Strings Attached

Chapter 4

It's Friday. It's finally Friday. That's what goes through Castiel's mind all day the next day. Friday. No school tomorrow. Come on, Castiel. You can do this.

He ignores the verbal jabs at him as the day progresses, until it's finally lunch time. He's about to go to the cafeteria, but he thinks better of it and goes to the band room again. Unfortunately, Dean is already in there, and Castiel is not dealing with him again. One day was bad enough.

Castiel quickly walks away from the band room and to his next class. He's sure his teacher won't mind if he waits there.

Unfortunately, his plans are changed when a group of "popular" boys block his path. Castiel swears mentally, knowing where this is going.

"Hey, it's everybody's favorite lil gay!" Alastair calls out with a smirk.

"Do I get another kiss?" Crowley teases, bringing back the painful memory of Crowley convincing him he was wanted before tearing it all away.

"What, cat got your tongue?" Azazel asks.

When Castiel doesn't say anything, Alastair pushes him against the locker, hard. Castiel feels the pain shoot through his already bruised back, and he whimpers despite himself. His foot gets a little twisted, pain shooting through his ankle, but he ignores it. Maybe it'll go away.

"Aw, what wrong, Cassie?" Crowley asks teasingly. "Can't handle it rough? Would you rather we take it nice and slow?"

"Hey!" one of the teachers yells loudly. Mrs. Harvelle, Castiel recalls. She's possibly the most intimidating person in the building.

Instantly, Alastair lets Castiel down, not gently at all.

"What's going on here?" Mrs. Harvelle asks.

"Just having a little fun with our friend Cassie, here," Azazel replies.

Mrs. Harvelle turns to Castiel. "Are they bothering you?"

Castiel shakes his head. "N-no," he stammers. "W-we're just pl-playing around."

Mrs. Harvelle looks at him skeptically before saying, "If there's a problem, don't hesitate to find me." She walks away, throwing the boys one last glance before she disappears from sight again.

Castiel knows better than to expect a "thank you" for lying to her. His "thank you" is them not beating him to a bloody pulp next time they see him for telling her the truth.

"N-no," Crowley mocks in a falsetto voice. "N-no p-problem, r-right g-guys?"

"N-no," Azazel agrees in the same tone, then shoves Castiel into the locker again. "N-no p-problem a-at a-all."

They laugh and walk away, high fiving each other as they go. Castiel groans, his head lolling back against the locker in exasperation. He heads to class, trying to ignore the pounding pain in his back as he does. God, they really pushed him hard today.

A tear threatens to escape, but he wipes it away with his jacket sleeve. It hurts to touch his arms from Azazel's tight grip on them, but Castiel ignores the pain. He's done it before, and he'll do it again soon. It's how his life works, and as far as he's concerned, he deserves it. Not for anything in particular, but just for being him.

That's the biggest problem with how is life is going. He's so screwed up, he believes he has this coming to him.