Days went by, and Castiel swiftly grew to hate the words 'holding pattern.'

It was Charlie's new favorite phrase. Every morning it was: "We're in a holding pattern," which apparently translated to "standing around in the hallways trying not to be super obvious about watching Dean smirk at them as he walked past, like they were the funniest joke he'd ever heard."

But they'd agreed they couldn't do anything else without any more information. They just had no idea what else to look for, or where to even search. Which left them with nothing to do but sit around with their thumbs up their asses, as Garth so eloquently put it. Privately Castiel thought that fit a bit better than Charlie's more euphemistic turn of phrase.

They made scattered attempts, of course. Jo admitted she'd driven past the rest stop where they'd first seen Dean just to check if he was there each night. But there was no sign he'd been there since that first fateful encounter. Max had pointed out that they didn't know if there were other places he'd go instead, and that had led them down a rabbit hole for several hours while they hunted through craigslist ads and other internet chatter in search of other local 'hotspots'. It had been…an education, he had to admit, albeit one he could have happily done without. Either way, it left them no more illuminated as to where Dean was spending his nights.

"He could just be at home," Alicia had said. They all were certain that night hadn't been the first time for him, but that didn't mean it wasn't a once in a blue moon affair. They just didn't know. That was what it all boiled down to. They didn't really know anything, and every little bit they did unearth about their new classmate only revealed how ignorant they were of just how much they didn't actually know.

It was all more than a little frustrating.

Which was why Castiel was outside the school's main entrance on Friday morning, rather than inside with his friends, all huddled around one of their lockers. Even hunched into his oversized coat for warmth - fall had finally arrived with a vengeance - watching his breath mist the chilled morning air was preferable to another conversation spent awkwardly avoiding the only topic on any of their minds.

He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and leaned back against the building. The solitude was relaxing, but he felt it still lacked something. Normally he wasn't much for listening to music outside of car rides or playing it in the background while he studied, but perhaps he'd ask Kevin if he could show him how to work the playlist on his iphone. If he were going to keep hanging out here before school, it might be worth it. Contemplating that this might end up a regular thing for him just made his thoughts jump back to how quickly so much in his life had changed and why. A distraction such as music could hardly make things worse.

It was ironic, he decided later, that Dean was the reason he was avoiding his friends and avoiding his friends was the reason he was the first to see Dean that morning.

Castiel wasn't sure what prompted him to look over to his right when he did, but he wasn't quite so pathetic as to try and call it fate. He was standing at the entrance to the school. Students arriving at school had to go past him to enter. Dean was arriving at school. Celestial intervention wasn't really required to engineer that confluence of factors.

Regardless of the how and why, he had a clear view of Dean as the boy who so often preoccupied his thoughts of late crossed the far street and ambled down the block to school. He seemed lost in thoughts of his own, paying little attention to his surroundings while his legs ate up the distance in long, sure strides. He had down, hands in his jean pockets, with only his usual leather jacket between him and the weather's bite. The wind threaded through his hair, which looked messier than usual, and it kicked up leaves and dirt from the gutter to swirl around his boots.

Even with his mind clearly elsewhere, he danced around the clumps of students scattered in his way with practiced ease. It was like the steps were preprogrammed into him, his body clearing the obstacles on autopilot. Castiel wondered if he were ever actually unaware of anything going on around him; if he could be taken by surprise at all. Part of him, likely the part most influenced by Jo's cynicism, had him aware that he was building up the other boy to be larger than life. Taking the aura of the unknown around him and weaving it together with what tragic secrets they had gleaned, creating a myth and a mystery that likely bore no real resemblance to the actual person underneath. Yet even as he reminded himself of this, he also remembered the sense he had anytime he looked up to meet Dean's eyes. When he saw that knowing glint, whether worn over a smirk or an otherwise expressionless mask, that shadow that held the weight of knowledge, of greater truths, like he knew things the rest of them didn't.

Curiosity killed the cat, but Castiel couldn't shake the thought that were Dean to leave Sioux Falls in his wake and take all his secrets with him, ignorance might be the worse fate.

Dean trudged up the steps, and Cas didn't realize he was staring until he watched that same uncanny awareness shake the other boy out of his thoughts and direct a glance his way.

"Oh." It was all Castiel could think to say. He knew he was staring now, but even manners couldn't pry his focus away from the ugly bruise that darkened Dean's cheek. It stretched up to caress the edges of his eye with mottled shades of green and purple, and Castiel felt his fingers twitch, fighting the strangest urge to reach out and touch it. Dean stared back impassively while Cas let his wide gaze wander, taking in the split lip, the tiny patch of brown under his nose that was probably dried blood. Then it was like a gate crashed down, a tick that raced across Dean's face just beneath the skin as he read something into Castiel's expression. He gave a sharp nod, blew out a huff of air that could only be described as resigned.

