Chapter: 01

In a field, lying quietly amongst the frost-kissed blades of grass, was a boy. His coat spilled out around him like a tan river, the buttons glinting silver as they were touched with the faint rays of dawn. His eyelids fluttered restlessly as his palms brushed over the frosted ground at his sides, coming away damp when he raised them to let the soft morning breeze dry the melting crystals from his skin.

It was a ritualistic morning for Castiel Novak; nothing new, and nothing changed. His backpack cushioned his head as he laid beside the silent highway, and his eyes remained closed as he skimmed his fingers over the earth at his sides. It was the first frost of the year, he noted with some relief; winter had been slow coming this year with hardly an autumn to speak of, and he was beyond ready to trade ice-tea and sun poisoning for snow and hot-chocolate.

Taking a slow breath through his nose, Castiel relished the smell of damp Earth and the hint of burnt rubber that always spilled from the highway. Too soon though, the nearby rumble of a school bus alerted him that his Hellish day had finally begun and he slowly rose from his bed amongst the grass. His eyes opened, and they were like winter itself; cold, distant, and frigid in all the right ways.

Rolling to a halt on the shoulder, the stop sign on the bus beckoned the boy forward with flashing lights. Sighing to himself, Castiel slowly climbed the worn stairs of the vehicle. Soft morning conversations drifted through his ears as he made his way slowly to the back in search of the only seat on the bus meant to hold a single passenger; though the seats were hardly assigned, it was his choice every morning.

"Seats not open," A gruff voice said somewhere behind him, and Castiel glanced over at the sophomore who'd spoken with a raised eyebrow; a silent question.

"New kid's sitting there," The sophomore shrugged. "From what I heard, he was the first one on the bus this morning."

Castiel nodded a silent understanding and made his way to the final row regardless, the bus bouncing and swaying under his feet. True to the sophomore's words, there was a figure occupying the seat Castiel had been set on, but he couldn't make out any identifying traits. The strangers head was turned away, the rigid collar of his leather jacket pulled past his cheek bones; all Castiel could see was a head full of spiked hair and a sliver of a tanned forehead.

Refraining from sighing, Castiel took the double seat across the aisle from the stranger and set his backpack beside him to block any potential seat-mates.

"Did he take your seat?" A small voice questioned just as Castiel was reaching for his battered mp3 where it was resting in his coat pocket. He looked up to see a young boy – most certainly a freshman – peering at him from over the seat-back before him. His dark hair was sticking out in a messily-adorable way that would have any girl swooning, and his hazel eyes held a certain light of sincerity that Castiel was unfamiliar with.

Castiel nodded in answer to the question.

"Sorry about that… We're new in town," The boy explained. "He didn't think anyone would be sitting there."

Castiel shrugged, a silent way of dismissing the matter, and reached for his mp3. Retrieving the small device from its place in his coat pocket, he set to the task of untangling the headphones wrapped around the device. The boy before him watched him for a brief moment before he slid back down in his seat without any other words.

The incident was quickly forgotten as Castiel blocked the noise around him with the soothing sound of Mumford & Sons. Letting his head fall back on the seat, he closed his eyes and drowned in the mixture of instruments and vocals, mouthing the words silently as they passed through the headphones and into his ears.

He was just drifting into a light sleep, the movement of his lips slowing to an occasional twitch, when the bus hit a particularly violent bump that sent him up a few feet. There was a muffled curse at his side as the bus turned sharply – most likely avoiding another bump of the same magnitude – and the freshman who had spoken to him a few moments before was thrown out of his seat in a mess of limbs and wide-eyes.

Castiel shot out a hand, reflexively grabbing the boy before he could tumble into the back door of the bus. Before he could think to help the boy up, someone had knocked his arm away and hauled the freshman off the floor. It happened so fast that Castiel's sleepy mind took a moment to register that it was the boy who had taken his seat, standing with his back to Castiel in the aisle and holding the freshman upright.

"You okay, Sammy?" Castiel shuddered at the stranger's voice, the sound pulling strings in his gut that had him digging his nails punishingly into his palms. He watched as the freshman, Sammy, batted the larger man's hands away irritably.

"I'm fine," He grumbled, looking over the larger boys shoulder at Castiel. "He caught me before I could hit my head on anything,"

Castiel tensed as the older boy slowly turned, revealing a squared jaw and cheek bones to make a movie star swoon. The stranger was surprisingly still despite the rocking motions of the bus, his light green eyes smoldering with a cocktail of emotions that Castiel couldn't decipher as they stared at each other.

"You helped my brother?" He questioned, that gruff voice tying knots low in Castiel's stomach. He nodded weakly, fingering the inside lining of his coat as his nerves got the better of him. The stranger nodded thoughtfully, staring at Castiel for another span of time before slowly extending a hand.

"I'm Dean," He greeted, and Castiel shook his hand shyly. Dean's palm wasn't smooth as Castiel had expected; it was rough with calluses in some places, smooth with scars in others. "You are?"

Castiel stalled, his mouth dry as he fought to force sound up his throat and past his lips. Dean waited patiently, his eyes never leaving Castiel's face.

"C-Castiel," The boy finally managed to choke out, blushing at his stuttered start.

