Dean sat at home, laying on his bed. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling as he clenched a baseball in his hands. Everything Castiel had said previously was going through his mind and it had stayed that way until the weekend. He'd ignored everyone except for Jo and Sam. It had been easier to think about what he was going to do. Alastair had spoken to Castiel and poisoned his mind. If it hadn't been for that bastard, things wouldn't be like this.

Things wouldn't be so damn difficult. He closed his eyes, clenching them shut as a knock was heard against his bedroom door. He didn't want to deal with anything. He didn't want to hear anything anyone might have to say. He'd spent the last couple days hearing things said about him and he didn't know how much more he could take. He never picked on anyone like this, he just made some rough decisions. So why was it this hard for him?

Dean felt a pang against his chest as he thought about the week to come, "Dean? Can I come in?" he sat up now, looking towards his bedroom door. This was the second time his mother had knocked on his door. The first time he had ignored her successfully, but he knew he couldn't forever. He didn't know if he had the will to ignore her again. He knew that she would know something was wrong. Hell, she probably did now, "Please?"

He sighed, "Sure," he laid back down on his bed and rolled over so he didn't have to face her. His door opened and then closed again, but he knew she was in the room, probably looking around at the mess that he called his bedroom. Clothes from one end of the floor to the next. He wasn't one for keeping things tidy, he didn't see the point. The only people who had ever been in his room were a select few. He didn't bring many people home. Mainly because of Sam arguing with their dad all the time. It was an endless battle sometimes.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Mary asked in a sweet voice, sitting on the edge of Dean's bed. He winced to the concern in her voice, keeping himself facing away. A hand touched his shoulder gingerly and he gave a faint smile in response, "I promise to keep it between us."

Dean let out a sigh of defeat, knowing he wasn't going to win this battle by ignoring her. He'd probably just upset her, and he wasn't about to do that. He rolled onto his back and sat up, looking to his mother. She looked tired - but he knew she'd been working at the little bakery downtown all day, which would explain the look on her face, "School's just a pain right now. I'm fine, promise?" he said, giving her a look.

Mary recognized that Dean was being stubborn and she gave him a soft smile, "Alright, but you know that you can come to me if you ever need help, okay?" Dean nodded to her, watching as Mary got to her feet and began to head towards the door - but she stopped, turning to look at her son, "And do me a favour?" he gave her a curious look, "Clean up your room for once," she chuckled, shaking her head as she left his bedroom.

Dean flopped back against his bed with a smile on his face, "Yeah, I'll be sure to do that," of course he was being slightly sarcastic. He hated cleaning his room - especially making his bed. He didn't see the point in making his bed if he was just gonna lay in it again at night. It would just get all messed up again, wouldn't it? He closed his eyes, crossing his arms behind his head.

He was just going to have to suck it up and get through the next while. Dean knew that it was going to be rough - but he knew that in the end, he was going to make it out alright. Things couldn't get much worse than what they already had, right? He opened his eyes, glancing at the ceiling and eying the old rock band posters plastering it. Metallica on one end and Lynyrd Skynyrd on the other. Various names that brought him comfort, "Can't always get what I want, right?" he muttered to himself, "But if I try, I might get what I need, right?"

When the new school week came, Castiel had found himself unable to focus. It had been like this for some time and he knew that he needed to face his inability to focus. He couldn't help it sometimes though. Maybe it was because of what had happened before, or maybe it was Dean and what had been said to him by Alastair. He didn't know. He didn't have a freaking clue what to think. He tapped the end of his pencil against his notebook, eying the blank page as his teacher spoke.

Maybe he had been harsh to believe everything that had been said to him, but what else was he supposed to do? Dean hadn't exactly seemed like the type of guy he was going to end up buddy-buddy with, right? He chewed on his bottom lip, trying hard to focus on the lesson at hand - but he couldn't. He could feel eyes on him and it made him feel incredibly awkward. Not to mention that Alastair guy had been hanging around him a lot and it was strange.

