Fly Away Home - part 2

"Class, I would all like you to meet a new student who has just moved in town. His name is Dean Winchester. I want you all to treat him nicely and show him what Salina Middle School is all about."

Dean heaved a bored sigh as the teacher rattled off the needless introduction in that cheery falsetto tone of hers that just told him he was already going to hate this class. When Mrs Tyler was done, she let him take a seat. Dean scanned the unimpressive rows of bored kids who had suddenly perked to attention at the fresh meat. Sniggers and giggles arose when he sauntered over to the free seat in the back of the classroom. He rolled his eyes and exhaled as he dumped his bag on the table and swung into his chair. He was just about to shut everyone out and squeeze in a light snooze when a small voice sounded next to him.

"Uh… Ex-ex-excuse me, Dean." He turned to face a boy who was holding up a pen. "This f-fell out of your bag."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the boy. Sure his speech was a little funny, but he wasn't even looking at him either. There he was, holding up a pen and staring at the object like he was having no blinking match with it. He reached out and took it back.

"Thanks," he said. The boy give a curt nod and returned to staring intensely at the blackboard. Weird… "Hey," he whispered hoarsely. "What's your name?" It didn't hurt to make some friends.

The boy frowned at him, as if wondering why there needed to be any more conversation after the transaction. "Uh… Castiel."

Odd name, but at least this time he was looking at Dean when he said it, even if it had only been for a second before his gaze furtively shifted to the wall behind him. For a second there he saw baby blue eyes stand out against pale skin and a messy dark tuft of hair that stuck out every which way, as if it had been purposefully combed that way. The boy squirmed under the stretch of silence and turned back to the teacher.

Dean swallowed and mentally slapped himself for looking like a total stalker. "Hey, I don't know anyone around here," he said, "you wanna catch lunch with me?"

If it wasn't for the way his jaw clenched and the way his gaze slightly wavered away from the board, Dean could have sworn the boy was completely ignoring him, staring as he was at the teacher in stony silence. Finally, he turned his head and said, a minute quirk in the corner of his lips, "I-I'd like that."

---

They found a free bench outside in the school yard where they could have lunch. Dean had brought his own since he decided he wasn't ready just yet to mingle with the hordes of kids he knew practically nothing of, and didn't quite feel like being the cootie kid in the corner. As soon as he sat down to eat, Castiel told him to wait a minute.

"What?" Dean asked, a little annoyed that he had to delay his turkey sandwich.

"P-please excuse me for a second," he said and walked over to the closest part of the fence that surrounded the school yard.

Dean could see a guy was waiting just beyond it, a bag casually thrust over one shoulder, his longish chestnut hair slicked back, and a lollipop in his mouth; he must've been from the high school down the road. Castiel paused in front of him to fish some money out of his pocket before handing it over and receiving something wrapped in a brown paper bag in return. The skin around his eyes drew tight as he noticed how the older boy reached out to ruffle Castiel's hair before taking off. This kid just kept getting stranger by the minute.

"What was that about?" he asked once Castiel returned to sit across him and delved into the packet. "You running a black market gig with high schoolers?"

"Oh." He raised his head and looked over at the deserted fence then back at him. "Th-that was Gabriel; my brother. I gave him my lunch money."

He said it like every kid he knew did that. "Why?" It really didn't make any sense for Dean. If he had lunch money, why didn't he just buy his lunch like everyone else? Just when he thought the kid couldn't get any weirder…

The boy ripped open a packet of Dorito chips and munched a while on them, his eyes glazing over, before replying. "It's mmmmy pocket money." He lengthened the sound almost to distraction.

Dean still had his sandwich in his hands but stubbornly postponed it until he got answers that didn't raise more questions. "What do you mean your pocket money?"

Castiel swallowed and looked like he was about to reply before simply delving back into the packet again and pulling out a grape juice box. As he extracted the straw from the plastic film, he said, "Mmmy brother is a good person." He poked the aluminium covered hole and drew in a long sip, licking his lips after sating his thirst.

When he didn't continue, Dean urged him on, "I get that. Really, I do. I take good care of my own brother."

Castiel resumed his line of thought, entirely dismissing Dean's words. "So if he steals some food on the side, it shouldn't matter in the long run."

"But what if he gets caught?" he asked, worried and a little awed by how cool this dude got.

Castiel snorted, the only brief sign of emotion Dean spotted on the boy's face since he met him. "Gabriel doesn't get caught," he said as if getting caught had to require considerable effort on his part. "I hope this doesn't upset you," he paused to look at him, his face tense with concern.

"What? Naw," Dean said as he finally unwrapped the film around his sandwich and chewed off a bite, a bit of the salad obstinately sticking to his lower lip. "If anything," he said through a mouthful, "I think it's totally badass."

