Growing up in a salvage yard, Dean muses, really prepares you for all the surprises life throws at you. Like the joyous surprises of finding a '67 Chevy Impala in pretty damn near mint condition between an old Ford truck and a VW Bus. Then again, you never know when you'll run across the equivalent to a dead raccoon under said car's backseat.

For Example:

Dean wakes up early, showers, dresses, brushes his teeth, spikes his hair and has made sure Sam has done all that he needs to do before seven o'clock on the first day of school.

Then the Salvage Yard That Is the Universe throws this at him: The first day of school is tomorrow.

Yeah, it's one of those days.

Walking into Lincoln High School for the first time was, well, sort of intimidating. The only advantage to the freshmen starting a day early is that they didn't need to worry about looking like fools in front of the upperclassmen.

The Thing with Lincoln High, is that Dean knows everyone. They've all been going to school together for ages, and there's no one interesting.

He thinks this until his fifth (and last) block class, Introduction to Physical Science, level A. IPS-A is the only non-honors class that he's taking, even though science is his best subject. (IPS-A is also his second class with Chuck, but Chuck isn't the person that disproves his thoughts of no-one-interesting.)

Dean is the first one to get to the class, located in room B-12 (because he has third lunch, which is also in the basement). It's a wide open room with one wall pretty much composed of window, and deep black counter tops line two sides of the room. On the whiteboard it says "IPS-A with Mister Marcoux" in black marker.

Thumping his now very heavy backpack, he sat down. He already had an Algebra book, an Ancient History book, a Latin book, a huge folder that the band director, Miss English, had given him with sheet music, and four notebook/binder thingies that they'd found at "Staples" while school shopping down on the table. He'd chosen the second row, close enough to pay attention, but far enough away to not be a goodie-goodie (considering there were only five rows). Each table was heavy, with flame retardant tops, and three tall, blue swivel chairs.

As Dean pulled out the blue notebook/binder thingy, he heard a soft voice ask, "Do you mind if I sit here?" Dean looked up. Where there had previously been empty space stood a short boy with dark hair. His large blue eyes looked pleading. He noticed there were only two seats left, one seat was next to him (on the side that didn't currently have a Chuck) and the other was next to a lanky girl with no hair and face piercings, whom was obviously not a freshman.

"Yeah, dude, no problem. So," Dean paused and turned his whole body towards the smaller boy, "when'd you move here?"

"About a month ago. My father had some problems with his old per-"

"Alright, class, sorry I'm late, I had some issues at lunch," said a silver haired man Dean was guessing was Mister Marcoux. "I just want to go over some classroom rules and the syllabus. Any worksheets we'll be doing in the day is going to be on the table by the door..."

"...and then Andy is like, 'Well at least by friends actually like me!'" (Here Sam pinches his nose to mimic Andy's supposedly broken nose.) "and Ava is like, 'Well at least my mom loved me enough to keep me!' And, of course, Andy got upset, but he didn't get to do anything because Misses Rourke came over and sent them both to the Principals office."

Bobby sighed and muttered, "Idjit boy," under his breath, but Dean heard him. Out loud, Bobby added, "Sounds like 'n interestin' firs' day." He made a gesture for Dean to pass him the mashed potatoes. "So, talkin' 'bout firs' days, how was your's, Dean?"

"Fine. I have first block with Vic and last block with Chuck. I have no one to hang out with at lunch. Band is a class credit though, so that's cool. The director is kinda..." Dean took a bite of food and tried to think of word that Bobby wouldn't give him the glare strikeof death/strike that he gives when Dean is being 'disrespectful'. "...kooky. There's a new kid, this year. Name's Castiel Milton." (As Dean had learned during name call) "He's in my science class. He seems okay."

They've done this every day since Dean can remember, sitting around the table, talking about their days. It didn't matter that they spent most of their days together, or that the stories are inane, they're a family, and thats what families do.

"All right." Bobby said, picking up his empty plate. "'Member, Dean you're on dish duty, Sam you gotta clean your room, don't forget to do your homework." Bobby was walking towards the door and grabbing his keys while saying this.

Sam put on confused face #3, and asked, "Where are you going?"

Bobby gave 'Why did I agree to raise children again' face #7.

"He's going to tow that car from Ladner for Pastor Jim."

"Right. Well. See you boys tomorrow." Bobby patted them both on the shoulder, got a pinched look on his face for a moment, and pulled them both into a hug. "Jim'll be 'ere in the morning to take you to school, and'll pick you up by the big tree in the park a block away from the Middle School at three-thirty."