Sometimes he felt like Alastair was just being too nice. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but when he brought up the thing with Dean, he seemed to avoid the question. He was determined to figure out what that was all about. Castiel just didn't want to become too involved with the drama - though, he didn't think he had much of a choice. With how he had lashed out on Dean last week, he felt like he owed it to him to at least give him the benefit of the doubt.

Castiel glanced up, looking to the teacher when his words seemed to stop - it was then he realized that he was being spoken to, "Is there something you have on your mind that's more important then what I have to say?" he felt his words seize up and he realized he was being stupidly out of focus now. He shook his head in the negative, feeling like a moron, "Then would you kindly bring your mind out of the little fantasy land you've created for yourself and pay attention?"

Castiel chewed on his bottom lip again, annoyed by the teacher before him. Mr. Crowley was his name. He was a pain in the ass and he taught history - if Castiel had known he was such an ass, he probably wouldn't have chosen this class. Then again, this was high school. He couldn't wait to have the beauty of college beneath his feet. The idea of being away from high school drama was also incredibly appealing.

He was glad when the bell rang and he was free of the clutches his history teacher always seemed to have on him - the upside of the day was that he didn't have fifth period. It was nice, but not at the same time. His aunt and uncle were having him go see a therapist and it was something he didn't want to have to do. They felt it would be a good idea to have him talking to someone for his first year here... it was also one of the conditions of him moving in. He just didn't think they'd actually go through with it.

Either way, that was the plan for the rest of his day. He just needed to sign himself out - which was what he was planning on doing as he trotted up the steps to head to the office. As he opened up the double doors and rounded the corner, he bumped into someone and quickly turned around to apologize, "Ah! Sorry about that!"

"Don't worry about it," the other person said, just continuing to go down the stairs. Castiel wrinkled his nose a bit, realizing he'd just bumped into Dean. He sighed, watching the other boy disappear down the steps before going to the office. He kind of wanted to reconcile with him - but he needed to know about Alastair before he did that. Castiel shook his head, pushing open the door and stepped up the main desk, smiling to the secretary, "I have an appointment and won't be attending my final class. My aunt should have called in."

The secretary smiled at him, "What's your name?" she asked kindly.

"Castiel Novak," he watched as she turned in her seat and flipped through some papers. After pulling something free, she called the attendance secretary who confirmed it and sent him over to her to sign himself out. He would have to take the bus and he had a small piece of paper folded in the back pocket of his jeans that held the directions on how to get there.

After he had signed out, making sure to grab his bag from his locker, he headed outside. He didn't know the city that well and it was something he was going to have to get to know. Getting lost would not do himself any favours. Though, his saving grace seemed to be the bus stop sitting just outside the school. He smiled, nodding to himself as he adjusted the shoulder bag he wore and headed towards the stop - only to watch as the bus drove by before he reached it.

Castiel grumbled, taking a seat at the small bench outside the bus shelter when he got there, watching the other bus continue on down the street, "Just my luck I suppose." He was grateful for the sunshine at least as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He glanced up, looking towards the clear sky with a smile, "Maybe this.." he pushed his hand into his back pocket and pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it, "This Pamela Barnes isn't so bad."

"Who's Pamela Barnes?" Castiel lowered his gaze, practically jumping to the sudden voice. He looked to his left, spotting a tall guy standing there, "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," his voice was low and that's when he realized it was Dean's brother, Sam.

"You scared the crap out of me, Sam," Castiel said, shaking his head, "Don't you have class right now?" he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

Sam shook his head, taking a seat next to him, "Nope. Took that class over the summer, so I have a spare. Just waiting for Dean," he looked to Castiel, giving him a curious look now, "Seriously though, who's Pamela Barnes?"

Castiel folded the paper back up, shoving it in his back pocket again before sitting back down properly, "A family friend I'm heading to see," he lied purposely. He didn't want to tell someone he was just beginning to call a friend that he was on his way to see a therapist. There was no way in hell he would be doing something like that, "Haven't seen her since I was a baby I guess. My aunt told me she's expecting me and they're gonna come later," he gave a small shrug.

