Eye Color and Dean Winchester

“I don’t like dogs.” Castiel Mizrahi was sitting across from Dean Winchester, star football player and babe-magnet of Grady High. Castiel had originally intended to ask Dean about the team’s progress that year, but they had ended up telling each other random facts about their lives. Now the jock was staring at him, eyes wide, incredulous that anyone could possibly dislike dogs. “What the hell?!” he managed to sputter. “Everyone likes dogs! Even Hitler liked dogs! I would bet you a million bucks that satan likes dogs. So how could you not like them??” Castiel chuckled to himself. “I don’t know, Dean. Maybe because they’re slobbery, and smelly, and-” “Okay, okay, spare me the gory details,” Dean interjected, laughing in spite of himself. Cas smiled. Then he remembered why he had come to see the underclassman in the first place. He cleared his throat. “Well, I know we’ve been having fun, but I do have a few questions to ask you about this football season. I’m writing a column for the school paper and it-” Dean cut him off again. “Oh sure man, it’s not a problem. Go for it.” Cas sighed, a bit frustrated with Dean’s seeming lack of patience, and pulled out a notepad.
As Castiel drove home from school that afternoon, his mind began to wander. His old Ford Taurus rattled unsettlingly on the poorly constructed road, and the feeling was all too familiar. He had often driven this way to visit the grave of the one person he would have died for. It had been a year since his best friend Brian had died in a car accident, but he still found himself missing him whenever there was a lull in his day. He had taken great care to fill his hours with study and school projects, but he couldn’t escape the long drives and sleepless nights that hounded him wherever he went, driving him further and further into solitude and loneliness. Often, the only way to escape his memories was to remember something good, but today, nothing came to mind as quickly and easily as the chocolate brown