Black Roses

Chapter 4

"You're thinking of someone, aren't you?" Emerald eyes clashed with piercing blue as the teacher stood in front of his desk. Dean looked around, and oh everyone had already left. 

"Uh, no. Even if I was, what is it to you?", he blurted way too quickly.

"I used to love someone. But I realized it too late, and by then, I lost them. By the way, I'm Michael. Michael Novak." He took his glasses off as a sign of understanding, but his piercing gaze ruined the effect. They were kinda like Cas'. Except in Cas' eyes, he could see compassion, hope, innocence. These eyes were cold lumps of metal, as if the hope that was once there died a long time ago. "I'm Dean." He was supposed to say something before he left, right? As he was walking out, his eyes widened in realization and he turned around. "Are you Castiel's brother?" The teacher gave a curt nod before saying "Goodbye, Dean" and shutting the door on Dean's unanswered questions.

He needed to talk to Cas. Right now. Dean felt a crazy need to at least see him. They didn't have a period together until after lunch. Thoughts of Cas distracted him so much, he almost didn't notice the elusive figure that slipped around the corner. But he'd recognize that sex hair anywhere. Cas Cas Cas, gotta get to Cas.

Suddenly, his everything revolved around this one kid he barely knew. "What is wrong with me", he thought as he chased after the figure.

Cas was running.

Running from who? A sudden surge of protectiveness threw him off guard. Where the hell did that come from? Things happened so fast, he didn't have time to think. The only thing on his mind, Cas. When he saw him cornered by the football team, there was nothing else to do. 

"Leave him alone."

 The football captain, Alastair, sneered,"Why should we, he's a fucking faggot. What are you, his boyfriend?" His sickeningly nasal voice sounded like nails scratching on a blackboard.

"Don't you dare call Cas that, you piece of shit. You're nothing compared to him."

"Boys, I think we have to teach someone who runs this bloody joint," Crowley said coolly with a British accent.

"Yeah, well I'd like to see you try."

His Dad's training did him well.

A badly bruised Dean hovered worriedly over a bleeding, unconscious Cas. He knew it was his fault. If he hadn't chased Cas, the football team would've never noticed Cas, silently slipping around the corner.

Glowing blue eyes flew open.

"Conpar?"