UPDATE: I was informed in one of my reviews that actually removed my paragraphing when I copied and pasted. I'm sorry! SO VERY SORRY GUYS UGH THAT MUST HAVE BEEN ANNOYING! This is NOT the first time it has happened, so if you're working on a fanfic of your own, fair warning to check if you use copy and paste.

Chapter 1

'He Dreams Of Flying'

Hello followers! I would like to tell you that this is my first Destiel fanfiction and I hope that you enjoy~ The entire thing is already written and you will receive updates once a week. Please don't beg for updates because seeing a review that just says 'please update' honestly makes me angry. If enough people piss me off I can and will wait and release the next chapter a couple of days late. That being said, you don't have to worry about this not being completed. Please vote and review, just don't ask me to update in your review~ enjoy!

Oh, on a side note, if you want to make your own spin off fic/ fan art/ post this anywhere, feel free to. Just make sure to mention that it came from me originally!

I do NOT own Supernatural, this is a free, fan-made product and I am making no profit off of it, the intent of the product is for fellow fans to enjoy and to share my love of Supernatural with the common public, no copyright infringement is intended!

His eyes were closed. His hair was ruffled up and a light sheen of sweat was still present on his skin. His clothes were wrinkled and clung awkwardly to his body.

Castiel was late, and he knew that he needed to get up soon.

But his bed was soft and cool, and the blankets encased his body in a world of heat and security; he could honestly say that, despite logic, he felt safer under the covers. It wasn't the thickest or most sturdy barrier, but it separated him from the rest of the world.

He opened up his eyes just a slit, groaning in defeat when he saw the time. He had five minutes until the bus would be there.

With a spike of adrenaline, Castiel hurled himself out of bed, snapping out of the grogginess that had sunk its claws into him. He quickly crossed the room to his dresser, taking out his clothing and grabbing something random. It's not like there was much to choose from anyways, Cas always wore large sweaters and a pair of baggy jeans.

He ripped his shirt off of his head, pausing momentarily at the soft caress of feathers on his skin and the relief of stretching his muscles as his wings sprung free.

He looked at them sadly in the mirror, giving a deep sigh. He shouldn't like them being out; he shouldn't like any part of having them.

Castiel Novak was a normal kid, or at least, mostly.

He was born with wings.

Nobody knew how or why, but from the moment he was born, a pair of deep-blue wings, large enough to actually carry him, were proudly on his shoulders. The doctors called it a phenomenon, the scientists called it a mutation. His mother called him a monster.

His mother had left when he was just two years old. She just couldn't handle it; they'd made the decision to hide Castiel's wings from the cruel world, knowing that people feared what they didn't yet know. She was a smart woman, and she knew that he'd be poked and prodded and made into a freak, so she kept them secret.

At least, that's what his father had always told him.

He'd found his mother's diary a few years ago. It had been an accident, he merely stumbled upon the book while his father had gone out drinking again. The leather had been hidden underneath the bed, tucked away and covered in a thick layer of dust that displayed how long it had been since anyone had touched it. He picked it up curiously, sneezing as the dust wafted off and tickled his nose.

His breath caught in his throat when he read his mother's name in neat handwriting. This was...

This was his mother's journal!

He'd been begging to know about her for the last four years of his life, pestering his drunken father repeatedly for any kind of information. Even with the help of alcohol, he wouldn't tell Castiel anything; well, except for that she had been beautiful and left when he was young.

He grabbed the book and immediately shoved it underneath his trench coat, getting up off the floor. The vacuum, (he had been cleaning and gotten on his hands and knees to get underneath the bed) lay forgotten as he walked briskly back to his own room, shutting the door tightly behind him as he arrived.

He pressed his back against the door, ignoring the discomfort it put on his wings as he slowly slid down the wooden surface. He concentrated on breathing evenly as he clutched the book tightly to his chest, his eyes closed as he struggled to comprehend that he had done it. Against all odds, he'd found something that linked him to his mother. The apparently beautiful woman who had run off.

