hey guys! long time no post—sorry, sorry, sorry! Just a reminder that I have been posting on my tumblr & my ao3, so go check that good stuff out.

also a disclaimer—this here that I'm writing is definitely new to me. please be constructive and show your support! Warning that there is a lot of swearing & references to drugs in this chapter. this is a WIP!

Everything I ever had—everything I could have ever wanted or been excited about in my life—it was all ripped out from under me. I felt cold although I was in a cocoon of lavender scented blankets. My body was shivering and I couldn't seem to get the blood to flow correctly to my toes or my fingers.

I was more furious than I believed I had ever felt in my entire life. I can't remember a time where I felt this incredible medium between so crestfallen and at the same time so enraged that I felt like I was incapable of returning from my anger. My life had almost completely become somewhat of a crude joke over the course of just twenty-four hours.

I guess that my brother Michael and I had never really been that close. Yeah, you could say that.

I didn't get a wink of sleep the prior night. And now, at four thirty two am, as I'm laying in my new bed, a tangle of comforter, blankets, and pillows galore, I can't find it in me to close my eyes for more than four minutes what with all the millions of thoughts floating around in my head. I felt empty, so blatantly empty, as if I had just spewed everything I owned all over the floor, or maybe on that plane. I couldn't help but find myself remembering that song that Lucifer used to play for me when I was trying to fall asleep on really rainy nights. My eyes would drift over to the slightly cracked open window beside my bed and push the curtains to the side and watch as cars still drove by our apartment at such a late time at night. The song was called Big Yellow Taxi by an old band called Counting Crows. I could hear it reverberating in my ears, and I was now singing it in my head exactly how the male lead singer had sang it.

And I was really close with Lucifer. We were brothers—what can I say. I was the youngest of three—Michael, Lucifer, then me. Michael was the oldest and possibly most sensible at troubled times, but he was also a religious maniac and that didn't go smoothly with our atheist brother Lucifer.

I had always gone to Lucifer when I was having troubles with Michael, and we had agreed that he was an obnoxious bop, and when Lucifer and I grew up we would live together where Michael would never know so that he could never boss us around anymore.

After the tragedy of the year struck and our parents had died back when the five of us lived in Russia, when I was barely eight and my brothers eighteen and nineteen, the three of us fled our homeland and Lucifer was finally my guardian.

Although it wasn't like Michael didn't want the custody of me, or anything; he was just in a rough spot in his life. He had little to no money, working job after job and was in his freshman year of college at Harvard. We weren't even in the same state. He didn't exactly have the time or mind to look after a trouble causing little brother like me anyway. So he didn't argue with Lucifer. He made sure to make regular check ins on us, and of course graciously wired us money whenever he could as Lucifer had directly chosen to not go to college and instead work two jobs, one at an ice cream parlor (in which I had helped influence) and the other at nights at a club where he worked as a bartender.

I was just starting middle school when Lucifer and I had finally settled in in Florida. I had no parents, but I had two older brothers who loved me and would hold me when the racking of my body had become too much and my crying would become out of control. It would make me feel like I wasn't the only one feeling such sorrow, as my brothers weren't very open with their emotions. Sixth grade I hit puberty and a strong wave of courage influenced me so I decided I was going to be a man and not cry about it any longer because I honestly felt pretty lame about spending two full months of ditching school and moping around the house while Lucifer was out at work.

It was early high school, though, when I recognized other boys in such a fashion that I found myself extremely attracted to. It didn't mean too much to me at that time, because I had been with girls before and I just suspected I was the tiniest bit bi-curious. It was never like I was disgusted with myself for jerking off to the image of a tall, thick man pounding his thick and sticky red cock down my throat.

Spring of my freshman year, I truthfully found myself so strangely attracted to the Scottish boy who liked to dress darkly—the one whose body was adorned in tattoos and cigarettes littered his locker and the floor around it. He was dark haired with light brown eyes and a usual shadow growing on his cheeks in the mornings. I could hardly find it in me to look away most of the time, but I had always been one who stares too much.

He was called Crowley. Just Crowley. No last name, there was no other alias. And he was cool, I thought, and I really, really liked him; I wanted to learn all there was to him. In two short years, I was finally a junior and mad in love with this boy called Crowley.

We had always been together, and people around the school had seemed to notice, but what with both our dark exteriors and bad reputations, others didn't care to protrude on our relationship. Besides, it wasn't like your typical high school where half the population was made up of douchebag homophobic jocks. And I never really could exactly explain my situation with Crowley to my brother Lucifer, but he gladly turned a blind eye or left all together when I would bring Crowley over and blast loud music in my room.

So why was the Orlando infamous Castiel Novak here right now? And by here, you know, meaning Baton Rouge, Louisiana, in a large mansion currently owned by my older brother Michael Novak and his current girlfriend Hester. Truthfully, I actually liked the town. I'd been here before, too, many times with Luce to visit. But it wasn't my home. Although I wasn't born in America, Florida had become my home in eight short years, and I felt my heart throbbing in my chest when I recalled I wasn't on Florida soil any longer.

I had been classically caught up. Caught red-handed. Caught in the act. Whatever you want to call it. Michael hadn't notified anyone he was coming—not even Hester—to Florida. My oldest brother seemed to think he could pull what our late aunt Naomi would do and pop in at the most random time (after our parents died she felt it was somehow her duty, but it was very unappreciated.) It had never seemed to have been a problem as most of the time he came when Lucifer and I would already be asleep, so he would make himself a cup of coffee and wait till we would wake up the next morning, generally scaring the shit out of me.

But then there I was, and I could remember the moment clearly although I was so up in the clouds high. Lucifer and I were on the couch playing some Super Mario game on the Xbox. There was a joint in my hand and a little packet of cocaine laid out on the table. We had clearly been drinking as the fume of alcohol made the whole room reek along with the marijuana.

And then, enter Michael, who walked into the room (the fucker had somehow copied our key a while back and had neglected to notify Luce or me) engulfed suddenly in a huge puff of marijuana air, and started coughing profusely, drawing both of our attention towards him. My brother and I nearly jumped out of our skin when we turned to look at the intruder.

