So this is my new High School AU. Thanks for reading, and pleaseee be my friend and review ideas, etc. Thanks. Sammy, Cas, and Gabe really aren't in here, sorry. Also, those who live in America, I do too. So don't get mad at me.

Amelia Whalen was pretty pissed at the prospect of moving to America. They were perfectly okay in Scotland, but her mother had remarried an American man. Who wanted to live in America, probably where all his little American drinking buddies were. Amelia, who preferred to be called Amy, thank you very much, was 17, and was just about to start what the Americans called junior year.

Okay, so she was being a bit of a drama queen. Who could blame her? They were uprooting a less-than-pleased teenager from her home and moving to a country where everyone was apparently fat and had the newest models of phones even though their children were starving. Amy looked around her now empty bedroom, and held up her camera. Click. The only way she'd really got along with Ted, her step-dad, was that he bought her all of the photography supplies she needed.

"Amelia!" Great. She had to leave. She plucked a Sharpie from her carry-on bag and scribbled something on the floor, in her favorite corner where her bookshelf was.

Amelia Whalen-2014

Satisfied, she stood up, and turned straight into Ted. As always, his nose crinkled in disgust at her hair. Her goddamn hair. Well, sure, she had dyed it a bright royal blue and kept it that way, but it was her goddamn hair. "We're leaving."

"Yeah, I know." Amy retorted. As far as she was concerned, she wanted nowhere near him, and so moving to America was the last thing she ever wanted to do. And so, as an (albeit small) act of rebellion, she'd dyed her hair and kept her accent, even though her family dropped theirs weeks ago to "fit in". She followed her step-father out to the rental van, who would have all of their belongings at their new home. In Kansas. Of all the places in America, they had to live in Kansas.

Lawrence, to be exact. But who cared about Lawrence? (Again, I'm American too. She's just pissy.) Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she sent a final text to all of her friends.

Off to America! I'll visit you on holiday, don't worry.

She had no idea if she'd visit them or not. Amy just hoped that her mother would allow her.

Screw hope, she thought. It's never exactly helped you, has it?

Dean Winchester was 110% done with just about everything. Life, included. Dad hadn't been home in a few days, pulling his disappearing act that he did too often. John Winchester wasn't exactly the best man, but he provided a place to live, and, hell, that was good enough for Dean. Sammy was with friends, so Dean had a good two hours to himself. Hey, he loved his kid brother, but being just about a parent for him most of the time got annoying after a while.

Swiping a beer from the small fridge, Dean popped it open. Hell, he deserved it, and he was only about a month and a half away from turning 18. (Sorry, I'm botching birthdays here. Just roll with it.) Yet, since his birthday was just after the cutoff, he was stuck with the juniors instead of seniors. He really didn't mind, as half of the senior girls looked like shit.

Knocking back half the bottle, Dean stretched his legs out on the worn couch. He hummed as the alcohol swirled through his insides. Closing his eyes, he thought he wouldn't mind if he could just waste the day away, even though Sammy would be home soon. Dean's crap excuse for a phone plinked, alerting him that he had a text message. He ignored it, but found it annoying as the phone kept plinking.

Plink.

Plink.

Finally picking up the phone, he checked the messages.

Dean.

Deeeean.

DEAN.

Fine.

We're getting a new girl.

Maybe.

She's moving next door to me. I can see the trucks.

DEAAN.

Lisa, his girlfriend. Maybe. They'd started dating at the end of last year, and all through the summer, but Dean wasn't really attached to her. He wasn't attached to any of the girlfriends he ever had, to be honest. He was more known for his one-night stands, so Lisa was one of few (really, one of two) serious girlfriends. He texted back.

Who?

I don't know! Why don't you come over and find out?

Gotta be here for Sammy.

Sam will be fine. He has a key. Come over!

Be there in 5.

He stood, grabbing his car keys and worn leather jacket, only stopping to scrawl a note for Sammy.

At Lisa's. Eat. -Dean

He listened to his favorite sound in the world, the sound of the Impala's engine turning over. Dean followed the familiar route to Lisa's in silence, as he'd usually have music playing. Pulling into her driveway, he sat in the car for a few seconds watching the new family unload boxes from one of two moving trucks. There was the usual mother and father, a pair of kids who looked to be six or seven, and a girl that was about be his age that looked nothing like the man or woman. Then Dean noticed the hair.

