Title: Sparrow
Warnings: bullying
Author's Note: I initially wrote this anonymously on Tumblr for my beautiful friend Corry, but I'm now posting it here in its entirety. She chose the title, because sparrows always return home and are a symbol of true love.

Prologue

Heaven or Hell is the local gay bar, and though he's underage the majority of the Hallowe'en crowd is familiar to Castiel Milton – despite their masks – because he's a regular there. Most people also know that he's still in high school so don't bother approaching him unless they're just looking to buy him a beer and exchange blowjobs, whether it be in the toilets or the back alley. He prefers to use the toilets because of the privacy granted by the cubicles, even if they are dirtier than the alleyway outside.

He smiles at people he recognises before remembering that his face is hidden behind a rubber Frankenstein mask and nods at them instead. But then suddenly two unmistakable green eyes are looking at him from beneath a cheap, plastic Dracula mask.

"Dean?" Castiel says, shocked.

The flirtatious warmth in the other man's eyes drains immediately, and they become cold as a wall is erected behind them. Before Castiel can say anything Dean turns and strides off in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" Castiel cries. He doesn't know if Dean has recognised him – probably not, because when does the high school jock pay any attention to the king of the nerds? – but he follows him out of the club anyway. When he exits the bar, however, he finds himself alone on the empty sidewalk. He wraps his arms around himself as he shivers at the sudden change in temperature, the light rain hanging in the air like a fine mist. Dean is nowhere to be seen, though a discarded Dracula mask lies at his feet.

. * * * .

Chapter 1

It's been three weeks since Castiel saw Dean Winchester at Heaven or Hell (he's sure it was Dean, because while it's not like Dean has ever looked at him before now it's like he's been making a conscious effort to ignore him when they're at school) and though Castiel's been looking out for him at the bar since then, he hasn't seen him. He even tried asking around to see if anyone else had seen him, but was unsuccessful.

He doesn't just want to assume that Dean's got a secret interest in men – it could just be that he lost a bet, and knowing Dean's team mates he wouldn't put it past them – but Castiel just has to know, though he can't explain why. It's not like he's ever paid that much attention to Dean. Their social circles are polar opposites, and unlike some others students he knows he is most certainly not in awe of him.

He's just beginning to think that perhaps he should spend less time focusing on getting to the bottom of why Dean was here and more on getting off when a familiar voice suddenly calls his name.

"Balthazar!" he exclaims, a smile wiping the worry from his face. "We've missed you around here these past few months."

"Well how about showing me how much you've missed me?" Balthazar teases, kissing Castiel's cheek in greeting.

Castiel and Balthazar have an on/off 'relationship', if you can call it that. They'll often turn to each other for casual hook-ups, or to get out of awkward situations with guys who won't take 'not interested' for an answer, but then Balthazar took off for a three-month tour of Europe. A guy called Crowley had thought he could replace Balthazar, not realising that the two shared a very strong friendship underneath all their empty flirting and casual sex.

"Maybe another night," Castiel says, unable to stop himself from scanning the crowd one last time.

"You're breaking my heart," Balthazar exclaims overdramatically. "What's his name?"

"Who?"

"Whoever you're looking for!"

Castiel flushes. "I don't... I mean, I just... It's not like that."

"I'm sure," Balthazar laughs. "Go get him, tiger."

"He's not even here. So how about we get a drink and you tell me all about Europe?"

"I've got a better idea – we get drinks and you tell me about this guy."

Five minutes later Castiel is trying to describe the situation with Dean to Balthazar.

"Oh, Cas," he laughs. "You're infatuated with a straight guy!"

"I'm not infatuated," Castiel protested. "I'm just concerned. I don't even like him."

"Well as it happens, I may or may not have seen your 'friend' just before I saw you. He was talking to Alastair."

"Alastair?" Castiel echoes. He knows Alastair's reputation and gets to his feet for a better look around the room. He hopes he's still in the bar, because if not...

Castiel shakes his head. "I can't see him," he says, slightly panicked.

"Go, play the knight in shining armour. If Dean isn't grateful enough to suck your cock, I'm not going anywhere soon," Balthazar says jokingly. "But I can't promise I'll still be alone when you get back!" He shouts the last part after Castiel as he weaves his way through the crowd, his drink abandoned with Balthazar as he asks people if they've seen Alastair and praying they don't say outside.

. * * * .

It had taken Dean two weeks to work up to going back to Heaven or Hell. Being recognised had spooked him, and he was half-afraid that Castiel planned to spread it around school. The first time he'd gone back Castiel had been outside, so he'd turned around and walked away. The second time he ordered a drink and kept his head down, but couldn't shake the feeling that he just shouldn't be there. Third time lucky – or so he'd hoped.

He'd known it was wrong to feel this way. Just once, he'd told himself. He'd thought he could get it out of his system and he'd be fine. When he slept with girls it would be like it was before, all fun and games, and it wouldn't feel like there was something lacking. He'd be able to shower after practice without worrying he'd get caught looking too long at his team mates. All it would take was one time.

He'd been ashamed to feel like this (and still was) but he'd also been curious. Too curious.

When Alastair's hand fists tightly in his hair, pulling his head back so he can thrust his cock deeper into his mouth, he wishes he'd listened to his gut and stayed away.

"Oh, yes," Alastair groans.

Spit dribbles down Dean's chin as he chokes, struggling to breathe around Alastair's cock. Eventually, and to his disgusted relief, warm come shoots down his throat and he reluctantly swallows it down. He gasps when Alastair finally pulls his cock from his mouth, closing his eyes as the last of Alastair's release falls on his face.

"Damn you're good," Alastair purrs. "Now let me just get a picture of this."

Dean tries to stand up but Alastair kicks him back to the ground and a hard punch to his head sends his world spinning.

"You look good with my come all over your pretty little face," he smiles coldly as the camera clicks. "For my scrapbook," he adds, pocketing the phone.

Dean tries to focus his blurred vision on Alastair – he can hear him zipping up his pants – but then he is being lifted up and pressed against the wall where Alastair's superior body weight pins him in place.

"Please, no," he begs as the older man slides his hand inside the front of his pants. He just wants to go home and pretend this never happened, but he can't wriggle out of Alastair's strong grip. "I've changed my mind. I don't want—"

"Yes you do," Alastair hisses in his ear. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be here."

"Leave him alone!" a gravelly voice demands suddenly.

Alastair's hands leave his body and Dean's knees buckle.

"Walk away or I'll castrate you here and now," the voice growls.

Alastair laughs. "You really think that a little punk like you could—"

His voice is cut off as a fist impacts with his jaw.

"Last warning."

There is a tense pause and then Dean hears footsteps leaving. A gentle hand rests on his shoulder and he tenses, afraid to look up and see who it is.

"Dean?"

He knows that voice from school. "Castiel?" he says, and turns to look at his saviour.

Two eyes are staring at him, twin pools of blue filled with concern, and he doesn't know what to say or do. Thank you doesn't even cross his mind. He wants to push him away and run home. He wants to shove him against the wall and hit him until he's bleeding and he promises not to tell anyone at school. He wants to cling to him and cry until his tears run dry.

Instead Castiel drapes that god-awful trench coat he always wears around Dean's shaking shoulders, before wrapping his arms around him.

Dean feels angry and embarrassed and sick all at once, and Castiel is mercifully silent as he holds him, enabling Dean to process exactly what Alastair did to him. When he retches, throwing up beer and come until all he can taste is bile, Castiel's hand is soothing as it moves across his lower back. When he finally breaks down and sobs Castiel's arms tighten their grip around him and Dean clings to him, mumbling something about school and promises.