"Oh, what the fuck!?" I screamed, tossing my controller into the air in total and complete shock. Luce jumped out of his seat, his eyes bulging and looking about ready to fight a black bear. The room was hotboxed (much to the neighbor's continual annoyance) so it was definitely a little hazy to see the figure, but we were both in action at once.

"L—Lucifer? Castiel? Is this marijuana I'm smelling?"

There was absolute dead silence and I felt my eyes pricking. My heart was beating rapidly, and I knew this was the beginning of the end. It was the equivalent to the calm before the storm. And it was coming. Oh shitfuckdamn. He was actually here, staring at the two of us. Luce groaned when he saw that it was his older brother and clasped a hand over his face. "You've got to be shitting me," he moaned. A long pause ensued after that and it was almost a minute long, but to me it felt like just two seconds.

I tried not to smirk as I spoke. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Not one of my finer responses, I know. My voice was cold and low and gravelly, mainly due to the fact that my throat felt so hot from drinking and so numb from smoking. There was practically no feeling there at all now. Often I found myself opening my mouth but not making any noise when I tried to speak. Lucifer stood next to me and started chuckling, uncrossed one taut arm and knocked me on the side with it as if congratulating me on a good save.

And unfortunately, it had all just gone down hill from there. Michael had no mind to crack open a window; marijuana was illegal after all and he didn't want the attention of the neighbors for them to cat on all of us. Instead, he thudded his no doubt expensive leather shoes over to where I stood and landed a cold smack square on my mouth and then profusely grappled for my arm

I hissed and screamed and threw whatever I could find in my reach at my definitely stronger brother. Lucifer jumped into action and ripped Michael off of me, throwing a punch at our older brother's stomach, Lucifer seemed more than five inches taller than him and scooped me with my red face up into his arms and shielded my smaller body with his own. Lucifer was nothing if not cold and calculating, but I honestly believed that nothing came before me on his list. Luce kicked Michael swiftly in the balls and I think I would like to say that he took care of the situation with someone of grace.

I was set down when Michael marched into the other room, digging into his pocket and revealing a slim black phone and lifting it to his ear. Lucifer smelled trouble and followed after him, believing the fight had been diffused, but paused when he only tapped the screen three times. There was absolutely nothing Lucifer or I could have done before he heard the sirens blaring in the distance.

So long story short, Lucifer was arrested. Feds had found other drugs in the apartment—some mine that I had sneakily hid in crevices of the place just so that the dumb cops wouldn't be able to see. Clearly I hadn't outdone myself. But nevertheless, Lucifer took the fall for me and I would forever be grateful and look up to him for that. Mike now had fill custody of me, his little snot nosed brother. I was to return with him to Baton Rouge, Louisiana with him that night at twelve fifty. We arrived shortly where I had spent one or two summers, but it seemed like right out of a magazine. It felt foreign. I cried.

And now, almost an hour had gone by as I laid in bed with the blankets half covering my body, my naked torso visible. So at five am, when Michael decided to show himself in my new bullshit expansive Pottery Barn navy blue room that just smelled plain and simple like money, I felt ready to speak to the monster.

He was going to speak Russian. "Castiel, good morning. Dobroye Utro."

But I wasn't going to respond to that. Why did he feel like he needed to speak another language to me? I nestled into my bed now, feeling a little bit annoyed and feeling completely okay with going back on what I said about speaking to him.

"I'll speak English with you if you want to talk," I replied, no Russian accent laced anywhere. I felt like the sudden lull to go to sleep finally was coming to me. I pretended like I couldn't hear him when he said my name.

"I warn you, Castiel, if you act like a child, I shall treat you like a child."

I didn't respond at first. I just shut my eyes tighter, clenching my teeth, consciously ignoring my brother.

A sudden, annoying quip was spewing from my lips. "Do it. I bet you'll get some sort of perverse thrill out of it."

Michael seemed to be murmuring prayers in Russian now, as if to calm himself down. Wow, he was more of a religious fuck than I remembered. But I could tell the chants weren't working.

"I can assure you there will be school for you to attend. I have enrolled you in the local High School." He wrinkled his nose primitively. "Private School, unfortunately, is out of the option since I would have to go out of my way to drive you over an hour away and I couldn't trust you with a car."

Gee, thanks bro.

"Hester and I have work, so you will stay here in the premises of my home. I would like you to understand that if one door is opened, an alarm will go off and the police and I will be notified." He was doing a good job keeping the Mafia Boss do wrong by me and I can guarantee you will wake up with no legs and a dead wife shtick up.

"I want verbal confirmation, Castiel. Speak or there will be punishments."

"Yeah, I'll play Rapunzel all day," I rudely snarked back in Russian. I closed my eyes and rubbed my fingers over my eyelids. I stretched out my arm in the bed and detected a barely noticeable, but definitely there gasp from my brother.

"What in God's name is that?" Michael was all but screaming now. His eyes seemed to turn completely opaque black and he was close to seething. He looked angry enough to snap me in half.

I looked back down. I knew directly where Michael's eyes were aimed at—the back of my biceps.

Fuck me, I thought to myself.

"Tattoos are sins!" Michael went of on a crazy, rapidly speaking tangent in Russia about how I was virtually un-savable now. "You are lost!"

The upper portion of my back was taken up by a beautifully crafted depiction of long, pale, feathered wings. It was gorgeous, in Lucifer's opinion. I love them more than anything else I own, and sometimes I feel like they made my back feel lighter, as if the wings were real and somehow attached to my body.

They were long, however, and the bulk was on my shoulder blades, and the long angelic feathers stretched down to my elbows over the back of my biceps. They were a guilty pleasure, and completely free. Crowley had created them for me.

I fell asleep finally to the loud mumbling coming from my older brother in our native tongue.

xXx

I was awake at four in the afternoon. I was proud of myself for making up for all that missed sleep, and hoped to whatever god there was that I would be able to find sleep again later tonight.

I sat up and got out of bed finally. I remembered yanking down all of my clothes, leaving only my tight charcoal briefs on. I scratched my back, right where my wings were, and remembered Michael saying he would be out with Hester for the day.

