Author's note: Alright, so not a lot happens in this chapter, but a few interactions that happen will play a big part later on. Enjoy!

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and never will.

Keep watching from your picket fence,

You keep talking but it makes no sense,

You say we're not responsible,

But we are, we are, we are

~We are by Ana Johnson~

(Michael's pov, October 5, 2013, Crowley's house)

"Anna's birthday is in six days."

Michael looked over at Lucifer from his spot on the old leather couch, his ear buds dangling from his ears. "Is it?" he looked at the calendar on his phone. "I almost forgot."

Lucifer grinned, tossing a wad of paper onto the floor. "That's not good, Mikey," he taunted. "If you keep forgetting things, we may have to send you to a nursing home."

"Don't call me Mikey."

His brother just grinned and tossed another paper ball at him. "Stop it," Michael commanded firmly, only to receive another hit. "I said stop!"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Chill out, I was only having fun," he tossed a wad of paper in the air like a ball. "Fun sucker."

His eye twitched. "I'm not a fun sucker."

"Yes you are."

He tossed a pillow at his brother, smirking as it hit him square in the face. The smirk soon fell as they heard Anna's voice sounding from the other side of the attic, Cas' voice not far behind. He smoothed back some of his black hair, looking to Lucifer. "What are we going to do? She's never had a birthday where she didn't get a present."

Lucifer shrugged. "She's tough, and you've got to remember she's no spoiled brat."

"I know, but she'd be crushed," a silent pause came between the two of them, Michael staring at his hands while Lucifer stared off into the wall. "Have you heard from Dad?"

Lucifer glanced at him. "No. I figured he'd call you first."

"Why would you assume that?"

His younger brother shrugged, leaning in the chair. "You're the oldest and the most responsible. You're told to do something and you do it."

"Well you're Dad's favorite," Michael held up his hand as Lucifer opened his mouth. "Don't deny it, it's obvious. You've always been his favorite."

Lucifer smirked. "Jealous?"

"No, not really. It doesn't mean that Dad loves me any less."

Lucifer looked at him for a minute; eyebrow raised, but didn't say anything. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glued to the wall as Michael stood up to rummage through some books lying on the bookshelf near the wall. Rain pounded against the window, the drops sliding down the glass and onto the shingles of the roof. Michael felt relaxed by the sound as he sorted through the books. He pulled out ones of different shapes and sizes, some thicker than the others. Some were even lined in gold, looking delicate and well kept.

He pulled out a black binded book, finding it odd that it had no words on it. He flipped through it, realizing that it was a scrapbook, full of pictures with captions underneath them starting from the 1850s. He flipped through it further, frowning when he saw a picture of three children, the girl sitting on a chair while two boys stood next to her. Neither of them were smiling. In fact, they looked rather bored.

"Luce, come look at this," he motioned for his brother to come over. "Don't these people look familiar?"

Lucifer looked over his shoulder before taking the book from his hands. He studied it for the longest time, eyes scanning over the image. "It's Dad, Mom, and Crowley."

Michael took the book again. "Why would Mom be in that picture? Dad told me a long time ago that he didn't meet Mom till college."

"Maybe it was a different Eve?"

"Luce, that's Mom. Even I can tell that," he turned back to the picture. "She looks like Anna. Only without red hair."

Lucifer traced the picture with a slim finger. "Maybe Dad forgot that he met Eve when they were kids. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding?"

"Doubt it," Michael set the picture back in the book, looking further in the pages. "Look here," he indicated towards a list of names that had been copied. "It says our grandparent's names, and apparently they had three kids. Crowley and Chuck, obviously, but the third name is scratched out."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. "Well that's weird."

"That's all you have to say?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "What did you want me to say? Oooh, let's go on and adventure Mikey! We can be like Dora and Boots!"

Michael shut the book with a loud snap, setting it gently back on the book shelf. "I just figured you'd suggest something about asking dad or even Crowley," he turned to his brother with a wry smile. "I think it's best we leave it alone. If Dad wants to explain why we have a third aunt or uncle, he can tell us."

Lucifer frowned. "Well don't you think we have the right to know?"

"I…"

"Michael!"

Castiel's head appeared from the top of the stairs, the small boy leaning on the top step. "Uncle Crowley wants to see you! And he sounded kind of grumpy."

Michael and Lucifer exchanged looks before Michael stepped forward towards the stairs, ruffling Cas' hair and descending down the creaking steps. He made his way through the seemingly never ending hallways and stairs until he arrived in Crowley's office, the older man waiting for him with a sour look on his face. "You there, you're Michael, aren't you?"

He nodded. "I am."

The older man held out his hand, his head motioning him forward. "Your father's on the phone. He wanted to speak to you."

Michael took the phone from him, bringing to his ear and spoke into it. "Hello?"

"Michael! Thank goodness you answered quickly or else I would have been stuck talking to Crowley."

Michael frowned into the phone. "Where are you? We haven't seen you in days?" he paused, the frown deepening. "Are you…feeling okay?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be? I've just been a bit…distracted recently."