"Right," Dean said. "Guess you're a Door Number Two kind of guy after all. Well, okay then."

Castiel frowned. "Wait, what?"

But Dean just brushed past him without another word, bumping his shoulder roughly and leaving Castiel standing dazed behind him. The other boy shoved through the front door and stalked down the hall. It took a minute for Cas to collect himself and head inside as well. He shook his head, feeling lost. What had just happened?

He was still reviewing the few sparse seconds of their encounter when he heard a commotion from around the corner. Castiel quickened his strides, breaking into a jog as scattered shouting seemed to strike a spark and spread like wildfire. By the time he rounded the corner, it was a full conflagration, students all pressed back against their lockers with camera phones flashing and jabbering excitedly at each other. And in the center of it all were a senior named Matt and none other than Dean Winchester.

Looking every inch the varsity linebacker he was, Matt had Dean shoved up against a classroom door, snarling in his face. Castiel couldn't hear Dean's reply over all the chaos, but the smirk gave away the gist of it, further confirmed when Matt grabbed hold of either side of Dean's jacket and used it to spin around and throw the younger boy to the ground. Dean hit hard with a grunt and skidded a few feet into the lockers on the other side of the hallway. Then Matt was in his face again, fist drawn back for a punch that slammed Dean's head against the locker behind him. Castiel shoved through the crowd, catching a glimpse of Dean's face as Matt drew back for another punch. Crimson smears painted his mouth and nose and Cas swore the other boy looked straight at him, grinning crookedly around bloody teeth. Matt hit him again, this time dead center where Cas had seen the bruise blossoming on Dean's cheek. He winced in pained sympathy. And then it was over.

There was no other way to describe it. Like a switch had been flipped, everything reversed in the blink of an eye. One second Matt was whaling away on the younger boy and in the next moment, he was on his back, Dean straddling his chest and slamming his own fist into the linebacker's mouth. Castiel blinked, glanced around at identical looks of confusion spreading through the crowd. It had happened so fast, it was like his brain hadn't had time to process whatever Dean had done to turn the fight around so quickly and definitively.

Dean struck him again, a second time, and then a third and final time that bounced Matt's head against the floor and left the older boy groaning and limp, a puppet whose strings had been cut. Dean was already rising, shaking out his hand when a gym teacher grabbed him. He pulled him back and away while barking furious commands to break it up, for everyone else to get to class. The last sight Cas had of him before the crowd of bystanders flooded back into the center of the hall and blocked his view, Dean was being dragged off by his arm, a feral red grin on his lips as he winked back at Castiel.

The fight was all anyone could talk about the rest of the morning. So he wasn't that surprised when he tracked down Jo, Charlie and Kevin by the latter's locker between periods and found it the source of Jo and Charlie's contentious back and forth.

"The guy just went psycho on Matt," Jo said, arms flapping in obvious frustration. "What more is there to know?"

"Matt is an All State Asshole," Kevin said with an eye roll. Charlie just jutted her jaw stubbornly. "Dude's not exactly an innocent little lamb."

"Well, Laura says that Dean just jumped him out of nowhere, like shoved him for no reason," Jo insisted. Castiel finally found his voice.

"No. I was there. That's not what happened."

"Wait, you were? You saw how it started?"

"Well no, not exactly," Cas admitted when both girls rounded on him. He didn't like the eager hunger in Charlie's eyes, like she was desperate for him to provide a defense for Dean. Like her refusal to give ground before Jo's account of events was rooted in pure stubbornness rather than knowledge. Charlie was a curious blend of logic and passion, both sides coexisting in harmony. It was why the rest of them followed her as often as they did, why they trusted her to know what she was doing. Like they'd trusted her with this, even if she'd only talked them into something they all wanted to be talked into.

She was supposed to know what she was doing here. If she didn't, what were any of them doing?

"He didn't just go psycho though, it wasn't like that," Cas said. "I think…I think it was my fault."

He told them about his brief run-in with Dean outside the school that morning, the other boy's curious conclusion that Castiel was going to speak to someone about his bruise. Even though he wasn't, Cas told them now, because he wasn't, he hadn't been going to, they'd all agreed that wasn't the right thing to do here. Right? But he had to have done something to make Dean convinced he'd been about to, because that was the only explanation. Almost a whole week without incident, Dean seemingly content to be wallpaper as far as the rest of the school was concerned, and not even a minute after their encounter on the steps he goes and picks a fight? A fight he apparently can win but chooses not to until after he's been punched in the face, in full view of the student body, like camouflage? It had to be because of him, it was painfully obvious. Castiel felt the words flood out of him and drift off into silence like a confession, like offering penance, but seconds later Charlie stepped forward and grabbed his arms, steadying him. Offering absolution he couldn't accept.

