There was a back-to-school excitement thrumming through the halls of Lawrence Free State High that Dean had never learned to understand. He longed for endless summers, sticky as they were, where he and Charlie and Sam could stay up all night watching every episode of Star Trek known to man and devouring as much junk food as their teenage stomachs could possibly hold. And sure, they had spent the most recent summer doing just that, but it hadn't been long enough. Not for Dean.

As the last day of summer had ebbed into night, Dean had stared out his window at the inky Kansas sky and sighed, willing the sun not to return. With the sun would come school, and school meant grades and teachers and curfews and homework, none of which were on Dean's "Things That Are Awesome" list.

But despite Dean's efforts to wish away the Monday that would bring the first day back to school, it was inevitable, and so, there he was, backpack slung over one shoulder, Charlie jabbering away at his side, and swarms of his peers congregating in groups around him.

"I think today's meeting, aside from welcoming all of our new members and tipping our hats to the old ones, should include a strict set of rules that must be followed," Charlie said as she and Dean approached their lockers.

"Such as?"

"Well, for starters, we should discuss the reduction of LARPing in the hallways. After what happened with Andy last year, Principal Colt said he'd dispel our club immediately if we weren't more careful. I tried to explain to him it's not our fault Andy actually thought he had Jedi Mind Powers, but he wouldn't listen." Charlie already had her locker open and was hanging pictures of her and Dean, her favorite comic book characters, and images of her Hunter Heroici character, Codex, to the slick metal walls. Dean scowled at the photo of him in an extravagant crown sitting crooked on his head that had been taken during the LARPing championships the year prior but didn't ask her to remove it.

"Andy's a nut job," Dean commented with a smirk reminiscing on what the Fandom Club now fondly referred to as 'the incident.'

"Andy's on a Buffy kick as of late; he's got the hots for Sarah Michelle Gellar, which I can't say I blame him for, but hopefully he doesn't start thinking he's the Master and try to suck someone's blood," Charlie retorted. She looked over at Dean for a response but found his gaze trained on a locker down the way from them as he watched Castiel Milton shove a huge stack of thick course books into the small locker space. It was only the first day of school, but Castiel was notorious for cramming all summer and then showing up the first day of school having already studied for the first week of classes. When Castiel shouldered his obviously lighter messenger bag and hurried off in the direction of the auditorium for the junior orientation meeting, Dean turned his attention back to Charlie, immediately glowering at the look of pity on her face.

"Don't," he said closing his locker with a definitive click. "Not one word."

It was a conversation they had often. Dean had been hung up on Castiel since they'd first met several summers ago when they were ten and eleven. Charlie had been vacationing in Deleware that summer, but she'd remembered the aftermath clearly and had never let Dean forget how things had ended and how hurt he had been. It was her way of protecting Dean from trying to reach out to Castiel again, as he sometimes did, but the reminders still stung.

Charlie sighed but kept her comments to herself and looped her arm through Dean's, leading him in the direction of the auditorium.

~..~

Orientation was boring. No one understood why the school even offered a junior orientation in the first place. It wasn't as if they were new to school or about to graduate. As far as they were concerned, it'd be another year of the same stuff they'd been doing for the past two years. Nonetheless, all the juniors were gathered together in the auditorium, listening to the junior class president, Balthazar Roché, ramble on in his better-than-you British accent about how excited he was to be back and what a great year it was going to be.

Looking around to confirm no teachers had their eye on him, Dean pulled from his backpack the EMF meter he had made while he and Charlie had been deeply enthralled in the X-Files a few months back and pretended to scan the air for any supernatural presences. When he turned to the student next to him, Uriel Wisdom, and scanned the other boy's arm, the EMF meter roared to life, a shrill whine sounding through the air. Uriel turned and fixed his cold, unforgiving eyes on Dean, his face a mask of un-amused.

"It's a sexy meter," Dean improvised harboring a laugh. "Your reading is off the charts."

Next to him, Charlie covered her mouth with the handouts they had been given and sank deep into her seat, trying to suppress the giggles that were bubbling in her throat. Dean nudged her in the side with a smile on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Castiel a few seats down from Uriel, his blue gaze focused fiercely on Balthazar, almost as if he was doing everything in his power to ignore Dean and his antics, as usual. Dean didn't realize he was staring again until he was being jabbed in the ribs by Charlie.

"Quit pining," she hissed. "It's beneath you."

"I'm not pining," he countered, pulling his eyes away from the other boy. "I'm just... observing."

Charlie shook her head but didn't push the issue.