"Okay, Bobby. We'll be there," Dean said, all but pushing him out the door.

Bobby looked doubtful for a second, one eyebrow rising beneath the brim of his trucker hat. Dean rolled his eyes. "I won't be late, Bobby. That's a whole hour to make it six blocks."


"I won't be late!"

Dean didn't know what to think of Castiel Milton. Really. The guy was a dick, but he didn't seem to realize it. Like, at all. It all started this morning in XCB.

XCB was short for Extra Curricular Block; XCB was an eighty minute block at the beginning of the day, before homeroom. It was as it sounded, a block for people with extra curricular activities to do what they did. People in any one of the five school bands (school band, pep band, marching band, jazz band, and orchestra) met in the band room every day, football players met on the football field to do what football players do when they're not playing (Dean may know his way around a car, he's tough, he runs, he doesn't, however, know anything about football).

Dean is a band person. Dean plays in the school band (the only one you can get a credit for), the marching band, jazz band, and the orchestra. In the school band and the marching band, he playsa href=".org/wiki/Baritone_saxophone" baritone saxophone./a For the orchestra and jazz band, he plays a href=".org/wiki/Double_bass"double bass or a href=".org/wiki/Viola"viola/a. Well, at least he plans to. He put his name on the audition list.

Playing Bari is pretty rare among young kids, so when Dean decided to play that in middle school, his band director jumped at the chance. Double bass? Pretty much the same. Only Chuck had chosen double bass along side him, in fifth grade. It's how they became friends.

XCB is awesome. The instructors (there were two: Miss English, jazz and marching band; Miss Crowley, orchestra and pep band, they switched off school band) told them that school band would be on Monday, pep band would be on Tuesday, Jazz band would be on Thursday, and Orchestra is on Friday.

Castiel hadn't been in XCB on the first day. This was explained on the second.

"Okay, kids, today I'm going to hand out sheet music for the winter concert," Miss Crowley said. As she started toward the desk against the far wall to grab said music, there was a knock on the door. "Come in!"

There stood Castiel Milton. "Hello, I-My schedule wasn't quite fine-tuned yesterday, and I didn-"

"Oh, okay," she smiled, "I take you have a pass from Guidance?" Miss Crowley stretched out a hand, palm up.

"Yes, right here, ma'am," he took a small piece of paper from the side pocket of his satchel bag and handed it to her.

"So! What do you play?"

"Piano, oboe, harp, violin, and cello."

Dean's eyes widened, he looked over to Chuck, and saw equal surprise. Miss Crowley didn't seem to know what to say.

"Uh-Well, do you prefer one?"

"For orchestral music I prefer harp."

"Okay, um, there's one here, don't wanna have to carry one of those around, huh? I was just about to pass out music, so just set your self up. There are a couple songs that a harp won't fit, but a cello would fit nice, would you mind?"

"Not at all, ma'am." Jesus who was this guy? Like, seriously. Dean was starting to think he was a robot, he never showed any emotion. That or a Vulcan.

"Okay, so the music!" She turned around and grabbed the large stack. "Violins! Here ou are Cast- How do you pronounce this?"

"Cast-E-L Milton."

"Thanks, here. For now sit with the violins, I need to get you harp music."

"Thank you." He came over and sat next to Dean. "You're in my fifth block."

"Yeah, so, you play a lot of instruments?" Dean asked, wondering why exactly he plays five instruments at fourteen.

"Yes, my father insisted." Castiel paused, "Viola, right?"

"Yeah, violin was pretty popular, and viola is just a perfect fifth lower, so I-" Dean started to explain, until Castiel interrupted.

"No, she called your instrument."

"Oh!" Dean shot out of his seat, and walked up to Miss Crowley, got the music, and went back to his seat. "Anyways, I did double bass (still do actually) the first year I was in orchestra, and decided I wanted to do something new. I mean, I love double bass, but I want to be a-" This time Dean cut himself off. He hadn't even told Chuck this. Hell, not even Bobby. Or Sam. But it just felt right. Like Castiel was the Impala, not the raccoon in the Salvage Yard of Life. "I want to be a music teacher, and you need to know a lot of instruments for that."

Castiel cocked his head to the side. "Why do want to be a music teacher? Teacher's don't get paid much, and well... Men don't usually make a very good music teacher."

Or maybe he was the dead raccoon.

A/N: Sorry If I didn't reply to your review.