SO sorry for the wait you guys! Netflix is way too addicting. Anyone reading this who loves Gotham?
Anyway, I'm back and with a new fic! Well, old fic, sorta. I wrote this a while ago and never continued it. Leave me reviews! I love reviews from you guys! I have no real plot set out for this, so ALL suggestions are taken into consideration. I'll stop rambling. It's just so good to be back!
A/N: Nope. Characters still aren't mine. Just this little AU.
2nd A/N: I won't have my laptop from now until Sunday because I'm staying at my cousins' for Thanksgiving, so I'll try to dish out another chappie by then. See you guys soon!
Happy Thanksgiving (and if you don't celebrate Thanksgiving, have a great week/weekend!)
~palmtreedragons
The moving truck slowly trudged away from the small empty house. Cardboard boxes littered the small front yard and various rooms of the house. Turning away from the window, Dean looked about the small square room. This was his new room. One of his many, many rooms in his childhood. His brother was working away across the hall, sorting and folding his things, and planning how his new room would be arranged. Dean didn't have the heart to tell him that this would only be temporary; a few months, maybe. They never stayed more than a few months.
Sitting on the floor and picked at the carpet fibers. Taking the box closest to him, he opened the top. It was his favorite box. CDs, a few pictures, and some old toy soldiers from his childhood. Knick-knacks of sorts were crammed inside, and Dean grinned as he pulled out his favorite Metallica CD.
Sam appeared at his doorway, giving a lopsided smile on his six-year-old face. "You like it here."
Dean stubbornly shook his head, forcing his brief smile into his usual scowl. Sam gave a small laugh as he made his way over to Dean and took a seat. Both looked into the box, pulling out memorabilia from their past. Comfortable silence filled the room, only interrupted when John appeared at the doorway. He was dressed to go out.
"You should go outside," his father's gruff voice said. It was phrased like a suggestion, but was clearly to take as a command. "It's nice out. Make some friends." The last thing Dean wanted was to make friends. All he needed was Sammy. But Sammy's hopeful look make it impossible to say no.
That's how Dean found himself, blinking as he stepped outside of their 'house'. The sun was high and bright in the cloudless blue sky. Across the street was a house much like their own. The only car in the driveway pulled out, a handful of children waving as it went. Sam was chattering about something, but Dean could care less. He watched as one by one, the children left the driveway, retreating back to the house. All except one. A dark haired boy sat on the stairs leading up to the front door by himself, completely alone. The boy then looked up, and Dean knew where they would head first. He moved his feet, starting his walk across the street.
The car door slammed shut as the kids waved goodbye. Their father waved back as he drove away. This was a normal occurrence; their father's work required him to be away a lot. Only this time was different. Their father was leaving for two weeks, rather than a few days. Castiel was, to put it mildly, annoyed. His father gave one final wave before putting the car window up and turning down the road.
As soon as he was out of sight, Lucifer let out a celebratory whoop, yanking his phone out of the pocket of his black torn skinny jeans. His twin brother, Michael, glared at him.
"Don't even try it, Lucifer," Michael ground out between gritted teeth. "Dad said specifically 'no parties of any sorts.'"
Lucifer just flashed a toothy grin. "Do you always listen to your old man?"
"Our old man. And yes! I, unlike you, actually listen to directions." Castiel watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Lucifer stalked into the house, Michael hot on his heels. This'll be the longest two weeks of my life. Usually Castiel had school to get away from his siblings, but it was summer. The first week of it, to be correct. And he didn't have a single person to call a friend.
So Castiel sat alone, not wanting to go inside and listen to his brothers bicker, but having no other place to go. He supposed he could see what his younger brother Gabriel was up to, but decided better of it. Gabriel most likely was just going to raid the pantry for any type of sweet and lock himself in his room.
A thin layer of sand covered the concrete at the bottom of the stairs, and Castiel set to work drawing shapes in it with his toes. His school uniform, a button up white shirt, slacks, and tie, were only adding to the heat, making his cheeks feel hot and his hair sweaty. Looking up from his doodles in the sand, Castiel saw something he was shocked he had missed before.
The for sale sign in the yard across from his own was now gone. Two boys were walking down the driveway, one about his age, the other a few years younger. The younger of the two was talking animatedly and using wild hand gestures, while the other seemed to be sulking and lost in thought. The older boy's eyes met Castiel's, and while Castiel usually would shy away from eye contact out of nervousness, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from such a fascinating shade of green. The boy put a hand on the other's shoulder, nodding in Castiel's direction. Castiel scrambled to a standing position as they headed over. Were they walking to him? No one ever paid any attention to him. So why were they?