"No, Cas. No." She shook her head. Sharp, firm negation. "You didn't do this. This wasn't your fault."

"You don't know that," he protested weakly. Jo and Kevin's quiet, sidelong glances didn't offer much comfort either. Charlie however, refused to accept that. If only he could be as confident in her logic and reason as he had been a week ago, he thought.

"I do," she insisted, iron in her voice.

"You can't."

Too late he realized his mistake. Never say can't to Charlie. Might as well wave a red flag in front of a bull. Her eyes narrowed - well, bullishly, he supposed was the only word for it - and behind her the other two sighed at him.

"Well then, let's go find out, shall we?"

She darted around him and set off while he was still blinking stupidly, and he hurried to catch up when Jo and Kevin just sighed again and followed their friend. He didn't bother wasting air on objections now. She was a woman on a mission. They all knew the signs. So instead they just trailed behind her as she strode briskly through the hallways. It wasn't hard to guess their destination, but Castiel still winced when they found Dean at his locker. Moreso when Charlie wasted no time in locking him in her sights and zeroing in like a missile.

Dean didn't look up at their approach, not even when they all surrounded him in a semi-circle. He just kept pulling books from his locker like they weren't there. Castiel felt a tightness in his chest that he hadn't been aware of until just then loosen, his eyes roaming over the other boy and verifying that he was, in fact, undamaged by his fight.

Well. Not undamaged. His face had been cleaned up but looked all the worse now for having been punched a couple more times, but Dean seemed utterly unphased, so that was something. He thought, anyway. Or hoped. Maybe?

"Castiel thinks you picked the fight with Matt just to cover up a bruise you already had," Charlie announced once it was clear the boy had no intention of acknowledging their presence. Her arms were folded across her chest, her stance combative. Cas winced again. Jo was rubbing off on her more than she'd ever admit.

Also, did she have to make it sound like he was a tattle tale? What were they, ten?

"Cool," Dean said without the slightest pause in his movements. "Who's Castiel?"

He felt his cheeks flame red. Maybe it had been arrogant of him to presume the other boy would know his name, just because Cas knew his. It felt strange to recognize he was still a complete stranger to Dean when he knew as much about him as he did. But then, whose fault was that, he chided himself. He had no business being upset that Dean hadn't bothered to learn anything about him.

Besides. He was fairly sure Dean was just pretending to be oblivious. It hardly took a rocket scientist to connect Charlie's accusation back to their encounter on the school's front steps earlier.

Still. Ouch.

"I am," he said. Dean halted finally and looked over at him, flicking his eyes up and down Castiel's lithe frame. He tried not to squirm under the scrutiny, but it was over and done with in a few short seconds anyway. Dean shrugged and resumed rummaging through his books.

"Huh. Weird name."

"It's an angel's name," he blurted out, growing even more hyper aware of every centimeter of his burning cheeks. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to explain or justify it. He wasn't usually self-conscious about his name. "I mean, I'm named after an angel."

"Seriously?" Dean laughed and shook his head. "That is freaking adorable."

Double ouch. He forced his spine to stay erect no matter how much he'd rather be sinking into the floor right about now. The other boy hadn't laughed in an especially mean way. Oddly, it was more like he was amused by some private joke. It still stung though. Charlie swept between them, a bit like an avenging angel herself. She might have been the one who pushed hardest to help Dean, but she'd never had patience for the many jokes they'd all heard at Castiel's expense.

"So did you?" She asked belligerently, reigning the conversation back where she wanted and no doubt attempting to make herself the target of any future scorn. Dean just quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Did I what?"

Charlie huffed. "Did you pick a fight with Matt specifically to cover up a bruise you already had?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not that diabolical or that masochistic," he drawled. Dean was a master of inflection, Castiel decided. Somehow he managed to make that sound as though they were idiots for thinking otherwise, even while acknowledging he knew they weren't convinced and he didn't actually give a shit. "Matt just wasn't a fan of my charming disposition. Weird, I know, but it happens sometimes."

"Well if you did, you shouldn't have," Charlie said, soldiering on stubbornly. "We listened to you the other day and we really don't want to make things worse for you. We haven't told anyone yet and we're not planning to, so just. You can stop worrying about that, okay?"