What if she had left some indication of where she might be? What if she had left a phone number where Castiel could finally, at the very least, hear his mother's voice? He knew that she wouldn't come back; he wasn't stupid.

But he could still hope for an 'I love you.'

When his breathing had calmed, he slowly forced himself to lower the book from where it was pressed into his chest. He looked at the name again, his hands shaking. He was scared.

As much as he wanted to open it, he felt like it was an invasion of privacy. It wasn't exactly like he could ask her permission though, and she would have taken it if it was that important to her...

But when he placed his hands on the cover, he felt guilty. These were her words, her personal thoughts, and he didn't even know her. It was the equivalent of picking up the diary of a stranger. It didn't feel right.

So, he gave a deep sigh. He unconsciously gripped the book tighter in his fingers, as if that would somehow change his own mind. He slowly pulled himself up off of the floor and walked to his dresser, placing the dusty journal underneath a few of his school books. His dad wouldn't check there, and even if he couldn't read it, it would make him feel so much better just to have it close. Like having a part of her with him.

Castiel was human though, so naturally, he had human curiosities. His resolve couldn't last forever, especially with the looming threat of the possibility of his dad finding it and taking away the only chance he might have to learn about her.

It sat on his dresser for three weeks before he cracked. He stormed in the room, angry at everything. He'd been teased at school that day, come home to find his father drunk, and said drunk tried to put his fist through Castiel's face. He'd easily dodged, but it didn't change the fact that he was pissed as hell about it.

Castiel knew how to take care of himself. He had dealt with physical assault before, and most of his experiences actually turned up in his favor. He was calm and collected about fighting, as he was calm and collected about everything else. He could easily dodge, and any punch that he dished would leave his opponent something to think about. Of course, he didn't like to hit. To him, hurting someone was stooping to their level, and most people just weren't worth it.

So, the feeble and drunken attempts at punches were more annoying than anything else.

He contained his anger though, sitting calmly on his bed and gritting his teeth. He looked around, his crystal blue eyes searching for something that would entertain him for the time being.

Finally, they rested on the pile of school books above his mother's journal.

He had fought so hard today to resist doing something he would regret. Hurting the kid who wouldn't stop teasing him about wearing sweaters in April (because it was only a little chilly outside; not sweater weather, that was for sure) or punching his dick father back. He was sick of fighting his urges. This is something that he knew he would eventually do anyways, so why not now?

He got up, his hands reaching out to grasp the pile of books on top. He moved them quickly, honestly afraid that he would change his mind before he got to find out anything. The television was turned up downstairs, and he could hear crowds of people laughing at the (most likely cliche) jokes. He breathed out shakily as his hands grasped the leather, and he brought it back up to his chest momentarily, just long enough to inhale the scent of old pages before he walked over to the bed.

He sat down and lazily threw his feet up after him, leaning against his pillow as he grasped the clasp. His hands were shaking; he was too excited. At twelve years old, finally getting to find out something about his mother.

His hesitation lasted only a moment before he opened it up, eyes eagerly scanning the pages.

It didn't start out as her being upset. In fact, she was very happy.

She was overjoyed to be pregnant. She had dreamed of this for the longest time; she had his name picked out two years before he was even born. She was going to give him the world; she had big plans for him. They were to be a family, live in a huge house with a white picket fence, he was supposed to have two sisters.

Until suddenly, she changed.

The entry before his birth was happy, maybe even ecstatic. She had felt that all of her dreams were coming true.

The one after was eccentric and full of hate.

'I've given birth to a monster. I don't know how, but I did. He's not normal; this isn't how it was supposed to be. I have no clue how this happened, but I assume it was some kind of divine punishment for something I did. I don't know what it was, but I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

Castiel finished the paragraph, confusion swimming in his head. What? He knew that his wings were why she had left, but surely they were a blessing?

'He's got wings. I don't know how or why, but he does. They're the deepest, midnight blue, and it terrifies me. I don't even want to touch him for fear that he would taint me. I can't do this, I can't. He's a monster, I just know it.'