"Okay, fair enough, but why do we have to be here?" he ignored the glare from Crowley. "We all wish you were here."

"I'll come and get you guys when I can. Right now…I just need some space."

"Space?"

"You know I love you all, but the younger ones can be a handful and I just cannot concentrate recently. I need time to sort things out. Can you help me by looking after the younger ones?"

"Of course, Dad," Michael shifted his phone to his other ear. "Hey Dad, you do remember that Anna's birthday is in a few days, right?"

"Of course I remember! I'll try to be there, okay?"

"Okay."

"I've got to go now. Take care, alright? I love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

Michael turned back to Crowley, stepping back a little as the older man towered over him. "I hope you're not turning into some whinny little bitch crying about why his daddy isn't here. It would be most…unfortunate if your father had to come back to see you black and blue."

Michael paled. "Of course not. I was only meaning it like I want to be back at our own home and school. To not cause you anymore trouble."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yes!"

Crowley stared at him for the briefest moment, his dark eyes blank and unreadable. Before Michael could stop him, Crowley's hand reached out and grabbed him roughly by the chin. Michael hissed at the contact, but the looking in his uncle's eyes held him in place. The grip on his chin felt bruising, and he was sure he was going to have a mark on it by the time the older man let him go.

"You look similair to your father," Crowley said absent mindedly, tilting Michael's chin up to study him further. "But you have your mother's eyes. None of the others do, heh."

Michael glared at him, tugging his face out of the hand. "Don't touch me," he warned, stepping back from the taller man. "Or I'll tell my Dad. I'm sure he'll be upset with you if you hurt me or the others."

Crowley waved his hand, walking over to his desk and sat down. "Your father doesn't scare me," he began. "If anything, he's more afraid of me. Now, go be a good little boy and get out of my sight."

"Don't need to tell me twice," Michael muttered and hurried out of the room before the man could say anything more. He trudged slowly up the stairs, rubbing his chin tenderly. He could already feel a bruise forming, but that wasn't what bothered him. The way Crowley had looked at him, the way he touched him, it felt wrong. His stomach churned at the memory. Why would Crowley say something like that?

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Lucifer commented as he flipped through a magazine, his pale eyes looking up to see him. "What, did Crowley scare you? What's wrong with your chin?"

"Nothing," Michael waved him off, not wanting to drag his younger brother into this. "Don't worry about it."

The second he sat down, he felt Lucifer slide into the seat next to his, staring at his chin intensely. "He touched you, didn't he?"

Michael only nodded, knowing now there was no point in lying to him. "He grabbed my chin and said something really weird," he narrowed his eyes at the thought. "He said that I have mom's eyes."

"Wow. I never pegged him for a Harry Potter fan."

"Luce!"

"What?" his younger brother leaned back, not meeting his eyes. "Everyone in Harry Potter comments on Harry's eyes. I was only trying to lighten thigns up."

Michael crossed his arms, glaring at the coffee table in front of them. "Well, it was still weird. And the way he looked," he shivered once. "It wasn't natural. In fact, it made me feel sick."

Lucifer leaned over next to him, patting his arm reassuringly. "Just keep away from him; he's a creep. He's jealous that you inherited mom's good looks and he didn't."

"If you say so."

"Luci!"

Both of them turned to see Anna running up the stairs, her red hair uneven as she collapsed into Lucifer's arms. Michael cringed a little, annoyance corsing thorugh his veins as he noticed more gum in her hair. There was only one person who would have done that….

"Gabriel!" he stood up, seeing as the younger boy was standing in the middle of the attic. "Why did you stick gum in Anna's hair?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know."

"I don't know is not an answer!" He crossed his arms, glaring harshly. "Do I need to tell dad that you're casuing toruble? Because I am very sure he doesn't want to deal with that. And what would mom say right now?"

Gabriel looked down to the floor, sadness welling up in his eyes. Turning around, he could hear Anna give a sharp intake of air and see tears wellign up in her eyes. Lucifer just sighed, opening his other arm and allowing Gabriel in it. "There, there," he whispered softly. "Michael didn't mean to make you sad."

Michael just walked out of the attic, biting his lower lip as to not to make a sound. He headed into their room, slamming the door shut and flopping down onto his bed, shutting his eyes tightly.

"Michael?"

He jumped, hearing Castiel's voice. Opening his eyes, he could see the small boy there, looking curiously at him. "What is it Cas?" he asked wearily.

Castiel shfited, looking uncomfortable. "Are you and Luci fighting?"

He blinked. "No. Why would you ask something like that?"

The child fidgeted slightly. "You only slam the door when you're angry. Are you mad at me?"

He couldn't stop the smile that spread out on his lips. "No Cas, I'm not mad at you," he pulled the small boy onto his lap. "You haven't done anything, so why would I be mad at you?"

Castiel smled at that and pulled out a book that had been lying near the bed. "Will you read to me? Anna and Gabriel are too busy fighting."

With a small roll of the eyes, he picked up the book and oepned it, trying to escape reality as he talked about the little blue engine that could.

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