He shrugged. "If you say so."

Charlie frowned. "You think I'm lying?"

"I honestly haven't thought about it enough to care one way or another," Dean said. Her frown morphed into a scowl.

"Now I think you're lying," she sniffed. Dean just shrugged again.

"Okay."

He finished up with his books and slung his backpack over his shoulder, slamming his locker shut as he turned to go. He shot a smirk at Jo, who was glaring intently at his face.

"See something you like, sweetheart?"

Jo blushed, but she held her glare, defiant. "You look like shit, that's all."

"Guess I make shit look good then, the way you're staring," he said easily. "Nice to know. Thanks."

Jo went scarlet and Charlie jumped back in, playing defense from all angles.

"You talk a big game about how you don't need any help, but I'm not convinced you actually know what you're doing," she challenged.

Dean laughed again.

"Like you do? You can't even decide if this - " he waved his hand around vaguely, encompassing their small group, "is an intervention or an inquisition. Word of advice, Scoobies. Handle your own crap before you try and go picking up someone else's."

Castiel was fairly certain that noise he was hearing was Charlie's teeth grinding. That couldn't be a good sign.

"We'll take that under advisement," she said with forced calm. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Do you really have nothing better to do than follow me around? Have you considered getting a hobby, maybe? Knitting? Badminton? Christo."

The last part was muttered like an epithet, but not so low that it could be described as having been said under his breath. It was more like they were meant to hear it. Castiel blinked.

"You swear in Latin?" He asked curiously. Dean's gaze roved over him, flitted across each of his friends as though in search of something. He relaxed almost infinitesimally before he flicked his glance back to Castiel.

"Something like that," Dean said at last. Again there was an undercurrent of amusement beneath his rumbling baritone, like he was still laughing at some private joke. Castiel found himself sneaking peeks at the other boy's eyes, seeking out that hidden weight, that knowing glint of unfathomable secrets buried beneath forest green. It wasn't hard to find.

"Seriously," Dean continued. "A hobby. A life. Look into it."

"Seriously," Jo parroted back. "Not being an asshole. Look into it."

"And give up this benefits package? Witty repartee, don't have to give a fuck what anybody thinks, what's not to like?"

"Not having any friends, for one," Charlie said softly. Dean staggered. He clutched a hand to his chest dramatically.

"God. That was…that was so insightful. So profound. I never even considered that but it's so clear to me now," he stuttered. "You're right. Maybe the real monster…was loneliness. All along."

Dean straightened and framed their scowling faces with his hands, a simulated snapshot.

"Tell you what, this is going in the ole' scrapbook for sure. Freaking adorable, the whole lot of you."

He shook his head a final time, and still chuckling to himself, he ambled off down the hallway.

"You know, he's not wrong," Kevin said into the silence the other boy left in his wake, once he'd turned a corner and vanished out of sight. Charlie pursed her lips, clearly not interested in hearing it.

"Doesn't mean he's right," she said.

"I'm just saying, he's not the only one who talked a big game. And so far our 'help' has consisted of spying on him prostituting himself, doing fuck all while some giant dickbag threatened to beat the shit out of him, inspiring him to go get his face punched in, and then standing around and insulting him because hey, why not," Kevin said, shooting them all two sarcastic thumbs up. "Go team."

"It's a work in progress," Charlie said. Her voice aimed for mimicking her earlier iron confidence, but the effect was diluted somewhat by the shine of tears they could all see glistening in her eyes. Kevin sighed, deflated.

"No, it's a him, not a sociology paper," he said. "Pass/fail only, and there's no extra credit here Charlie."

He shook his head and wandered off towards his next class. Castiel hesitated, watching Jo huddle close with Charlie before setting off to take the long way around to gym. The shorter route would have taken him in the same direction as Kevin, but after hearing the Asian boy voice doubts that sounded so identical to his own, a mirror was the last thing his guilty conscience needed right now.

It was an unusually subdued Charlie that met them all for lunch later that day. Castiel threw himself eagerly into the stilted conversation Max and Garth tried to engage the rest of them in, not wanting to dwell too much on that himself. Avoidance was not in the cards, however, because five minutes in, Jo interrupted them and threw her half eaten sandwich down on her tray.

"Okay, this is just painful to watch," Jo announced, shooting Kevin a glare. "You broke her."

He glared back, unapologetic. "I didn't do shit. It had to be said."

"Fine. Fantastic. Whatever. Now come on."

She gathered her tray and stood up, tapping her foot impatiently when they all just stared.

"And where are we going?" Max asked.