Leaving the room, I saw a long corridor that I didn't remember from last night. There was the lazy afternoon sun streaming in from some of the windows that littered the house. Or, you know, mansion. The place was fucking huge. I found myself walking down two staircases and then into a main plaza where the front door was. I couldn't stop myself from looking at the double doors longingly, wishing desperately I could just run through them without alerting the cops and my brother.

I settled on plopping down onto an extremely expensive looking black leather couch and felt around for the remote that went with the flat-screen. A sudden thought occurred to me and I momentarily wondered if it would make him feel like he was getting back at Mike for being such a douche and take a piss on the couch…

I didn't have it in me at the moment, I realized as I grabbed the remote and pressed the big red ON button. The TV made some weird beeping noise and then it switched on. Automatically, it went from some cartoon straight to a different channel, a… Was this a Christian channel?

"Ew!" I couldn't help but holler, laughing, and pressing the up channel button. The screen didn't change. There was no guide either. My expression changed from comical to completely enraged in one second.

But—! I just saw The Simpsons on the screen ten seconds ago! Why wasn't the TV letting me…?

"Did he fuckin' put some sort of lock on this?" I asked aloud.

I turned the TV off and got up from the couch in a huff. "Fucking Michael," I murmured to myself. I walked around the house a little longer before I found the dinning room, and through another doorway led me into the enormous gourmet-looking kitchen that appeared as if it belonged to some five-star chef, not Michael. Not my lowlife brother.

The fridge, you ask?

Salad.

Freezer? Some Fudgesicles and, oh Jesus in Heaven what is this—bacon? I squealed in delight as I pulled it from the icy depths of the Megatron like freezer and brought it with me over to the stove. I found the pans easily and the bacon thawed a little before I began to cook it. One thing you want to know about me is I fucking love cooking. All the more better when it's for me. In no time, it smelled delicious and my mouth was watering like a fucking swimming pool. I lifted it out of the pan with a fork and onto a plate with two paper towels. It was a miracle my shirtless chest was left completely clean what with the flying bacon grease everywhere.

Completely engrossed in the idea of sitting down to eat this delicious heaven-sent food, I threw the fork into the sink, ignoring the loud clanging noise it made and making my way over to the kitchen counter to sit down on one of the stools.

Awh look how cute, you made yourself your own dinner. I suddenly was overcome by a wave of abandonment when I placed a piece of bacon into my mouth. But then the flavour filled my mouth and I decided I didn't—I wouldn't—give a shit any longer. Lucifer's words still lingered in my mind, however, along with an old tune.

It occurred to me that my phone was left in Florida along with my stash of weed and, what was it that I bought recently? Do I still have that nose candy that I had yet to have at with Luce? And the ecstasy was left stashed in my backpack… I momentarily wondered if it had all gotten confiscated or if I would be allowed back to pick up all my things from Florida. All of it was my property, after all. And just like that, my fury was back.

"What did you make? Breakfast?"

I whirled around in shock—who the fuck?! It all then hit me and I began to laugh manically. Oh fuck yeah; it was my favourite person—Hester—the dumb bitch that has been with my brother for the past, what, six or seven years. She looked like she had just gotten back from a business meeting judging by her fancy black blazer and silk blouse.

I hate Hester. Ever since she'd gotten together with Michael, she tried to reach out to me. She wanted me to call her Aunt Hester. She had this whole phase where she tried to be my mother figure for a while, waking up early to pack a lunch for me for school in the mornings, getting upset with my consistently poor grades (like really upset, too), and telling me to invite my friends over so that she could meet them some time.

At that point, I didn't have it in me to listen to her bullshit any longer and had just told her to fuck off. Exactly those words. And she did; humiliated, she went back to Louisiana, to Michael, after trying to spend time with me when Lucifer had taken off to God knows where for a couple days and Michael was too tied up to come over and look after his own brother his self.

"My, you look indecent. I thought I told you I never want to see those knees again, young lady! Not in this house!" I shouted at her, joking. To be brutally honest, her skirt was nowhere near revealing, if not even just a little bit too long—the threads stopping at her mid knee. It just was funny because I couldn't think of a time that I had ever actually seen her wear anything just the tiniest bit slutty.

She looked me up and down and sneering, clearly noting that I was clad in only a pair of tight boxers and eating a full plate of bacon. "Have you checked a mirror today? I could say the same about you, Castiel," she retorted, walking into the kitchen to begin dinner. She eyed my right nipple piercing, glaring at my chest.

"Ooh, you watch that risqué mouth of yours', Hester," I cried, trying my absolute hardest not to laugh at her. "Lest you never forget, I am a man, therefore better than you."

I was set with a harsh glare. "Castiel, you are not funny. Do not speak like that to me."

Snarling, I bit out, "Shut up." I pouted, feeling bored now that she wasn't getting all riled up like she normally did. I took another bite of bacon and chewed, snorting. "Hester, Hester, Hester. More like Pester, Pester, Pester."

She leaned over to open a cabinet and lifted out a pot, but then accidentally dropped it. "Goddamn it," she whispered to herself, sounding extremely agitated.

"You kiss my brother with that dirty mouth of yours?" I feigned looking shocked. She scoffed, clearly annoyed but to high above me to fight back. "You are just all sass and no class today, Missy."

She looked perplexed as she let the water fill the pot. "Castiel, I swear to our God, I will notify Michael—"

I leaned forward in my seat and my jaw dropped. "What's that, Pester? You said you want to rat me out to that bastard of a brother? What the fuck am I doing wrong, bitch?" I shouted uncontrollably at her viciously, and part of me said to stop before I said something really bad, that she was just my brother's servant, that she didn't even really do anything but I was just too enraged at her threat to notify my brother.

"Do not tempt me," she warned, although she was nowhere near as threatening as she must have thought. She was now blatantly glaring at something on my left ear.

"What?" I asked, teasingly, calming down. I enjoyed watching Hester's face scrunch up in disgust. "You looking at this little thing?"

"You have mutilated your body," she said, nodding to my left ear that had he had just began to gauge and was currently fitted with a 6.5mm plug. The other ear was simply just pierced, although there were many other lacerations in my ears, a bar and a cartilage and my right tragus.