Castiel slammed the book shut, breathing heavily. How did that make any sense?

He couldn't help that he was born that way... Had she left because he was a monster?

He opened up the book again, praying that it was just some kind of twisted joke, praying that he was dreaming and this wasn't real. But the words seemed to jump off the page, and every one of them seemed to stab him deeper and deeper. He was crying by the time he finished rereading the entry.

He didn't want to read the rest of it. He knew what it would say; that he was an abomination, that he was somehow her cosmic punishment for some sort of wrong she had committed.

He closed the book and shoved it under his bed, forcing himself to stop crying. He wouldn't give in to the swirl of emotions inside of him, he wasn't going to cry about this. He was going to be strong. Why should he cry? It's not like she was a part of his life anymore.

He knew though, that deep down, this was going to hurt him for a long, long time.

So, he'd grown to hate his wings. They made people fear him, and people hated what they feared. He couldn't deal with the rejection, and he knew that it put some handicaps on his social life. For example, he couldn't change in the locker rooms, or if he was forced to, he would wait until everyone else was out to do so.

He heard the bus stop a couple houses down, and he quickly wrapped his feathers around his torso and slipped his shirt over his head, pulling it down over his hips and grabbed his backpack and trench coat, slinging both over his shoulders and running out of the room.

The bus had started to pull away just as he emerged, and he let out a sigh of relief as it stopped again, and the doors re-opened. He climbed up the overly large steps, panting slightly from over exertion.

"You better be on time tomorrow. I don't want to have to leave you behind." The bus driver threatened. Cas shook his head, but he knew that the bus driver wasn't going to leave him. He'd been threatening the same thing for years, and just because he was now a sophomore didn't change the fact that he still thought of Cas as an adorable little boy with a special kind of light in his eyes.

A light that has faded as the years came and went.

Cas sat down in the front seat, closing his eyes as the bus began to roll again. It didn't matter that he was on a bus surrounded by people who he either hated or was entirely indifferent towards. When he closed his eyes, he was in a different place.

It depended really on his mood, where he was. Sometimes, he was exploring a cave where the Mayans had hidden some of their ancient texts to prevent them from being burned, and he would be the first to unravel their secrets. Sometimes, he was trekking through the mountains and cataloging wildlife. Sometimes, and he dared most of all to imagine this, he dreamed that someone would find his wings, and accept him despite it.

He didn't really talk to anyone. Boys and girls alike never caught his interest. He stuck to reading books and learning as much useful information as he possibly could. To him, school was a mediocre excuse for learning; there were so many things that he had taught himself that were ten times more important than the things he learned in the eight hours they forced him into a room with a group of kids who's collective IQs wouldn't be higher than their collective heights.

Don't get him wrong, Castiel loved to learn. He just didn't like school.

Despite that, he had good grades. His teachers were always impressed, and it came as natural as sleep for him. There were a few classes that he had to work hard in, but for the most part he was fine.

The bus jerked to a stop, breaking him out of his daydream. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed his backpack, quickly sliding out of his seat and walking down the steps, eyeing the school warily.

He marched inside, glad that it was a little cooler than it was outside. The summer heat had already began to descend upon April.

He walked immediately to his classroom, looking at the ground as he did so. He heard a hushed, "Hey, Cas," from Gabriel, but he ignored it. Gabriel was nice, but he didn't feel like talking right now. He wanted to read before class.

He slipped into the room, unnoticed as usual, and sat in the very back. His hands brushed the rough fabric of his backpack as he reached inside, retrieving his old, worn copy of an Egyptian mythology book.

Castiel loved mythology and theology. It was something he could never quite put his finger on, but he really liked the ideas some people came up with. And despite everything... He still believed that there was a god, and that he was watching over all of them. It was comforting.

He scanned the pages, reading some of his personal favorite entries about Anubis, the god of funerals. He seemed like he'd have a deadly sense of humor. (Or at least, he did in the Rick Riordan books.)

