Castiel goes to the band room instead of lunch out of habit. He finds Dean pacing back and forth, seeming nervous about something. Castiel cocks his head in confusion.

"Dean?"

Dean stops pacing and looks at him, seeming relieved. "Oh my god, Cas, thank god you're here," he says quickly, so fast Castiel can barely understand him. "I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have let them do that but I just — I didn't know what to do cuz they're my friends and —"

"What are you apologizing for?" Castiel asks, confused.

"This morning, when I just left you instead of telling them to stop," Dean clarifies.

"You don't need to apologize," Castiel says, more confused than before. Why would he apologize for that? "I actually was going to thank you for not beating me up."

Now Dean's just as confused as Castiel was. "Why would I have beaten you up?"

Castiel shrugs. "I don't know. People do that a lot. I don't question it." He learned not to question them a long time ago.

"No, I mean why would I beat you up?" Dean asks. "We're friends. Friends don't beat up other friends without mutual consent."

"We're friends?" Castiel repeats.

Dean nods slowly. "Yeah... Or, at least, I thought we were friends. Do you not want to be friends?"

"No, no, it's just... I've never had a friend before, so I don't really know... how to be a friend."

"You've never had a friend before?" Dean repeats, surprised.

"No."

"Wow," is all Dean can say to that. "Well, you do now. Welcome to the world of friendship."

"Um... Thanks?"

"First rule of friendship," Dean tells him, "is that you always want to be able to call your friend, so, what's your number?"

They exchange phone numbers, and now Castiel can officially say there's a contact in his phone whose last name is not Novak.

"Alright, now that that's done, whatcha wanna do?" Dean asks. "Guitar? Cuz I've been working on Dust in the Wind and it's sort of coming along."

"Sure," Castiel agrees. "I'd love to hear it."

And, sure enough, Dean can play it. It's sort of choppy, but it sounds much, much better than the last time he played it. When Dean finishes, he looks up at Castiel expectantly.

"Nice," Castiel approves. "When'd you learn that?"

"I worked on it a lot during lunch yesterday," he replies. "I kept hoping you'd show up, but you didn't. But then I worked on it last night, too."

"Well, it's definitely coming along," Castiel agrees, using Dean's words.

"What happened after I left this morning?" Dean asks.

"Nothing," Castiel lies.

"One of the things about being friends is talking about things," Dean tells him.

"Then I'm beginning to rethink this friendship thing," Castiel replies.

"No, don't do that," Dean says quickly. "If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. But if you change your mind and you ever want to talk, I'm here."

"Thanks. And what happened to Bobby?"

"What?" Dean asks, confused.

"You said your uncle called," Castiel reminds him. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Dean says. "I lied. I just wanted an excuse to get out of there."

"Oh," Castiel replies, unsure what else to say.

"I need inspiration," Dean announces, rekindling the conversation. "You should play 'Dust in the Wind' for me."

"I can try," Castiel replies. "I can't guarantee it'll go well. I don't really remember it."

"That's fine," Dean assures him, handing him the guitar so Castiel doesn't have to get another.

Castiel sits down, holding the guitar uncomfortably low, and begins playing. It's a little slow, giving him time to think about what comes next. He manages to make it halfway through before he gives up.

"I don't know the guitar solo," he admits.

"That's fine," Dean replies. "You still did better than me. You're good at that."

"Thanks," Castiel replies awkwardly. He's not used to compliments. Usually, they make Castiel feel sort of out of place, but it seems different with Dean. Nicer. Maybe it's because they're friends; Castiel doesn't know. Whatever it is, he likes it.

~~

"Hey, Cassie!" Alastair says with a grin, grabbing his wrist and pulling the boy onto the seat next to him.

They're on the bus to go home, and Castiel purposely waited until the last moment to get on. He wanted to spend as little time on the bus as he could, and, if possible, he wouldn't mind missing the bus entirely. Unfortunately, he doesn't, and he's now stuck sitting next to Alastair. If only it wasn't raining this hard. They would still have practice and Castiel wouldn't have to deal with the boy.

The bus starts moving, and Alastair doesn't acknowledge him again. Castiel doesn't question it. It seems too good to be true, and it probably is, but he'll take it while it lasts.

During a sharp turn, Alastair pushes him off the seat, so it could easily look like the bus did it.

"Oh, Castiel, are you okay?" Alastair asks in fake interest, reaching out a hand and pulling him up to the seat again.

During another turn, Alastair pushes him off again. He reaches out as if to pull Castiel back on the seat, but instead takes Castiel's spot and lets go when the bus turns again, flinging Castiel away. At this point, the entire front of the bus is laughing, but Castiel is used to it.

"Here," a girl next to him offers, moving over on the bus bench. "Sit here."

"Thanks," he murmurs, taking the seat gratefully.

"My name's Meg," she introduces herself. "Meg Masters."

"Castiel," he replies.

"Oh, you're Castiel Novak?" Meg says in poorly disguised disgust.

"Yes," he admits softly. Please don't kick him out of this seat. Please don't kick him out of this seat.

Meg doesn't say anything, so Castiel assumes he's safe. She gets off at the first stop, so Castiel lets her out and goes to sit down again. Someone else slides in before him. Alastair. Of course.

Alastair grabs his wrist and pulls him down before Castiel can get away. For the next two stops, Alastair tries to push him off the seat, but Castiel manages to stay on the seat. He never gets the chance to get off the seat when the bus stops because Alastair takes his wrist.

One more stop, Castiel. One more stop. You can do it. Just hold on. He keeps telling himself this over and over.

"How are you doing, Castiel?" Alastair asks, still holding onto his wrist.

Aces, Castiel replies mentally. He'll make it to his stop. It's not like Alastair is doing anything too bad.

Alastair digs his nails into Castiel's wrist, and the boy doesn't even flinch. Alastair scowls, realizing he needs a new plan of action to annoy the boy because this is not working. He tries to push Castiel off again, but the boy catches himself. Castiel quickly moves his seat to his old one, nearly falling over in the process. Alastair watches him, but doesn't bother moving.

Finally, they make it to Castiel's stop. The boy quickly gets off the bus, walking as fast as he can back home so he doesn't have to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, it doesn't work, because Gabriel runs after him.

"Hey!" Gabriel calls after him. "Wait up!"

Castiel sighs and slows down. Gabriel finally reaches him, looking up at the boy.

"What happened to you?" Gabriel asks.

"What do you mean?"

"You were in the aisle on the smallest turn of the bus ride," Gabriel reminds him, exaggerating slightly about the size of the turn.

"I -- I just wasn't ready for it," Castiel lies.

"And since when are you covering for Alastair?" Gabriel asks.

"What? I'm not-"

"I saw him try to push you off the seat a billion times," Gabriel tells him. "And I can only imagine what else he did."

"No, he didn't-"

"Seriously, Castiel, stop covering for him," Gabriel says. "If he's causing problems, tell someone."

"He's not causing problems," Castiel lies.

"Look, Castiel, I'm trying to help you out. It's what friends do. And we are friends, so don't even try that. If you're having problems at school, tell someone. A teacher, the principal, Dad, hell, tell Lucifer if it's that bad. He'll beat the crap out of 'em in no time. But tell someone."

"Well, I'm not having problems at school," Castiel lies.

Gabriel sighs. "Come on, Castiel! You can tell me! I'm your brother! I want to help!"

"I appreciate you wanting to help, but it's fine. I don't need it." And to Castiel, it's true. He doesn't believe he deserves any better than this. It's amazing how other people's perceptions of you can change you, for better or for worse.