It was a bright blue, and curled down her back. The longest strands brushed the small of her back.

"Dean!" Lisa snapped him out of his short trance by placing a heated kiss on his earlobe. "Dean, baby, why don't you go help them. Find out a little, see where she ranks. Plus, your butt looks especially good when you're lifting."

Dean grinned. "Alright. I'll do it, ma'am." He got out of the car, stretching his legs a little bit. Meandering over to the girl, who seemed to be struggling with a particularly large box, he tapped on her shoulder.

Someone poked her shoulder. "Hey, sweetheart, might want to leave the men to do the heavy lifting." Amy craned her neck to see who it was, and it was someone who was roughly her age. A boy, who had a good five inches and 80 pounds on her, cracking those stupid testosterone-inspired jokes. "I've come from next door to be your knight in shining armor, princess, so you might want to let me have a go."

"You want a go?" Her Scottish accent got stronger the angrier she was. As if she didn't have a strong one already. The boy seemed a bit taken aback, so Amy continued. "Fine." He held his arms out, and she dropped the box into them. The boy almost doubled over and let out a small 'oof'. He still pretended to be unfazed by it, so Amy had to give him a bit of credit. "It goes in the attic. You'll see the stairs on the second floor. Ignore my family, they're quite boring."

She picked up another box and lead him into the house. Turning his head, the boy winked at someone standing in the lawn of the other house. Amy followed the path through their new house up to the attic, where a small set of stairs led to her new bedroom. Which was the attic. It was a fairly large room, with three walls and the fourth was short, but became slanted to form the point of the roof. The boy dropped the box onto the floor almost immediately, and Amy did the same.

He stuck out his hand. "Hi. I'm Dean Winchester. Your neighbor's my girlfriend, so we'll probably see a lot of each other." Dean had a cocky grin, like he figured he was handsome. Figured. From what Amy had seen, almost every average American boy did.

"Amelia Whalen. But you'll call me Amy." She replied, shaking it.

"Got it, sweetheart."

"All my furniture's up now, and since you oh-so-kindly offered, you can help me set it up. The walls are already painted."

Dean took a good, long look around the room. The slanted part was white, but everything else was a light grey. Giving up, he helped Amelia (he'd decided to call her that, it suited her features better) move a twin daybed (the whimsical, twisting metal frame painted white) underneath the biggest window on the slanted wall. The bed just barely short enough to be the height of the short wall to be flush against it. A large dresser went on the opposite wall of the bed, and a glass desk went on the wall opposite the door, under a window. Small nightstands that matched the dresser went on either side of the bed, and a bookshelf was placed next to the door.

Amelia started to unpack the heavy box Dean had carried up, and filled the small bookshelf with dozens of books, leaving one of the three shelves open. The bookshelf seemed to sag slightly under all the weight, its top shelf looking as empty as her room once had. Dean sat on the floor, watching her lug the mattress up the stairs to throw it on the bed.

"You could have helped, y'know,"

"Aw, I think you got it, honey."

"Would you quit with the pet names?" Ah, now he was finally riling something out of her. She grumbled to herself while putting away her clothes and putting the sheets on her bed. Unfolding the quilt she'd made with her grandmother, she put it on her bed. After a lot of small things were put away, she turned to Dean. "What are you even doing here? You carried one box up and moved some furniture around. I don't want you here!"

"Calm down, Amelia. My girlfriend sent me to snoop because she was curious. Okay? You're going to be a junior, right?" Amy nodded, a bit peeved at the use of her name. "Right. So, chill. I'm leaving. See you in school."

He stood up and left, stomping down two flights of stairs and over to the next house. Amy sighed and continued to unpack her belongings, regretting almost any life decision that could have summed up to this.

Sending a text to her cousin, who was in London starting university, she also sent a picture of her new room.

Love the room, but help! Already a masochistic bastard decided to come over.

The reply was almost instant.

The boys are flocking already, I see. Good luck! I'll be over for winter holiday.

See you then.

Please tell me what you think, because Dean's gonna be a little shit for like half of this. Just saying.