anyways?"

"No reason," Dean blushed. He was acting like a prepubescent school girl. He wanted to vomit.

Jo looked at him with skepticism bright in her eyes, but before she could say anything, class started. Dean let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He'd escaped Jo's questioning, but he knew it wouldn't be long before she pounced on him again.

By the end of the day, Dean was full of disappointment and relief. He hadn't had any more classes with Castiel, and Jo had been right in saying Castiel was never in the cafeteria. He probably ate lunch outside or in an empty classroom, somewhere secluded at least.

From what Jo had told him, Castiel was a bit of a lone wolf. Dean had almost gone looking for him so they could eat together, but quickly thought better of it. He didn't really know Castiel and Castiel certainly didn't know Dean. Dean decided he would have to do something about that, sometime.

Dean met Sam by the Impala. The kid seemed even more excited than he'd been that morning.

"Good day?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

"The best!" Sam grinned, brushing his hair out of his eyes and getting into the now unlocked car.

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

That was all Sam needed to hear before he launched into a detailed description of his day. He told Dean who his teachers were, what they were like, what classes were his favourite so far and who he had made friends with.

"Jessica's pretty cool, though. I mean I've kinda seen her around, but she went to a different middle school than me so I've never actually talked to her until today, but I know we're gonna be great friends. She's super nice and she's in all my classes," Sam said all in one breath, his grin widening so much, Dean thought his face might actually split in half.

"Just friends, Sammy? Come on, I taught you better than that," Dean smirked as his little brother turned bright red.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

They didn't talk much the rest of the drive home. They didn't really need to. It was nice just being in the company of his brother, but if Dean found himself checking the sidewalks for lonely boys in blue shirts, no one needed to know.


Castiel's day could have been worse. At least, that's what he has always had to tell himself. Today, those words held a bit more truth in them than usual.

He'd spent his entire morning completely stoned. Though somehow, unbeknownst to him, he'd managed to take perfectly comprehensible notes in all his classes. If it weren't for the notes he'd taken he most likely would have thought he had skipped the first half of school.

When he tried to remember if anything interesting had happened in one of his subjects, it was like looking into someone else's glasses. The mental images were blurred and felt all wrong. Any words spoken in the memories had been lost in his lazy daze.

Only one thing managed to crawl its way into the forefront of his foggy mind and that was the colour green. It was the sort of green grass got when the sun was shining brightly, all warm and golden. Castiel didn't understand what the colour meant or where he'd seen it, but he quickly decided it was his favourite colour.

When lunch came, the blissful fog in Castiel's mind was starting to dissipate, though not completely. He considered taking more pills, but settled on smoking a cigarette instead. Castiel walked outside, taking in the dull noon sky. He felt a connection to the clouds, as if they were somehow kin, expressing the same emotions. Perhaps they were all upset because Castiel was stuck firmly on the ground, when he really belonged in the skies, flying freely with his cloud-brothers.

Sighing, he made his way around to the side of the school no one ever went near. It wasn't very far from the dumpster and discarded pieces of junk littered the gravel floor. Castiel sat on an abandoned tyre and pulled out a cigarette from his pack. He was running low and needed to buy some more.

After lighting the tip, Castiel stuck the filter between his lips and took a good, long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He removed the cigarette from his lips breathing out in a steady breath. His nerves were already beginning to calm down. Though, he always seemed to be the most calm when he was indulging in his self-destructive behaviour. Every time he took a drag from a cigarette, popped a pill, refused a meal, or cut himself, a wave of calm would wash over him, easing his anxiety with sweet whispered promises of death.

Castiel decided to smoke the last two cigarettes in his pack as a special back to school lunch. He'd just have to stop by a gas station on his way home to buy another pack.

When he had finished, he chewed a piece of sugar free gum and bought a bottle of water from a vending machine to get the smell and taste of tobacco out of his mouth. Not that he minded the scent, but he wanted to keep his innocent and studious persona intact for his teachers and, of course, Anna. It was selfish, but Castiel didn't want anyone else to know what a complete disappointment he had become.

His stomach growled painfully, making him double over. He hadn't eaten in three days and it was really starting to take a toll on his body. He tried to satisfy his hunger by drinking the rest of his water, but he knew that wouldn't really soothe the ache in his gut. He made sure to avoid the cafeteria as he made his way to his after-lunch class. He knew if he caught the whiff of food, he might not be able to resist spending the money Anna gave him on a slice of cheesy, gooey, pepperoni pizza. The thought of eating made him equal parts nauseous and desperate for at least one bite.

Castiel dug his nails into his wrist hard. He could feel his skin break and the pain in his wrist distracted him from his earlier foolish fantasies of food. He didn't deserve to eat. He was worthless, a waste of space. The less space he took up, the better it was for everyone else.