"Well, Castiel, thanks for helping Sam out," Dean nodded towards his brother, who was sitting on the edge of the seat in front of Castiel's and examining a small scrape on the heel of his hand. "Are the bus rides always this violent?"

Castiel shrugged, focusing of the patch of red on Sam's hand instead of the intense gaze of the stranger standing in the aisle beside his seat. The bus turned sharply once more, Dean's footing failing him as he tumbled back into the single-seater with a grunt of surprise. "That answers that," He grumbled.

A small smile hinted at the corner of Castiel's mouth before he quickly killed it, rooting around in his backpack and retrieving the small first-aid kit his mother insisted he keep there. Silently, he held the small white box out towards Sam. The boy smiled at the offer, taking the box with a mummer of thanks as he pried it open and went to work on his bleeding hand.

Dean stared at Castiel, his expression shocked as the darker haired teenager tucked his mp3 back in his pocket and zipped his backpack closed in silence; it wasn't often that total strangers helped Dean and Sam out of the kindness of their heart.

Sam, oblivious to his brother's confusion, gently smoothed an anti-septic cream over the cut and peeled a band aid out of its wrapper. He placed it over the cut with the confident hands of someone who had dealt with plenty of wounds in his life, tucking the wrapper in his pocket so he could trash it later. He offered the first-aid kit to Castiel once more, and the older boy shook his head, silently telling Sam to keep it.

Around them the bus had slowly filled, leaving only two seats open; the one beside Castiel, and the one beside Sam. Castiel didn't worry about it until the bus rolled to a stop outside a familiar house, at which point he tensed.

Michael and Lucifer Novak hurried on to the busy bus, moving quickly towards the back with predatory looks. Castiel ducked his head, as if it could hide him from his brothers, and dug his nails deep into the skin of his palms. Usually the Novak brother's stayed away from one and other; Castiel took his single seat and his brothers sat somewhere towards the front. Today, thanks to Sam and Dean, he would be forced to sit right next to one of them.

"Move over," Castiel cringed as Michael knocked his bag out of the way, sliding into the seat and crowding Castiel against the window. His brother barely acknowledged his presence, his eyes focused on the front of the bus and his ears plugged with headphones.

This was the way it had been for as long as Castiel could remember. As the youngest of five children, he had only been a toddler when his parents divorced. From the stories he had heard though, the Novak divorce had been a brutal and messy affair; the whole community had taken sides in the battle. When it was all said and done though, the oldest Novak boys chose to move across town with their father and the three younger children were left with their mother.

Stealing a look at Michael's stony face, Castiel had to wonder what their father had done to make his brother's so hard. He wanted nothing more than to establish a relationship with Michael and Lucifer both, but neither boy even acknowledged his existence except on rare occasions.

In the seat ahead of him, Lucifer was trying to make conversation with Sam. The younger boy was staring out the window, shrugging or nodding every once and awhile but otherwise uninterested. Castiel could only be relieved- though he wanted a relationship with his brother's, both of them were bad influences. Both of them had failed the eighth grade on two occasions, which is why they were still in their senior year at the age of twenty and twenty one. For Lucifer, this was the last chance; Michael had one more year.

Pressing his forehead to the cool glass of the window, Castiel pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind and watched the barren fields roll by in silence.

Sometime later, they arrived at the school and everyone hurried to exit the bus. Michael lurched to his feet like someone had lit a fire under his seat and shoved his way to the front, hopping off the bus with Lucifer trailing behind him. Castiel ignored the faint twinge of pain – how could someone he hardly knew hurt his feelings? – and slowly stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and following the crowd off the bus and into the building.

"Hey, wait- Castiel," He blinked, hating the shiver that traveled pleasantly down his spine at the sound of his name being called in such a delicious voice. He turned just in time to see Dean moving towards him in the swarm of students, grimacing as he received several elbows to the ribs.

Castiel waited patiently for the boy to reach him, silently looking him over as he did so. Dean was taller than most of the boys he was passing, standing a few inches taller than Castiel himself. His leather jacket was zipped to protect him from the cold, and Castiel barely caught a glimpse of a leather cord around the boys neck. He had a simple black Jansport bag slung over his shoulder and his eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at a crumpled sheet of paper in his hands, finally coming to a stop just before Castiel.

"I was wondering what grade you were in," Dean started, looking up from the paper. "Because I could really use some help finding these classes."

"I'm a junior," Castiel stated quietly, his voice coming easier than it had on the bus.

"Dammit," Dean sighed, raking a hand through his already mused hair. "Can you recommend a senior guide?"

Castiel hesitated before answering.

"I… I know most of the senior classes." He admitted, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat. "I could probably show you,"

"Really?" Dean's eyes flashed as he smiled.

"Sure," Castiel shrugged, fingering the cord of his headphones in his pocket. He knew this was a bad idea- opening his mouth was a bad idea in itself, but offering a tour the very attractive new boy was an even worse one. Word of this would somehow get around to his mother and he would be in for a mess of trouble, but Dean's smile seemed to make the future punishment worth it.

"Awesome," Dean nodded, handing the paper to Castiel. It was a schedule, the younger boy realized. "Well then… Lead the way."