The boy continued to look expectantly from the principal to Dean. He looks like a flight attendant, Dean thought to himself, kid isn't going to last five minutes here.

Principal Hannigan nudged him forwards, hissing the word 'sit' to him, like she would to an intolerable pet. He obeyed and sank into the chair next to new student. Principal Hannigan observed them from over her horn-rimmed spectacles, thinking there couldn't have been an odder pair in all of Lawrence State. Castiel in his crisp white shirt, buttoned up to the neck, his attentive eyes, and then there was that Winchester boy, the one who got up to more trouble than she could fit into his permanent record, sitting sloppily in her chair, wearing that awful dusty jacket and grim expression. Principal Hannigan was decidedly happier at having the new student cheer up her office.

She looked down at his transcripts, muttering to herself, "Pontiac Christian School; impressive grades; you play the violin, Mr-" she paused, "oh that's strange, there doesn't seem to be a last name."

Castiel confirmed this with a small nod of his head, "I don't have one."

"Oh," she pushed her glasses up her nose then turned to Dean, "Well, Castiel, meet your new buddy (Dean cringed) he's going to be showing you around here and making sure you're well adjusted by the time the mid-sem break comes up."

Castiel glanced at Dean a moment then looked pointedly at the principal, "I appreciate it greatly, but I think I'm fine without him."

Dean jerked his head at the new student. Being cast aside like a dirty rag. He felt his skin burning but kept his mouth shut. Not in front of the principal, he reminded himself.

Mrs Hannigan blinked. Her crafty disciplining could not fail. By his transcript it was evident that Castiel would not require any academic assistance, least of all from Dean. But there were two factors backing her decision - first, she needed to punish Dean Winchester somehow; second, Castiel was fresh meat and the senior year crowd were wolves. If there was anybody who could act as a buffer, it was Dean Winchester. She massaged her temples; nobody wanted to confront bullying - too much paperwork.

"I'm afraid, Castiel, that I must insist. It's school policy."

Dean snorted and she threw him a nasty look.

"I'm certain I can manage-" Castiel was saying.

"Non-negotiable, son. Thank you."

Castiel stared long and hard at her, but she had shut his file, pushed it away and had averted her eyes to something else. He frowned slightly and got up to go.

Dean drummed his fingers on his knuckles, studying the principal's face.

"Well, that didn't pan out so smooth, huh, teach?"

"Mr Winchester, you will be his guide and I will receive a weekly report from him on your engagement. I suggest you make an effort at cementing that friendship now. Thank you."

When Dean caught up with Castiel he was already halfway down the corridor.

"Hey man, wait up," Dean said gruffly.

Castiel eyed him suspiciously.

"You're going the wrong way," Dean said. "I saw your file. Your senior year AP English class is that way," he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

Castiel said nothing, watching him out of the corner of his eyes, his brown binder tucked safely under one arm.

"Two flights of stairs, right of the foyer," Dean added.

Castiel turned himself about and marched back down the corridor, pausing a moment at Dean's shoulder, "Not gonna walk me to class?"

Dean hesitated, "Uh, I don't know. Do you want me to?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Got it."

And with that, Castiel disappeared up the staircase.

Dean was not pleased with the arrangement, not one bit. He made for the double doors, grumbling under his breath, "Son of a bitch."

This chapter was 666 words, btw.