The bell rang, the sound echoing in his ears. He slumped down in his seat and reluctantly closed the book, giving a slight pout as the teacher walked up to the front of the classroom. Unfortunately, it was time for French.

"Good morning class, please get started on the problems on the board." She instructed, as she did every day. Castiel didn't do the problems; they went over them every day in class, so doing them by oneself would be a waste of energy.

He picked up his pen and started to doodle on his paper, drawing a tiny pyramid.

It was the same boring schedule day after day, and today would be no different than yesterday.

Boy, was he wrong.

Suddenly, the door exploded, and all the students turned to look.

Castiel dropped his pencil.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, well-built dirty blonde boy, with green eyes and smile lines. He had a deep green jacket and wore a necklace with a small golden pendant, which rested lightly on his black-clothed chest. He had broad shoulders and his voice was surprisingly husky for a high schooler.

"Sorry I'm late. Dean Winchester." He greeted. The teacher raised an eyebrow.

"Class, meet the new student, Dean." She said, gesturing towards the boy. Castiel picked up his pen again, holding it in between his fingers as he resumed doodling. The boy was attractive, but it's not like it had relevance to him. He was just going to end up one of the snobbish jocks, so it didn't matter how cute he was.

"Class, how about today we take the time to get to know each other?" The teacher suggested. Castiel almost dropped his pencil again when he heard that. They almost never varied from schedule. "We're ahead right now anyways. Dean, you'll go first. Would you like to introduce yourself?"

Dean stepped forward, smirking.

"I'm Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius. I enjoy long walks on the beach and frisky women." He said. Castiel rolled his eyes as he continued, "most of my time is spent taking care of my little brother or listening to music." He said. "I'm a junior."

Castiel shook his head. There were several girls in the classroom that already had their eyes on him, he could tell. They always went after the douche bags, and he could just tell that Dean would be one of them.

He stopped paying attention after that, continuing to doodle in his notebook. The time seemed to stretch on forever, the students one by one introducing themselves to Dean and just generally wasting class time. Eventually, Cas felt a small nudge from the girl on his right, and he realized that he was being spoken to.

"Cas, your turn."

He quickly shut his notebook, setting it aside and standing up as the other students had.

"I'm Castiel Novak. I enjoy reading in my spare time." He mumbled. He immediately sat back down, opening his notebook and doodling again.

Soon after that, introductions were finally over and he let out a sigh of relief. Finally, this waste of time would be done with.

"Where would you like to sit?" The teacher asked. Castiel vaguely payed attention, because he knew he was going to have to soon anyways. He was not, however, expecting what next came out of Dean's mouth.

"How about the empty seat next to the cute one with fluffy hair, in the trench coat?" He asked, gesturing back towards Castiel. Castiel's eyes slowly flickered up as he felt his peers simultaneously turn to look at him. He felt his face heat up.

"Castiel?" The teacher asked. Dean shrugged.

"I'm not good with names." He said bluntly. The teacher just shook her head.

"Okay, I'll mark down your choice." She said, giving a small sigh. She could already tell that this new kid was going to be trouble, so she figured that it would be best for him to be in the back anyways. Castiel silently begged her not to let him sit next to him.

Dean walked, no, sauntered over to where he sat, a dangerous smirk never leaving his face.

They made brief eye contact, and Dean winked. Castiel blushed and sank down into his chair, aiming all of his loathing towards his new classmate.

He had managed to remain relatively invisible this entire year. Nobody had talked to him, he'd flown under the radar. He knew now that he was going to be the center of all kinds of rumors and gossip, probably involving Dean.

He sat down beside Castiel, taking out a pencil and paper and copying down the answers on the board. Only thirty minutes of class had been taken up, despite the contest the kids had seemed to have to see who could drag out their introduction the longest. They had fifty more minutes of class. (Castiel's periods were longer because he had five in a day instead of the standard seven, and his classes were arranged into three semesters a year instead of two).

