I Promise | A Destiel High School & College AU

CHAPTER 7 - Suprises: Unwanted...and Unexpected

"It's easier to fake a smile than to explain why you're sad."
-Anonymous

| A YEAR AND A HALF LATER |

Castiel squinted as his eyes met with the early morning sun. Carry On, Wayward Son by Kansas blared from his alarm clock. Every morning when his alarm went off, Cas would curse himself for not choosing later start times for his classes.

He sat at the edge of his bed for a few minutes after turning off his alarm. He sighed before he got up and made his way to his closet. He grabbed a set of clothes and a towel before retreating to the bathroom. He started his shower, and let the hot water cascade over his body. Ever since he left, ever since that day...Castiel has lived by one simple rule: when it comes to people, do not care, do not attach, and do not trust.

When Dean walked out the motel door on that night, without so much as a goodbye, never mind an explanation, Castiel felt his whole world shatter. The only person that had ever so much as looked at him without disgust since his family was taken from him had left him, sobbing uncontrollably on the floor with scratches and bruises and broken bones and a very distorted view of himself. For a long time, the only thing that swirled about in Castiel's mind was Dean. He had only known the boy for two days, which only made him angrier at himself for caring so much. He came to figure that he brought this pain upon himself for being so naïve.

He didn't want to be in that motel room for another second, so he picked his broken body up off the ground, with great difficulty, and left. When he walked outside, it occurred to him that he had no idea where he was...another thing to add to the newly-made list of why he hates Dean Winchester with everything he's got left. He chose to go left on a whim, and before he knew it...he was lost beyond belief. He wasn't even sure if he was in the right town.

He walked for a while until he found an old café one late bill away from foreclosure. He walked inside, not even taking care to the fact that he was still bloody and his wrist was twice as large.

"Good gracious!" cried an older woman from behind the counter. "What in the Sam Hill happened to you?" Castiel blamed his physical appearance on a few kids jumping him in an alley. All he came in for was information. After asking the lady where he was he found out that he was a good 30 minute drive from where he lived, equaling to over an hour of walking.

The lady offered to drive him to the hospital, and seeing as he didn't think his body could take it if he walked anywhere, he accepted. 

He was in the hospital for almost a week before they released him. Miraculously, Metatron never knew Castiel had been gone for so lone (probably too drunk or too absent to notice).

He arrived home after one of the nurses that had been caring for him realized he had no way of getting there on his own. He walked inside (thankfully in the middle of the day, so Metatron was at work) and up the stairs to his room, and that's when everything hit him like a truck. Dean was gone, his home life was abusive and depressing, and he had absolutely no one to talk to about it. He was pretty sure talking to a tree wasn't going to cut it this time.

Things for the first few months without Dean were rough. He still got picked on at school, nothing as serious as being thrown into a pool, but it still hurt. His uncle still cared nothing for him, and beat him on occasion. Most of the time he was too drunk to remember Castiel even lived with him.

Graduation was quickly approaching when Cas realized he had absolutely no plans for his future. He had no idea what he was going to do, so he put all his faith in what he did best: drawing. He'd first picked up a pencil when he was four, and he's been told countless times that he's amazing at drawing, whether it be by his mother, a teacher, or even...him, once. So he drew and he drew until finally a college in Kansas accepted him. He packed up what little he had and left, never looking back onto the house that he had shed so much blood and tears in.

The trek to Kansas was tiresome, and he barely had enough to get him there by bus. But when he finally made it there, he breathed in the scent of Kansas and left his old life behind him.

The life he lived before did not, and would not, be a precursor to his new life here.

As Castiel got ready for classes that morning, his phone buzzed from his dresser. It was from his uncle. Castiel hadn't contacted him since he left the morning of his eighteenth birthday. He just packed up and left. It had been a year and a half since they had last spoke.

Well, well, well. Look who finally had enough. It's taken me a while to find you, dear Castiel. But don't you worry. I know exactly where you are.

Before Castiel even had time to process this, another message came through.

Oh, and by the way...put a shirt on. Your punishment scars are nothing to flaunt.

Castiel tensed and ran over the shut his curtain. He started breathing heavily and began contemplating whether or not to call the police. He decided against it, seeing as his uncle would most likely find a way out of it.

Cas spent the rest of the morning on edge, putting his clothes on and then looking over his shoulder. Packing up his backpack, then sneaking a glance out of his apartment window. He decided to exit his building through the back, just to be safe.

As he stepped out the back door, a rush of cold air bit his cheeks. He pulled his coat around himself as he began walking to his first class.

All of a sudden, a booming voice came from behind Castiel. "Castiel. James. Novak. At long last, we meet again!" His uncle sounded, if at all possible, worse than the last time Castiel heard him speak. He sounded as if he only lived on alcohol, and he looked as if his last fix had just run out. Castiel was terrified, but he didn't show it. Not until two men emerged from behind his uncle. Castiel's mouth dropped as he recognized the pair.

Crowley and Alistair. Crowley, the one who threw him into the pool. And Alistair, the one who ripped Castiel's locket off his neck. And now Castiel did show his fear.

"What do you want, Metatron?" He said, trying to keep his voice from faltering. Metatron flashed a toothy grin, and let out a harsh cackle. "What I want, Castiel, is for you to shut up and make this easy."

And as if those words set of a chain reaction, Crowley and Alistair charged at Castiel. Cas wasn't left with much choice, so he, too, turned and started to run. He ran to the nearest point of exit and made a sharp turn left, hoping to lose the two in a crowd of people. But, of course, there was absolutely no one around. So Castiel kept running.

He didn't dare look back, not until he could see the campus. He was closing in when he turned around. There was no one behind him, so he slowed down...but he kept a brisk pace.

He had nearly gotten himself halfway calm when he rounded the corner of a brick building. He didn't even notice the person he rammed right into the back of, causing them to drop all of their things.

"Watch it, man," the stranger said, bending down to pick up his things. "Sorry," Cas replied. "I meant no harm." He rolled his eyes at the man's ignorance and began walking away. As soon as the stranger put a name to the voice, and recognized the familiar flow of Castiel's trench coat, he grabbed Castiel's wrist and turned him around.

And, once again, for the first time in eighteen months, Castiel Novak was face-to-face with Dean Winchester.