"You can fuck off, lady." I pushed my plate forward without care, the bacon scraps sliding off the plate as it shattered into the sink. I ignored her loud scream of distress as I pushed out of the seat on a stool at the marble counter.

xXx

I woke up the next morning feeling super refreshed, stretching when I saw the dumb alarm clock on the side table beside the bed. It was flashing 5,57 AM and I mewled, feeling so content in the comfortable bed. I had gone to bed early, around seven or so. After taking about an hour-long shower, I snuck out of my room and down the two flights of stairs, knowing Pester was working on dinner still and Michael's car still wasn't in the driveway, I would be able to explore a little more.

And what had I found in my little exploration? The basement. To my surprise, it wasn't like those creepy-ass basements like in movies. It was well lit and looked like a complete house down there. I had to admit, it was pretty fucking awesome. I could only assume that I had stumbled upon Michael's man-cave. There was a stereo, another flat screen TV and a whole game system connected down there. But what I found most interesting was the pool table. I played at it by myself for well over an hour.

It was about time for me to get out of bed at that point. What was it that Mike had said about me going to school today? Honestly, I was considering doing my whole faking-shit where I lick my hands and wipe my face with it so it looks like a sheen of sweat and then hold my breath so that my face gets red. Afterwards when I hear footsteps approaching, I start coughing like I'm missing both lungs and Lucifer—

This was Michael, I suddenly remembered. Well fuck me.

School had started over a week ago back in Florida, so it made me wonder how long school had been out here.

Shrugging out of the covers, I noticed I was wearing the same pair of briefs for the past two days, so I yanked them down, walking out of them and then kicking them up into the hamper. I groped my shaft, giving myself a few quick rubs before I walked into the connecting bathroom, stepping into the shower. A part of me felt like I was at home, where I would wear practically nothing at all times and chooses what to do whenever I wanted.

Taking another of my infamous long-ass showers, I couldn't help but scrub my skin raw. I wasn't sure exactly what it was about this house, but it just made me feel dirty, like I wasn't in my own skin.

Walking back into my room now with a thin towel around my waist, I noticed a black box on the now neatly made bed that read J. Crew. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as it just seemed like the place that my older brother would shop. I pulled the top off and tossed it, feeling satisfied when it hit the wall. On top of a bunch of green tissue paper was a white envelope.

I took the liberty of going through your clothes and taking out all the vulgar and offensive items you own and put them in a box in your closet. Although I disapprove of them, I respect your belongings and will not throw them out or donate them. But if you disrespect my wishes for you to look your best and as proper as possible, I will find them and I will get rid of them.

You are to wear the outfits I pick out for you every morning and you are to report to me before you leave so that I can personally inspect your appearance.

There will be no wearing of beanies, flannels, or ripped clothing for school. Weekends are debatable.

Michael

What a fucking tyrant, I thought to myself, glaring at the stupid piece of paper and discarding it by dropping it onto the floor. I pursed my lips, ripping the tissue paper out and getting a grip on some of the fabric. I first pulled out a button down shirt that matched the colour of the dark navy blue walls, and a gray cashmere V-neck sweater followed right after. I shrugged, dropping my towel and putting on some burgundy briefs, not forgetting to put on my Old Spice deodorant before I slid the button down on and buttoned it to the top, then pulling on the sweater right after. Yanking it down so that it fit right, I furrowed my brows at my reflection in the mirror. "This shit must've cost a fucking fortune," I muttered, only imagining the price tag. The fabric felt like heaven and it smelled good too.

Looking back to the box, I noticed there was another article of clothing left—a pair of slim vintage worn washed jeans that I pulled on and fit me like a glove. Staring at myself in the mirror, these pants did me justice. The jeans were heroic. I would fuck me.

Although, I noted, this was nothing like how I would normally dress (ie. tee, flannel, beanie, ripped jeans, combat boots), I had to admit that the clothes I was wearing made me look good (and damn that ass was on display). Jesus where did this plump ass come from?

There was a plaid shoebox to the left of the J. Crew one. Inside was a pair of white high-top Converses. When I put them on and laced them up, they seemed to fit the outfit so well, the look a mixture of classy and vintage.

There was the tiniest noise of creaking and I whipped around in my stance to see Michael standing in my doorway, his arms crossed, a smug look on his face.

"Hester has a good eye doesn't she?" he asked, his voice deep, proud.

I felt myself clench my teeth almost on instinct. "I don't want your Good Will," I said with malice.

He shrugged, leaning on the frame. "Well, what is picked out for you, you will wear. There is no arguing."

I bit my lip. "Guess I'll just have to go pick up some gasoline so I can bathe myself in it later," I murmured. Michael glared at me. I knew he hated it when I talked to myself.

I had to remind myself, this guy may be rich and although he had a weird way of showing it, did care for me (and has a sweet man-cave), but this was also the man who took all of my happiness, my entire life, for fuck's sake, and kicked it aside when he dragged me screaming and crying all the way from Florida. And the fact that I was wearing the clothes that he picked out and paid for just felt so wrong.

But what seemed to be the worst part was that I had no say in anything. I literally just turned seventeen about less than a month ago—I had a late birthday for my age group. Michael had gotten full custody, and Lucifer was probably still in jail at this point now since he practically didn't have a soul in the world to bail him out.

I fell momentarily silent.

"Hey," Michael said. He was speaking Russian now. "Will you come down? Hester graciously offered to drive you on your first day. You cannot be late. Do you apprehend? Verbal response, Castiel."

"Fuckin' sure," I mumbled in an annoyed tone.

"If you swear one more time, boy, I will revoke your privileges. You have no idea how easy I'm going on you since I caught you doing terrible things at Lucifer's."

Michael spoke his brother's name like a godforsaken curse. (In some religions it probably was, actually.) The two oldest brothers, Irish twins actually, had never really seemed to have gotten along, but Michael deliberately ratting him out—to the cops out of all the people—was something else completely.

"I had half a mind to castrate you then and there." Michael switched back to English now. "If you feel stressed and feel you need to swear, you will say it in Russian so that Hester cannot understand your pitiful, dirty mouth."