Castiel kept his eyes glued to the blackboard, going on instinct to know where he was writing. It was a miracle his answers didn't end up sprawled all over the paper, but he didn't want to look back and forth. He might risk sneaking a glance at Dean, and he could feel the other's eyes trained on him as soon as he was finished writing.

Castiel finished writing himself and set down his pen, looking at his hands. He sank low in his seat; he could hear people whispering, and he knew that it was about Dean. He could only pray that he wouldn't get caught up in all of it.

He felt a light push against his skin, and he looked down to see a folded piece of paper slide under his elbow. He tilted his head in confusion and his eyes flickered up to meet Dean's. He gave a sigh, lifting up his elbow to pick up the note from underneath it. He knew he couldn't fight the curiosity if he tried, so he opened it up and spread it out. He'd never passed notes before in class.

'Hey.' Was written. Castiel's brows furrowed as he read the scratchy writing.

'Hey?' He wrote back. He refolded the paper and glanced to the front of the classroom, slightly nervous that the teacher would catch him passing the note. To his relief, she didn't bat an eyelash in their direction as he reached out and slid the note across to Dean's desk.

It wasn't moments later until it was back on his desk, snapping his concentration in two.

'So... What's your schedule?'

'Why do you want to know?' Castiel wrote. He got the same nervous pang in his stomach as he passed it back, worried that the teacher would catch them and call them out on passing notes. Then the rumors would really fly.

'Because, I'm hoping that we have some of the same classes together. I don't know anyone else here and you seem nice enough.'

Castiel frowned at the message. He hoped that he didn't have any more classes with Dean. He reluctantly wrote down his schedule though, not wanting to come off as rude. He passed the paper along more smoothly this time, the teacher thoroughly distracted as she talked about verb conjugation.

'Cool, we have almost every class together.'

Castiel resisted the urge to groan, picking up his pen and putting it to his paper. He paused, not quite sure what to say. He didn't want to sound rude, but he also didn't want to keep talking to Dean. He knew that Dean was going to talk to him for ten minutes before realizing that Cas wasn't his type, and then he'd ignore him for the rest of his high school career.

'Okay.' He wrote back, passing it back with ease this time. The teacher was very caught up in her lesson, she wasn't going to notice anytime soon.

'So, I'd like to get to know you better.'

'Why would you want to do that?' Castiel quickly wrote, confusion flowing through him. After a second thought, he added, 'I highly doubt I'm your typical kind of friend.'

'Don't make assumptions based on how someone looks. Listen, if you don't want to talk then I understand it, but I really would like to get to know you.'

'Fine. What would you like to know?' Castiel asked, still convinced that Dean would run away in the next five minutes.

'What kind of music do you like?' He asked. Castiel stared at the paper blankly, blinking a couple of times.

'I don't really listen to any music.'

'You don't listen to music? Not even on the radio or anything?'

'I don't even have a radio, so no.'

'I'm sorry, that sounds like it sucks. You should let me drive you home today, I'll play you some music on the way.'

Castiel stared at the note blankly, feeling the blood begin to rush to his face. What was this? They barely knew each other, and Dean was already talking like they were best friends.

'I'm not really comfortable with that.' He wrote, then passed it back. He heard Dean's quiet scoff and the furious scribbling of pen on paper, before he was met with a pristinely folded paper again.

'What, have you never done anything spontaneous before?' Dean asked.

'Not if there's a chance my lifeless corpse could end up on the side of the road.' He wrote back, slightly agitated.

Dean laughed out loud, barely able to muffle the sound with his hand in time to stop the teacher from hearing it. Several kids in front of them turned back to look though, and they were still looking as he threw the note back at Castiel. Great, just great.

'Well then, aren't we the optimistic one? It's not even fun if there's not at least a 10% chance of getting killed.'

'I'll stick to boring then, thanks.' Castiel said, growling a bit in irritation. He typically never showed outward emotion, but this Dean kid was really getting to him. He knew that he was going to start ignoring him soon anyways, so why didn't he just start doing it already?!

