AN: So this fic was requested by the lovely maggiemoooo. I don't know how long it'll be, but we'll see where it goes (: Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Castiel flopped down into his seat with a sigh. It was the first day of his senior year at high school, and he was already wishing it were summer vacation again. He had just this one class left before lunch. Unfortunately, it was art, his worst subject. Castiel had put it off until he was forced to take it in order to graduate. It wasn't that he wasn't an artistic person- he just couldn't get the image in his mind on to the paper in front of him.

The bell rang, and everyone rushed to find a seat. Castiel slumped down in his chair, resigned to the hour ahead of him. Luckily, he had snagged a seat in the back of the room. Cas was typically a good student- attentive, respectful, well behaved. But he couldn't bring himself to care for art class. As far as he was concerned, the class was a waste of his time. He wasn't going to become a painter, so why should he have to sit through the course?

The teacher got up from her seat to stand at the front of the room. She cleared her throat, effectively quieting her students. Of course, with his luck, Castiel had been put in Ms. Tate's class. She was notoriously strict and short-tempered.

"Good day, everyone," Ms. Tate said. "As I'm sure you all know, my name is-" She was cut off when the door opened suddenly. A boy walked in, around Castiel's age. He was wearing a pair of well-worn jeans, along with a simple black t-shirt under a hunter-green button down and a pair of worker's boots. The front of his brown hair was spiked up, but it still looked soft and feathery. Beneath the hair, his face was scattered with sandy freckles. He had some light stubble, unlike Castiel, who was completely clean-shaven. At this point, Castiel was convinced he would never have facial hair. His skin had always been baby soft and it showed no signs of changing now.

The boy handed Ms. Tate a slip of paper and walked straight to the back of the classroom without saying a word. He dropped his bag at the open desk next to Castiel and sat down, staring resolutely at his desk. As he sat, Castiel caught a glimpse of his bright green eyes. Castiel glanced back towards Ms. Tate, sure she would be furious that this new student would just walk in and seat himself without so much as a sound. However, Ms. Tate read the note she had been handed, a look of pity growing on her face. When she finished reading, she set the note on her desk and continued where she had left off.

"My name is Ms. Tate. While you are in my classroom, there will be no speaking while I am speaking. I'm sure many of you have prepared for a simple class in which you can goof off. However, you will spend each day working diligently. Work is to be turned in on time, no exceptions. We will go over the focus of each piece in class before you are given an assignment to complete. While you are working, you are welcome to speak or listen to music if you have headphones, but if things start to get out of hand, these privileges will be revoked immediately. Is this understood?"

"Yes, Ms. Tate," the class chanted obediently. Castiel glanced over at the new student. He hadn't raised his eyes from his desk. In fact, he hadn't shown any acknowledgment to anyone at all.

"Good," Ms. Tate responded. "Since today is your first day back, I'll go easy on you. Your assignment is to create any work of art you choose. The style, subject, and medium are up to you entirely." She turned and wrote the instructions on the white board behind her. "This will be due at the end of class today," she said, writing the due date on the board as well. "Begin."

Everyone in the class jumped out of their seat. Castiel trudged to the supply cabinet, pulling out a plain sheet of a paper and box of crayons. He returned to his seat, prepared to draw a simple stick figure, maybe with a sun in the corner of the sheet of the paper. When he sat down, he saw the boy next to him had pulled out a well-used sketchbook. Castiel looked over the boy's shoulder as he flipped through the book to a clean sheet. What Castiel saw amazed him; each page was filled with beautiful artwork like nothing he had ever seen.

The boy looked up and saw Castiel watching him. He shifted in his desk, turning so Castiel couldn't see what he was drawing. Cas flushed slightly, realizing he must have seemed like a creep.

"Sorry," he said. "I promise I'm not a weirdo stalker or anything. My name's Castiel."

The boy didn't respond, eyes still glued to his sketchbook. Castiel watched him for another moment before turning to his own work. He doodled mindlessly with the crayons. When he was done, he picked up his work and turned it in. He had drawn two little stick people standing next to each other on crudely drawn grass with a few flowers sticking up. Over the top of the page, he had drawn a cliché rainbow, with one cloud at each end of it. Castiel returned to his seat and glanced back at the new kid.

The quiet boy had done his drawing in pencil. It was a beautiful sketch of a man. He was turned the side, his head bent so his face was hidden. His shadow was cast on to a wall. The figure was a regular man, but upon looking again, Castiel saw the shadow had a set of wings.

The bell rang, announcing their dismissal for lunch. No doubt jarred out of his trance by all the commotion, the boy looked up and glanced around confusedly. When he saw everyone leaving, he quickly gathered his things up. He hurried to the door, turning in his work as he went. Castiel grabbed his bag quickly, meaning to introduce himself again.

"Hey, wait!" he shouted as the new boy reached the door. Just as he had before, the boy ignored him. "I just want to talk to you!" Cas continued, hurrying to the door. When he looked down the hallway, the boy was already gone.