"So," Nathaniel said, staring at Castiel. "It seems we're stuck being paired up for this thing."

Castiel groaned.

They sat as far away from each other as humanly possible on the bus ride, each glaring out their windows and scaring half the ninth graders and a couple of the tenth. The eleventh and twelfth graders were used to them by now.

They eventually pulled into the parking lot at the edge of the forest, and kids exited the bus, meeting up with their partners to be handed a map.

"I'm keeping the map," Nathaniel said, snatching it before Castiel could say anything. "I don't trust you with it."

"Let me see the map," Castiel said, snatching it from Nathaniel. Nathaniel hadn't lost their map, at the very least.

He also couldn't read the map.

Nathaniel looked like he wanted to protest, but then closed his mouth, realizing that they'd been going around in circles for the last half hour.

Castiel stared at the map for a bit, looking up occasionally to see if he could figure out where they were. Finally he just sighed, folding the map up and shoving it at Nathaniel.

"Way to go, Prez," he grumbled. "You didn't just get us on the wrong path; we aren't even on a path."

"Well," Nathaniel said, looking around. "Maybe we can try to find one of the paths?"

"That's all we really can do," Castiel said reluctantly. He began walking away. "We can't exactly just stand here doing nothing."

Nathaniel shrugged, following Castiel.

They came across a lake.

There were some tall rocks around the lake, smooth and covered in moss.

"I think I might try climbing up on one of those," Nathaniel said. Castiel held up a hand.

"Wait a second," he said. "Lakes are good landmarks." He pulled out the map, skimming it for a lake. When he didn't see one, he groaned in frustration.

"Now we're not even on the map," he said, staring at it as if that would make a lake appear. "There's no lake." He paused. "You can go climb your rock now."

And Nathaniel did, careful not to slip on the moss.

But evidently not careful enough.

He toppled into the lake with a surprised yelp, fingers catching on the slippery moss but not finding any purchase.

Castiel laughed, finding the whole ordeal pretty hilarious. And it was, for a bit.

And then he realized Nathaniel wasn't surfacing.

"Nathaniel?" He asked, peering into the water. His blond head was visible just a foot or so beneath the surface. But he wasn't moving or anything; not like he was drowning, or couldn't swim, or whatever.

He was just- floating there.

Castiel swore, throwing off his jacket and yanking off his pants and shoes for good measure, trying to lessen the weight he'd have dragging on him. He dove into the lake, swimming over to Nathaniel and hooking his arms under Nathaniel's armpits.

He kicked for the surface, flipping onto his back so that Nathaniel's head would be out of the water before moving back to the shore.

Dragging Nathaniel back onto the pebbles surrounding the lake, he noticed that Nathaniel's chest was eerily still.

Letting out a string of curses, he held a hand under Nathaniel's nose, feeling no air, he began to press down on Nathaniel's chest. He was by no means a doctor but he'd seen this done before and quite frankly it was this or nothing.

He didn't have much to lose by trying.

He reached thirty or so and paused, frowning. Wasn't that where you were supposed to do the breathing thingy?

Rolling his eyes, he pinched Nathaniel's nose and exhaled, hard, causing Nathaniel's chest to rise just slightly. He was about to try again when the blond jerked, rolling onto his side and hacking up a stream of water.

Castiel sat back on his heels, breathing hard. Nathaniel stared at him for a moment when he'd caught his breath.

"You're not wearing any pants," he rasped, blinking. Castiel nodded. "You're soaking wet."

"Thank you, President Obvious."

"It's captain obvious."

"Not for you, Prez."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. Something seemed to hit him just them. He glared at Castiel. "Please tell me you didn't kiss me."

"I didn't," Castiel said, shrugging. "Ever heard of CPR?"

"I'm probably going to get twenty different types of cancer from your smoking habits."

"Are there even that many types of cancer?" Castiel said, quirking an eyebrow. "Also I don't smoke that much. And it doesn't even work like that."

"Whatever."