Castiel liked Sam Winchester.

Sam had been the one to initiate contact on the first day of school. He hadn't found Castiel weird because he was shy and reclusive, or because he was unwilling to speak or make eye contact. He was the only one who had approached Cas. Sam, with his bright, hazel eyes and dimples and sheepish smile, bashfully ranting about forgetting his crayons back home and wondering if maybe they could share, please?

Cas took a look at his packet of crayons, still sealed and shining pristinely. Mother had bought them specially for just this occasion: Cas' start of first grade. Real, big-boy school, Michael had called it.

He looked at Sam again, whose eyes were wide and hopeful. With a timid smile of his own, Castiel nodded slowly, and shuffled over when Sam moved to take a seat. They were the the only ones with the legendary peach-coloured crayon, and at the end of the day, the only ones whose families did not look like they had suffered a bad tan, or were the Simpsons.

Sam Winchester was friendly, intelligent and had a big heart. He laughed a lot, mostly at anything Castiel said, but not in the mean way other children had before, in kindergarten. He didn't mind that Cas used big words or that most jokes flew over his head. Sam's laughs were pleasant and sincere. They lit up his eyes as if the sun had shone on his face, and they evoked a warmth in Cas that made him feel a little happier, a little braver.

So yes, Castiel liked Sam. He liked his honesty, his loyalty, and he liked that he called Cas his friend.

What Castiel did not like was Sam's older brother.

It was only one week after school had begun when Cas had his first play date at the Winchester home. Once his teacher dismissed them after the bell, Castiel and Sam headed outside to wait for Sam's mother. As children's chatter and giggles rang around them, Sam animatedly recounted how Miss Missouri had praised his drawing of a flowering plant, until his eyes focused on something and widened in succession. The story of his artistic skills was instantly dropped in favour of a cry of,

"Dean! Over here!"

Cas turned around to see a tall boy with sandy blond hair grin and wave back from the top of the stone steps. Within seconds, he was parting from his own friends and skipping down the stairs, striding in their direction.

Up until then, Cas had never actually met Dean Winchester, but had nonetheless heard much about him from his brother. From the way Sam had described him as "the coolest" and "seriously awesome", coupled with the fact that the two were related, Castiel expected the ten-year-old to be much like his brother. The same kind-hearted, amiable person Sam was. For the first few moments, it seemed that his assumptions were correct, with the small addendum of Dean being slightly more physical than Sam.

"Hey, Sammy." He grabbed his younger brother in a headlock and ruffled his shaggy hair with his knuckles, but it was evident the action was accepted as affectionate from the way Sam chortled and shoved back playfully.

"Dean, stop!" he insisted, parting his hair back when his sibling did so. "Dean, this is Cas! He's coming home with me to play." Sam wound an arm around Castiel's shoulder to stress his point.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel responded and stuck his hand out politely, the way he was taught to around strangers. "It is nice to meet you."

Dean's brow scrunched in return, before he dubiously squeezed Cas' hand back. It hurt. "Hey." His smirk made Cas feel a lot smaller than the 9 inches Dean had over him.

Dean didn't show any interest in attempting to further the conversation (honestly, neither did Castiel) and instead opted to listen to Sam launch into his plant story again. Castiel tuned in to the tale and smiled whenever Sam looked over to him for affirmation. Just as the story reached its pivotal point, he was interrupted by the sound of Mary Winchester calling for her sons, and more hugs and introductions took place. Mrs Winchester was considerably more civil in her greetings than Dean had been, and happily shook Cas' hand when he offered it.

Soon enough, he was being led along to where her car was parked. As Mary pulled out of the school parking lot, she asked about the boys' day in school. Dean, who was sitting shotgun, made communication substantially difficult as he shot at pedestrians with a finger gun, complete with sound effects and wild gestures. Castiel was too timid after their last exchange to ask him to minimize his volume, but after a few reprimands, Mary calmed him down enough for the boys in the back to hear her without trouble.

"All right, go get a start on your homework, all three of you," Mrs Winchester instructed as they piled into the house, and sent them each upstairs with a juice box and a promise to call them when lunch was ready.