"We're going to eat with Dean Winchester today," Jo said. Her tone made it abundantly clear just how much she was in favor of the idea though. Kevin groaned and dropped his head onto his forearms. Charlie looked up nervously.

"Wait, what? Why?"

"Because he's the reason you look like a kicked puppy and he's the only thing that can make you not look like a kicked puppy," Jo said as though it were self-evident. "And friends don't let friends look like kicked puppies."

"Jo, I don't think that's the best idea right now," Alicia said with a quiet glance towards Charlie. Castiel wondered which of the other three had filled Garth and the twins in on the earlier events.

"Oh, it's a terrible idea," Jo agreed. "All of this has been a terrible idea, from the start, but here we are, and you're all fucking invested by now, and hell, even I am though I will shoot anyone who makes a thing out of that in the face. The only way out of this is through it. What we were doing wasn't working, so now we're trying something new."

"Gosh, there's a phrase about good intentions, I think," Kevin said, snapping his fingers with a vapid look in his eyes. "If only I could remember what it was."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Jo said with an arched brow. "None of you do. But I'm going over there so someone might come along to do damage control."

She swept off imperiously towards where Dean sat alone at a table by the far wall. The rest of them spent all of three seconds silently acknowledging the potential cataclysm for what it was before they scrambled to grab their own trays and rushed after her. They caught up just as Jo plopped into the seat opposite Dean, hesitating before they arrayed themselves around her.

"No," Dean said without looking up from his paperback.

"No what?" Garth asked, baffled.

"Categorical no," Dean clarified, still absorbed in his book. "From now until the end of days. Broad, general, preemptive no to anything and everything you came here to do or say or might come here to do or say at any point in the future."

"We just thought we'd try just…hanging out. Get to know each other?" Charlie said tentatively.

"Yeah, see that sounds swell and all, but unfortunately that's covered under the whole categorical no thing. So, its gonna be a hard pass from me."

"Tough. You don't like us and to be honest I don't much like you either. But the rest of my friends seem to think you're some kind of diamond in the rough, and I'm doing this for them and not you and I can out stubborn even the best of them, so you're just going to have to deal," Jo said. That at least earned her a raised eyebrow, though Dean still didn't look up.

"And what you do think I am, then?" Dean asked, bored. Jo didn't miss a beat.

"An ulcer in human form."

"Rude," Dean said. "I'm a tumor at the very least."

His refusal to dignify them with so much as a glance snapped something in Castiel, though he honestly couldn't say why it bothered him so much. Dean didn't owe them anything, they were forcing themselves on him, so what right did Cas have to be upset that he wouldn't even look at him? Them, he meant. Wouldn't look at them. Casting about for an explanation, Castiel's mind tripped back to what Jo had said about trying something new. It sparked a thought and before he had a chance to think better of it, the words ripped out of him with frustrated vehemence:

"You certainly act malignant enough, but I'm not fucking buying it and I'm willing to sit here as long as it takes to prove it."

A pin dropping to the floor would have sounded like thunder right about then, as Castiel's friends all stared at him in shock. The number of times he'd used the f-word in their long friendship could be counted on the fingers of one hand. He avoided looking at them though, his eyes only interested in one target.

Dean stared at him as well, but he seemed more incredulous than offended. Okay, he didn't look offended at all, Castiel reflected somewhat sourly. If anything, he seemed amused. Again. Or still. Could they rewind to when Dean seemed perpetually angry instead? It was better than feeling like the guy was laughing at them 24/7.

Then he flashed back to that first encounter with Dean, the sense he'd had of fury rolling off the other boy in waves. Actually, on second thought, forget it. This was better. Progress, even?

"What the hell was that?"

"I wish to communicate with you, and you only ever respond to hostility," Cas said, forcing his chin to stay up and his voice to stay even. There was a beat then, a moment while Dean absorbed that. Then he doubled over with mirth.

"Holy crap," he gasped, wiping at his eyes. "That is fucking precious. Okay. You can stay. I can work with you. The rest of you, fuck off."

"Excuse me?" Jo stiffened. Dean sighed and waved his hand at them.

"All of you? Boring. Him? Entertaining," he proclaimed, jerking his thumb towards Castiel. Cas tried not to let his suddenly elevated heartrate show on his face. "Where's the confusion?"

"What the hell makes you think we'd leave our friend alone here with you, for starters," Jo said hotly. Dean spread his hands and batted his eyes.

"Hey, you're the ones trying to lower my defenses so I'll open up or whatever. The rest of you are terrible at it, but Cas-man here actually has a shot." He grinned in the face of Jo's outrage, utterly serene. "But only if you're not around. Sorry. You'd kill the mood."