The boy's cheeks actually flushed at the praise and turned away to munch on some more chips. "Why… uh… why did you move?" Castiel asked after he'd finished the packet and moved on to some miscellaneous food, amongst which were a pretzel, two small packets of gummy bears, and a boiled egg. He didn't ask.

"We had a fire in our previous home. Mom died from the fumes, funnily enough," he said, his eyes cast down on the table.

"I-I-I'm so sorry," Castiel stammered from the news. "I d-didn't mean to bring that up." He started to fidget nervously in his seat.

"Dude, calm down," Dean held a placating hand up. "It was a year ago. And if I didn't wanna talk about it, I wouldn't have brought it up. My dad finally sold the place last month and here we are."

"Sorry," Castiel absently dragged a finger along the bench's wooden patterns. "It's just that… uh… yeah. I'm sorry."

They decided to leave it at that and resumed the lunch ceremonial as a breeze stirred the uncomfortable silence.

"So, uh," Dean said conversationally to try make up for the awkwardness, "what about you?" The boy gave him a questioning side glance. "I'm betting you're not the nuclear family type either."

Castiel started to absently peel his egg with slim and nimble fingers (Dean tried not to pull a face when he realised he was actually going to eat the dubious thing). "Hm." He hummed thoughtfully. "We certainly lack the standard qualifications."

"Huh."

Castiel stopped peeling and regarded him suspiciously. "What?"

Dean said nothing and took a sip from the juice in his plastic bottle. The anxious look on the boy's face came off as endearing and a little comical rather than a serious question. "It's just, well, you know all those big words and you didn't stutter once in that sentence."

Castiel resumed picking his egg clean and hummed vaguely. "I read the Bible a lot," he said by way of explanation.

Dean flicked an eyebrow. "Seriously? The Bible? Well, aren't you something." He smirked and finished his sandwich.

The boy continued to calmly peel the bits of beige shell away, his hands graceful in their execution, like it demanded absolute concentration and deft agility to extract the egg from the casing -- the excavation of the century. He wouldn't be surprised if he knew a little bit about pick pocketing either.

Some movement in the distance caught his eye. Five kids who looked like eighth graders were marching up to them.

"Cas," he said, grinning, "do you know those girls?" He smoothed his hair back.

"Hm?" Cas turned around and groaned, hunching his back further into his meal.

"Dude, what's the matter with you?" asked Dean. "They're hot."

Castiel grimaced. "That would usually be the case with them."

Dean was about to question what he meant when one of the girls, a tall blonde chick with too much of her mom's lipstick on, cut in. "Hi, Castiel," she said in a annoying high pitch that gave Dean chills. "Who's your friend? Do you think can say his name in less than a minute?" The other girls giggled in unison, like one scary multi-headed creature.

"G-go away, Stacy," Castiel stuttered nervously as he tried to ignore them and bite into his egg as casually as possible.

"Aw, he doesn't want to play." A small redhead pouted.

A brunette plopped down next to him and draped an arm over his shoulders, making Castiel flinch at the contact. "Come on," she urged, "you're so cute when you try to talk."

"Girls," Stacy chided affectionately, "play nice now."

Dean watched the whole scene in amusement. He knew the girls were teasing Castiel about his stuttering, but could clearly see their game. Stacy had an obvious crush on the boy and seemed to think the best course of action to get close to him without revealing her weakness was by taunting and goading him. She was basically the girls' version of a boy pulling another girl's braids because he liked her; it took one to know one. And he didn't blame her; Castiel's baby blue eyes and dark hair even made his stuttering look sweet rather than annoying. His lips curled into a knowing smirk. He'd hooked himself a major chick magnet. He could definitely work with that.

Suddenly the brunette was tugging at the boy's sweater. "Come on, Castiel, it's like eighty degrees, why won't you take it off?" Which was a gross lie since it was obviously much lower than that in the first weeks of spring.

The boy immediately pulled his sweater tighter to his body. "I-I-I-I'm fine, B-Beth. Really, I am." Dean could see he was extremely uncomfortable around these girls. Maybe it was a bit more than a simple game. Maybe this happened more often than it should…

Castiel struggled to keep Beth at arm's length but missed the redhead who had crept up behind him and jerked the sweater halfway down his shoulders. Stacy took her cue to finish it off by jerking the sleeves over his arms and finally tugging the grungy thing off, triumphantly holding it bunched up in her hand.

Castiel didn't bother anymore and resigned to finishing the rest of the egg, oblivious to the sudden silence and pressing stares. Dean gaped openly at angry yellow bruises and healing cuts that speckled the boy's forearms. Stacy coughed nervously and mumbled an awkward apology before handing it back to him and skipping away into the yard with her horde.