Michael, all I want to do right now is stab you in the balls, I thought internally. Albeit externally? I nodded like a dead bobble head.

I had lost track of what he was saying when I noticed there was no noise at all. Looking at my brother's face now, it was twisted in anger and darkness. For such a bright, generally open and light man, he looked a lot like the devil.

"What in God's name are these?" he asked—demanded—taking a set closer to his dark haired brother. Michael lifted his hand and extended his fingers to my left ear, but before he could make any contact, I snarled and slapped his intruding hand away. Now his face grew red with anger. "Take all of these out. This instant."

My lips parted and I shot a smoldering look at my brother. "No. No!" I argued, realizing what he was asking of me. "I paid hundreds of dollars for these piercings!" I cried, making note of what an overstatement that was. In fact, half of them Crowley had done for me for free. "Besides, it's how I'm expressing myself. Isn't that what you said in that note you wrote me? You would 'respect my belongings'?"

"Those are disfiguring you. I do not approve of them," Michael stated.

My face contorted to one of worry. "Michael, please!" I bit my tongue. Was I seriously resorting to begging? Wow, this was getting more and more humiliating. "These… They're important to me. Someone important gave them to me."

My brother's dark face immediately softened. "James—" he spoke, using my full name, which for some reason made realize I hadn't heard in a while. He sounded stressed out. But then he was noticeably holding himself back as I looked up at him with my big azure blue eyes, and Michael's resolve seemed to crash and explode as I watched. He scrunched his face up and lifted a finger to my chest. "If your school calls, there will be a punishment in order." And with that, he left the room.

xXx

There was a steaming plate of breakfast waiting for me when I arrived downstairs, and in the seat beside it was Michael already eating, reading a novel. I walked straight past the plate of eggs, toast, and hash browns.

"Hey, Pester, there any Pop Tarts in this chertov place?"

Michael looked up from his book and fixed me the biggest bitchface I've ever seen. I had a sudden urge to laugh out loud. Hester blushed and placed her fork down. She doesn't speak Russian so she didn't quite catch what I had secretly embedded into my sentence; chertov mean 'fucking'.

"Castiel, I told you I don't appreciate that name. And the answer is no, I don't buy Pop Tarts. They are very unhealthy."

I snorted. "Unhealthy my ass," I murmured distastefully. I turned around, ignoring the faces that Hester and Michael were shooting me; I pulled out a chair at the table and picked up a fork.

Michael slid his hand into my hair, grabbing a chunk and whispering for me to 'treat Hester correctly', and 'make good choices' in Russian as so that Hester wouldn't let on. He kissed my forehead and left the room, turning to wave goodbye to Hester before he was completely gone.

So then at that point, I decided fuck it, and I ate like an animal. Hester blatantly rolled her eyes when I asked for more, but smiled and granted me that, and I could tell she was internally grateful for me to actually acknowledge her cooking skills.

She all but scooped me out of my chair and led me to the garage, shuffling for me to get into the car, complaining that I was taking way too long. When I opened the door, I saw a black backpack waiting for me in the front seat. "Eughf. I do don't do fucking backpacks," I spat. I pulled a notebook out and tossed the bag into the backseat and then slid in beside Hester in her silver sleek and completely new looking Mercedes Benz. I leaned forward and began to fuck with all the buttons, some of them producing a whoosh of air right in my face—

"Look, you want to be a bitch to me? Do it. I won't tell Michael, but I'll be a bitch right back."

It took everything for me to not start pissing my pants laughing at that. "Stop speaking so lewdly, Pester," I teased, "I'm getting all hot and bothered." I tried not to sound too smug.

"Goddamn it, Castiel," she said, agitated.

"Oh yeah, baby, swear some more; I'm getting such a hard on," I mewled obscenely.

Thinking she was done complaining, I leaned forward to try and figure out how to turn on some music when she slapped my hand away again. I laughed heartily at her before she pressed the correct button and turned some classical music on.

I ignored her cries of protest when I switched it to a rock station. It was nothing heavy—nothing heavy enough to piss her off anyway—but it wasn't like the shitty mainstream (ignore my inner hipster for a moment please) rap music that seemed to be on all the stations, but it was calming although loud at the same time. It was a perfect medium.

She reached into her leather D&G bag and revealed a white iPhone 5, holding it out for me. I looked at it quickly as she was pushing it into my hands.

Hester noticed my resistance and growled. "Take it, Castiel."

"No," I argued, crossing my arms and looking out the window to see the changing scenery.

"Castiel," she said, taking advantage of using my full name, "You need to have this so we can stay in communication. And there is a tracker on it, so don't get any funny ideas," she said with a hard voice. Hester drove into the school parking lot. "You are to come straight home after school. Whether you walk, take the bus, or fly with those pretty little wings on your back, I don't care. You will be home before four, though, and if you're not, there will be major repercussions." I swallowed and scoffed, remembering that she had seen me half naked yesterday—which would explain her knowledge of my tattoo.

"You done?"

"Have a great day."

"Oh, how could it get any better already?" I asked sarcastically, pulling open the car door and taking a step out, shooting her a very false smile. I widened my eyes and feigned an excited expression. "Bye, now, Mommy! I'll call you at lunch!" I cried. Hester in the car blushed and snarled up at me, and a cocky smirk formed on my lips. She revved the engine and proceeded to drive off, and I kicked her car as she drove off, hopefully leaving a dent.

I scowled. I turned around and looked at the school. A couple people walking into the entrance had stopped to see me making quite the scene, but when I turned my glare towards the group, they sheepishly hurried on.

In my left hand was an expensive iPhone and a black notebook, and I felt ready for the world.

Shooting daggers at anyone who seemed to glance my way, I was right on track towards the entrance before someone stopped me by placing a tentative hand on my chest.

"Are you Castiel Novak?"

"Remove your hand," I replied, and the girl, I noticed now, retracted her hand like my chest was a flattening iron. She was cute, though, I recognized with a smug grin.

"Nancy Fitzgerald. Hi." She stuck out her hand for me to grasp and shake. I did.