Sam chuckled, "Alright then," he couldn't tell if Castiel was lying or not, but he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, "I'm going to go ahead and guess that you haven't got a clue where you're going, right?"

Castiel smirked to this, shaking his head as he dipped it a bit, "Good guess to the one who's new in town. I jotted down some directions though, so I think I'm good," he looked over at Sam, the smirk still on his face.

The younger Winchester leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "The buses around here run pretty good. Don't worry. You may have missed the first one, but another will be coming around in a few," he said reassuringly, nodding his head at the same time.

"Good. I'm impatient when it comes to public transportation. Where I come from, it was pretty crappy," Castiel looked towards where the bus would be coming from and gave a small sigh, "And pretty crappy is putting it nicely, I guess." He looked over at Sam, noticing he seemed a bit distressed and raised an eyebrow, "Got something on your mind you might want to get out in the open?"

Sam looked at Castiel and took in a small breath, thinking carefully before he spoke. He didn't know how to say it to Castiel, nor if he wanted to truthfully, "I know I'm over stepping my bounds here, but I gotta ask if you spoke to Dean at all."

Castiel could have seen that coming from a mile away given how close the brothers seemed to be, "Did you come over here to talk to me about your brother, or is there something more?" he asked, trying to avoid the topic. He didn't really want to get into this conversation with Sam - not Dean's younger brother. It didn't seem right in Castiel's eyes. And he just didn't want to.

Sam sighed, looking away from Castiel, "No, I came over cause I wanted to talk, truthfully. I don't talk to a lot of people during my spare. There's a girl I used to talk to, but.." he hitched, drawing in a quick breath before biting his tongue to stop himself from speaking.

Castiel got that curious look on his face again and he couldn't help but to ask, "A girl?"

Sam hadn't meant to say that out loud, it had just slipped out, "Uh, yeah," he sat up right, crossing his arms over his chest. He shifted a bit awkwardly in his seat, "I don't talk about it much. It was something that happened a few weeks before you started here. It's not a big deal."

"Then why did you mention it?" Castiel asked.

Sam groaned, "I didn't mean to."

"But you still brought it up. You must want to talk about it."

"I don't."

"Then why are you still sitting here?"

"I'm not. The bus is coming."

Castiel rolled his eyes, getting to his feet as he pulled free some change. He looked to Sam, "If you ever want to talk about the mysterious lady friend, feel free to come to me. I have no one I'm going to tell and I have no reason to share," he smiled to Sam as the bus stopped in front of the shelter.

"Yeah, thanks," Sam said, watching as Castiel got on the bus. When the doors shut, he turned on his feet and headed back towards the school, running a hand through his hair, "Phew, that was a close one," he chuckled lightly, shaking his head, "Ruby would have killed me."

After nearly missing a transfer to a different bus route and then getting off a stop later than necessary, Castiel found himself standing outside his therapist's office; Pamela Barnes. He let out a sigh, heading inside the small building and following the directions given to him by the sign and going to the second floor and the fourth room. The main door was already opened and there was a woman sitting behind the desk around the corner.

He nodded his head, knowing that if he didn't go inside the office, he would only get in crap from his aunt and uncle. He took in a deep breath and approached the desk, watching as the red head's eyes met with his own, "Hi, I've never seen you here before, so I'm going to guess your new?" she asked with a bright smile.

Castiel wanted to wipe that smile right off her face. Who in their right mind would be happy to go and talk to a therapist? But he realized he was being rather crude and nodded his head, unable to smile, "Castiel Novak. My appointment started a couple minutes ago. I got lost."

The woman behind the desk nodded, "I'm Anna Milton, Pamela's secretary. And you're right on time in our books. She's waiting for you back through the main door," she said, pointing behind her and down a narrow hall, "I just need your health card and you can head in."