The boy said nothing and calmly shrugged his sweater back on, like he'd just recovered it from a brief nuisance. But Dean knew better and saw a flicker of shame draw across his eyes and drown in the blue.

"Dude…" he started softly but was promptly cut off.

"I-I-I-I'm sorry D-Dean. I'll be late for class," he said as he stood up and gathered his litter in the packet to throw away. "It was nice t-talking to you."

"Wait." Dean hastily got up and joined the rapidly retreating figure. "Hey, uh," he said as he caught up with him, a little breathless from the jog and from what he was about to ask. He rubbed the back of his neck and said in one breath, "I was thinking maybe you could come over to my place tomorrow after school?" He winced and hoped that didn't sound desperate. "'Cause it'd be cool to get to know you more, and I don't know anyone else."

The boy's eyes got a little watchful as he considered his words, making Dean squirm a little and think it was a stupid idea. Finally, he said, "I'll… uh… I'll have to ask," and ducked to the side to swiftly disappear from sight.

The boy surely must have known every nook and cranny of this place to be able to vanish just like that along a wall. He huffed and wandered back to class.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Once he'd got home, however, his little brother kept having to tell him to pay attention to what they were playing instead of smiling like a goon all the time.

---

After classes, Castiel rushed to join his awaiting brother at the gate. Gabriel ruffled his hair and took his hand as they both walked down the street. He was grateful he had his brother to hang onto for all these years; he felt safe and practically invincible by his side. Though, he knew he wouldn't be there for him for ever, but at least he could try make it last for what would seem like it. He'd take illusion over reality any day.

They headed on over to the lake that flowed through Salina and settled on the bank. Their uncle beat them much less now, instead opting for the lazier route, and completely neglected them, only resorting to brutality when something was inconveniencing or when he was simply drunk.

"I've got something for you," Gabriel said as he fumbled through his trusty satchel, the bag of a thousand and one mysteries Castiel would rather not know about. He extracted a large cube covered in rows of multicoloured yellow, red, blue and green squares, and tossed into his lap.

Castiel caught the oddity and held it in the air, eyes narrowing as he studied the object. "What is it?" he asked as he fiddled with the revolving rows.

"Just a toy I found." He said as he rolled himself a reefer. "Happy birthday, Cas, my man. How does it feel to turn eleven?" he asked as he lit the joint up and took a long and hard drag, puffing thick white smoke through thinly parted lips as his head reclined lazily against a tree trunk.

His brother continued to frown at the toy as he attempted to decipher its use, when he said, without looking up, "A boy at school, he…uh… he-he wants to be my friend."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at that. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. This is his," said Castiel as he fished out an amulet from his pocket and dangled it in front of his brother.

Gabriel collected the unusual piece of jewellery in his palm and studied it. It was most likely a cheap imitation of some historical artefact the kid got at a museum; it was also the ugliest thing he'd seen as far as jewellery went. "It's worthless," he said chucking it back to him, and took another drag on the reefer.

Castiel caught it and shoved it into his mud stained jeans, reverting his attention back to the cube. "He-he-he wants to invite me over to his house tomorrow, after class."

"Hmm…" Gabriel hummed and closed his eyes, enjoying the gurgle of the water and the lazy sun rays that slinked through the moss eaten branches.

Castiel stopped fidgeting with the toy and glanced at his brother. "You think I should go?"

His brother giggled, his eyes still closed. "Sounds like a nice play date you got there."

Castiel blushed. It was true that Dean was nicer looking than all of the other girls in his school, kinder even, and funnier…  He used to never really pay attention to the children around him, always too busy avoiding conflict and needless complications that came with trying to friend someone. But with Dean it all came so easily.

"I-I think I'll go."

-

"That's my boy," said Gabriel. "And if he tries anything funny, you just let me know and I'll make sure he don't bother ya for good." He took another drag and puffed out little rain clouds and watched them break up into single strands of silver fumes that floated on high, finally dispersing into the soggy leaves above.

"I wish you would stop that." Castiel screwed up his face.

Gabriel sighed. "If wishes were horses…"

"That's nnnnot how I meant it." He scowled.

"I know, Cas, I know." He squinted into the distance and rubbed the end of his nose, sniffing audibly. A bird flew from out of a bush.

"Then why don't you?" Cas asked, his face a worried frown.

Gabriel thought he might have felt better if he actually told him why he did it, how it helped him forget, how it dulled the pain, how it blurred self-pitying questions that scratched his mind sore. But Castiel needed someone to look up to, not someone to pity.

So, instead, he replied, "I don't know," and embraced another lungful of refreshing lethe.

---