She was short. She seemed to be of Spanish decent what with her dark hair as almost black as mine, and those dark chocolaty brown eyes were attractive. She wore a white button down shirt and a black cardigan along with a beige pencil skirt and inky stockings.

"And this is Kevin Tran. We're both in Advanced Placement."

I looked over at him next, finally taking notice of the smaller Asian American boy beside her. Kevin was also small. God, why do I feel like such a fucking giant? I was something like five nine or so but these short people made me feel like a freak.

Kevin stuck out his hand. "Hi, nice to meet you; your brother called my mom and asked me to introduce you to our school."

I was in shock before I started to laugh rudely in their faces. "You're saying that Mike set you two up to babysit me?" he asked crudely. Nancy suddenly seemed scared. "Are you fucking me?" I started laughing once again at their horrified expressions. "What a joke," I said slowly and then decided this was a waste of my time and I walked straight past them. They gasped and ran after me so that they were flanking either side of me.

"Please, no, it is our pleasure to show you around."

"We're both in Leadership class, so we do this a lot. We can direct you to the main office, so you can get your schedule," Nancy offered.

I snorted, "Whatever."

I knew I was being a bit of an asshole, but what better way to enter a new school with Advanced Placement assholes on either side of me? Truthfully, I didn't see myself staying here long—maybe a month at most. By that time, Lucifer should be out of the cage and trying to get me back. I knew it was his plan.

Either way, I followed the two who began to bicker over which teacher was their favourite, and I just tuned them out at that point. We arrived at the administrative office where my new schedule was laid out waiting for me. I scoffed, imagining that this must've been another thing at Michael's request.

I picked it up, pursing my lips and running a hand through my unruly hair. I pretty much had retard classes—Art, Russian Honors 4 (I was fluent so what even was the point?), and Current life that I had already taken at my last school, but I assumed that my transcripts hadn't arrived here yet. Also, I had AP English 4, physiology, and statistics. Well, it wouldn't be as easy as I had imagined.

As it turned out, I had English with Kevin and stats with Nancy. I didn't really get why they seemed so excited about this.

I was directed by the dorks to my first class and holy shit, I was exhausted already. Just having to walk down the halls filled with goddamned people was tiring as it is. Honestly, I was just trying to get the day over with at this point and my first class hadn't even started yet. I walked into my art class that was littered with geeky looking boys and girls who seemed in dire need to wash their greasy hair.

The teacher resembled the evil stepmother from Rapunzel. She looked fucking crazy, and she was approaching rapidly now.

I turned around, hoping I wouldn't be spotted, and then expected to just ditch the period all together when she called out to me.

"James Novak?" she asked, and I twirled around to see her smiling widely at me. She looked like a fuckin' kook up close as well. Yellowing teeth, black curly witch hair, wild brown eyes. "You're new! You're just a week late," she told me and latched a hand onto my shoulder, which I shook off the second the tips of her fingers connected with my cashmere sweater. Not to be a douche or anything, but I can't have the likes of her touching me.

"It's Castiel," I said, trying not to portray how creeped out I felt.

"Awesome!" Why was this old lady so full of energy? "Why don't you grab a pencil and go sit down in the back with Charlie?" A redhead looked up at hearing her name announced.

I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled loudly, very dramatically and pushed past her; I slid my phone into my butt pocket as I approached her. I dropped my notebook onto the table, which created a loud slapping noise, and took a seat beside the girl.

"Charlie Bradbury." I furrowed my brows, looking up. She was talking to me? My bright blue eyes prodded her hazel ones as if checking for something mentally wrong with her. "Speaking to ya," she acknowledged.

It seemed like she might've been naturally a brunette, but dyed it a hot red. She had on a pair of cute forest green skinny cargos tucked into a pair of brown leather combat boots and a burgundy zip up along with a jean jacket. I decided that I wasn't interested, but nevertheless liked what I saw.

I couldn't contain my snort. "Castiel Novak. What's up?" I retorted and then ignored her. It wasn't to be rude—believe me—I just wasn't honestly expecting an answer.

Apparently she did have an answer, though, and I looked up at her the second she had finished her thought. Looking down at the sketchpad before her, my eyebrows shot up. "Holy shit, did you draw this?" I demanded loudly, drawing the attention of a few immediate students.

It was definitely an interesting picture. It was of a tall, long legged heroine. She had long blonde hair and wore a black flannel shirt that was unbuttoned and ripped in areas, and her flaming red bra was visible and supporting her large breasts. She wore a pair of pinstriped red shorts and her feet were bare. In her hands she held twin swords, and there were red cuts all over her body.

"That is a masterpiece," I said appreciatively.

"Thanks," Charlie blushed. "You can actually have it if you want. I have a whole studio full of dumb pictures like this."

"Fuck yeah," I all but shouted excitedly. I chuckled and looked over at her with a smile. "I just moved here," I found myself telling her, surprising myself when I opened up so easily to her.

"Hm, I could've guessed," she chortled. I looked up at her with an exasperated smile. "From where?" she asked, now laughing as she ripped out the paper and handed it to me. She watched me give it a long once over before she started on a new piece of paper and began drawing.

"Orlando. I lived with my brother. Now I live here with my other brother." I couldn't help but notice the venom in my voice when I said 'here'. I sighed deeply. It sounded so stupid to me, even now when I've thought about it over a thousand times.

She laughed. It occurred to me that she was sketching me. Charlie furrowed her brows and asked, "Why all this dipshitery?" Her eyes were back on the canvas at once.

I groaned and stretched my legs under the table, wanting to get out of this dusty smelling room and go for a run or something—something that would help me relax. "Got caught up. And then my brother that lives in Orlando got arrested for possession and providing for a minor I guess. It really just all happened before my eyes," I full out admitted, pursing my lips. "Honestly, I mean, two days ago I was smoking a great joint with my brother and playing Mario Kart and then, bam," I clapped my hands together, "I was in a court room, and then on a plane."

"Sucks," Charlie agreed, smiling. "I mean—I'm sorry about getting kicked out. You made any friends yet?" she asked, this time making eye contact with me.

Pushing my lips up, I shook my head and scoffed, suddenly annoyed. "My brother called some kids' parents to set me up on a play date with them, but other than that, I just got here twenty minutes ago."

