Author's Note: So, it's not like anyone actually reads these things anyway, so I'm going to take a moment to ramble. I have had to do so much work on these goddamn chapters that I seriously hate everything and everyone (excluding, of course, Aiden, who so kindly gifted me this beautiful story and allowed me to totally ruin it with angst and gay).

Editing was a long and tedious process, and if you've read this chapter or the whole story even, before I recommend re-reading it because I've fixed 99.9% of my initial mistakes, changed the verb tense and word choice to something I personally find more workable, and I've added some fun little bonus scenes throughout the story.

Oh, and there's two new chapters. You're welcome, by the way. (By "you're welcome", I mean, "I'm so fucking sorry for taking so long please forgive me may the Lord have mercy on my pathetic procrastinating soul".)

To the newbies! I adopted this from Resistant Raisin a while ago and am doing a piss-poor job of keeping up with it. Please heed the 'T' rating, 'cause there's a heaping helping of coarse language and heavy situations. Thanks.

Chapter One: There Have Been Better First Impressions

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The boiling Nebraskan sun beats down on the pair of demons standing idly by their car in the mall parking lot.

The older one, Sebastian, he is still called (though it is certainly a rarity that he keep such a name for so long) keeps stealing glances at what appears to be an antique pocket watch, chain trailing from his belt loop.

He would suggest they get a move on, but his master evidently wants to stand in the light a bit longer, and it's far from a servant's place to order such things.

"How can you stand it?" The master's tinny, eternally pre-pubescent voice shatters the silence.

Sebastian hides a smirk, feigning ignorance.

"The heat, my lord? This region is known for its bipolar climate; I'm sure that it will clear up in no time-"

"Don't play coy with me, dog," The master, Ciel, spits. "This hunger. Nearly two hundred years you've been thirsting after my soul, and gone hungry for likely centuries before then. How must it feel, I wonder? To starve for all eternity? How do you cope, Sebastian?"

Sebastian is uncertain of how exactly Ciel had shifted his speech from a whine to a jab at Sebastian's own foolishness, but it's quickly growing tiresome.

"Constant diligence and strength of will, my lord," The elder demon sighs, snapping the pocket watch closed with an audible 'click'. "We really must be going, sir. We're starting to run off schedule, and you know how that troubles me."

Ciel snorts at this. "I've no concern with what troubles you, Sebastian," The master announces, but follows after Sebastian into the vast building, anyway.

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"Hey, Dean! Get this-"

"Shhhhhhhhh!" Hisses Dean, pressing a finger to his lips. "I'm in the zone, man! I ran out of quarters so I've only got thirty seconds of this heaven."

Sam rolls his eyes at Dean from over the screen of his laptop, anxiously shifting in the plastic chair at the motel room's sketchy-looking desk.

"Dude, I really don't care about that vibrating bed. You're wasting all of our money."

Adjusting the position of his shoulders, Dean burrows deeper into the massaging bed and throws an arm over his eyes. "You're just jealous!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the bed abruptly stills, earning a curse from the hunter.

"Now that you're back on Earth," Sam huffs, gesturing to his computer screen, "We can go to our next stop: Nebraska. If we hurry we can get there in a few hours and-"

"Wait, Nebraska?" Dean makes a face as he sat up on the edge of the bed. "Like Redneck, middle of nowhere, Children of the Corn, The Stand, Nebraska?"

"No, the Nebraska on Mars." Sam scoffs. "Yes, that Nebraska. There's been strange storms circling over this small town up in the northeast corner; the town's practically flooded one minute and then it's nice and sunny the next. And loads of power outages have been reported there too. There's definitely some paranormal stuff going on over there. If it's a demon we can probably get some information out of 'em."

"Alright!" the eldest Winchester hollers, jumping up from the bed and immediately going to gather their belongings, tossing items from around the room into worn duffle bags. "Let's get going. I wanna get me some pie before we leave."

Sam shakes his head fondly and sputters a short, airy laugh. "The Apocalypse is upon us and you're still thinking about pie?"

"Damn straight."

"Heh, I'd be worried if you didn't."

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"Must we wear such things, Sebastian?" Ciel whines, eyeing his current attire with distaste.