~..~

At lunch, the Fandom Club, which had been co-founded by Dean and Charlie two years prior, held their first meeting of the year in the auditorium under the ever watchful eye of Miss Missouri, the drama teacher. Since Drama Club didn't start for another week, she had allowed them to use her space under the condition they be respectful and clean up after themselves.

As students clambered in from the halls, some returning from last year, others new to the club, Charlie (who was the president) made it a point to greet and speak to every single one. Dean on the other hand (the less enthusiastic vice president) sat near the back of the auditorium with his iPod on and his feet dangling over the seat in front of him, his scuffed Converse tapping in time to Back in Black. He wasn't paying much attention to the students filing in for the meeting until Castiel walked in. At the sight of the boy's tell-tale sweater vest and smart black oxfords, Dean nearly leapt from his seat, yanking the earbuds out of his ears. It took him no time at all to decide that speaking to Castiel, something he'd been asked not to do years ago by the boy himself, would be a good idea.

"Hey-a, Cas," he said, walking up to his fellow class mate. Castiel, who was looking around with a slight look of irritated confusion on his face, turned his gaze to Dean.

"It's Castiel," he stated cooly. "You know that." And for some reason, even though the two had known each other for years, Castiel still insisted on acting like they hardly knew each other, as if they hadn't been living down the street from one another for most of their lives.

"Okay, Castiel," Dean corrected himself somewhat sarcastically. "Are you here for the meeting?"

"No. I'm here to interview some of the members. I'm writing a piece for the school newspaper on the different clubs Lawrence Free State High offers," he explained. "But it's amusing you thought I was here for the meeting."

"Amusing how?"

"Just that you thought I'd be interested in this sort of thing," Castiel stated, waving his hand in the air at the students talking animatedly about aliens and lycanthropes and W.O.W. strategies.

Dean's eyes narrowed, and his temper flared. It was easy for him to forget how quickly Cas got under his skin when he'd grown so used to observing him from a distance. But with the other boy standing right in front of him, flinging the same old insults Dean had heard all his life, he remembered why he'd told himself over and over to forget about Castiel Milton and his stupid blue eyes and perpetually messy hair and move on. "What do you mean by 'this sort of thing?'" Dean questioned. "If I remember right, and I know I do, you spent almost an entire summer hanging out with me and doing 'this sort of thing' every day."

There was a brief moment where Castiel's eyes shrouded with memory and a sadness overcame his features, but it was so fleeting, Dean almost didn't catch it.

"Yes, well, you see how deeply that affected me," Castiel pointed out and then continued, "Dean, you can't possibly tell me you think this club is important. It doesn't mean anything. What do you get out of discussing non-existent character's relationships and acting out fictitious wars in ridiculous costumes? This club will get you nowhere in life. You can't obtain a scholarship for participating in such frivolous activities, and unless you plan to attend the local community college, it might do you well to think more about what will benefit your future."

"Not everything is about scholarships and college, you know!" Dean retorted and maybe it wasn't his best comeback to date, but his blood was boiling with anger and his words had barely even made it out of his mouth fully formed to begin with.

"No, only the important things are," Castiel retorted, and then he was spinning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction from which he came. Dean slumped back over to his seat and seethed as he watched Castiel ask Ronald and Jo what had made them want to be a part of the Fandom Club. He barely made eye contact with them in exchange for writing down their quotes, but Dean doubted Ronald or Jo noticed. When he felt the seat next to him shift under someone's weight he turned to find Charlie with a sympathetic expression in her eyes.

"Still an ass, huh?" she questioned.

Dean huffed, "The assiest."

~..~

After his run in with Dean at lunch, Castiel was in a foul mood. He always was after talking to Dean, which is why he avoided him as completely as possible. He hated the twist in his stomach he got whenever Dean was in close vicinity and how nearly impossible it was not to get distracted by Dean's thick eyelashes and kiss-me lips.

As he headed out of the auditorium, paying absolutely no attention to where he was going, he ran smack dab into a wiry, solid frame.

"I apologize," Castiel said looking up. When he saw Balthazar's ever-smirking blue eyes looking down at him concerned, he relaxed.

"What's the matter, Cassie? You look like you've had your feathers ruffled."

"I'm fine," Castiel grumbled, "other than the fact that I just spent my lunch hour listening to my peers ramble on about something called a TARDIS and whether or not Ewoks, which are apparently some form of small warrior bears, would make good pets."

Balthazar side-eyed him with a questioning glance as they headed down the hall to their next classes.