Castiel gave the weird woman his health card and headed down the hall, stepping inside Pamela's office and shutting the door behind him. The second he realized she wasn't actually in the room, he took in the appearance. The waiting room was all white with dark furniture - probably to make others feel comfortable. He thanked no one in particular for having to wait. He probably would have made a run for it if he would have had to wait.

There were books piled closely together on three different bookshelves - all the shelves were old and Castiel couldn't help but to wonder when they would fall, "I see you've spotted my books," he nearly jumped, turning around to look towards the brunette woman. That was twice he'd been scared today, "Sorry if I scared you," she seemed to be smiling and he was rolling his eyes inwardly to being apologized to twice today for the same damn thing.

"Don't worry about it," Castiel muttered out, approaching the chair. He didn't want to sit on the couch, it seemed as though it would make him feel like he was in one of those stupid movies if he did. His eyes fell onto Pamela's and he realized she was staring at him as well. He shifted a bit, placing his hands in his lap after setting his bag down on the floor.

Pamela gave him a curious look, "Your Castiel Novak? I'm Pamela Barnes," she said, extending her hands towards him. He looked to her hand and made no motion to greet it. He didn't like the idea of having a therapist and he didn't know if he was ready to entertain the idea quite yet, "Fair enough," she said, sitting back in her seat behind her desk.

The chair she sat in made a bit of a squeak and it caused Castiel's jaw to twitch. He didn't like how silent the room was or how warm he suddenly felt, "Why don't you tell me why you're here, Castiel."

Castiel nearly laughed to this question, "Isn't that what your job is about? Telling me why I'm here and why I'm so damaged and then throwing some type of medication my direction?" he scoffed, adjusting how he was sitting. Pamela took notice to it, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she shrugged, leaning back comfortably in her chair - which made Castiel feel uncomfortable.

He'd never had to go to a therapist before. He didn't know what it was like, and now that he was there, he wished he didn't have to be there more than ever, "Isn't that what you do?" Castiel said, "Divulge yourself into my personal life and ask me about my parents?" he didn't even think about what he was saying, "Ask me why I'm so hurt by their death and why I'm keeping myself quiet about it?"

Pamela was surprised by how quick Castiel was to lash out, but she was glad, "That depends, Castiel," she said, leaning forward carefully, "Do you want me to ask those things?" she rested her arms against her desk and clasped both of her hands together, "Why don't you tell me how you sleep at night instead?"

Castiel tilted his head slightly, giving Pamela a weird look. Was this lady serious? He had half a mind to walk out. Clearly his aunt and uncle were wasting their money, right? But curiosity got the best of him and he felt his breath hitch, "How I've been sleeping?" he said, restating the question. Pamela nodded her head, brushing some of her hair behind her ear.

The truth was that Castiel hadn't been sleeping well for some time now. Since his mother and father had both died, he hadn't felt the need to sleep. The bags under his eyes were evidence of this. He waited until his body couldn't take anymore of the stress and waves of tired and he would just pass out. He'd pass out for hours and be in a coma-like state, "I sleep alright," he muttered out, unable to look at Pamela as he said his little white lie.

Pamela wasn't stupid though, she knew he was lying, "Do you dream?" she asked simply, leaning back again.

Castiel looked to Pamela, shifting again in his seat. That was part of the reason he had been losing sleep. Every time he slept, all he could picture was what had happened. All he could he see was the both of them dying and him living. It was a burden he bore on his own and it was a nightmare he faced when he slept, "Define dream..."

Pamela nodded, thinking before she spoke. She could tell that Castiel was a stubborn one - but she had seen many like him before, though she would never say that, "Is that why you don't sleep at night, because you dream?"

Castiel appreciated that she was blunt, but also regretted asking. He felt his breath hitch again, and Pamela noticed. She leaned forward, a pen in hand as she jotted something down on paper. Castiel could only imagine the worst as the woman did so, envisioning something horrible about him being placed on the lines she wrote, "You could say that."

"Why don't you tell me about your dreams?"