'Okay, then. Whatever makes you comfortable. So, if you don't listen to music, what do you do in your spare time?' Was pushed onto his desk. He stared at it for awhile, thinking through his answer. He didn't really do much, just studied and read and slept.

'I read.' He wrote. He expected Dean to sigh and crumble up the paper, deciding that Cas wasn't his type of friend after all, but he didn't.

'What do you typically read?'

'Mythology, mostly.' He said.

'Really? What type of mythology? My little brother is into that kind of stuff, so I know some about it.'

Castiel stared at the paper in shock. He wouldn't have expected that. It seemed like he really might have misjudged Dean.

Just then, the teacher handed out a worksheet that was due at the end of class. He growled in frustration before he shoved the note off to the side, deciding to focus on that. Dean seemed to understand, because he wasn't bothered about it.

The sound of the bell made him flinch as he gathered up his items, heading out the door and into the hallway, eager to leave Dean behind. He didn't want to bother with having friends; they were just more nosy people to push away. He didn't want to let anyone too close, all it did was complicated things.

He briskly walked to second period, walking in and sitting down in the very back again. He opened up his notebook again, continuing to doodle on his paper. He didn't know why he drew, because he wasn't good by any means. He supposed it was just something to do while he was bored.

He heard the shuffling of feet as his classmates filed into the room, and he felt a rush of air as someone plopped into the seat next to him, and he turned to find Dean smiling. His stomach dropped as those green eyes seemed to pierce through him.

"You can't get rid of me that easy." Dean responded teasingly, leaning lazily on the desk as he eyed Castiel.

"I can certainly try." Castiel said back, smiling at Dean. He seemed more impressed by the comeback than put off.

"You're cute when you smile, you should do it more often." Dean teased. Cas could feel his face heating up and he turned away, thankful that the bell chose that exact moment to ring proudly. He let out a sigh of relief and sunk low into his seat.

Thankfully, Dean didn't try to pass notes. Some kids in front of them got caught and they got detention, so he probably didn't want to risk it. Which was okay as far as Castiel was concerned.

He tried to focus on the science lesson being taught in front of him, even taking down notes, but he found it difficult. He kept feeling like Dean was watching him, but he was too scared to look over and check. What if he wasn't staring and then caught Castiel looking? That would be mortifying, and he might get the wrong impression from it.

Finally, just when Cas thought that he was going to explode from the tension, the bell rang. He stood up quickly, gathering his things and flinching as he glanced up to see Dean looking at him.

"In a rush to get somewhere?" Dean asked playfully. Castiel shook his head yes, dropping his gaze.

"I do have another class in four minutes." Castiel mumbled, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders.

"Okay then, see ya." Dean said, waving at Castiel's back. Castiel increased his walking pace, glancing behind him to see Dean taking a right to his next class. He took a moment to be thankful that at least they didn't have that one together, too.

Third period seemed to fly by all too fast, and he walked to lunch dreading fourth. Dean had said that they had most of their classes together, which meant that they most likely had at least three together, so he knew that he'd have to face him again in the next few hours.

He sighed, grabbing an apple and going to sit underneath his usual tree. The cool serenity of the shade felt nice on his skin, and he closed his eyes as a breeze caressed his face. He was more relaxed then he'd been all day.

Suddenly, another aroma filled the air. It was musky and wild, and had just the slightest hint of cinnamon. Castiel leaned towards the pleasant smell a little, intrigued by it.

He opened his eyes slowly to find that he was leaning towards Dean.

"W-what are you doing here?" He asked, cursing himself for stuttering. Honestly, he should be more collected than this.

"I think the better question would be to ask why you're smelling me." Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

"You smell nice." Castiel explained flatly, turning his head and sitting up straighter. Dean let out a chuckle, obviously amused with his little display.

Suddenly, he felt hot breath on the back of his neck and he shivered pleasantly, not understanding what was happening until Dean was already pulling back.