Charlie laid a restraining arm on Jo's shoulder, quieting her as she studied him quietly. "So that's your strategy, huh? Divide and conquer."

Dean tilted his head. A quizzical smile danced on his lips. "It's weird. You keep saying how much you want to help me, but it sounds more like you're trying to stop me from invading Poland."

"Funny," Charlie said, refusing to be deterred. "I was half expecting you to pretend you didn't know what that means."

He held her stare, but where hers was a challenge, his remained simply entertained. "Read it in a fortune cookie once."

"Fortune cookie huh? Interesting choice of words. So it's not just something you heard somewhere, you know the source. I bet you've actually read The Art of War," she said.

Castiel frowned. Divide and conquer was a term originating in Roman politics, an entire continent and centuries away from the writing of The Art of War. Not that fortune cookies really had all that much to do with China either. Charlie knew that. Then he saw a tiny flicker wing across Dean's face, the slightest creasing of his forehead. A brief whisper of confusion. She was testing Dean, Cas realized. Looking to see if he knew she was off as well. To see if he'd correct her mistake, call her out and admit he wasn't as clueless as they all thought he was simply pretending to be.

"No, but I think I've seen the movie," was all Dean said. His smirk widened. "Jackie Chan's in it, right?"

Now that she had some of her usual fire back, thanks to some actual interaction, Charlie wasn't happy to see her bait so easily discarded. "Sun Tzu - "

"General Tso's Chicken," Dean interrupted. She stuttered to a stop.

"What?"

"Sorry," Dean shrugged, still smirking. "Thought we were ordering Chinese."

Aaaaand she was back. They could all see the steam coming out of Charlie's ears now. Dean didn't give her time to regroup however. He flicked a hand at her in dismissal and turned in his seat, directing his full attention at Castiel. Who swallowed, because the glint in those green eyes was downright predatory.

"Now shoo, flies. I have an angel to corrupt."

"It's alright guys," Cas said. He raised a hand when several of them moved to object. "I'll be fine. We're just eating lunch, and it's not like he's a serial killer or anything."

"I could be. You don't know," Dean broke in, eyes dancing more brightly than Castiel had seen them thus far. He frowned.

"You're not helping."

Dean shrugged. "We have different definitions of the word, I guess."

Castiel held his gaze, barely noticed when his friends reluctantly drifted away to return to their own table. It actually made him flush a little when he did finally realize it, looking back over his shoulder to see them off on the other side of the cafeteria, watching them. It wasn't like them to give in so easily, and he wondered if they'd mounted any more objections that he just hadn't noticed, distracted as he was by…well. Dean.

He couldn't keep track of his head when around the other boy, or even thinking of the other boy, and he should probably be a lot more concerned about that than he seemed to be. He cleared his throat.

"So. Umm. Did you get in trouble?"

Dean cocked his head curiously and Cas jerked his chin towards the bruises on the other boy's face.

"For the fight, I mean."

"Gotcha. Nah, first time offender. Well, here at least. Just got detention is all."

He threw a careless shrug at the end of that. Privately Castiel thought it sounded like getting in trouble to him, but he supposed he'd defer to Dean's greater experience here. He settled for a nod of acknowledgment.

"Good. I mean, I didn't want you to get in trouble because of me."

Dean laughed and put his paperback down. He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back to rest them against the wall.

"You and your little friends need to get over yourselves."

Castiel blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Dean's expression lost none of its amusement, but a slight tension rippled through it and left it a little harder, a little rougher than it had been.

"Nobody makes me do anything," he said, doling out the words with slow emphasis. "Look, you and your crew have this whole mission thing here, whatever. Hey, I get it. I'm the most exciting thing to happen to your boring, podunk little lives, right? But I'm just passing through here. And for me? All of this is just scenery. All of you are just scenery."

He paused, as though to see if Castiel was going to say anything here. Problem was, he had no idea what to say to that. Dean shrugged and continued.

"Now, sometimes the scenery makes you realize you gotta take a little detour or something, you gotta turn off on a bumpy road, lots of potholes, you get a bit roughed up. But it's just what happens. It's not like you do it to spite the scenery, you know? It's not because the scenery made you do it. Because come on dude. It's just not that important. Get it?"

Cas bristled, having no trouble finding words to say now. He didn't usually have much of an ego, but damn.

"Jo's not wrong. You could stand to be a bit nicer."

Dean raised his eyebrow. "Because being less unpleasant to be around helps me get you losers to buy a vowel and leave me alone…how exactly?"

"Oh. Right." Castiel felt his face heat up again. The whole working at cross purposes thing. "Why did you let me stay then?"