Castiel tread up the staircase after Sam, where they parted with Dean in favour of the younger Winchester's bedroom. Sam wasted no time in giving him the grand tour of all his toys and the books his parents bought him to practice his reading. Cas read each title from the row of spines aloud, with Sam stepping in when a word was too big or complicated. They agreed to go through a few pages of the first book in Sam's Frog and Toad collection after their homework was over with.

"Here, I'm gonna get a chair from Dean's room! You can sit down on the desk, 'kay?" Sam offered, then zipped out of the room before Cas had a chance to reply (not that he would have refused – he simply wanted to point out it was 'sit at the desk', rather than 'sit on'). His friend was back and rolling in a desk chair in seconds, and soon after they had their books open and their activity sheets at the ready.

Cas hadn't done more than five sums of his Math homework when Dean came barging into the room with a comic book tucked under his arm. "What're you up to, squirt?" he asked after he was settled on Sam's twin bed. From the corner of his eye, Cas could see him flicking open the first page of his comic- Batman, from the looks of the cover.

"Homework," Sam answered around the tip of his pencil.

The crinkle of a turning page followed. "From what?" Dean recurred.

"Math. Did you do your homework?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Mostly."

"Dean," came the chiding response, "Mom said you have to do your homework."

"Yeah, fine. Whatever. You're not gonna tell." It came out as a statement, but Castiel didn't miss the questioning look that flickered through Dean's eyes as he glanced at his brother.

Cas followed the exchange wordlessly as he sipped his orange juice and contemplated what the addition of eight and six was. He wrote down his answer of fourteen and moved on, realizing only after a poke to the shoulder that he was being spoken to.

Castiel looked up from his paper to find Dean standing beside him, frowning. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"I said, thirteen minus seven ain't five, it's six," the blond told him, obviously irritated. "Thought Sammy said you were smart," he mocked.

Which wasn't fair at all, because Castiel was very good at addition, especially by twos and fives. It was only subtraction that gave him trouble. Abashed and hurt, he mumbled, "Oh. Thank you for the correction."

Dean shrugged in return and chewed the inside of his cheek. Then, scooping up his abandoned comic book, he muttered something about a worksheet from English and promptly left.

Having read into Castiel's silence, Sam said, "Hey, how about we go over the answers together when we're done?"

Castiel smiled, and nodded.

He came over to Sam's house several more times after that, and although Dean remained unpleasant, it no longer surprised Cas much. What confused him however, was why the boy was being mean to him specifically. Gabriel, who knew Dean on account of being in the same grade, had said that was just the way the Winchester was born: a jackass (he'd gotten a slap upside the head from Michael for the language). But having been at the Winchester home long enough to pick up on certain things, Castiel learned that Dean generally wasn't as rude to others as he was to him.

Dean helped his mother regardless of whether she asked or not, and loved every minute of attention she gave him, letting her hug or kiss him when other boys his age found that embarrassing. He respected his father and was obedient to a fault, but it was obvious the two loved each other from the way they joked around. Even at his young age, Dean showed an interest and talent in working with cars, so John often took him to the auto repair shop he owned.

And Dean clearly adored Sam, just as his brother idolized him back. He was constantly looking out for him- asking whether anyone was giving him a hard time in school, or giving him tips on the teachers he'd had in the past. And Sam himself told Cas plenty of stories about Dean's kindness. Cas knew that to Sam, he came second only to Dean, something that didn't please him much, however fair it might have been.

So why was Castiel getting the unwanted attention? He hadn't wronged Dean in any way. They had barely spoken to one another since their first encounter. Yet every time Cas visited, Dean would pass on snide remarks, or tease him about his height and the state of his unruly hair. Cas never graced him with more than a blink and a greeting in turn, but as more time passed, it became harder to ignore his jeers and sarcasm and sly smirks, until the resolve to stay polite crumbled in Castiel. Slowly, he began to return a short retort, or the occasional eye-roll and scowl, but it only ever seemed to fuel Dean's bothersome streak further.