"You smell nice too." He said, and Castiel sun down as he felt his face return to bright crimson.

"Will you stop flirting?" He hissed, closing his eyes.

"Do you want me to? I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Dean said, and Cas could hear the ring of sincerity in his voice. He opened his eyes a bit, looking at Dean warily.

"Shouldn't you go make some friends over there?" He asked, gesturing towards the table where the football players sat. He didn't answer Dean's question because he didn't have an honest answer. He didn't know what he wanted.

Okay, so that was a lie. He actually really liked being flirted with. A couple of girls had tried to flirt with him before, and he could honestly say that it wasn't an enjoyable experience. But being flirted with by Dean just felt so much more natural... It didn't feel like Dean was forcing it, unlike the girls. He seemed like a really straight-forward guy.

"Nope, I'm good right here." He said stubbornly. Castiel sighed and didn't respond, lifting his apple to his lips as he took a large bite out of it. The bitterness of the peel mixed with the sweet flesh of the apple, the flavor literally defining bitter-sweet. He glanced over to see Dean looking at him.

"Ugh, health food. I'm more of a burgers and fries guy myself." He said, patting his stomach. Castiel chewed slowly, swallowing and holding up a finger while doing so.

"I eat whatever, I'm not typically picky about it. I suppose I do stick to 'health food', though." He said, shrugging his shoulder a bit. He leaned back against the tree, flinching as the bark of it rubbed up against his wings. He shifted a few times to get comfortable, relaxing before he took another bite of his apple.

"I could never do it." Dean said. He brought out a cinnamon roll (that explains why he smelled like cinnamon; Castiel found himself wondering if that was a permanent thing or truly just the roll) and opened it up, reaching in and taking it out.

"You want a bite? He offered, holding it out to Castiel. He eyed it warily for a second, indecisive. On one hand, they'd just met, and sharing food was a clear sign of friendship, which he wanted no part of. On the other, the smell of cinnamon and butter swirled through the air, and his mouth watered.

"Come on." Dean urged. Castiel's self-control broke, and he leaned forward to wrap his lips around the roll and take a small chunk for himself. He pulled away slowly, admiring the taste of cinnamon. He glanced at his apple before holding it up, offering the unbitten side to Dean. Dean shrugged and leaned forward, taking a bite out of it.

They both ate in silence after that, and it felt oddly comfortable for two people that barely knew each other.

Fourth period came, and Dean fell into step with Castiel as they walked together. Things were quiet again.

Cas liked the quiet.

The period seemed to fly by, the minutes just melting away as the teacher talked. The teacher was pretty lax on most things, but neither started passing notes, so it just didn't end up happening. Castiel picked up his Egyptian mythology book, opening it up and reading a random entry, whatever he opened up to.

"Amit the Devourer?" Dean questioned, pointing to a picture of the beast. Castiel paused for a moment before slowly shaking his head yes and looking at Dean in question. The mythology teachers at the school would hardly know that, Egyptian was not a commonly studied past religion. Or, at least not like the standard Greek and Roman that seemed to be all the students at his school knew. "I told you, my brother is into this stuff. He talks about it all the time, and I just listen really well. I think you two would get along." He commented, answering Castiel's unvoiced questioning.

"Not many people know about Egyptian." He mumbled. Dean smiled.

"Sammy knows about everything." He said. Castiel saw a certain sparkle in his eyes when he talked about Sammy, something that wasn't there before. He could tell that Dean adored his brother. "He LOVES to talk about all that kind of stuff, especially the little-known things. He's like a walking encyclopedia of weird." Dean laughed, scratching his head a bit. Castiel felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips.

"That sounds nice. How old is he?" He asked. He knew that it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but talking to Dean felt nice. He didn't get to talk much.

"He's a freshman, actually." Dean said. Castiel nodded his head absently. "By the way, how are you a sophomore and in so many junior classes?"

"How did you know I was a sophomore?" Castiel asked. He couldn't honestly remember telling Dean anything about his age.

