In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Dare Elsewhere

Dean Talks to Cas for the First Time

Castiel thought about running home, but he felt flustered and exhausted and wasn't up to making the two-and-a-half mile trek. And although he already had his driver's license, without a car of his own it was useless. He certainly couldn't bother his mother at work, either. Instead he decided he would go to his quiet lunch spot and hide until it was time to go home. He couldn't face the rest of his classes that day and wondered what would happen to him. He'd never skipped school or classes before.

He was angry and humiliated. The more he thought about what happened, the more frustrated he got. He felt like crying, but he was so pissed off he grabbed a nearby branch and smashed it against a tree trunk instead. The branch burst into a thousand dry splinters, and he kept swinging and swinging until there was nothing left. Pieces of wood crumbled in his hands, and he collapsed to his knees from the effort.

His ribs hurt from where he hit the banister, so he used his backpack for a pillow and curled up in the needles under the pine tree where he normally ate lunch. All the stress of the morning overtook him, and he eventually fell asleep.

When he woke the sun was overhead and his stomach was growling. He grew angry again when he realized he would miss lunch because of stupid Alastair and because of his impulsive reaction to that morning's incident. He was trapped until school let out.

Castiel dug out his sketchbook and tried to get some work done. He wished he could do an installation as one of his art projects. He imagined hanging up a canvas of Alastair's ugly, evil face and then smearing it with black and red paint. And then shooting it with arrows. And maybe setting it on fire. That was how he was feeling right now.

He turned over and decided to practice his shadowing by sketching a fallen pine cone when he spotted someone walking across the baseball field. Castiel saw the leather coat and its turned-up collar and sunk down onto his stomach behind the trees. This time, though, Dean didn't stop at third base or the bleachers. He continued to walk right past the clay and into the outfield.

How Dean had found him was the least of his concerns. Castiel couldn't move deeper into the woods because Dean would certainly see him get up. He knew he wouldn't be able to outrun a guy who played baseball and, from the looks of him, probably lifted weights.

Heart in his throat, Castiel tried to slink back to find better cover. The copse of pine trees didn't afford him much concealment at all. He tried to skitter backwards, but Dean easily hopped the high outfield fence, and in three quick strides he was standing there, looking down at Castiel.

"Hey — "

Castiel rolled over and came to his feet. He quickly glanced around and went for a fallen branch as thick as his arm. He put a tree between him and Dean for protection, and held up the branch, ready to swing.

"Don't!" Castiel yelled, his voice close to breaking. "Don't you dare touch me! I don't want to hit you, but I will not hesitate to defend myself! I don't care what happens. I won't let you hurt me!"

"I'm not gonna touch you, man."

"Were you waiting all this time to get me alone? Is that it? Is that what you and Alastair were planning?"

Castiel's stomach lurched. The rush of adrenaline had him trembling, which wasn't making much of an impression that he could, in fact, defend himself. All he could think about was that no one knew of his secret lunch spot, and if Dean beat him up out here, there was a very good chance he wouldn't be found. That scared him more than possibly smashing a large tree branch over Dean's head.

Dean held up his hands. "Calm down, okay? I'm not doin' anything to you. I don't wanna hurt you."

Castiel was near panic and shouted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"You'll excuse my disbelief as to the veracity of that statement!" he yelled, still holding up the branch.

"You...huh?"

"I don't believe you!"

"Look, I'm not with Alastair or whatever it is you're talkin' about. After what happened this mornin', I came out here to see if you were all right."

"I'm just splendid." Castiel balanced the tree branch in one hand and lifted the edge of his shirt to show off the ugly black and purple bruise blossoming across his ribs.

Dean sucked air through his teeth. "That looks like it really — "

"How did you know where to find me?" Castiel asked angrily.

"It was during my first day a few weeks ago. You eat your lunch out here, right? I followed you."

"I remember. I saw you. Why?"

"I dunno," Dean answered. "I was standing there on my first morning talking with Coach Zazel and I heard what Alastair said to you. I felt bad after I saw him shove you like that. I wanted to come talk to you. I wasn't really sure what to say though, so I kinda chickened out and sat on the bleachers until the bell rang instead."

"Oh, you felt bad? Well, thanks for letting me know," Castiel said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I should have said somethin' before now."

"What about over the past two weeks as Alastair kept shoving me into the lockers or calling me 'fag' and 'queer' while you stood there and watched? Or did you take a sudden interest in my well-being only after he tripped me earlier today hoping the stairwell banister would cut me in half?"

Dean couldn't meet his eyes. "I didn't — "

Castiel shook his head, and everything that had been building from that morning's humiliation came rushing to the surface.

"Why should it bother you that the kid everyone hates is getting terrorized? I'm a freak and a loser and a fag and whatever else they call me, isn't that correct? I'm nothing to you!" he yelled, pointing his finger at Dean. "Life for you at Flour Bluff will be easy. You'll hang out with the captain of the baseball team and be both feared and admired. You'll be popular, because you're handsome and athletic, and those two attributes alone will elevate your social status. And even if you can't spell your own name no one will care as long as you're not fat or covered in pimples, or wear glasses or need braces or look and talk weird! Look at yourself. You're...you're perfect!"

Dean looked up at that. "You don't know me. I'm nowhere near perfect."