Castiel looked at her, then at the clock, "How much time do we have?" he didn't see any other way than to just be out with it. Though, he wouldn't give her the details she wanted. It wasn't going to work that way. He wanted to get to know the woman before he began speaking about what he truly thought.

Pamela glanced at Castiel, her eyes meeting with his, "As long as you need," he was her last appointment of the day. And even if he was not, she would not put a time stamp on how long he had to talk. It would only deter him from speaking - she was well aware of that much.

School had ended and Dean was sitting outside on the bleachers, eyes on the rest of his teammates. He'd been sat out for the practice courtesy of getting tripped and then face planting into the ground. He could feel the scrape on the side of his face stinging from the dirt still sitting there. Logic said to go wash it off, but he didn't care as he watched the guys. His ankle stung as well, but that wasn't so bad. He could still walk, so it didn't bother him.

His eyes were on Michael, the guy who was filling his position as the ball went around. Of course he was the filler. It had been Rufus who had gone and tripped him like an ass after all, right? He shook his head, feeling a weight suddenly appear next to him. He looked beside him and rolled his eyes, "What do you want, Meg?" he said, sounding annoyed by her presence.

"Hey now, be nice. I came to see why the star is sitting out of practice so soon," she teased, looking to him and spotting the scrape. She shook her head, "Tsk, tsk, Dean. Got in a tussle while I wasn't here?" she muttered, reaching over to run her thumb across the scraped cheek.

Dean jerked his head away, swatting at her hand, "Give it a rest, would you?" he never really enjoyed her company. He found her persistent and annoying - sometimes, she reminded him of himself and that bugged him even more. Her hand rested on his shoulder instead and gripped it and he looked at her, "What the hell do you want?"

The whistle blew as Meg opened her mouth and she closed her mouth, shaking her head and withdrawing her hand, "Don't worry about it, Winchester. I'll bug you another day," she said, getting to her feet, "Clearly, you're still on your period," she stood up right, brushing off the back of black skinny jeans.

Dean couldn't help but to eye her from behind, then smirk as he looked back to the field, "I'm not on my ever-so-lovely manly period, Meg," he said, giving a small chuckle, "So, you can relax. I'm just annoyed."

Meg looked down at him and crossed her arms below her chest as she turned around, "Oh really? I couldn't have guessed. Let me guess though," she said, looking towards the field, then back to Dean, "Rufus?" she bit her bottom lip, raising an eyebrow in hopes that she had guessed correctly.

Had it really been that obvious to her? Dean looked up at her, giving her a curious look of his own, "Good guess," he said, shaking his head, "Definitely a Rufus job. The way things are going, I might bow out," he was sick of the looks he was getting in the locker room already. It hadn't even been two weeks. But to deal with the harassment of the football team was worse than anything - okay, maybe not Alastair.

Meg reached over and smacked Dean upside the head, earning a groan from the sudden contact, "You're such a moron. You're gonna bow out like a little bitch because you don't like the way people are treating you?" she laughed, "Hear I thought Dean Winchester had a little more spine in him than his baby brother. Guess not," she turned to walk away.

Dean sprang up and grabbed her arms, "What makes you think I'm a little bitch?" he said, narrowing his eyes.

Meg's eyes met with Dean's and she smirked, licking her bottom lip before speaking, "There's the Dean Winchester I know," she said, jerking her arm away from his grasp. She quickly reached up with one hand, cupping his jaw in her hand firmly. Dean eyed her, his expression unchanging, "Why don't we make a little wager?"

Dean blinked, "What kinda wager?" he muttered out from her grasp. Meg pulled her hand away gently, running her nails along his jaw line, "What on earth could we possibly make a bet about now?" he asked.

Meg had been notorious for making bets with Dean in the past, "You know what kind of bet I'm thinking," she said, taking a seat on the bench again. Dean couldn't help the curiosity inside him growing as he took a seat next to her. She reached over and placed on his leg, sliding it to the inside of his thigh with ease. It caused Dean to tense up as he looked to her, eying the field as well and thanking everything humanly possible that no one was looking, "I miss those days, Dean-o," she said, her voice slow and drawn out.