On Saturday, the first of many in the newly-arrived Christmas break, Cas stayed over at Sam's with the plans for a sleepover. He sat cross-legged on the couch, tucked into a lumpy comforter and snuggled beside Sam for warmth. A bowl that was once filled with popcorn was left on the floor by their feet as the sound of SpongeBob SquarePants reruns played from the TV. Outside, light snow had started to fall hours ago, though it was barely visible against the grey curtain of clouds that had congregated en masse.

Cas felt the first signs of sleep creeping up on him when the front door opened and shut, accompanied by a chilling gust of wind in the interval between. In the background, the voices of Dean and John Winchester mingled amongst each other, the younger marvelling about alternators and heat exchangers (neither of which meant anything to Castiel) as the other hummed in acknowledgement.

"Help me get these to the kitchen," John grunted.

Sam twisted around and peeked over the top of the couch, with Cas following his lead. "Hi, Dad," he called.

"Hey, Sammy," came the response as John kicked off his shoes and struggled to balance the four plastic bags in his hands simultaneously. Looking up, his eyes widened in surprise. "Castiel, you're here too? How are you, son?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Mr Winchester, how are you?" Cas implored in return.

John chuckled before saying, "Good, thanks. You staying the night?"

"Yes," Cas answered at the same time that Sam exclaimed, "Aha, he and I are gonna build a fort tonight!"

"All right, but I don't want you boys going out anymore, you hear me? It's getting colder by the minute and visibility's a bi- I mean, really bad."

Dean, who had returned from the kitchen, made a move to take the remaining bags, but John waved him off with a thank-you and left the hall. "You two gonna sleep in the one bed again?" John yelled again. Castiel didn't need to see his face to know he was grimacing. "I can really get the extra mattress, Cas."

"No, we can fit!" Sam cried defiantly and Cas nodded as attestation.

Dean caught his eye and smirked at them, before barrelling upstairs without another word. Castiel squinted after him suspiciously, but Sam paid no attention. He spun around, dragging his best friend with him, and blanketed them in the comforter again. The two soon started up a meaningless conversation, about classmates and the holidays and how, "I think she likes me, Cas. Dean says when a girl makes you carry her bag and do stuff for her, it means she likes you." All was well until Cas felt something blunt smack him in the back of his head.

He cried out in surprise as he pressed his palm to his scalp in attempt to soothe the stinging pain. Sam only had a second to look confused before succumbing to the same reaction. His eyes travelled from his hand over his shoulder, then widened at what they found.

"Dean!" he shouted angrily.

To this, his brother guffawed and aimed his Nerf gun, opening fire at them. The six-year-olds ducked down, but not before Sam was struck square in the forehead and Cas' cheek was cuffed.

"Dean, quit it!" Sam shrieked again, but this only tempted Dean to come charging at the couch behind which they were hiding. With his toy raised over their heads, he cackled mercilessly while he showered them with foam darts. Castiel tried to shield them from him with the comforter, but during the commotion it had been kicked to the ground and was well out of arm's reach. Retrieving it meant getting a dart to the nose.

The screeches and laughter warranted intervention from Mary, who worriedly called, "John, what is going on downstairs?"

At the sound of his father's footsteps approaching, Dean ceased his attack and dropped his Nerf gun on a nearby armchair. John crossed his arms. "Son, what are you doing?"

"Nothin'," Dean replied with a cheeky smile, but Sam howled indignantly, "He shot his Nerf gun at us!"

John heaved a put-upon sigh, as if dealing with his sons' shenanigans was the most tiring thing in the world. "Just come and help me unpack the groceries, all right?" he told Dean.

As John retreated from the living room, Dean shot one more smug smile in Sam and Cas' direction before taking off after his dad.

Castiel did not like Dean Winchester.

A/N: So this has been a thing I've had in mind all month, but thanks to finals, I've only gotten around to writing it now. I have no excuses, other than that I wanted to write Dean and Cas as children. I have no idea how long it'll be, but I can tell you that each chapter will be focusing on a different age of Cas', so yeah. If you get confused, message me and I'll clear it up!