Seeing Demons (A SuperTrekLock Tale)

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Dean Winchester was not a happy boy. He, along with his younger brother Sam, had been uprooted from their old life yet again. This because their father, John, had taken a new job in a new town with new awful people. As he gazed out his open driver's side window upon his new school––a castle of a building, complete with turrets, soaring buttresses, and a courtyard––a constant stream of expletives aimed at everything and everyone poured from his bow-shaped lips.

That's not to say that Dean had a problem fitting in. Quite the opposite, in fact. With sea-green eyes that a princess would be proud of, brown hair that bordered blond, and a chiseled physique (though he was considered "vertically challenged" by his much taller younger brother), Dean fit in anywhere. One of the only problems he had was his crude sense of humor and unwillingness to trust others.

"Admiring the view?" Came a chuckle from behind him. Dean turned to look behind him (and up) at feather-haired, puppy-eyed Sam. His brother was everything he wasn't: valued brains over brawn, spoke softly and with thoughts for others, and––most of all––the top of his head crowned 6'0, even though he was only a freshman. Dean himself was somewhere around 5'9.

"This place looks downright medieval," he responded gruffly, causing Sam to furrow his wide brows.

"It can't be that bad . . . " But Dean was already off towards the front door, his eyes raking the lawn for anyone worth talking to.

"Excuse me?" Sam whirled to see a mousy looking girl with huge brown eyes and a white hoodie standing awkwardly behind him on the grass. There was something tough about her, even through her soft featured and upturned nose. She could definitely handle herself. "Do you know where the freshman dorms are?"

"Uh, yeah. Actually I'm heading down there myself." He shifted his backpack to his shoulder and held out his hand. "I'm Sam Winchester." After shaking her greeting, she flashed him a smile.

"Molly. Molly Hooper."

~~~~~~

The other guy hadn't arrived yet, Dean noted as he entered his dorm. Both halves of the room were identically clean. A small, three-drawer bureau was pushed against the wall farthest from the door, with a small table next to each narrow bed. A huge window with a view of the back courtyard sat between the dressers. Two doors (leading to closets, Dean guessed) were situated in the corners farthest from the main door.

The juniors' section of the dorm wing was at the top back of the building. The freshman had the lower back, the sophomores: lower front; and the seniors had the best position of all at the top front of the castle. Dean only had to descend a few flights of stairs to reach his brother (which he was very happy about), and walk a few feet to reach the girl's hall (which made him even happier.) 

A startlingly deep voice sounded from behind him. "Left or right?" Dean, trying to keep a cool appearance despite his hammering heart, slowly turned to regard his roommate. He was definitely an odd looking fellow.

Everyone has heard the expression, "why the long face?" before, but this boy really did have quite a narrow visage. His dark blue eyes were hooded, and his mouth was turned down at the corners. He was tall (of course), and lean, yet had an air of being stronger than it seemed.

"I guess I'll take the left. You seem like a right sort of guy." Dean's easy smile melted off his face as the boy completely ignored him; simply throwing his duffel bag on the bed and leaving without a second glance backwards. Dean sighed.

"We're gonna have ourselves a good time."

~~~~~~~~~

"A trench coat? Really?" Sam had entered his dorm to find his dorm mate already moved in. The first thing he noticed was a light tan trench coat tucked over the closet door, that looked like it would reach down to the ankles of whomever was wearing it. "Very suave." He started to unpack, his mind wandering to Molly Hooper. If there was any girl he would spend time on at this ridiculous boarding school, it would be her. When Sam straightened up from the bureau, he almost jumped out of his skin. There was a boy standing in the doorway.

"Geez, man," Sam laughed nervously. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." The boy moved toward his side of the room, keeping his eyes on Sam. Though his eyes were a soft blue, he kept them narrowed. It seemed an unconciuess habit. Fluffy black hair made his skin seem milky white, and his lips paler than the norm. And he was short. Dean came up to his chin, but the top of this kid's hair barely reached above his shoulder.

Sam swallowed hard. "Uh . . . Long enough for what?"

"Long enough to know what you look like." Without bothering to explain further, the boy moved to the closet and slipped his trench coat on. "My name is Castiel."

"Sam. Sam Winchester." Castiel barely nodded before leaving Sam alone again. Chuckling to himself and shaking his head, Sam continued unpacking.