Shuffling down the hall with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, Dean slides passed jerks in jerseys and laughing roommates as he heads to his assigned room. Behind him, Sam is fumbling with the campus map. The halls here are narrow, and the doors are heavy and locked with keycards. That gave Dean some comfort. At least he didn't have to worry about being busted in on by any morons – or ghosts. As far as they knew. They hadn't even scoped the place out, and Sam was signing him up for classes. There could be wraiths for teachers here, dammit, and Sam refused to listen.
They passed 104, 105… and 106's door was gaping open. Dean looked at his schedule. Room 106 was his place. They stepped up to the doorway and poked their heads inside. A kid was at the desk, unloading something, and his dark hair was ruffled and sticking in every direction. No parents to be seen, just him. When they leaned in further to take a look at the cramped space, the kid looked up, alarmed. He had cloudy blue eyes shielded with wariness and an open, innocent face curling with stubble. He didn't look so tough.
"Hey there. Dean Winchester." Dean said with a smile. "I'm your new roommate."
The kid's alarm faded into curiosity. "Castiel," he replied in a deep voice, gravelly and coarse. "Castiel Novak. It's a pleasure."
Dean tosses his backpack onto the empty bed and turns to see the messy - but cozy - looking things covering Castiel Novak's side of the room. Blankets and pillows and posters of bands he'd never heard of. The Beatles. Queen. There is a plethora of sketchbooks and pencil boxes full of huge looking crayons and black sticks under his bed, as well. A blue microwave sat on the top of the dresser they would share and a laptop was covered in wires on the desk in front of where his roomie sat.
Realizing he was staring at everything, Dean mustered a smile for the curious look Cas was giving him and went back to his backpack. "You sure got a collection going." He offered, to explain his awry observing.
"It's not much, but it's what I've got," Cas replied evenly. "I... its just life I collected." Dean felt his eyes on him, back turned, hands rummaging through his few sets of clothes. "You only brought one bag?"
"Uh, yeah. We travel a lot. Dad didn't like us taking souvenirs." Dean chuckled off-handedly, but Cas's shock was obvious. "I'll be right back. I have to go tell Sammy something." He ducked out into the hall, leaving Cas where found him, eyes a tad bit wider, lips parted, and barreled down to the lobby where Sam was just coming in with another bag.
"Here," Sam said, showing it to Dean. "I scrounged together some more clothes and... Achem... Some other stuff." His tone implied guns and salt and matches. "Anything else you want me to pick up for you, before..." He trailed off. Before Sammy went to his own college. Dad had gone missing a long time ago. It had taken almost a year for Dean to accept it, and another to wrestle back into civilian life. This was a leap for him - but at least he wouldn't be alone. Maybe being forced to have someone else share his space that wasn't family would... Maybe he'd make friends. However, the look on his face said otherwise, and Sam sighed. "Dean, I know you don't want to do this-"
"Save it," Dean said bitterly. "I know what I gotta do."
"- But you putting up barriers around your head to keep people out, just so you can leave whenever you want," Sam pressed, "Is not healthy. This is where we belong, Dean. Guys our age were here a year ago - even earlier. We should be doing this."
"I don't belong here," Dean hissed, waiting until a couple passed to let his animosity be known. "This is for people who can't do what we do, Sam."
"What we did. Dean, we aren't hunters anymore. Dad is gone. We are on our own. And this is what our lives should be - and I promise you, if you give it a try, you will live longer." Sam handed Dean the bag, which was taken angrily. "You may even like it." Going back to the door to the parking lot one last time, he looked back, sadly. "Just promise me you'll try, Dean. That's all I ask."
At that moment, Dean realized that the parent-child relationship had switched up on him. He stood there acting like a rebellious teenager and here Sam was, his little brother, trying to give him a chance at a better existence. He swallowed. His Adams apple bobbed. "Yeah, ok," he managed. "Take care, Sammy." He looked up, and their eyes met, and Sam nodded without a word. Then he was gone. The door swung shut gently behind him, and Dean watched it close, knowing it meant the end of their life on the road.