Chapter Text
The blasting sound of the music filled Dean's eardrums while the vibrations jolted the ground underneath his feet. He held his cup full of beer over his head so as not to spill it as he strained to search for Crowley. Some random kid tripped into him and, despite his efforts, his drink sloshed all over his front. He glared at the guy furiously, recognising him as Gabriel Novak, a guy from his Chemistry class. Dean tended to avoid Gabriel, mostly because of his family relations, but also because he was notorious for being a joking, pranking little shit who loved to annoy people.
"Dude, what the Hell?" he yelled over the music. Gabriel just raised his eyebrows, laughed and walked away.
"What a prick..." Dean muttered under his breath. He squinted over the crowd and finally spotted Crowley leaning against the opposite wall, talking to someone Dean didn't recognise. He pushed and shoved his way past people until he finally made it to Crowley, who acknowledged him with an approving nod before turning back to the guy he was talking to.
"Alastair, this is Dean, the guy I told you about."
The guy called Alastair pushed his blond hair out of his eyes and looked Dean up and down appraisingly. He had murky, grey eyes and a smirk that Dean immediately did not trust.
"He's in his senior year at Lawrence High School," Crowley explained to Alastair. Alastair nodded.
"I used to go there. I remember you. You're Dean Winchester, right?"
Dean nodded his affirmative.
"I was in senior year while you were in freshman year. Didn't you always hang out with that weird Castiel kid?"
Dean immediately froze, his cup halfway to his mouth.
"I used to, yes," he said, uneasily. Alastair didn't miss a beat.
"So you don't anymore, then?"
"No."
"Dropped him, then, did you?"
"Something like that."
At that, Dean took a huge gulp of alcohol to avoid those watery eyes, almost making himself choke.
"Let's talk about something more cheerful, shall we?" Crowley asked in his lilting English accent. "Alastair, did you get the stuff?"
"I most certainly did, my good man!" Alastair checked that nobody was looking, then pulled a clear bag full of white powder out of his pocket. Dean's eyes widened.
"Is that - is that what I think it is?"
"If you think it is cocaine, then yes, it is what you think it is," said Crowley plainly.
"Want to proceed to the bathroom and get this stuff inside us?" Alastair said, a question in his eyes as he looked at Dean.
Part of Dean screamed not to. When you make decisions like this, you often don't go back. But Dean was hurting. He was always hurting. And he wanted to forget.
So he said yes.
The next morning, Dean groaned and rolled over in bed when his alarm blared at six fourty-five. He had gotten back at four thirty am, which mean he had had two hours and fifteen minutes of sleep. His whole body ached with exhaustion and the after-effects of what he had taken last night. The only thing he could remember from the party was accepting the drugs from Crowley and Alastair. Everything after that was a hazy blur.
He was ready to go back to sleep and just skip school today, but at that moment, John, his dad, came thundering in.
"Dean."
No response.
"Dean."
Still no response.
"For Christ's sake, Dean, get up and look at your father!"
Dean knew his Dad would just get progressively more agitated, so he sat up and glared at John.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm leaving on another job this morning. I'll be gone two weeks, max. I need you to look after Sam."
"Fine."
"Good. If I get wind of any funny business, I'll be coming straight back and you'll be packed off back to St Martin's. Clear?"
"Crystal."
John nodded, not meeting Dean's eye, and left to say goodbye to Sam.
There had been a time when Dean had treated his father with a whole lot more respect. He had even gone so far as hero-worshipping him. But those days were over. He still cooperated enough whenever it came to Sam, but apart from that, he avoided doing anything John told him. He had given up being Daddy's little soldier a long time ago.
Tired and disgruntled, Dean got dressed and padded into the kitchen of their apartment. Sam, his little brother, was already sitting at the table, eating breakfast and doing last-minute homework.
Before he realised it, he was already smiling. Sam was the only person who could do that - bring a smile onto his face without doing anything at all. Well, one other person used to be able to do that as well, but not anymore.
Sam looked up and saw him. He grinned, his mouth full of Lucky Charms.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said fondly. "It's not like you to leave homework until the morning of it."
Sam smiled sheepishly.
"I know, it's just...I was kind of kept up all night texting."
"Really? Texting who?"
"Oh, just a girl..." Sam trailed off, a blush slowly creeping up his face. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Dean grinned slyly. He was intrigued.
"A girl? What's her name?"
"Uh...Jessica. But everyone calls her Jess." Sam's face was bright red now.
