Disclaimer: I own nothing. Heaven only knows that mycandlove would not be child appropriate if I did. In fact, I'm sure it would rival all other sexual games. But. Alise is mine. Castiel is hers. So, in a way, I own Castiel. All of my yessss.

:: ::

My guitar was old, beat up. It was one of those you could buy at any Walmart. The strings were pulled tight and I was afraid they would snap at any minute. But until I could afford a new one, it would hold up. I hoped. It still sounded good enough. It didn't loose any of the chocolate silk Castiel's Gibson, but it was decent for what I got it at. Touching it's cool wood grounded me for a while, and I plucked at the strings for a few seconds before delving into Mom's favorite song. It was a slow song; I didn't know the title or the lyrics, but the notes were forever burned into my head.

When the song was over, I rested myself against the sloppily painted black headboard and sighed. My throat hurt. I hadn't sang a single word, and yet I felt as if I had shouted the unknown lyrics. My throat was sore and my fingers were heavy, resting on the strings of my guitar, watching the little particles in my eye fluid dance. I didn't move a muscle, but suddenly I felt as if I'd looked around the room, at my new life, and decided I didn't want this. I didn't want this. I didn't want to be here, in this room, in this house, in this state.

I wanted to be home, sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace, playing the notes to some song lost to the trails of time with my dad; listening to my mother whistle along because she didn't know how to play an instrument but she did know every single sound vibrating from Dad's guitar and mine.

I wanted to be in the kitchen with Mom, rolling up Dough Boy crescents for dinner; watching Mom beat the meat as she bit her lip, thinking of how delicious it was to make food with her daughter; tossing a cake into the oven.

I wanted to be with my dad on Take Your Child To Work Day, helping him teach the guitar to the middle schoolers; watching him banter back and forth with his teacher coworkers, joining in once in a while; hugging him for taking me out of school.

I wanted to be in my room, Skullcandy headphones pressed to my ears, listening to everything from classical to hard rock to punk.

I wanted to be in Lizzy's room, gossiping like the ditzy teenagers we were; trading secrets; silently surfing the web; complaining about school.

I wanted to be in the middle of my old school's hall, fighting loudly with Tobiah then laughing it off as cousins' banter, which we weren't even; mussing through my locker for my gym clothes even; trying to fight off Kentin.

I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be starting a whole new life. I wanted my old one. It hadn't had anything wrong with it, so why had it been taken from me? Why had the world ripped the most important things from me, thrown me into a city where I knew all of one person, and left me there to possibly wither up and die? I didn't even mind the dying part; I wouldn't have cared if I had ended up six feet under—so long as it was me and not Mom; so long as it was me and not Dad.

So long as it was just me.

No one else.

Me.

I wouldn't mind that. I would welcome it. If that meant saving my parents' lives, then of course I'd give up my life for theirs. And I'd do it gladly.

But no, that had not been the card fate had dealt me with. Instead it'd made me face a much harder fate than death: Life. Life without the people who had raised me. It had made me face the horror of new, of the unknown, and it had made me do it without anyone's help but Aunt Sarah's. For that one familiarity, I was grateful. At least fate hadn't made me go on to a completely new place with no one; I had my auntie. The all of one person I knew.

My eyes stung, prickling with the thousand acupuncture needles of tears in hiding. Tears that would not come out, no matter how desolate I became. Tears I would not let out. Tears I was too strong for. I took a deep breath, defying the weight that had suddenly appeared on my chest. I moved my fingers off the strings of my guitar, defying the starch that had suddenly made them stiff. I stood up, defying the jello my legs had become.

Defiance was the one way to deal with the depression that was inevitable.

I sighed, defying my body once more. It was time for a walk around Candice City. Maybe that would help get my mind off of things. My phone was on my desk, and I grabbed it up and stuffed it into my pocket, deciding that if Aunt Sarah needed me, she knew my number. She herself had said I could do whatever I needed to do today. And I needed to get out.