"One must blend in with the times, my lord." Answers the butler, chuckling. "We can't have you wandering about in corsets and petticoats, can we?"

Ciel's cheeks flush an endearing shade of crimson.

"That was one time, Sebastian," The young demon replies through gritted teeth. Sebastian gives him a sickly-sweet false smile, making a great effort to come off just the right amount of patronizing.

"Of course, my lord." Sebastian indulges. Ciel's shoulders slump in defeat as they continue to maneuver their way through the crowded food court, trying to avoid the questionable looking puddles on the floor, as well as not bump into any patrons (who, in Ciel's opinion, are just as revolting as the stains on the ground).

To Ciel, it seems that the closer to the bustling mall's exit they get, the more constricting his clothes are. He isn't sure why, and he absolutely isn't going to ask his butler about this strange feeling (Sebastian would take such great pleasure in mocking him), so he merely tugs at the bottom hem of his shirt, pulling the suffocating fabric away from his throat.

Only when the two demons left the sounds of the food court as the one of the mall's many glass doors slid automatically shut behind them does Ciel finally feel slightly less smothered by his clothes.

Only slightly.

As he takes a moment once again to stop and stretch the collar of his shirt away from his neck and pulled his pants farther down his legs, he is roughly knocked over. He stumbles backward a few clumsy steps before Sebastian manages to catch him, gently straightening the boy up and placing him back on his feet.

With a sharp glare, he snaps at the burly man whose elbow ran into his shoulder. "Oi! A little accident is fine, but at least apologize! Don't just walk away!"

The young male walking beside the man who had knocked the youngest demon over puts a hand to his companion's chest and points in the demons' direction.

"Uh, Dean..."

"Huh? What, Sam?" 'Dean' replies dumbly, shaking his head to free himself from his daze.

Turning around to look in the direction 'Sam' pointed at, his mistake seems to dawn on him.

Slow-witted beast.

Ciel accepts the man's half-hearted 'sorry' with a scoff of annoyance before muttering testily to himself, "Bloody Americans..."

Sebastian gives an amused smirk and ushered his young lord to the mall exit.

"Come now, my lord. We've just enough time for tea before this afternoon's business meetings- not a moment to spare for complaints."

Ciel considers this.

"And there will be sweets?"

Sebastian's master is still such a child, even after almost two hundred years. The boy-demon can't even taste the cakes that Sebastian prepares for him. He wonders why his lord even bothers.

"If you so wish it, sir."

The master frowns deeply.

"Don't give me that look, Sebastian," Ciel sniffs. "It's perfectly reasonable for the owner of an international candy company to enjoy the occasional pastry."

"I never said that it wasn't, my lord."

"You were thinking it."

"Whatever you say, sir."

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As soon as the kid and the tall man are out of sight, and the pair of hunters had entered the mall, Sam smacks Dean upside the head.

"Dude, that kid's got more manners that you. And he looked about ready to chew you out."

Dean rubs the new tender spot at the back of head and shoots his brother a glare with a small grunt of indignation.

"Well, excuse me, but I was a little preoccupied with the EMF to notice Little High and Mighty," Dean snaps.

"Wait. The EMF?" Sam queries, a look of confusion flashing across his face. "Isn't that supposed to be in the car?"

"Yeah, but I forgot it in my pocket." To prove his point, Dean allows the corner of the instrument to peek out of the pocket of his jacket. "Damn thing was vibrating like crazy."

"I guess we got our demons," Sam comments, frowning thoughtfully. "That was... surprisingly easy."

The hunter rule of thumb in these sort of things is, "if it's easy, you're doing something wrong". It makes the youngest Winchester slightly antsy to think that finding the source of all the trouble was so simple.

"Eh, it's good enough for me." Dean shrugs, eager to get the case over with. Maybe get valuable information out of the demons they're able to interrogate.

"...You do know this means we've gotta skip lunch and deal with this."

Dean pales.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, but I would," Sam iterates with a grin, prompting Dean to produce the longest, most drawn-out whine ever whined by any grown man, ever. Therefore forcing Sam to give him patented Bitch Face Number 8 until he gets the hint to shut-the-fuck-up.

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, Sam grabs Dean by the sleeve and steers his older brother back outside. "Let's just go, dude."