Dean threw his head back and roared a laugh. He ruffled Sam's hair -much to his brother's protest - and opened the fridge to chug some OJ down his throat.
"Do you need a lift to school or are you going with your new girlfriend?" he asked Sam, smirking.
"Shut up, Dean. She's not my girlfriend."
"But you like her."
"Well - yeah."
"So ask her out, then."
"It's not as simple as that."
"Sure it is. If you're worried whether she likes you or not; of course she does. Who could resist you? Take me. I'm a basket case, and yet I can still get girls. If I can do it, you definitely can."
After Sam had finished his cereal, Dean slipped on his leather jacket and they headed out to the Impala in the parking lot. Sam was in freshman year at Lawrence High, so it was no trouble for Dean to drive him to school.
Once they had pulled into the school, they both got out of the car and parted ways. Dean headed down to the cafeteria; he had a free period and planned to spend it stuffing his face with food. The teachers would be on his case for not studying like everybody else, but he was used to teachers being on his case.
While crossing the parking lot, he spotted Jo Harvelle, Pamela Barnes, Chuck Shurley and Benny Lafite huddled together, chattering animatedly. He felt a familiar twang of pain as he watched them laugh and talk with each other. Jo noticed him watching them and met his eyes. An unfathomable expression crossed her face and she looked away. Dean swallowed down the dark sadness that he felt all of a sudden. A year ago, he would have been in that huddle, laughing right along with them, without a care in the world.
Oh, how things had changed.
Dean pushed open the doors of the cafeteria and - stopped dead in his tracks. The place was empty apart from a group sitting at a table directly in front of him. Four brothers and one sister: the Novaks.
The first one to make eye contact was sitting hunched in his seat, wearing a tan trench coat and a ruffle of messy, black hair.
Castiel Novak.
On the surface, Cas' expression didn't change, but Dean knew the telltale signs. A slight press of the lips. A minute twitch of the eye. The other boy was masking an emotion he wasn't willing to convey to those around him.
"Hello there, Mr Winchester."
The voice had come from Uriel, sitting directly to Castiel's right. Dean didn't know what on Earth the guy was doing here. Uriel had graduated Lawrence High last year.
"W-what are you doing here?"Dean asked, aware that he sounded like a fool. He curled and uncurled his fists to calm himself down. Seeing the bastard again didn't exactly muster up some pleasant feelings. Balthazar, a brother in the year below Dean, seemed to sense this, as he quietly suggested that Uriel step outside.
"Oh, no, uh, it's okay. I was just...I was just leaving. Yeah. Well, bye."
Just as he turned to leave, he couldn't help but look at Castiel again. Cas was looking down at the table as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Dean balled his fists, kicked the doors open, and got out of there as fast as he could.
The other two siblings that had been there had been Gabriel and Anna. He didn't care about those two as much. Gabriel was infuriating and annoying, but never hostile, and Anna was just shy. She was in the same year as Sam was, but Dean didn't think they were in the same circle of friends.
Balthazar was all right, Dean supposed, and he had never been outright rude or condescending.
But Uriel and Castiel. They were a different story.
Thinking about Cas was often too unbearable to handle. There were so many bruises, and so much unresolved anger and sadness and pain left there. So he focused on Uriel instead.
Dean had no problem thinking about how much he hated Uriel. The events of last year sometimes seemed like a lifetime ago, but on days like this it was as if they had happened yesterday.
In Dean's head, those memories were surrounded in a dark, black mist. Echoes of past confrontations and fights and nights spent drowned in tears bounced around his skull.
Clenching his teeth, he growled frustratedly and punched the wall.
It hurt. A lot.
Hissing and yanking his arm back, he cradled his fist and inspected it. The skin around the knuckles was cut and bruised. At a quick glance, he saw that he hadn't even made a dent in the wall. Typical.
He headed outside and immediately spotted Sam across the lot, walking beside a girl he presumed was Jess. He continued to study them as Sam cautiously wrapped his fingers around hers, his cheeks delicately pink. Dean had to look away, a hitch drawing in his chest. When Dean was Sam's age, he was already half-broken. Yet Sam was still whole and full of a resonating brightness. Dean was so relieved that his brother hadn't ended up like him, but he couldn't help but get frustrated with himself. Why did he always have to feel too much? Why couldn't he be like Sam? Or, better yet, like Cas. Cas, who had created an icy coating of frost around himself. Cas, who had changed so much from the little boy with adoring blue eyes that Dean had once known.
All too soon, the bell rang through the hallway and Dean headed to his first class.