As usual, he was the first one to arrive to class. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't show up early because he was so very eager to learn, no, he came early because he didn't have anything else to do or anyone else to be with.

No one knew, but sometimes the solitude was crippling. He enjoyed being by himself, he really did, just sometimes he craved to be loved. It was a confusing situation for Castiel. He hated everyone, including himself, so it was completely unfathomable for him to be able to give and receive the love of someone else.

Castiel sighed dramatically, flopping onto his desk, burying his head in the circle of his arms. His head was throbbing and he wasn't sure if it was from lack of nourishment or whether it was because Castiel was a walking contradiction. He didn't think it was possible for him to hate himself any more than he already did, but he managed to prove himself wrong. He was always proving people wrong. People thought he was a good kid, but that wasn't true. He was also considered a cheerful individual with a fun, quirky personality. That was also a lie. Castiel was never cheerful and he had the personality of a dead slug.

He moaned into the wood of his desk as the constant murmurs of self-hatred thread their way into his head, building a permanent home for themselves where they could remind Castiel every second of every day how pathetic he was.

"Castiel? Are you feeling all right?" Mrs. Wellsh, his maths teacher, asked. Concern made her forehead crease down the center.

"Oh, yes. I am quite all right, thank you. I have just been suffering through a most disagreeable ailment this past week. Not to worry though, I am feeling much better this week," Castiel contorted his features into a mask of the right amount of earnestness, contentment, gratitude and determination to beat his sickness.

"Thank goodness. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have my best student feeling well," She smiled at him kindly.

Her words bounced off of Castiel as if they were arrows unable to penetrate his armor. They were just words, meaningless and unnecessary, not to mention false. Still, Castiel smiled back at her, playing his part as teacher's pet. A role he detested, but was certain helped with at least thirty percent of his grade.

The bell rang and students began to trickle into class. Mrs. Wellsh smiled once more at Castiel, proceeding to then prepare for the days lesson.

Castiel was a mess of anxiety, when his final class ended. He had picked the skin off of each knuckle on his left hand until the back of his hand was painted in a dripping, bright blood red. His head was about to explode and he wanted nothing more than to crawl out of his skin. Castiel was desperate for a high. He ran out of school and continued running until he reached a gas station. He swayed on his feet and black dots clouded the edges of his vision. He needed to rest. He leaned against the dirty brick wall of the gas station, sinking to the ground. He pulled a couple of Xanax out of his bag and swallowed them down with difficulty. His mouth and throat were so dry. After catching his breath, Castiel stood up slowly hand pressed to the wall to assure himself of his stability.

When he was certain he wouldn't pass out, he walked into the gas station and bought a pack of cigarettes from a disinterested young lady, who didn't even ask for ID. She smacked her sticky pink bubble gum as he paid, using the money Anna had given him for lunch.

When he had first started using his lunch money on cigarettes, guilt gnawed at him day and night. Anna had trusted him with this money so he could have a nice lunch. How could he throw it away on the inevitable cancer he was sure to receive? Eventually, the guilt ebbed, giving way to the ever-growing pit in Castiel's heart, as he rationalised with himself that he was getting something nice for lunch. He just wasn't buying anything healthy or nutritious.

He decided not to smoke on his walk home in case Anna was home and caught the scent on him. Besides, the light, grey mist of a high was already starting to set in. He didn't need to waste a smoke when he was already feeling himself relax and succumb to the tranquility of his medication.

The walk home seemed to take forever and no time at all. Castiel cautiously approached his front door, the way one might approach a wild dog as if it might bight. He unlocked the door and slowly crossed the threshold, unsure of what to expect.

"Hello?" Castiel's voice echoed around the large entryway, "Anna? Are you currently home?"

No answer.

Castiel's shoulders slumped in exhaustion as he padded into the kitchen to get a glass of water. His movements were slow and cumbersome as if he were moving through a lake. Castiel finished his water and was just about to head up to his room when a flash of white caught his eye. On the kitchen table was a note from Anna.

Castiel,

I had to cover Rachel's shift at work, it was an emergency. I'm sorry. I've left enough money for you to buy a pizza or something else if you want, so I hope you're not too mad at me. I'll be back shortly after eleven.

Love, Anna xxx

Castiel smirked, pocketing the twenty-five bucks his sister had left him. He felt his mood lighten at the thought of not having to tiptoe around Anna and her watchful eye. Now, he could just collapse into bed without food for the next fourteen hours without worrying his sister.

Castiel was eager to lose consciousness. He shut his eyes and let the tendrils of the dream world caress his mind as he fell into the darkness.