Chapter Text
Fourteen year old Dean Winchester scowled as he climbed out of his dad’s Impala and took in his new environment. He glared at the imposing red brick buildings, the stone columns, the neatly maintained shrubs and flower beds. He rolled his eyes – there was even a fucking statue in the middle of that lawn over there, the one next to a building with stained glass windows. That had better not be a frigging chapel or heads would roll. There was no way in hell he was going to go to church. Boarding school was bad enough.
John Winchester sighed and rubbed his hand over his tired face. It had been a long trip, especially trapped in a car with his sulking teenage son, and they were supposed to have arrived hours ago. He was running late. He went to the trunk of the car and pulled out Dean’s suitcase.
‘C’mon, son. Let’s go meet your new Principal.’
Dean gave the area one last furious scowl, as if trying to intimidate the very bricks of his new prison, and then scooped up his duffel bag and followed his dad up the stone steps of what he presumed was the administration building. The entrance hall was all oak panelling and marble floors and smelled of furniture polish and old books, with an alcove to the left of the door. It was set up like an old fashioned parlour. A stern looking woman with her hair scraped back in the tightest bun Dean had ever seen sat at a desk in front of an honest-to-god typewriter. Dean blinked. It’s 1993 for god’s sake. What the hell kind of place had his Dad sent him?
John smiled charmingly at type-writer woman.
‘Good evening. John Winchester, dropping off Dean Winchester. You were expecting him this afternoon. I apologise for our lateness. The traffic was unexpected.’
Type-writer woman’s lips thinned for a moment but then she smiled back at John.
‘Principal Morgan is expecting you. Take a seat, he will be out in a minute.’
John and Dean squashed on to a low sofa. Type-writer woman offered them a drink and bustled off to parts unknown to make John a coffee. John sighed, and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder.
‘I know you’re angry, son. But this is an excellent opportunity for you. Just make the most of it, eh?’
Dean shrugged off his dad’s hand.
‘Whatever, dad. I can’t believe you’re abandoning me here.’
John sighed.
‘I’m not abandoning you. You’ll be well looked after. You’ll probably have a great time once you make some friends.’
‘Oh yeah, I’m sure I’ll have lots in common with a bunch of rich pricks. There’s not even any girls here to make it more bearable.’
John gave his son a distinctly unamused look.
‘I’m sure the lads will be nice enough once you get to know them.’
‘I wanted to stay in Lawrence with Grandma and Grandpa.’
John ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
‘Dean. We’ve been through this. You couldn’t stay in Lawrence, and you’re lucky this opportunity came along. This is an excellent school, a great opportunity for you to get a good education. The company are paying your fees as I’m abroad and Grandpa says you can stay with them in the holidays if I’m not able to get back home. Now, quit your whining and man up.’
Dean pursed his lips and his jaw jutted stubbornly, but he wasn’t able to argue back as at that moment an imposing man in an expensive looking suit and a black academic robe came into the room. He was tall and broad shouldered, with slicked back salt and pepper hair and warm brown eyes that twinkled with amusement as John stood up and cuffed Dean around the head to get him to do the same.
‘You must be the Winchesters. I’m Principal Morgan. Welcome to Brimstage Hall.’
Principal Morgan shook John’s hand warmly.
‘John Winchester. This is my son, Dean.’
‘Hello Dean. I am very pleased to meet you.’
Dean scowled, but shook the man’s hand reluctantly after John growled a threat into his ear. Principal Morgan laughed and turned to John, ignoring Dean.
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m used to angry teenage boys. I’m sure Dean and I will get along fine – as long as he follows the rules of course.’
‘He will. Or he will answer to me as well as you.’ John agreed, giving his son a threatening look.
‘Principal Morgan? Mr Singer said you wanted me?’
Dean looked over at the source of the voice and saw a serious looking boy wearing the hideous uniform that Dean was also dressed in. Revolting blue blazer and all. Dean’s critical gaze spotted that his tie was different to his though, and the boy sported a shiny badge on his lapel. He was older than Dean, looked about eighteen or so and was probably a Senior.
‘Ah, Mr Novak. Come in. This is Dean Winchester – he’s in Lincoln House with you. Dean – this is Michael Novak. He’s the Senior Prefect of your boarding house and will take you there and get you situated. Mr Winchester – if you say your goodbyes here, then there’s just a few forms for you to fill out before you can get back on your way.’
Dean felt his stomach drop at the prospect of saying goodbye to his Dad, and he clenched his fists to control his emotions and gave himself a stern talking to. Steady, Winchester, don’t let anyone see – especially Dad. Hang on to the anger instead.
Dean’s resolve nearly cracked as John drew him into a hug.
‘I’ll miss you, Dean. Be good and I’ll see you at Christmas, eh?’
Dean took a steadying breath, and gave a non-committal grunt as an answer instead of telling his dad that he would miss him too. Ain’t no need for the old bastard to know that. He picked up his case, swung his bag over his shoulder and dutifully followed Michael Novak out of the building.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Michael Novak led him across a courtyard and straight through one of the other buildings before coming out the other side and pausing. Dean was faced with extensive grounds with smaller red brick buildings dotted here and there. Dean was loathe to admit it, but the place was beautiful and he took in the view with a half smile. Michael glanced at him and winked.