The other boy smiled lazily. "I told you. You're entertaining."

Cas was definitely not feeling any type of way because of that, certainly not, because there was no way, no how, that he was pathetic enough where that was all it took to spread a warm tingling through his bones. He took a bite of his sandwich to distract himself and buy time to think of some kind of response. Dean didn't seem to be waiting for one, however.

"You're a virgin, right Castiel?"

Castiel choked, a mouthful of ham plunging down the wrong windpipe as he hunched over, coughing. Dean passed him a water bottle and he uncapped it desperately, swigging down several gulps before he managed to get himself back under control. He glared at the other boy, who seemed all too pleased with himself.

"How is that any of your business?"

"If my private business is open season, yours doesn't get to be off limits. Fair's fair. Now, you were saying? Anyone climbed your cherry tree yet?"

Castiel spluttered, beet red and speechless. Only thing was, he didn't actually have a rebuttal to that. It's not like the other boy was wrong. They'd done nothing but to pry into his business, even if they claimed it was done with the best intentions. And he didn't even know about how they'd hacked into his records as well. Or at least, Cas didn't think he knew. He paused for a moment, ran that around in his head. There was no way Dean could know that. Could he? He couldn't imagine any way he might, but then, with that sense he always gave off, like he knew things nobody else knew, that nothing got passed him, that he was never unaware…Castiel wouldn't be altogether surprised if he did know.

At least the other boy seemed more at ease now, the hardness he'd summoned earlier banished back to wherever he'd drawn it from. Castiel supposed he must have looked like an idiot, choking on his sandwich like that - though he had no doubt Dean had timed his question purposefully - but he couldn't be too upset if that was what had led him to relax as he was now.

And yes, he conceded, he was in fact pathetic enough to feel a rush of pleasure that Dean had finally expressed any kind of interest in him as an individual. Even as…off-putting as it was.

"Yes, I'm a virgin," he said at last. His voice was mostly steady, he thought. "Why?"

Dean did a little twist with his lips, like the facial equivalent of a shrug. "Just making conversation. So you watch a lot of porn then?"

"No, actually," Castiel said. This at least felt more familiar, having had similar such conversations so often with his friends.

"Really? Against your religion?"

"Not at all," Cas said evenly. "My siblings and I might have been named for angels, but we've never been particularly religious ourselves."

"What's the deal then?"

Castiel shrugged, playing idly with his food. "I suppose it all just seems too fake. I'd prefer that my eventual interests and experiences be shaped by sexual realities rather than commercialized fantasies."

"Mmmm," Dean hummed noncommittally. "That what you were doing the other night? Getting a dose of sexual reality to shape your…interests?"

Cas shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "That wasn't my intention. It was an accident."

The protest sounded weak even to his own ears.

"Didn't stop watching once you realized what you were seeing though, did you?" Dean grinned. "Why? Like what you saw?"

He shifted again. There was really no good way to answer that question. Dean leaned across the table.

"That why you can't stop looking at me, Cas? You think about that blowjob you watched me give, jerk off to it maybe? Maybe wonder what it'd be like to feel my lips around your cock, making you feel good like that? You wanna fuck my face like that guy did?"

Castiel's heart hammered painfully. He licked his lips, wetting them to prepare the way for a denial, but he felt hypnotized by Dean's penetrating gaze, the curve of his bow-shaped lips that he now couldn't not pay attention to.

"Bet you wonder what else I might be good at, huh, Castiel? I mean, you don't watch porn but you gotta have some idea of the basics, right? Maybe finger yourself in the shower a bit? Think about the things I could do down there to make you feel good? Or maybe its the other way, huh? Maybe you wanna be the one inside me."

He swallowed, trapped by the weight of Dean's green-eyed stare, like a rabbit faced with a snake poised to strike.

"That why you wanna be my friend so bad, Castiel? Makes sense, right, you help me out, maybe wouldn't be too big a deal for me to help you out too, huh? Teach you a few things, one buddy to another, get the friends and family discount. That what's getting you off these days? Wanna make me scream your name, see me on my knees for you, make you feel like a real man. You go off to college where all the other nerds just have their porno fantasies, but you've gotten the full education and what better teacher than a whore, yeah?"

"Stop!"

The shout burst forth, like Dean's cruel words had ripped them out from under his skin. Dean sat back, momentarily surprised, and Castiel sucked grateful breaths out of the silence as he attempted to soothe his thudding pulse.