Charlie giggled gently, squeezing her eyes shut and not suppressing the snort that caused her to quickly cover her mouth with her hand. "Sorry. Well, if you wanted, or were desperate enough, you're welcome to hang out with my friends. We're a little bit of band geeks, but we're quality." She laughed more.

I couldn't help but smile at her. I was genuinely surprised that I made a friend so fast. Well, maybe I couldn't exactly call her a friend at this point since I don't exactly know jackshit about her, but it was close enough.

Charlie laughed. "Need someone to show you around town?" she asked politely, checking the clock and beginning to pack up her stuff into her messenger bag that had a bunch of Harry Potter key chains on the side.

I found myself sighing deeply once again. "Soo, here's the thing. My brother is this really strict, religious fuck and his girlfriend is pretty much babysitting me. I have to be back before four. Normally I wouldn't give a shit but he actually threatened he'd take a lot of my shit away and I'd rather not get kicked out because I don't have enough for a plane ticket back to Orlando." And Lucifer's got to get out of that cage first.

She laughed. "Gotcha." The teacher was taking roll quickly before class ended. Charlie looked over my schedule and shook her head. "No other classes, looks like."

I shrugged and lightly chuckled. "Guess I'll just have to use my charm and God-like looks to attract friends and possible mates." My natural (obnoxious) sarcasm was resurfacing.

xXx

Stats had gone and passed; I had made sure to sit on the opposite side of the room from Nancy. Every time I even dared to look in that general direction, she was looking back. And not like looking or just checking, but staring. Staring like a mother fucking owl. It was not only annoying but also a little bit terrifying.

Then came Russian 4 Honors. I honestly didn't think I would even need to try in this class, let alone bring materials (not that I was planning on doing that at all at this school). I knew it like I knew the back of my pale ass hand. It was, after all, my first.

"Privet, new student!"

"Dobroye utro," I responded easily, the sound slipping off my tongue like second nature. I told her that my name was Castiel and she nodded.

The teacher was speaking in full Russian now. "Class, this is our new student, Castiel Novak." She turned to me, her smile wide. "I am Miss Karolina. Since you are new, you need to present yourself to the class. And don't worry, everyone had to do this last week as an ice breaker, and since you're our newest addition, it's only fair."

I groaned and shrugged my aching shoulders. I was born into this language, so there was absolutely nothing for me to be worried about. "My name is Castiel Novak and I was born near St. Petersburg. I moved to Florida when I was nine with my two older brothers. Sometimes when I'm bored I pour yogurt on my face, also I have seven piercings on my body." I stopped. Everyone looked immensely confused. "My favourite food is bacon." That one people could understand and chuckle at.

I paused and licked my lips; did I have only seven piercings? Or eight? I had my left plug, normal piercing, cartilage, tragus, bar, belly button, and my personally favourite, right nipple. That would make seven. I was surprised when Michael hadn't noticed the nipple piercing when was lying half naked in my bed yesterday morning.

The teacher furrowed her brows, looking like she wanted to say something, but refrained from it. "All…right, Castiel Novak, everyone!" she cried, the excitement back in her voice. "Please find an empty seat," she requested.

I made my way into the back, noticing that people were staring at me. Was it my ears? I asked myself, or maybe just my devilishly good looks. Jeez, I should be a stand up comedian.

"Cas," whispered a boy. I looked over in his direction, still holding the empty black notebook in my hand tightly, the metal spiral digging into my fingertips.

In the back was a boy with thick, leafy brown hair that covered his forehead. He seemed stretched out, too, or maybe his legs were just too big to fit under the table. He nodded at the desk beside him and I swallowed lethargically, taking that as enough of an invitation to sit down next to him.

He seemed largely Italian and somewhat German. The dark haired boy was not a bad mix; he seemed younger than me. His eyes verged on being brown and green, as if they couldn't exactly make up their mind. And I was right—the boy was huge. He held out his hand for me to shake and it pretty much dwarfed my own.

"Sam Winchester. You're good at this, can you help?"

Bitch, I was born in Russia. "Give me that shit," I offered, taking his workbook from him and filling in the answers as easy as hell. Sam chuckled, keeping a tentative eye on the teacher to make sure she didn't come over towards us and catch me.

Five seconds later, I tossed the book back to Sam's desk. "Thanks," the dark haired boy said, smiling gratefully. His smile was bright and warming, and I caught myself relaxing into the seat more.

A loud banging reverberated from the doorframe and a short boy appeared there. He was hanging from the frame and then dropped to his feet. "Honors Russian! My favourite class!" he shouted, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he grabbed the attention of the class before he headed towards where Sam and I were sitting. "Ah shit, someone stole my seat."

He went straight to the back and grabbed a chair and pulled it over to me, positioning it on the side so that we were sharing the desk. Miss Karolina didn't seem to really give a shit about his noisy and distracting entrance.

"And who might you be?" he asked, clasping his hands together under his chin and looking up at me with big brown eyes. "Newbie?"

"Castiel Novak," I told him, cracking my fingers under the table—a nervous habit—and we shook hands.

"Gabriel. Nice to meet you, man," he said pleasantly, his eyes wild. His golden brown hair was slicked back as if he had used some sort of grease in it. He slid out a long e-cig from behind his ear and took a huff. "You look confused."

I hadn't really noticed that my facial expression had changed, but I forced myself to correct it. "Yeah, I mean… What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"What!" he shrugged, a loud giggle escaping his lips. "It's legal to smoke an e-cig in doors pretty much anywhere. It's not like it's actual smoke. And besides, I'm eighteen so no one can ask any questions. This is the best I'm getting anyway since my mom stopped giving me allowances to buy actual cigarettes, but this shit is still pretty good. Nicotine and all."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't get why you're wasting your life with those fucking cancer sticks," Sam said, annoyed. At first, I thought Sam was a douche trying to sound mightier, or feel more powerful than his smaller friend, but then it occurred to me that Sam just actually just cared for him.

"Meh, where's the fun in your life, Sammy?" Gabriel asked, taking a huff and letting it out in a girl's face near him who squealed and slapped his arm. He laughed at her.