‘So, the main buildings – classrooms, library, Principal’s office, chapel – they’re all in the quad we just walked through. But the boarding houses are all dotted around the grounds – you’re in Lincoln with me. We’re lucky – we’re by the Lake. It’s more of a walk I guess, but quieter than being close by. Our Housemaster is Mr Singer, you’ll meet him later. He’s meet and greeting the Firsties at the moment. I’m meant to be there too, but he sent me to pick you up from Morgan’s office first before I have to go and help mop up their tears.’
Dean raised an eyebrow and huffed a laugh at Michael’s pained expression.
‘So you’re not the touchy feely hug it out type then?’
Michael shuddered. ‘Hell no. Bad enough when I had to be nice to my brothers when they first came here– I’ve got two younger ones. In fact, you’re rooming with Cas the youngest. He’s a third year too like you. Do you have any siblings?’
Dean hesitated for a fraction of a second. ‘Um, yeah. Younger brother. Sammy. He’s eight.’
Michael nodded absently, continuing his tour of the school as he led them to what Dean presumed was the boarding house. It was a pleasant enough looking building, although to Dean it looked more like a prison than the home from home the school brochures had described it as. Michael led him in through the main door.
‘So, I’ll get Cas to give you a tour of the house tomorrow morning, but basically the ground floor is Mr Singer’s flat, Matron’s flat, Prep Room, cloakrooms and kitchen for snacks and drinks and supper. Main meals are back in Main School.’
Dean nodded, wondering what ‘Prep Room’ was but not caring enough to ask yet.
‘Common rooms are upstairs, along with Prefect’s studies and the first year dorms. Second and third years are up a level, with fourth and fifth years above them. Sixth form dorms are up in the attics.’
Michael led him along the ground floor to the bottom of a flight of stairs, and then stopped dead as a side door to outside opened and a mischievous looking boy sucking on a lolly crept in. The strange boy’s eyes widened for a second when he spotted the cross-looking Prefect, but then grinned innocently. Michael sighed and held his hand out.
‘For fuck’s sake Gabriel – term hasn’t even started yet and you’re trying to collect demerits. Hand ‘em over now.’
Gabriel scowled, his amber eyes glittering as he looked Michael up and down as if weighing something up, before he sighed and brought out a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and handed them over.
‘Asshole.’ Gabriel muttered. Dean blinked in surprise when Michael didn’t react to the insult, but instead pocketed the cigarettes.
‘You’re lucky it was me that caught you sneaking back in – and if you’d been caught smoking you know you’d be up in front of Morgan before you could say referral.’
‘You’re such a hypocrite, Mikey. I know full well you got your ass paddled more than once for smoking when you were in fifth year.’
Michael smirked. ‘Then learn from my mistakes, Gabe. Thanks for the ciggies.’
Dean stared at the pair of them, utterly confused. Gabriel took pity on him.
‘Gabriel Novak. Michael’s my bossy older brother. My bad luck he’s our Senior Prefect this year.’
Michael grinned lazily. ‘This is Dean Winchester. He’s third year and rooming with Cas. Could you take him up? Singer needs me. I’ve got to go and let the Firsties cry on my shoulder.’
Gabriel cackled. ‘Oh, I wish I could see that. Priceless. C’mon Dean, I’ll show you where your room is.’
Gabriel grabbed the handle of Dean’s suitcase and helped him hump it up the stairs, chattering amiably the whole time. He led him along another corridor, passing doors with neatly typed name cards on them, until he stopped at a door labelled ‘C. Novak and D. Winchester’. He knocked on the door and a low voice answered ‘Come in’. Gabe pushed the door open with a flourish, and Dean found himself staring at a black-haired boy with the bluest eyes he had ever seen.
‘Cassie, this is Dean. Dean, Cassie.’
The blue-eyed boy smiled and reached to shake Dean’s hand.
‘Ah – ‘D’ for Dean. Hello, I’m Castiel.’
Gabriel smirked. ‘Cassie here drew the short straw name-wise. Our parents ran out of normal Angel names.’
Dean frowned. ‘Angel names?’
Castiel nodded. ‘Our mother was extremely religious. Michael, Gabriel and Castiel.’
Gabe clapped his brother on the back affectionately. ‘Cas is the Angel of Thursdays apparently, though we haven’t yet found him in the Bible. Thank god our parents stopped with him – can you imagine what they would’ve called the next one?’ Gabriel shuddered exaggeratedly for effect, and Castiel – Cas – shoved him good-naturedly.
‘Do shut up, brother. You’ll scare my new roomie off.’
‘Well, I’m off to see if I can cadge any ciggies from my roomie given that Michael just stole mine. Dean, pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Brimstone Hell. Mwah ha ha hah!’ He gave a malevolent exaggerated cackle before grinning and bidding the pair of them goodbye.
There was an awkward silence as the two roommates sized each other up and Dean took in his new surroundings. Two beds, two desks, two wardrobes and two sets of drawers. Their window looked out towards the lake Michael had pointed out earlier. Dean sat down on his bed with a quiet sigh. So this was it, his home for the next three months. He supposed it was comfortable enough even although he was stuck at this stupid boarding school that he had no desire to be at. He felt his glum mood returning and he hugged his knees.
It was Castiel who broke the silence.
‘Do you want any help unpacking, Dean?’
Dean jumped a little at being addressed directly. He had been engrossed in looking around the room and taking in his surroundings.
‘Line up’s at eight tonight and we all have to be unpacked by then.’
Dean blinked.
‘Er – line up?’
Cas tilted his head to one side, surveying Dean.
‘You’ve never boarded before, have you?’
‘How did you know?’
Cas smiled kindly. ‘C’mon, I’ll help you get settled and show you the ropes.’