I can't be saved // Destiel

Chapter 3

11th March 2001

"Come on Sam, let's go!" he called out.

"Alright, I'm coming," Sam snapped rushing out the door. "Jerk!"

"Bitch!" They exchanged. Dean sat in the driver's seat of his 67' Chevy Impala, one of his favourite places. It provided him with a sense of security. Maybe it was from the large arrangement of guns in the boot or just the familiar sense. As they pulled into the school parking lot Sam jumped out of the car and ran to his friends. It was nice to see, that Sam had friends, unlike him. He was what everyone called a 'freak' or 'the outcast'. He walked into the corridor and shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that he was shaking. He could feel the judging glares of other kids. He wanted so badly to end it all. To end this pain. But he couldn't. Why? Sam. He couldn't just leave Sam. The bell droned on and he mindlessly walked to his form room. He took his usual seat in the back of the room, where he could isolate himself from everyone. If he was going to be living here for a while he might as well start getting used to it.

"Oi freak!" these words snapped him out of his death-like trance, one of the popular kids. He turned to face out the window, obviously not wanting to talk to him. "Hey! It's rude to ignore people like that." He remarked. Dean snapped and pegged one of the books from behind him at the kid. 

"Dean! Outside now!" the teacher shrieked. He dragged himself out of the classroom and prepared for the usual lecture. He heard her opening the classroom door. She droned on and on. "Be seated!" were the only words he listened to and trudged back into the classroom. 

He sat down and heard a meek "Uh, hi" from the desk next to his.

"Look, if you don't want me to throw a book at you, I'd suggest you shut up!" Dean threatened.

"Oh-uh sorry." Dean looked over to see who it was, it wasn't familiar. He came into contact with light blue eyes. They reminded him of innocence, although he was surrounded by bad in the world there could still be something good. But it wasn't just his eyes, the way he crinkled them, he looked concerned. "Um-hello, are you okay?" the boy questioned looking away from Dean. 

"Yeah! I'm fine! Why?" he didn't want to be mean to him and he couldn't understand why. 

"Sorry, it's just- "

"It's just what?" he demanded.

"Nothing, never mind." Dean couldn't help feeling bad for snapping at this boy. This softly spoken boy in the trench coat. He didn't seem like the others, he was different. There was something about him, whether it was the way his hair messily fell onto his face, the way he managed to look, appealing - in a trench coat or those blue eyes. God, what was he on about. It's not like he found guys attractive.