"Fucking up and left with Jess," Sam groaned. In a matter of point eight seconds, Gabriel looked sympathetic. There seemed to be something silent unsaid between the two and it got silent. I didn't know what to say to change the subject; I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable pressed in between the two boys. The teacher approached and they livened up.

"How is it going?" she asked in Russian.

"Can I get some water, Caroline?" Gabe asked loudly, of course catching the attention of some of the kids around the classroom.

"Gabriel, we only speak Russian in Russian 4 Honors. Otherwise, you would not have chose to enter the class," she reprimanded in a strict although motherly voice.

He groaned and repeated his question in Russian. She allowed it so he got up and left the room so that it was back to just Sam and me. Miss Karolina placed a workbook in front of me and I looked at it. She explained to me that there were three pages that needed to be completed and when I opened to them, I noticed they were just fill in the blanks questions.

Sliding out my phone, Sam offered to give me his number. I now had six numbers; Gabriel's, Sam's, Charlie's, the house's, and Michael and Hester's cells. I then licked my upper lip and set off to downloading apps on my phone, not caring if it would cost anything because it wasn't my money that I was spending. And besides, what was Hester expecting when she handed to me? It was clearly an open invitation otherwise she would have warned me to not download anything.

Gabe got back and the class ended shortly after, and I went to my fourth period English class. I ended up seeing Kevin but I chose not to talk to him all period. Then came lunch where I found myself truly alone. It hadn't hit me until the bell rang at the end of English. I looked down at his phone and my stomach dropped.

Swallowing, I dialed Crowley's number as I slid into a nook on the ground, leaning my back against a building while sitting on the grass. His phone rang, and rang, and rang until it went to his exact same boring voicemail that I knew—Crowley. Leave a message.

Breathing in, it came to mind that I hadn't actually even talked to him in almost two weeks before I had come to Louisiana.

Right when I decided to look up, Sam and Gabriel were walking past and nodded to me, then paused, telling me to join them since there was off campus lunch. I stayed still in my pocket on the ground for a moment before I gladly accepted, feeling thankful for the first time since I came to Baton Rouge.

We all ate greasy hamburgers at a small grill place and Gabriel ate at least eight cake-pops and three sodas. He was a weird one, but it made me like him all the more. Surprising us all, Sam revealed to me about his ex-girlfriend, Jessica Moore, who had moved to California a little before summer had ended.

Lunch was a little under fifty minutes, so we had to hurry back to school and I arrived to my fifth period Current Life thirty seconds before class started.

There were stupid ice breakers going on, which meant I was to sit in a group of people and listen to them talk about their hobbies and interests in pig Latin. I wanted to scream at how retarded all these people were. I carved it into the walls of my brain to remember to bring earphones tomorrow and download as much loud music onto my phone as possible when I got back to Michael's house. When it became my turn to present some facts, I took no time cussing them all out before I told the teacher I had to go to the bathroom, deciding I was not returning.

It wasn't a block day, so the classes were shorter than normal, and I only had to wait ten minutes walking around the perimeter of the school before the class was over. I couldn't risk getting an absent mark so I knew I would have to attend the final sixth period as to keep Michael from burning my clothes while making me watch.

My physiology class was last period so I had to sit through that boring class, and it struck me that there weren't any particularly intelligent individuals in that class either. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't thinking this because I saw myself as superior to the rest of these teens in my classes—I just felt like I was stuck in every sense of the word with morons who didn't compare in the slightest to my last group of friends back in Florida. That was probably just it. No one would be as funny as Crowley, or as crude as Alistair. Everyone just looked dull-witted in correlation it seemed.

Pressing my lips tightly together, I wanted to go back to Florida.

The bell rang and I grabbed the still empty notebook and made my way out of the classroom, feeling someone tap my shoulder. I was about to turn around and shout obscenities at the person when I noticed it was shaggy haired, beautiful Sam, standing at his near six one height (and he didn't seem near done growing) with an awkward smile on his face.

"Jeez, Cas, it looked like you were ready to bite my head off."

I snorted lightly and we both kept walking down the hall. "Close. I was thinking more along the lines of knocking all your teeth down your throat."

"Ah," Sam acknowledged, laughing. "Well I was wondering what are you doing after school? I was thinking about stealing my brother's car and showing you around. Err, with the company of some of my friends I was hoping you would want to meet," he added quickly.

I frowned. I felt successful that two different people had asked me if I wanted to hang out with them after school, but then realization washed over me and I discerned I was going to have to explain this to Sam as well. "Here's the thing—that really sounds great and fun and all but my… Brother is making his ho-bag girlfriend watch me this afternoon and she threatened me this morning that if I wasn't back before four, it'd be bad—which normally I would not even pay attention to, but my clothes are on the line."

Sam nodded, pursing his lips. "Alright. Then maybe you're free sometime this weekend? And I find it funny how you didn't notice me or Ash throwing shit at your back all class."

I knitted my brows together as I glared up at Sam, and I reached a hand back and brushed it, feeling a bunch of spitballs fall to the ground. "Auuh, gross, fuck you!"

"Nah, I'm strictly into girls," Sam chuckled.

At this, I actually laughed. "Was it that obvious?"

"Most dudes don't check out other dudes' asses before faces. But it's whatever." Sam smiled brightly, his perfect teeth gleaming. In the outside light, Sam's brown hair shone and I squinted.

And fuck me for sounding like a little bitch, but Sam seemed really, really cool. In that moment, I actually felt hope swirl in my belly. Sam was a friend, and he accepted me. It felt good, and it wasn't expected. Not this early, that was for sure.

"Well I gotta catch the bus because my dumbass brother got suspended the first goddamn day of school and can't give me a ride home because he's not allowed on campus, so, till tomorrow I guess," he nodded to me, pressing his hand on my shoulder.

"Oh, hang on—I'll take it too if it get's off near my brother's house." It would forever stay as 'Michael's House', because I knew I would never feel at home there.

let me know what you think! i'm a little anxious to continue so it would be really helpful if you gave me your input! i missed you guys! queen of sexual tension is baaaaack!