Dean put his things down in the dusty corner of what once was a kitchen. He didn't have much; some clothes, an amulet his brother had given to him, his gun and a knife, all shoved into a bag. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.
"How the hell did I end up here?" He muttered to himself with a shake of his head. Demons don't sleep, so Dean had plenty of time on his hands before he had to do anything at all. He decided to look around, after all, who knew how long he was going to be staying there?

Castiel ran down the road as fast as he could, his schoolbag flying behind him. He didn't know where he was going but he knew he had to go. Before he started doing something that he would regret. Soon he reached an old shack – well, not a shack exactly, but a house that was definitely long since abandoned. There was little left of the door and everything was covered in dust, Cas noticed as he entered the place. He walked through to what could be a study going by the desk (surprisingly intact). He threw his bag to the other side of the room and curled up in a corner, trying to keep his breathing in check.

Dean was about to exit the kitchen when he heard a soft thump come from behind the wooden panels that he had noticed moments before. He was going to put it down to something falling off a rusty shelf or the like when he heard something else – this time, it was half-gasps coming from the same place as the thump. He quickly pulled both his gun and his knife from his bag, tucking his knife into his belt and holding his gun up, finger on the trigger. Dean approached the panels and slowly pulled them open, revealing an empty study. He frowned.
"Hello? He called out. "Someone there?" There was no reply. "I have a gun, you better come out!" He exclaimed. Expecting nothing, he was about to turn around when-
"Don't sh-oo-shoot!" A timid voice squeaked from behind the wooden desk. And then also from behind that desk emerged a boy about Dean's own age, in a t-shirt some black pants and a trench coat. He had black, messy hair and startling blue eyes and he was shining in Dean's eyes. So bright, so bright that he could only be an Angel. Castiel was staring back at Dean and seeing something a little different to blinding grace – darkness and hatred that was Demon to a T. He could see a twisted true face behind Dean's dirty blond hair and bright green eyes.
"Demon." Castiel hissed and pulled out his angel blade – a shining silver thing that was a little longer than a dagger and shorter than a sword. Demons and Angels hate each other and always will. There is a natural aversion between the species for reasons unknown, so when Dean saw the Angel, especially with a blade, he fell back on his natural instincts to attack.

"Angel." Dean nodded at the boy, quickly stepping to the side to avoid being stabbed whilst pulling out his own knife. Maybe it wouldn't kill the Angel but it would certainty incapacitate him. He swung the blade at him, but only managed to nick his cheek. With feral grunts they slashed and stabbed at each other but nothing really happened until Dean managed to knock Castiel over and send him flying into the wall. Picking up the angel blade from where Castiel had dropped it and walking across the room Dean frowned at the Angel.
"Sorry about this, but-'' Dean was cut off by the boy's surprised and confused stare. "What?" He asked, irritated.
"What did you just say?" Castiel asked, cocking his head at the Demon, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
"I said, 'what?'" Dean replied with a roll of his eyes.
"No, no. Before that." Castiel took the opportunity of standing up while Dean had his guard down briefly.
"Uh, 'sorry about this', why? Oh." Dean shook his head and laughed. "Dammit." He said, shaking his head.
"You said sorry. But Demons don't do that. And you're definitely a Demon, so…" Castiel implored silently. And then he saw. Underneath all of that darkness and things that were Demon, was… a soul. A Human soul. Castiel looked at him with wonder and shock.
"You have a soul." Dean laughed.
"Ha! Ha! Yeah, I have a soul." Dean replied, still chastising himself internally for showing some goddamn remorse. "Fat lot of good it does for me, though." He growled in frustration and kicked the desk. Of course, he wasn't just getting angry over nothing. Dean was so angry because this had happened before, with pretty much every Demon he had ran into in Hell had pointed that out, and in such a condensing manner too. He had hoped that once he got back to Earth maybe all the stares and such would stop, but that was obviously not the case.
"But… how? Demons - Demons don't have souls of any form!" Castiel insisted, still in a defensive position. Dean sighed deeply and considered stabbing him.
"It's kind of complicated. Long story. But yeah… I have a soul. I'm pretty sure."
"Is that why you are here?"
"Why the questions man? We were fighting like, twenty seconds ago."
"I'm curious. I have heard of Demons with… strange conditions, but never of anything like this." Castiel sighed and relaxed his posture slightly. "Why were we fighting?" Dean shrugged, but did not adjust his own position.
"Dunno. Some sort of inbuilt species-thing. Not the biggest Demon/Angel history expert, myself." Then Dean laughed out loud at the Angel's confused expression.
"Species-thing? I don't think that I am familiar with that term. Now, Demon, why don't we sit down and talk like civilized people?" Dean, by way of an answer, put his knife back in his belt with his gun. "Good. So, what is your name?"

A few minutes later they were seated at the desk next to the sink, oven and such in the dusty kitchen. Dean was leaning back on his chair and nearly bumping his head on the cupboard behind him whilst Castiel was sitting straight up, almost rigidly so.
"Dean Winchester. You?" Dean curiously raised his eyebrows at Castiel.
"Castiel. Just Castiel." He replied. Dean frowned.
"Castiel, hey? Bit of a mouthful... how about I call you Cas instead. What do you say?" Castiel – Cas – nodded. Nicknames hadn't been much in his favour, but then it was usually his brothers teasing him about his winglessness. He liked this one.
"So, Cas, why are you even here? Angel like you, shouldn't you be in school or some shit?" Cas sighed and nodded.
"I-I, yeah. I should. But I ran off." Dean frowned. He didn't see why an Angel would just run away from school to come to some derelict building.
"What, were you too stressed or something?" Cas swallowed. He didn't want to tell this stranger; this Demon about his wings. Or not about his wings. Whatever.
"Something like that, yes," He shrugged. Dean gave him a confused, noncommittal look before plonking the legs of his chair on the floor. "What about you, Dean Winchester? I mean, it's a little obvious why you're here. Then… why here?" Dean screwed up his face.
"No idea. Just seemed like a good place to go." There was an awkward silence for a few moments before Dean scraped his chair (making Cas wince slightly) and stood up, stretching.
"Well, you're going to have to go somewhere else, angel. You can't stay here, because I'm not moving." Cas raised his eyebrows.
"Why can't we both stay here? If I keep out of your way, there's no problem. I'm not leaving either." Stubborn son of a bitch, Dean thought at almost the exact same time as Castiel. Actually, maybe that last bit was just Dean. Cas wasn't one for much profanity.
"Fine," Dean agreed. "You keep out of my way, I'll keep out of yours."
"Agreed," Cas said with a smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Dean Winchester."