My apologies, this chapter is rather short, but I think you'll enjoy it. Also, since it's so short, the next chapter will be coming a lot sooner, meaning either tonight, or tomorrow. There's bits of humor thrown in, mainly because I just can't stay completely serious with the writing, and also because my goal is not to send you into a deep depression. Also, I forgot to mention in the notes last chapter, but the description of the story? Yeah, well, let's just say I was feeling like going for something less conventional. Make it more interesting. Did it work?
Anyway, you will not believe what I had named Castiel's Cat when I first started writing this a couple weeks ago. I'd, for some bizarre reason, named him 'Mr. Yaygi Meister'. I must have been sleepy, or something, because who in their right mind would...never mind. I'm going to shut up now. :X
Well, as always feedback is very much appreciated, and I want to thank all of you lovely readers who have added this story to your alerts!
Disclaimer: If I owned the show, then I wouldn't be writing this, I'd be handing it to Jensen, Misha, and Jared. ;)
"See ya, Sammy! I'll meet you at lunch!" Dean called out from the front door. Sam was in the kitchen, finishing up his bowl of cereal. Kashi cereal, actually. He couldn't believe his little brother was becoming a little health nut monster, it was kind of annoying. He put up with it, though, since he loved him. That's what you do for family.
He vaguely wondered, though, if his little brother was attempting to make a good impression on the girl that lived down the street, Jess. He'd go on and on about her sometimes - her pretty hair, her bright eyes - if Dean didn't know better, he'd say his little brother was lucky in love.
The two love birds started walking to school together everyday a couple of weeks ago, a change which Dean had greeted with mixed feelings. On a good note, he could now listen to his music on his way to school as loud as he wanted. However, he honestly missed having the presence of someone with him, even if Sam did annoy him with his whining about his tastes in music.
He'd never admit to it, though, and the one time Sam brought it up, Dean had shut down his brother's concern with that provident annoyance that he always uses to mask his feelings. He tried not to lean his burdens on his brother.
"Don't call me Sammy, Dean, it makes me sound like a little kid!" came Sam's indignant reply from the kitchen, and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam would always be a kid to him, even when they were old and grey. Though he tried not to think about becoming old and grey, since the idea kind of scared him.
Dean made his way to the Impala. The Impala, his baby, was part of the family. There were so many memories that Dean had of this car, and he wouldn't trade them for anything.
He pat the top of it, a small affectionate smile gracing his lips, before opening the door and easing himself into it. He was about to fish the keys out from the pocket of his leather vest when Sam came running out from the front door, a look of worry planted on his youthful face. Dean was at immediate attention, opening the car door and leaning out just enough to make eye contact with Sam,
"What?" he asked, knowing it must be important if his little brother's pensive face had anything to say about it,
"I forgot to tell you, Destin Road is closed for construction today, said so on this morning's news," Dean rolled his eyes - his brother had also become a news nerd in the last few months. It was killing him, listening to his brother rave on and on about all these grave occurrences and current events while eating their dinner, or playing a game. How his brother kept such a light heart was a mystery to him.
Although he supposed this was one of the pros of Sam's new interest, granted that Destin Road was the one he took to get to the High School everyday. It was a straight, ten minute drive from their house to the school from here, but it looked like today he was going to have to take the long way. Volonte Street veered to the right of Destin Road, and it would end up taking an extra ten minutes to get to school on said street. It was a much more scenic path, and were Dean not such a practical person, he probably would take that street everyday.
He was practical, though, and wasn't the type to 'stop and smell the flowers', so to speak. Especially not when the promise of something that smelled many times more glorious was awaiting him.
Dean grunted. Shit, I forgot.
"Crap, it looks like I'll have to skip Jo's apple pie, then," was his disappointed reply. He'd really been looking forward to that pie. Jo was bringing it in this morning for her foods class, and had promised to give Dean the first try before school started this morning. Dean never passed up an offering of pie, but it looked like he didn't really have a choice in this. He'd just have to cross his fingers and hope there would be some left over.
Sam cast a deflated Dean an amused glance from his place in front of the car,
"Couldn't you just eat cake, or something?" he asked, and Dean glared at him sharply,
"No way, it's not the same thing!" he argued, with a look on his face like he'd just seen the flying pop tart cat. Sam one time had shown him this video of something called a 'Nyan Cat' on the computer, and his reaction had had Sam literally rolling on the ground laughing for minutes,
After twenty seconds of blatant, wide eyed, slack jawed staring, Dean's eye twitched, 'Sam, why is that naked rat cat thing shitting rainbows out of its' ass?'
Ever since that experience, that singular facial expression had forever been deemed 'the flying pop tart cat' look.
Sam shook his head,
"Whatever, I'll see you at lunch," he conceded, turning and walking back into the house. Dean glared at Sam's back until his shaggy hair and cargo pants disappeared inside. Dean huffed in annoyance, Pie is not cake, Sammy. Pie is so much more than cake.
With a final sigh, Dean closed the door once more, and started up the car, thankful that at least the familiar roar of the Impala hadn't changed at all. He pulled out of the drive way, and drove off down the road, the sound of AC/DC fading along with the motor as the Impala got further and further from the house.
Sam put the curtain back in its place and chuckled, shaking his head as he wandered back to his seat in the kitchen,
"Idiot, you should've stopped calling me Sammy the third time I'd asked you not to," he mused under his breath as he ate the last of his Kashi cereal, though now it was beginning to turn mushy.
Somewhere, up in the highest of places, Balthazar, who'd been resting quite comfortably in his wavelength of celestial intent, was rudely interrupted from his slumber by a scream,
"Damn it, Winchester!"
Now what in the Glowing Garrison could have Fate's panties in such a twist?
Surprise! I'm back to annoy you all at the end of the chapter! :D
Balthazar: Was it really neccesary to wake me up? I was dreaming about drinking fine wines.
Me: Balthazar, I brought you back to life, don't complain.
Balthazar: Yeah, cheers to you, and all that good stuff. But I'm still STUCK IN THE WAVELENGTH OF CELESTIAL INTENT and would really appreciate possibly STRETCHING my legs, or something.
Me: You mean, something like heading to the local wine store and wreaking havoc among nice, innocent people for a glass of the most expensive wine they own, even though you have no identification that proves you're old enough?
Balthazar: Oh please, I look old enoug- wait, are you trying to get me to say I look old?
Me: Maybe. *troll face*
On another note, I don't know if you caught the irony with the street names (My only hint is that they need to be translated back to English - they're in a different language), but if you do figure it out, there will be many cookies involved for your amazing soul.
I'd better get out of here before the authors notes become longer than the actual chapter. Until next time!