It was wrong, all wrong, the things Dean was saying, they were…god. It wasn't that Castiel couldn't picture what he was describing, that he hadn't already, but it wasn't like he was trying to suggest it was. It wasn't, that - that wasn't why Castiel was doing this, it had nothing to do with anything. He was sure of that, even if nothing else. Yes, God, he'd thought of Dean since that night, had thought of nothing but Dean, his lips and his eyes and his voice and he was probably unhealthily obsessed but it wasn't like the other boy insinuated, he would never…god.

"If you don't actually want anything to do with me, you have every right to attempt to drive me away, but I would rather if you didn't demean yourself to do it," Castiel said stiffly.

Something flickered briefly in the depths of his Dean's eyes, so quickly Castiel thought he might have imagined it. Especially when they hardened next, those same depths icing over between one blink and the next.

"And how am I doing that?"

"Umm, well." He scrambled, knocked off guard all over again. Was emotional whiplash a thing? It was like he couldn't go two minutes without the other boy upending him and turning him all around.

"Let's get one thing straight, angel boy," Dean said. "I don't do anything I'll regret, and I don't regret anything I do. You got a problem with something I said, that's your issue. Me, maybe I like rolling around in the mud. You should try it sometime. Invigorates the skin."

Castiel nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "That wasn't how I meant it, and I certainly didn't want to offend you. That's the last thing I want."

Dean slumped against the wall, shaking his head and chuffing a soft laugh that had none of his usual humor.

"Right," he said. He suddenly seemed tired. "Because you're a good person, aren't you Castiel?"

"I don't know," Cas said hesitantly. "I'd like to think so, of course, but doesn't everyone?"

Dean heaved another of those quiet laughs.

"No. No, some people really don't bother."

"What about you?" He asked the question before he could think better of it. Dean just quirked an eyebrow at him however, giving his lips another wry twist.

"I think good people are a lot like unicorns. Make for a pretty picture, but not that realistic when you think about it."

He frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Dean shrugged. "You ever known a good person who did something really terrible, Cas?"

"I guess. I mean, most people have I would think," Castiel said slowly. He had the feeling he was being led somewhere, that maybe it even had something to do with that inscrutable knowledge, those greater truths, but suddenly he wasn't as sure ignorance wasn't bliss.

"Right," Dean nodded, like he hadn't expected any other answer. "But tell me. If they were so good, why'd they do such a terrible thing?"

"Well, because. That's what free will means. Right?"

"You tell me, angel boy," Dean said with his heavy, knowledgeable eyes, and Castiel could feel every pound of that weight in his words. "Bible talks a lot about free will and what a big deal it is huh? But then it talks a lot about demons too. Coming up from Hell and possessing people, making them do all sorts of terrible things, right? So where's the free will in that?"

Never in a million years could Castiel have predicted that his day would include a conversation even remotely like this, let alone with Dean. But he couldn't find a way out of it. The only way out is through it, Jo had said, and god, suddenly he really wished his friends were part of this conversation because they would know what to say. They would have the answers to refute whatever awful truth Dean was trying to impart.

"I don't know," Castiel said helplessly. "I suppose…well, they say demons can't possess the virtuous, right? That you're not vulnerable to them if you're not open to them?"

"Maybe that's it," Dean shrugged, that damn knowing smile on his lips. "Could be. But let's just imagine that's not true. What's it say then if demons can possess anyone? Doesn't that mean nobody's actually good at all?"

"I…I don't know. I've never really thought about it that much, I mean, I'm not sure I actually believe in demons."

"Hmm," the other boy hummed again, face schooled back into impassivity, watching Castiel. He knew then, with absolutely certainty, that this strange, unpredictable conversation held more secrets than all the records they'd hacked into combined. There was something here, something Cas felt poised on the brink of, and it thrilled him and terrified him all in the same breath. He could feel it slipping away though, the moment, the truth, like the ebb and flow of a tide on its way out again. He licked his lips, casting far and wide for a way to keep it from leaving.

"Do you? Believe in demons?"

Dean studied him, silent as a statue as he let the moment linger, long enough Castiel realized he was holding his breath as he waited on an answer. Finally Dean shrugged and smiled, but it was an empty thing, devoid of any warmth or mirth, just something his face did for lack of anything better to do.

"I believe in Hell," Dean said, and then he picked up his paperback and returned to reading. Recognizing that the conversation was clearly over, Castiel finished his lunch in silence. His companion seemed oblivious to the many sidelong glances Cas darted towards him, searching for any hint, any clue to whatever was going on beneath Dean's impenetrable exterior.

He knew he'd just missed something of enormous significance, that it had just passed him by, within easy reach, scraping just past his grasping fingernails.

He just had no idea what it was.