Author's Note: This started out as a simple oneshot, but, like my other multichapter au, I couldn't help but continue it! It's based off of the idea that Dean actually met a young Castiel in the boys' home owned by Sonny- the one from 9x07. It's not meant to be completely canon so don't be alarmed if Castiel does something slightly OOC. Anyway, enjoy!

If there was one thing Dean Winchester knew it was that he wasn't meant to be here. They'd decided to stick him in a damn correctional facility for boys. A correctional facility. Dean? No fucking way- he didn't belong anywhere near this place.

He was perfectly fine- he was just your average teenage boy! Boys were meant to be mischievous, to get into trouble occasionally. So what if he had actually done something that caused the cops to get involved? Staying in a home with a few other "delinquents" wasn't going to change him or make him any better. Hell, the second he was allowed to leave, he would do something ridiculously reckless just to prove how pointless his time in the home had been.

"And this is your room," Sonny sighed, pushing open the door to reveal a decently-sized room with a few beds arranged in a neat row and pushed up against the wall. The room and its furnishings weren't anything extravagant, but it certainly was a step up from many of the hotels that Dean had been subjected to in the past. No rats, no cockroaches, no bedbugs- or at least none that he could see.

"Thanks," Dean mumbled, flashing a weak smile in the older man's direction. To be fair, he'd treated the cop who brought him here like crap. But that was only because the bastard deserved it. Sonny, on the other hand, didn't deserve to bear the brunt of any of his anger- he hadn't been the one to drag Dean's ass there in the first place. He had figured that the guy would stick around and ask him if he needed anything else, but, much to Dean's relief, he quickly and silently slipped out of the room to give the boy some space.

Slowly, Dean walked over to the only empty bed in the room and rested his hand on the mattress, surprised by how comfortable it seemed. It was clearly the kind of bed in which he could actually sleep, which had become an absolute luxury over the years. He then began trailing his fingers across the wooden foot board, surprised to find a piece of tape stuck to its surface.

The name Josh was scribbled messily in Sharpie across the piece of duct tape. Dean could only assume that Josh had been the bed's previous owner, the boy who had suffered through the same hell the young hunter was surely about to experience in the next few (hopefully) weeks.

Guess it's my turn, he thought with a scoff, scanning the room for the roll of tape. He straightened up and walked over to the bedside table between he and Castiel's (whoever the hell that was) beds. As he'd expected, the tape wasn't just sitting out in the open for him to snatch up. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Figures," he grumbled, yanking open the drawer to continue his search.

He had just reached his hand in to grab the bulky roll of duct tape when, suddenly, a tiny "hello?" interrupted the silence.

"What the-" Dean growled, the roll of tape falling from his grasp and onto the floor. He turned towards the doorway, expecting to see a young girl considering the shy tone of the voice that had addressed him. But the figure, to his surprise, was definitely a boy.

The newcomer was a fairly, thin and average height boy with dark brown (maybe black, he couldn't tell from this distance) hair and- this is the thing that really struck Dean- impossibly blue eyes. It was like standing at the edge of a lake and peering down into its clear, seemingly endless depths. And, with such a piercing gaze, Dean could almost feel himself being dragged in, forcefully shoved into its icy cold and mysterious waters.

"Um… the Sharpie isn't in that bedside table," the boy murmured, staring intently at his hands as he played with the hem of his shirt, a hideous and over-sized pewter thing that looked like it belonged to the boy's father.

"Oh" Dean mumbled, surprised by the boy's comment. He'd expected some sort of introduction instead. "Thanks…?"

"Castiel," he answered softly, voice barely above a whisper. He ducked his head and averted his gaze, the beginnings of a flush reddening his cheeks. The boy- Castiel- looked pitifully fragile as he stood in the doorway, lanky and shaky, too anxious to make eye contact or walk into the room and join Dean in his search.

"Damn, what a name," Dean snorted, closing the drawer and strutting across the room to the other bedside table, "your parents hate you or something?"

"Well… they felt that I had a rebellious streak, and they sent me here so I suppose they probably do hate me."

Shit.

"Crap, that's not what I meant," he quickly interjected, "I meant that they must hate you to give you a name like 'Castiel'."

Castiel's head shot up, his lips surprisingly twisted in a small smile. God, how old was this guy? He looks like he should still be in grade school.

"No, not at all," he insisted, finally taking a step into the room, "It's a religious name. My father is a Pastor, and my mother is simply a devout Christian. Obviously, it didn't take them a long time to decide that they would name all of their children after angels. For example, my oldest brother is named after the archangel, Micheal, and another one of my brothers is named after the angel, Gabriel. They weren't sure what to name me at first, but, since I was born on a Thursday and considering Castiel is the angel of Thursday-"

"Oh," Dean drawled, stepping away from the bedside table with the Sharpie now in hand. He smirked and shook his head with a chuckle. "Jesus freaks. I'm not surprised that they stuck your ass in here then. What'd you do? Drop the Bible? Forget to go to Church one day? Two days?"

Then, completely catching Dean off guard, Castiel laughed. It was like nothing the young hunter had ever heard before, light and innocent, reminding him of a small child's laugh. The sound, for some strange reason, shook him to his very core. It had been a long time since Dean had heard something so genuinely happy.

"I take it you're not religious," the boy speculated, crossing the room to stand by Dean's side, watching as he knelt down in front of his new bed. He continued to watch as Dean covered up Josh's name with a piece of tape and pulled the cap off of the Sharpie with his teeth.

"How'd you know?" he mumbled, struggling to speak with the marker cap between his teeth.

Castiel laughed yet again, filling the room with the same contagiously joyous sound that had assaulted Dean's senses earlier. Even after only hearing the sound twice, he already knew that he would easily get used to it.

"You're funny…" Castiel began, watching the other boy as he began to scrawl his name, "Dean. Dean… That certainly does not sound as strange as Castiel."

Dean couldn't help but smile. There was something about this kid that he immediately liked. He wasn't sure if it was the dry sense of humor hidden beneath the boy's innocent and childish façade or the way he had managed to make him, Dean Winchester, laugh. Either way, he seemed like a pretty likable guy.

He slowly got to his feet, pulling the cap from between his lips and placing it back on the Sharpie as he stood. Castiel didn't say a word, silently watching each movement. If it were anyone else, Dean would've found the silence to be awkward or uncomfortable, but the behavior seemed to suit Castiel.

Dean threw the Sharpie unceremoniously onto his mattress, ignoring the way Castiel's lips parted as if he wanted to protest and tell him to put the marker back in its rightful place. He turned, holding his hand out expectantly in the other boy's direction.

"Nice to meet you, Cas," Dean insisted, casually using the first nickname that had come to mind, and grasped Castiel's smaller hand in his own. He couldn't help but notice that the other boy's hands weren't marred by the same callouses found on his own palms.

Cas… maybe this place won't be that bad.