Dean woke up to the sound of his alarm. He rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes. First day of senior year. Fabulous. Sammy was excited as all hell, but he was allowed. Dean pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt as he heard excited footsteps coming down the hall. Sam burst in the door, grinning like this was the best day of his life, his floppy hair looking like a bush. Dean couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"High school, Dean! I'm in high school!" Sam said excitedly, bouncing up and down. Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, you are. Just wait till you're a crusty old senior like me, you'll be sick of the place," he said.

"Ew, I don't want to be crusty!" Sam exclaimed. Dean ruffled his hair.

"Dean, don't do that!" Sam whined.

"Okay. Now go get ready, Samuel," Dean replied.

"It's Sam," Sam grumbled, taking off back down the hall. Dean smiled and grabbed his keys, heading down the stairs to the kitchen. He cooked some scrambled eggs just in time for Sam to race into the kitchen with his backpack on, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. They both ate breakfast, then headed out to Dean's '67 Chevy Impala. It wasn't that far to Souix Falls High School, and Dean was pulling into the parking lot just a few minutes later.

"Now, I'll take you to get our schedules and take you to your first class, but from then till lunch, you're on your own. Is that okay?" Dean asked.

"I'll be fine, Dean," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, okay," Dean said, stepping out of the car.

***

When Dean stepped into History, he noticed all the girls watching him, making him uncomfortable. They didn't have any reason not to, as far as they knew, but it had taken Dean too long to get popular to have it all fall apart when people found out he was gay. He sat in the back next to his best friend, Charlie, the only person besides Sam and his sort-of-uncle Bobby who knew he was gay.

"Hey, Dean! Sam got settled in?" She asked.

"Yeah. I'm still a little worried about him, though," Dean said.

"He'll be fine. Did you hear there's a new kid this year?" Charlie told him, leaning closer as their teacher started talking.

"No, I didn't. Is there something special about them?" Dean asked her.

"I don't know, but Jo told me that he's from this really big important family," Charlie said. "If you see him before me, you have to tell me about him, deal?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"Deal," he said. Charlie smiled.

After History was Art. Dean didn't like Art. He wasn't any good at it, and he didn't think he needed it. So he was mostly zoned out, staring at the opposite wall, when his teacher started talking, until he heard Charlie gasp. His vision came back into focus and he saw what she was gasping at. The new kid. The teenager was standing at the front of the class, staring at the floor and shuffling his feet. He had spiky black hair and glasses, and he was wearing all black. Charlie looked from him to Dean, then quietly shifted to the station next to them, leaving the only empty spot next to Dean. Dean shot her a look, and she smirked.

"...So please be nice. Please take a seat, Mr. Novak," the teacher finished. The kid looked up, and Dean's jaw almost dropped. Now that the kid's head was up, Dean could see the most crystal clear and beautiful blue eyes sweeping around the room before landing on him. He looked down quickly, not wanting to be caught staring. The kid walked over to sit down next to Dean and resumed staring at the floor. The teacher continued.

"Now, class, pay attention. The person sitting next to you will be your partner for the rest of the year, so I hope you don't hate them..." Dean stopped listening, sneaking a sideways glance at his new partner. After a few more seconds, the teacher sat down and everyone started. Dean glanced around, then grabbed a piece of paper and stared at it. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing, so he just turned to the new kid.

"I didn't catch your name earlier. I'm Dean," he said.

The kid didn't say anything, just leaned over and wrote Castiel on the corner of Dean's paper. Castiel took out a piece of paper and a pencil and started to draw something.

"What are we supposed to be drawing?" Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Okay..." Dean stared at his paper for a second, totally uninspired, before looking back at what Castiel was doing. The drawing was already starting to take form.

"Are those... wings?" Dean asked. Castiel turned red and shuffled his feet, nodding. "They're pretty," Dean told him. Castiel didn't say anything. Dean continued watching him, almost in a trance, until the teacher startled him by talking.

"Mr. Winchester, as fascinating as I'm sure Mr. Novak' drawing is, I'd really like you to focus on your own drawing. Speaking of, what is your drawing?" She asked. Dean glanced at his paper, occupied by a single line.

"Um... the removed spine of a stickman?" He said.

"Is Art a joke to you, Mr. Winchester?" The teacher asked. He shrugged.

"A little bit, yeah," he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel stop drawing.

"Mr. Winchester, Art is a beautiful way to convey feelings. It's a way to express yourself," the teacher said.

"Can't people just say what they want to say? Why do they have to draw it?" Dean asked. He jumped and turned around when Castiel's pencil snapped in his hand.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked. Castiel looked angry, but he didn't say anything, just put the two halves of his pencil in his bag and getting a new one.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," Dean said. Castiel didn't look back up, but Dean could see him start to cry. He put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, but then the bell rang and Castiel grabbed his bag and ran for the door. Dean looked at the half-finished drawing still on the table, then grabbed it, folding it and shoving it into his pocket.