The Joy is in The Process

First Meeting

It's the summer just after Sam turns 11 when a wild-haired boy wearing a trench coat rolls up on a skateboard and asks if there are any kids his age around.

Sam looks up from the box he's about to hand to his father, and John turns around.

"I have two sons," John answers. "One about your age, Dean, and my little guy here, Sammy."

Sam kneels onto the bed of the U-Haul truck and hops down.

"It's Sam, Dad, and I'm 11 now. God."

He's never seen anyone like this back in Kansas, that's for sure. The boy is taller than he is — like everyone, of course — with blue eyes and dark hair that sticks up in feathery clumps all over his head. He's dressed in a T-shirt, jeans with worn-out knees, sneakers that look a size too small, and a ragged, tan trench coat that hangs lopsided on his shoulders.

"I'm Castiel, Sam," the boy says, holding out his hand. "I'm pleased to see someone move in that has children. I live two houses away, on the corner. Do you enjoy skateboarding, fishing, or the drama unrivaled by anything else on television, The X-Files?"

First impressions aren't always a reliable gauge of how close a friendship can become, but in that first introduction, Sam likes the kid immediately, even if he doesn't know what unrivaled means.

"The X-Files is my favorite new show," Sam answers, returning the shake. "With the FBI agents Mulder and Scully, right? I watched the whole first season! I really loved that episode where — "

"What did you say your name was?" comes a voice from behind Sam in the garage.

Dean, who Sam sees is going by his first impression, walks up with a confused look on his face.

"This is my brother, Dean," Sam says.

"My name is Castiel," the boy answers proudly, holding his hand out to Dean, now. "It's the ancient and powerful name of an angel, and much better than Dean."

Sam is used to watching his brother go from irritated to shoulder-punching in the time it takes to change the channel from baseball and back again, so when Dean flashes a grin and holds his hand out in return, Sam is a little surprised.

Sam knows his brother never makes friends easily, not the way he does. They move a lot, changing schools and houses enough that Dean becomes quiet and sullen around strangers. He keeps mostly to himself and to Sam, who he watches and protects like it's his job. Dean can also be a jerk who delights in giving him wedgies and stealing his towel when he's in the shower, but Sam has learned to find a balance and loves his brother more than anything.

Dean doesn't see things in shades of gray. It's all black or white, love or hate, right or wrong. He makes decisions quickly, sometimes rashly, but he always sticks by them. When Castiel shakes Dean's hand, Sam knows there is no mistaking the fact that Dean has made a friend for life.

"You don't take anybody's shit, do you?"

"Dean," John says, without looking up from the box he is unpacking.

"Yes, sir. I mean, you don't take anybody's crap."

"No," Castiel says. "I'm too intelligent for that."

"Huh. Well, to answer your questions, I don't have a skateboard, fishin' is fine I guess, and Sammy here likes that show even though I keep tellin' him monsters and junk like that aren't real."

"What about aliens, Dean?" Sam asks. "You said aliens — "

"Why are you wearin' that trench coat in the middle of the summer? Aren't you hot?"

"I'm going to be an FBI agent."

Castiel says that like it's the most obvious thing in the world. To Sam it is. If he owned a trench coat he'd be wearing it, and probably carrying a fake badge, too. He's obsessed with The X-Files and thinks it'd be awesome to be an FBI agent. He gets it. Dean, on the other hand, doesn't. He won't even sit still long enough to pay attention to anything other than Scully's boobs.

"Like Mulder," Sam says. "That's cool."

"You think all FBI agents wear those things?" Dean asks.

"I believe so, yes."

"Even when it's 90 degrees?"

"It has a lot of useful pockets."

"A backpack does too."

"A backpack wouldn't flap behind me when I walk. This makes a statement. I think it looks dramatic."

Dean blinks, and Sam can tell he's trying to figure the kid out. Sam thinks Castiel is fascinating and unusual and probably gets picked on a lot. Sam can recognize different when he sees it, and a lot of others must too. Sam thinks Dean can sense it as well.

"You're weird," Dean says.

Sam didn't quite think he was going to come out and say it. John glances over from where he's pretending to stack empty boxes, but doesn't interfere.

"Oh, I know," Castiel tells him, nodding agreeably. "I hope that's not a problem."

Sam looks up at his brother and already knows the answer. Dean's never been like other kids his age. He doesn't judge or tease, and he doesn't like bullies or seeing anyone get hurt. Sam knows his brother is a nice guy — despite being a little too honest where Castiel is concerned — even though Dean would never admit to it.

"Hmm. No, I think I kinda like that. There was never anything this interesting and weird in Kansas."

"What about the world's largest ball of twine in Cawker City?" Sam offers.

Castiel smiles and Sam feels pleased.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean says, and turns back to Castiel. "You go to Washington High, right? That's where I'm supposed to start school in two months as a freshman."

Sam huffs in annoyance, and knows Dean's deliberately keeping him out of the conversation. He doesn't blame Dean. It must be hard being 15 and never setting down roots long enough to make lasting friendships. Still, he fights the urge to punch him because it's even harder being 11.

"As will I. We might even have the same classes together. We can go see Washington High if you'd like. We won't be able to get in but I can show you how to get there. Do you own a bike? It's not far."

Dean doesn't even ask; he glances at John and waits for the nod of approval.

"Be back before dinner. You're responsible for your own unpacking."

"Yes, sir," Dean says, running up the U-Haul ramp to find his bike.

"But Dad, what about the rest of this stuff?" Sam whines.

"You and I can handle a lot of it. Like you said, you're 11 now, right Sam?"

Castiel must have seen the pout on Sam's face, because he walks over to where he's standing. "Perhaps you can ask if you can come to my house on Friday night to watch the repeat of The X-Files."

Sam looks over to his father.

"As long as you get your room taken care of first," John says.

"Cool!" Sam says. "I'll see you Friday, then."

Now Sam will finally have someone to watch the show with who appreciates it, and who doesn't yell at Scully to take off her clothes the way Dean does.

"C'mon, Cas," Dean calls from the end of the driveway, where he's sitting on his bike. "I'll be back to help in a little while, Sammy; don't worry."

"See you later, Sam."

Castiel rubs Sam's shoulder, in a way that feels both friendly and apologetic. Sam thinks that he's probably sorry for coming by right when they were supposed to be moving the heavy stuff into the house next. He can't be angry at Dean, though. He knows that it's good for Dean to find someone for a change. Sam is glad Castiel likes him, as well. He figures not many fifth graders get to hang out with high school freshmen.

Castiel stands on his skateboard, puts a hand on the left handlebar grip of Dean's bike, and allows Dean to pedal them down the street.