"Oh, I asked around a little in my third period. There was a guy named Gabriel that knew a little about you." He said. Castiel internally cursed Gabriel, but he knew he didn't mean it. He was happy with the way things were turning out, up to a certain extent. Though he still thought that Dean was going to disappear at any given moment.

"Well, I was advanced, but they didn't want to actually skip me a grade." He said, smiling a little awkwardly. Dean snorted again.

"Figures you'd be smart." He said. Castiel wasn't sure wether he should take it as a compliment or not, but he did so anyways. Dean seemed nice enough.

That was when the teacher handed out a work sheet. He groaned, grabbing it defeatedly and beginning to write lazily, not really caring about the words on the paper. Unfortunately, he was working on it right up to the bell.

"I'll see ya later." Dean said. Castiel numbly shook his head, shoving his things in his bag. Why was he sad that Dean was leaving? He should be happy, the boy was a nuisance!

"Later." He said, grabbing his books off of his desk.

Fifth period was the same old block, but something was different about it today. He kept feeling the eyes of his peers shifting back at him and he heard the lightest of whispers mixed in with him name. He didn't like all of the extra attention, and this was even a small class. He sank down in his seat, the minutes seeming to stretch by like hours as the teacher lectured.

Finally, they were released. He briskly exited the room, thankful to finally have some peace and quiet. He stomped over to his locker and shoved the books that he didn't need for studying into it, just wanting to get home. Today had been exhausting in every aspect of the word.

He slammed his locker shut, the vibration from it still tingling in his fingers as he walked to the bus.

On the way there, he saw something that was unnerving.

Anna, one of the girls from French class, was flirting with Dean. She laughed at some joke Castiel couldn't hear, and then threaded her fingers into his belt loops, pulling him a bit closer. He didn't fight it, simply leaning over her to speak with that dopey smile of his.

NO, it did NOT hurt to see him flirting with her. Castiel was just... Surprised, that was all. It wasn't every day that Anna flirted.

Okay, that was a lie. Anna was a whore, and he felt a little wounded. Happy?

He let his head droop as he kept walking, hoping that he could just go by unnoticed. Things like that never work out for Castiel though, and he took a shaky breath as he heard someone call out his name from behind.

He turned to see that Dean had parted with Anna, and he was jogging over to where Cas stood, books in hand.

"Hey." Dean panted, slowing down his jog into a walk and falling into step beside Castiel. It was a little awkward, but Castiel found it cute. Still, he felt some kind of emotion that he couldn't describe right now, and he wanted to go. He didn't want to talk to Dean.

"Hey, are you sure you don't want to catch a ride with me?" Dean asked, dangling his keys in front of him like some sort of prize. Castiel eyes them momentarily before he looked away, shaking his head no. "Okay, your loss." He said, shrugging.

Dean walked away, and Castiel marched out to the bus, just like he did every morning. He tried to convince himself that everything was normal, that this was no different from any other time, but that was difficult to say the least. He knew that he felt hurt, he just couldn't decode why. Because, he did NOT actually like Dean Winchester. What kind of a fool would like someone they'd only just met that day.

The bus was shaky, which meant that he couldn't read. He cursed the city's maintenance, reading was his only distraction right now! He closed his eyes and tried not to think, but it seemed like everything was swirling together in a mix of denial and emotion. He replayed the scene with Anna at least a hundred times, each time coming to the conclusion that Anna was going to have Dean Winchester, whether he liked it or not. Things couldn't end well.

He arrived home a whole forty-five minutes after school, and he walked in the door briskly, taking only a glance at his drunken father before he marched into his room, throwing his stuff down and flopping down on the bed.

He slowly sank into the soft blankets, closing his eyes and relaxing his body. He didn't actually have any homework tonight, so he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on not thinking about Dean Winchester. One thing lead to another, and soon he was asleep, laying on his bed with his eyes lightly closed and his breath slowed to long pulls of fresh air.