"Sammy, shut up already!" Dean yelled at his younger brother who wouldn't stop bouncing up and down in his seat. The younger boy was given way too much candy/sugar for his own good. It did not help that they were going to a new school, yet again. Perks of being a Winchester.
Dean made the mental note to hide the candy when they got home.
If Dean was being honest with himself, he was slightly nervous too. Not for the same reasons as Sammy was, but none the less, he was nervous. His palms were slightly sweaty which made him grip the wheel of the 1967 Chevy Impala tighter than he normally would. He clenched his jaw when he saw the turn into the school. Sammy who was once bounding with energy now seemed to be non-existent.
Sensing that the mood in the car had changed dramatically, Dean tried to lighten the mood.
"Hey, Sammy, open the glove box. There's something that I want you to have," Dean told his younger sibling, flashing him a smile while parking his beloved car.
Sammy opened the glove box, finding a new pocket knife. He had never had a new one before, only hand me downs from Dean, Bobby, and his dad.
"Dean are you serious?!" He asked, trying, but failing, to hide the excitement in his voice.
"Dead serious."
"Just don't kill anyone today," Dean responded, smiling at his younger brother yet again. He felt a warm feeling in his chest, seeing Sam happy and gleeful once again.
Sammy got out of the car, saying bye to Dean.
The older brother reached under his seat and pulled a half drank whiskey bottle from underneath of him and took a swig.
*SLAM*
He heard it before he noticed someone being slammed into his beloved car by some supposed jock with blond hair. Getting out of the car, he threw the whiskey bottle near the jock's feet.
"What the hell!" The blond-haired jackass yelled in response to the bottle shattering right next to him.
"Get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass," Dean said.
The jock shoved whoever it was he was bullying to the ground and walked away, flipping Dean off in the process.
That was when Dean noticed him.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
The boy's hair was a mess. Then again, it was always a disaster no matter what he tried to do to tame it.
He remembers that his mother had slapped him when he had brought his school pictures home one year. She cursed him for over an hour while shaving his head. That tamed it. From the moment she shaved his head, his mother regretted it, therefore, she told him she would never do it again.
Cas could feel where his father's hand had been on his neck still. It was the only part of his skin that was warm; he was freezing but he didn't mind it. He loved this type of weather. When he was younger, he remembers when he would lay out on their roof, enjoying the cold weather. Sometimes he would fall asleep. It's a miracle that he is not dead yet.
The air smelled like wet leaves. Not the most pleasant smell to most people, but for him, anything was better than the smell of cigarette smoke and whiskey. If he were, to be honest with himself, anything was better. Even being at school, which was like a second hell to him.
Before he knew it, someone had shoved him to the ground, in the school parking lot. He knew that it was coming. He knew that he should act scared so the form of torment would end quickly, but he didn't have the energy to.
Chase. That was the name of his torment for today. Chase was a football player who slept with every girl that he found fuckable. Cas had no respect for this "man" if you would even call him that.
Cas slowly got up, feeling that his nose had begun bleeding slightly when he hit the hard, cold concrete parking lot.
"Good morning Cas!" The bully greeted him once Cas got back onto his feet.
Someone parked near where Cas was about to get his ass kicked for the second time today.
Chase turned around and saw the car that parked behind him and a smirk formed on his face. Once he turned back around, he grabbed hold of Cas' already bruised neck and slammed him against the car.
Before he knew it, Chase was choking him as his father had been this morning. His vision blurred once more, a ringing sound in his ears grew louder and louder until he realized that he could breathe again. He was on the concrete parking lot again. The smell of whiskey filled his nostrils again and for a brief moment, he feared that his father had followed him even though he knew that his mother would never allow it.
Once he glanced up to confirm if his fear was true or not, it was when he noticed him.