The door locked automatically behind me when I left the house, but my keys were latched to a belt-loop on my lap so I didn't exactly worry. Maybe if this town had a Michael's or a simple cafe, I could escape my thoughts.

My mind pictured Castiel's strong face when I thought of escaping my thoughts. I rolled my eyes at myself; I hadn't known him for even a day, didn't even know more about him than his name and favorite song. What the hell was I doing looking to him as an escape? He should be part of the problem. He was new. He wasn't Tobiah, he wasn't Lizzy. He wasn't an escape and he'd made it very clear he didn't want to be.

I walked around aimlessly. Once I left the little neighborhood of suburban houses, the roads plummeted into the town. Most of the streets were straight, teeing off at predictable places. Others weren't. Others wound in around themselves then deteriorated into dirt roads, heading off into the thin forest that separated Candice City from the neighboring Elliot City. Everything worth going to was within walking distance. Candice City was one of the first settlements, so it was named "city" regardless of how small it was—and remains—and no one had ever, apparently, thought to rename it. I guess Candice Town doesn't have as nice a ring to it as Candice City.

The nickname for Candice was Candy. Which made me want candy. Badly.

Either I was going nuts or was PMS-ing. Which was pretty much the same. Chocolate sounded really nice right now. Which was lucky, because a general store was right around the corner, and general stores usually had truckloads of candy and chocolate. I had ten bucks in my bra; that should be enough. So I went inside the little store, so much different than Mr. Harris's Dollar Shop. It had a little bit of everything: Candy, lawn ornaments, kitchen utensils, school items, food, clothes—the list went on.

I went to pay for my six bags of chocolate and assorted candies—I was gonna need tons of it, I knew, as I was moody, hungry girl when it was that time of the month. There was only one register open and I walked to eat, eager to rip open a Zero bar and gorge myself until I was sick. Defying my body yet again by stuffing my face. I needed to do that. Defiance made me feel better, even if it made me sick.

I looked up from my goodies to see Castiel. I blinked in surprise—both at seeing him and at the bubbly feeling that erupted through me suddenly, making euphoria tug at my every nerve ending. I didn't feel like defying anything. I did, however, still feel like stuffing a Zero down my throat. But that was just the PMS cravings. I didn't smile at him; I just looked up at him—because he was so much taller than I was—too shocked to really give him an expression other than the wide eyes of shock.

"Feeding a mob?" he asked, almost scoffing.

The dull beep of the scanner sounded. I looked down at my goodie bags. A side of my mouth tilted up. "I'm feeding myself," I admitted with no remorse whatsoever. I was just craving that Zero bar right now.

Castiel rose a red brow. I noticed that, curiously, his eyes looked like a murky, dull brown up close. The brown that could pass for gray. He tossed the king sized Zero that he'd just scanned into a bag; I grabbed it before it could even fall, tearing it open. I almost moaned at the nutty taste. God, that was good. "Yeah, because you can eat all that." He really did snort this time.

I smirked at him. "Would you like to watch me?" I challenged, raising a brow to copy his expression. His eyes looked beautifully gray-brown. I bit my Zero bar again, closing my eyes in appreciation. That filled that empty feeling I had at home; the empty feeling that seeing Castiel had made almost nonexistent. Almost. I hated that. He should make me feel like that—completed—even partially. This was the third time I'd ever seen him. It shouldn't feel like he fit into that hole my parents left. My eyes opened to see his half-lidded, looking over me appreciatively. I liked that.

I hated that I liked that.

"Would I like to watch a ninety pound girl eat enough candy to turn her into a hippo?" Castiel wondered aloud, eying me as I chewed challengingly on my Zero. He rose one of his red brows again, rising to the challenge I posed. "I don't see why the hell not."

I chuckled lightly. The side of my mouth lifted up again in a small smirk. "Come around next week then," I offered, teasingly. "I'll probably eat all this candy, the furniture in my house, then I'll go door to door to nibble on the sofas." Heaven knew Mr. Harris was going to be seeing plenty of me. An embarrassing amount. "I'll probably break an eating world record."

