Flannel Punk

Chapter Two

TRIGGER WARNING

Castiel tossed the bag at Dean, saw him wince and drop the bag, then he ran. By the time Dean looked up from the ground, Castiel was already almost home. Granted, Castiel didn't live very far away from school, but it was still far enough to be quite impressive. And a little spooky. Castiel's phone buzzed again, but this time he actually bothered to look at the text. It was from Gabriel.

G: Hurry up and get your ass home! Mike will be home soon, and you know how he gets! I'm not covering for you this time.

C: Ugh fine. I'm like, two minutes away.

G: You know I'm just trying to look out for you Cas.

C: I know. 

Then Castiel put his phone away. The small boy pulled a set of house keys from his backpack and shuffled up the walkway of a large, red brick house. Castiel let himself in through the front door, then locked it behind him. The two Great Danes, Lucy and Hank, came scrabbling through the corridor to meet him. Castiel crouched down to their level and showered them with affection.

"How are my favorite puppies in the whole world?" Castiel asked. He stood and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. Both sets of giant bowls were empty, and the water bowls were completely dry.

"Did Gabe not feed you two when he got home?" Castiel shook his head and picked up the water bowls, taking them to the sink. He turned on the faucet and walked away from the sink so he could fill the food bowls while the water bowls filled. After completing that task, Castiel grabbed an orange from the bowl sitting in the center of the kitchen island. While he peeled the orange, Castiel again became immersed in his thoughts of Dean Winchester.

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Dean looked around, bewildered. What the hell? That was weird. He just... vanished. Dean shook off the shock of the boy's sudden comings and goings. Dean shrugged his shoulders and started the lengthy walk to Bobby's house.

Dean and Sammy often stayed at the esteemed Robert Singer's house when their father was away. The man ran a scrap yard out of his home, and often sat on his porch with a can of beer and a shotgun across his knees. He had a mean rottweiler named King Bach (often referred to as King) and  Bobby certainly made a mean lasagna.

Dean started his trek up the path to the house, and could already hear King barking and snarling from beyond the junk yard gate. "Dean, Dean!" Sammy, being his clumsy nine-year old self, tripped over his shoelace and fell on his face. "SAMMY!" Dean sprinted to where his brother lay on the ground. Sammy rolled over onto his back and sighed.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked his little brother. "Yeah, I'm fine," Sammy replied. He stood up and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. At nine years old, Sam was already almost as tall as Dean. Now, Dean was not tall by any means, in fact he was often considered to be quite short. He only stood five-foot three inches, and Sammy was a mere two inches shorter than Dean.

"How was your day kiddo?" Dean asked Sammy while they walked back to the house. Sammy's grimy face lit up with a smile. "It was great! Today was Jess's birthday, so her mom made cupcakes for the whole grade!" Dean smiled and ruffled Sammy's shaggy brown hair. Sammy looked at the broken glasses in Dean's hand quizzically.

"Did you run into another door Dean?" Dean hated lying to his brother, but he knew it had to be done to keep Sammy safe. "Yeah, I wasn't paying attention and I ran right into it. I was hoping you could fix them for me again." Sammy smiled and hugged Dean tightly, which caused Dean to bite back a wince. "Of course I'll fix them for you Dean. I'll go do it right now!" Dean handed Sammy the glasses, and the nine-year old sprinted for the house, laughing the whole way.