"I was interviewing members of the Fandom Club," Castiel supplied.

"And that's what's making you so pleasant?" Balthazar questioned with a knowing air in his tone. He and Castiel had been good friends for a long time; not much got past him anymore. "Dean's a member isn't he? Did you speak to him?" he asked in a voice he meant to sound casual.

There was a pause before Castiel responded, "Unfortunately."

"And?"

"And nothing, Balthazar," Castiel replied in a clipped tone. "You know how much he irritates me; I would prefer not to discuss him."

Balthazar threw his hands up in a receding gesture. "Just asking," he said before dropping the subject.

Castiel shook his head at him, "You're never 'just asking.'"

Summers in Kansas were always hot and sticky. That's why Dean usually opted to stay inside and veg out in front of video games and the Sci-Fi channel rather than run around with a bunch of sweaty dudes and a ball like Sam.

During a typical summer, Dean and Charlie could spend hours exercising demons or hunting down shape shifters on Hunter Heroici, the online role playing game they played, or talk Sam into playing Risk with them and then ganging up on him and destroying all his armies. But, this was not a typical summer. Charlie's parents had decided to vacation in Delaware, and Sam was at a nerdy science camp for the weekend, so Dean was left aberrantly alone.

"I'm bored, Mom," Dean said as he dramatically sprawled the top half of himself across Mary's kitchen counter. The smell of chocolate chip cookies had brought Dean down out of his bedroom, but he was disappointed to find them still in the oven when he arrived downstairs.

"Why don't you go outside? Get some fresh air?" Mary asked, pulling the cookie sheet from the oven much to Dean's delight.

"Too hot," Dean mumbled, half his face squished against the cool surface of the counter.

Mary scooped several gooey cookies off the sheet and onto a plate before covering them with some plastic wrap. "Do you think you could bear the heat to walk these down to the new neighbors? I think they have a boy your age, maybe you can make a new friend," Mary stated, setting the plate down in front of Dean. Steam was clinging to the inside of the plastic wrap, fogging the inside.

"I don't need new friends. I have Charlie and Sam."

"Maybe he needs a new friend," Mary pointed out. "And maybe there will be some fresh cookies for you when you get back."

"Fine," Dean grumbled as he lifted himself off the counter and picked up the plate. Mary ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head before he scampered outside. Dean headed down the street to where the new neighbors had just moved in. The house had been empty for years, but Dean figured someone new had moved in when he'd seen the upstairs bedroom light on from his own bedroom a few nights ago.

Approaching the new family's home, Dean saw a boy around his age, maybe a year older, with dark hair bent over the trunk of a sleek, taupe Audi, rummaging through boxes. He stood up and looked at the boxes forlornly, his eyebrows pulled together in deep thought.

"Don't think too hard, your forehead will end up lookin' like Yoda if you do."

The boy spun around, startled by Dean's comment, and looked at Dean, his bright blue eyes taking Dean a little by surprise. "I've misplaced something," the boy explained, surveying Dean and eyeing the plate of cookies in Dean's hands.

"What'd you lose?"

"A book."

"Which book?"

"The Odyssey."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "The Odyssey? What are you doing reading that?"

"I enjoy Greek poetry," the boy said as if reading advanced poetry was normal eleven-year-old behavior. "I finished The Iliad last week, and I'd like to continue the story."

Dean nodded his head slowly, eyeing the boy carefully. He'd definitely not ever met another kid like this one before. "Well, my mom sent me over with cookies to welcome you guys to the neighborhood. I live in that house," Dean said pointing out his house. He handed the cookies to the other boy.

"Please express our gratitude to your mother," the boy said, and Dean laughed because what eleven-year-old talked like that?

"Sure." Neither of them made a move to return to their respective afternoons but instead stood staring at one another.

Finally, it was Dean who broke the silence. "I could help you look for your book," he said. Originally he'd had every intention of dropping off the cookies and running right back to the confines of his own home, but honestly, the kid looked lonely and Dean was itching to find out what he was all about. When Castiel tilted his head at him, Dean spluttered out, "I mean, if you want. Help- that is. If you want help. I could help you."

"Okay," the boy responded slowly, sizing Dean up as if trying to decide whether to trust him or not.

"I'm Dean, by the way," Dean said, realizing they'd been speaking to one another for a good few minutes and neither of them knew the other's name.

"Castiel," the other boy introduced quietly as if ashamed of his unique name. Dean's face brightened, a smile breaking across his mouth.

"That's a badass name," he said. Castiel positively beamed at him.