Gaurdian Angel

Chapter Three

Castiel's POV

I was late for class today, so I was rushing through the halls today. I literally ran into this guy, and knocked us both over. My shoulder is still sore. With this kind of situation, I would normally just glare at the person I ran into and walk away, but I don't know what came over me. I picked up the stuff I knocked out of the guy's arms, and I apologized to him. I don't know why I did that.. But I can't get that supid boy's face out of my mind. He had the brightest green eyes I've ever seen... And his hair was the strangest color.. It was somewhere between dark blonde and light brown.. He was.. Quite attractive.. I quickly blocked that thought, shaking my head. I know who this guy is. Dean Winchester. Lacrosse and Football jock extraordinaire. In other words, popular. Also known as 100% straight assholes who thought they were better than people like me who don't swing for the 'correct' team. The ones who think I'm not 'normal' because of the fact that I like guys instead of girls. The more I think, the angrier I get. I shook my head and stabbed my pencil into my paper, scowling. I had a few classes with him. Safe to bet he has no clue who I am. Stupid jock.. Why is it that everytime I think a guy's cute, he's a dumb jock.. Or taken. Or just plain homophobic. Whatever. I'll be forever alone, and happier that way. No having to worry about whether my partner is happy or not. The teacher must have noticed me gripping the pencil I'd stabbed into my paper. Because before I knew it, I was being asked to step into the hallway for a chat. I stood up with sharp, angry motions and stalked to the door. I yanked the door open and stood slumped against the wall of the hallway. I took deep breaths, trying to force my face into a less murderous expression. I snapped the pencil in my hands, the splintered wood scraping the palm of my right hand bloody. I scowled and tossed the broken pencil into the trash can by the US Studies room. I waited there until my teacher came out, shutting the classroom door. "Castiel. You seem really angry, and I know you don't want to talk about it any more than you did the last ten times I asked, but you don't get a choice anymore." She said, shaking her head. I raised an eyebrow at her, settling my hand sassily on my hip. "Oh? So I talk.. Or what? You'll call my mom and dad? You know, that mom who's dead and that dad that's been missing for three years? Or my adoptive parents that couldn't care less about me? Is that what you'll do if I refuse to talk?" My stomach tightened in anger. Miss Casi sighed and shook her head again. "No Castiel. If you don't talk about this I'm going to have to force you to take anger management classes with the school therapist.. And I know you don't want that.." My eyes widened. "You.. You can't legally do that. I don't have to take them." she bit her lip, then said in a low voice; "I'll tell them. If you don't talk or take the lessons, I'll tell your foster parents that your planning on trying to run away." My vision swam and I had to steady myself against the wall. "You wouldn't." I breathed in horror, eyes wide. She took a deep breath and assured me that yes, she would. "Alright. Alright we can talk. But not here. Not now." I said, my hands shaking with a mixture of fury and terror. We set up a meeting during study hall and lunch tomorrow. The bell rang not long after, and I ran to my next class without retreiving my notebook. I stopped before I went into the room, then shook my head and turned away. I dashed to the office and signed out, then left the school building and got in my car. It's an off white 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V. My car was the only thing in my life that had stuck around for more than a year at a time, so it was kind of my home. It helped me calm down a little, but not a lot. I slid the key into the ignition, turned it, and listened as the engine hummed to life. I drove away from that school faster than I ever had before, breath coming in quick, panick-filled pants. I drove all the way to the home of my foster parents before deciding I didn't want to be there and turning around. I drove to the only gym near by, parked my car, and went into the gym. I figured that beating the crap out of a punching bag might keep my freak out level to a minimum. Hopefully.