Dean grabbed Meg's hand and pulled it from his leg, placing it on her own lap, "I know the kind of bet you're talking about and I don't want to do it. The last bet we made when you got some sick idea, it ended up looking like I was cheating," he said, giving her a nasty look, "And you purposely set it up that way, didn't you?"

Meg took in a sarcastic gasp, cupping one hand over her mouth, "Well I never, Dean," she hissed, then dropped her hand, letting out a small laugh. She shook her head, pulling an elastic free from her hand, "I was merely thinking we could thicken the pot more than normal," she said, pulling her dark curls into a high ponytail, "I tell you who to go for, and if you win," she looked over to him grinning, "Four hundred bucks."

Dean blinked, looking at her like she was insane, "How the hell can you even afford that?" he seethed, trying to keep his voice down, "Four hundred bucks? Jesus Christ, and what the hell do I have to give you in return if I can't go through with it?" he looked back towards the field, noticing the coach was now looking at them, "And hurry up or you're gonna get me in shit."

Meg smirked, leaning in close to Dean's face so that he could smell the mint on her breath from whatever gum she'd been chewing earlier, "If you lose, I finally get what I want," she said, brushing her lips over his. She'd been trying to sleep with him for a long time now after a brief kiss they had shared at a party while Dean was drunk. For whatever reason, she wanted to mark Dean as a conquest.

Dean eyed the coach again who didn't look pleased he wasn't paying attention and he sighed, looking to Meg, "Who is it?" he asked, not agreeing to anything yet. He didn't even think he should be amusing her with an answer, but he couldn't help himself. As much as he wasn't a fan of Meg, they did have fun with this crap.

Meg leaned in, whispering into Dean's ear, "The new guy," she knew it would get under his skin and she knew he would be unable to say no. The elder Winchester sibling had a thing for new comers. She didn't know why, but it always amused her. She just wanted to see him fail so she could get what she wanted.

Dean placed both hands on Meg's shoulders and shoved her back, causing her to nearly fall off the bench. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him as he took in a deep breath, "No. No way. Not happening," he growled out, "Just go. I need to pay attention," he looked back towards the field, pissed.

"Fine," Meg grumbled, standing up again, "But I guarantee you'll be saying yes to the idea by tomorrow," she said, turning around to walk off, "Four hundred bucks, Dean-o," she lulled, walking away.

Dean could hear her whistling and the click of her boots against the cement pathway and all he wanted to do was drown the sound out. He knew who Meg had been talking about, which was why she had upped the usual price of just a hundred bucks. It was a little game they played, a game that had gotten them in shit together multiple times. But they didn't care.

Not this time though. Dean wasn't going to try and use Castiel just so he could get four hundred bucks from Meg. The guy had been kind enough to come over and apologize. Though, Dean had noticed something else had been going on with him. It seemed they all had something going on. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he thought about it. There was no way he could go through with something like that, right? Not after Castiel had apologized like that... right?

As Castiel's time with Pamela drew to an end, he found himself comfortable around her. It shocked him how quickly he found himself able to talk to her, but he was glad, "Thank you for today," he said, nodding his head as he got to his feet, "I know I didn't say much but-"

"That's how it works," Pamela said, purposely cutting him off, "Do you think I have others come in here and just open up themselves on the first sitting? It's all about patience and time. We've only just met. We have lots of time to get to know each other," she said, smiling to him.

Castiel nodded his head, "Okay, fair enough," he said, chuckling as he picked up his bag. He brought it over his head and rested the strap on his shoulder, looking to Pamela, "But thank you, as I said. I'll be here next week at the same time then?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Pamela nodded her head, "Same time as today - but I want you to do me a favor," she said, getting to her feet to show Castiel to the door, "I want you to talk to the boy you told me about today," she suggested, "It sounds like you need to start off on level ground, not a bumpy road that needs construction."