Castiel almost laughed at that. He gave me a genuine smile, a bubble of air slipping through his lips, and rolled his eyes. His smile lit up his face. He pulled back from me and I jumped slightly; I hadn't realized we'd been leaning over the checkout counter, closer to each other. A blush flamed my cheeks and I felt a quick moment of erythrophobia before Castiel offered me another smile. He didn't seem the type to smile.

I handed him the money and grabbed my single bag full of other bags, one-handed. I looked down at my second hand sadly. There was enough left for exactly one mouthful. "You want the last bit?" I asked, though I was sure my sad tone said that I didn't really want to share.

The redhead chuckled at me, nodding his head at the Zero bar. "Go ahead and stuff your face."

I looked at him as if he were my own personal savior. "Oh, thank you," I said, dropping the bite into my mouth and chewing it not-so-thoroughly before swallowing.

Another one of Castiel's low, almost soundless chuckles reached my ears. "Keep opening your mouth that wide and you'll be real popular real fast," he claimed. If I thought it was actually possible, I'd say he was teasing me.

I rested my palms on the cashier table's edge, leaning forward on them. "Only certain people get to see that," I assured him. I grinned at him, reaching up on my tiptoes to ruffle the silken red locks of his hair. His roots were black. I stood on my feet again to see a scowl on his face. I returned his earlier favor of smiling at me. "Your roots are showing, by the way." I studied him for a long while before deciding, "I think red's really hot, really I do, but au natural is much, much sexier."

Castiel's brown-gray eyes widened, a bit shocked.

I left him like that, walking away back to Aunt Sarah's house.

These next two weeks were going to be really, really hard if a guy as arousing as Castiel was going to be around most of the time.

I dug into the bag and grabbed a Kit-Kat.

Ugh. PMS-ing sucked.

:: ::

Aunt Sarah was home when I got there. She sat on the chocolate-smelling sofa, wrapped in a robe, drinking hot chocolate and staring at the TV. A soft music played from the television; I knew the notes. They were from Mom's favorite song.

Would you know my name

If I saw you in heaven?

I swallowed. The melody now had lyrics.

Would you feel the same

If I saw you in heaven?

I ached. These were the notes of the first part. This was the beginning. This was the song without words. The television screen's first picture, the one I didn't see, turned into one of Mom and Sarah. The one in her picture frame. Their matching dimples.

I must be strong and carry on

'Cause I know I don't belong here in heaven...

My throat tightened. The acupuncture needles were back, pricking the back of my eyes. I felt the need to sob, but I didn't have the air to. That picture changed into one of Mom, a pompom in both hands, arms extended into the air. The Sweet Amoris High emblem was on her left side, covering her heart. I expected to see Dad somewhere in the background; I wasn't used to seeing her in pictures without Dad or Sarah. I didn't though; Mom and Dad hadn't met until college. Dad was studying to be a music teacher and Mom to be an art teacher.

Would you hold my hand

If I saw you in heaven?

This picture rewound back into Mom's elementary school days. She held a painting proudly in her hands, displaying an amazingly detailed unicorn. Her eyes were closed, a smile on her gap-toothed face.

Would you help me stand

If I saw you in heaven?

I couldn't watch anymore. I swallowed deeply and made myself walk, ever so calmly, up to my room. My footsteps were calm and collected—everything I wasn't. I jumped into my bed, grabbing my pillow and holding it as if it held all the secrets. As if it could make this pain go away. As if it were Castiel. I sobbed into the pillow, holding it tighter and tighter with each sob. I sat there for hours, until the sun was sinking and the moon was rising; until Auntie Sarah didn't feel like it was right to leave me alone; until each of her comforting words melded together like melted medal. Until everything just slipped away and I was asleep.

A tear never escaped my eyes.

I didn't know if I was proud of that or not.

:: ::

The song is called Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton. That song owns my heart right now.