The woman had a point, Castiel knew that. He had already tried to talk to Dean, but when he had told him it had been Alastair to warn him about the guy's personality - well, he had stormed off. He didn't know what else he could say to Dean that would make him stick around instead of walking off. Besides, he didn't think Dean was exactly friendship material, "I can try that," he said, not sure if he was being honest or if he was just trying to leave.

After leaving Pamela's office and headed back to the bus stop, Castiel couldn't help but to think about what he would even say to Dean and what he had talked to Pamela about. He hadn't spoken about his parents but he had spoken about his encounter with Dean. It had been troubling him all weekend and it had stuck with him. He was glad that this was how he would be spending his Monday afternoons though - he had that much to be grateful for.

Though, he felt like an idiot for what he had done to Dean. He had explained to Pamela how stupid he felt for lashing out. And then he had tried to apologize, but Dean had taken the Alastair thing personal it seemed and walked off. Castiel just wanted to know what had happened there. Was Alastair someone Dean had burned? Had something more personal happened there that Castiel was not aware of? He shook his head, feeling a migraine coming as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

The bus came shortly after and Castiel climbed up the steps, heading straight towards the back after paying his fare. He decided that he had all week to try and make up for what had happened. He could relax for the evening and then he would try talking to Dean tomorrow or something. He groaned as he sat down at the back of the bus, slumping into the seat, "And how are you going to do that?" he breathed to himself, looking out the window.

Dean pulled his knapsack over both shoulders, limping towards the stairwell to head outside. He groaned a bit, placing his hand on the railing as he made his way up. He had thought about Meg's offer and he didn't see why he would go through with it. He would denying the offer. Castiel seemed like an alright guy after the brief moment he had spoken with him. Then again, he'd stormed off. What could he possibly know about someone he wasn't spending any time around?

"Hey, Dean," he felt a hand on his shoulder and he narrowed his eyes to the low voice, turning on the stairs to see Alastair standing there, "Leaving so soon? I was hoping you might stick around for a little celebration," Dean could hear the darkness inside that voice and it terrified him. He hated Alastair more than anything and he especially hated that the asshole had spoken to Castiel and ruined everything.

"Get off me," Dean seethed, trying to keep himself calm as his heart thudded against his chest - but Alastair didn't listen. The grip on Dean's shoulder tightened and he winced, "Ah! Hey!" he groaned, jerking his shoulder free, "Seriously, what's your problem?" he said, shoving Alastair back like he had before. First Meg and now Alastair was bugging him? He just wanted to go home.

Alastair smiled to Dean, leaning in again, "I would be nice if I were you. In case you haven't already noticed, Dean.. It's quite easy to turn people against you without barely lifting a finger," he lulled it out, bringing a hand up and trailing it down Dean's arm, "So, why not relax a little?"

Dean shuddered to the touch, eyes glued to Alastair's, "How about you back the hell off before I pound your face in? School property or not, I will kick the shit out of you," he knew his voice was shaky, but he was glad that Alastair raised both hands and stepped backwards.

"You ought to show me a bit more respect, Dean. You aren't where you used to be in this school," Alastair said with a sickly smile on his face. He turned and slowly went back down the steps, chuckling as he left the stair well.

The second he was gone, Dean let out a much needed sigh of relief and headed outside quickly, wasting no time to get off school property. He could see Sam waiting for him, but he stopped to look back behind him, "Turn people against me?" he mumbled, thinking about it for a second. It was Alastair's fault everyone was being a dick to him? He didn't know if he could believe that.

The only way that would be possible would be if Alastair had dirt on everyone. Which would take a lot of time and effort to do - and just to bug him? He didn't see the point in that. He shook his head, pulling out his phone and flipping it open. He scrolled through his contacts, faintly hearing Sam call out his name. He held up a finger, selecting the option to send Meg a text.. a text that simply say, 'I'm in.'

The only person who held the power to have someone hate him was Dean himself and he knew that. Alastair couldn't control anything. And if Castiel wanted to believe someone like Alastair without actually giving it a shot.. well.. then he'd make sure Castiel had a reason to hate him.