Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, any of the characters or any of the song lyrics used in the starts of the chapters, regrettably D: If I did, Dean and Castiel would have been waaaay beyond eye-fucking for ages now, Sam would have gone back to save Gabriel from Lucifer, and Lucifer would have suffered. Badly.

Author's Note: Yes, this is a secondary school [['Cos I'm English xP]] fanfic. It's not really AU, because the plot is very similar to the actual show. John's still a douche, Mary's still dead, Dean and Sam were still raised as hunters, there are still angels and there are still demons. As Dan put it, it's more of an Alternative Timeline xP So yeah.. Reviews would be greatly appreciated ^^ Thank you, and enjoy!

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly

I'll do what it takes 'till I touch the sky

And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change and breakaway

Out of the darkness and into the sun

But I won't forget all the ones that I love

I'll take a risk, take a chance, make a change, and breakaway

Needless to say, the atmosphere within the motel room the Winchester boys currently inhabited was not a pleasant one.

The wafer thin walls were doing little to keep the furious argument contained, and every single person in the surrounding rooms were either burrowing their heads underneath their pillows or walking out of their doors, not wishing to hear any more of the tirade that had been steadily escalating for over an hour. The owner of the motel was seriously considering forcing his way into their room to order them to keep the noise down or face being thrown out early, but he decided he didn't dare. The mere memory of the rather fierce looking man checking into the motel earlier just under a fortnight ago, two teenage boys flanking his side, had been more than enough incentive for him to leave that particular room well enough alone.

Sitting inside the room every other resident of the motel was giving a wide berth, Dean Winchester watched from his bed as his younger brother and father screamed bloody murder at one another from opposite sides of the room. Elbows propped on his knees and hands supporting the sides of his face, Dean watched dull-eyed and frowning, pupils sliding from one to the other. Their father had just recently returned from his hunt, successful in killing whatever it was tormenting the town, and had ordered the boys to pack up their belongings. Sam, it seemed, was very reluctant to leave this particular place however, and what had started out as a petty complaint had spiralled and turned into a full blown row.

"I've got friends here, Dad!" Sam was shouting, arms thrown wide for emphasis.

"Having friends in our line of work is a mistake!" John barked back, "And it's for the best that you learn that now! The family business is a lonely one!"

"I've told you before Dad, I don't want to go into the family business." Sam snarled through tightly gritted teeth.

"Watch your tone, boy." John's voice contained just as much menace and ferocity as Sam's did. "Now I've given you an order and you'll follow it!" And with that, he stormed across the room and marched through the door, slamming it behind him.

The second he was gone, Dean slid off his bed and grabbed a rucksack. He began hurriedly shoving his belongings into the bag, aware that Sam's cold glare was now fixed upon his back. He paused in his movements, halfway through dropping an oversized Metallica t-shirt in with the rest of the jumble that were his possessions. When he neither heard Sam move nor make any attempts to speak, Dean continued with his packing. After a further few minutes of stony silence during which all Dean could feel was Sam's icy glare, he finally snapped. Whirling around, he returned the glare with just as much force.


"Why do you just follow his orders like a good little soldier?" Sam spat, the words tumbling from his mouth as if he had been dying to say them for a long time. Dean's temper was only fuelled when he reasoned that this was most likely the case.

"Because that's what a good son does, Sam." Dean replied shortly, throwing his bag onto his bed.

"Actually, it's more like what a mindless robot does.." Sam muttered under his breath, before speaking at his normal volume again, "Don't you get sick of constantly doing what he wants when he wants? You've got your own life, Dean!"

Dean's fists clenched, but other than that he made no signs telling Sam he had heard his brother's insult. Trying to control his temper, the elder Winchester rubbed the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. "It's not like this new place will be any different from this one."

"This place was different, Dean. This place has something nowhere else does."

"And what's that? Sam, if you really need friends, you'll make new ones in this new place." Dean sighed, aggravated. He personally agreed with their father's views; that being a hunter was a lonely road. Making friends that they were only going to end up leaving in a week or two was utterly pointless, and the sooner Sam learned that, the better.

Suddenly, something in Sam changed. His pupils slid away from Dean's and focused on a spot on the carpet, his head bowed slightly so that his brown fringe fell over his face, and his entire body seemed to visibly slump. Dean was so concerned by his brother's apt change of posture that he froze in all his movements, eyes glued to Sam.

"This place has Jess.." He mumbled, so quietly Dean only just about heard him.

Dean's angry expression cleared and he frowned sadly. It was no longer any wonder to Dean why Sam had reacted so badly upon being told to move. On any other occasion, although he protested, the arguments had never gone on for as long as this particular one had. And now it all made perfect sense. Sam had met Jessica in his class on his first day at their new school, and two days later they were in a relationship. She was his first girlfriend, and Dean could understand why Sam would find it difficult to part with her. But however much he hated seeing his little brother so upset, there was nothing he could do.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. Really." Dean said quietly, running a hand through his short hair. "But you know we have to follow what Dad says."

Sam didn't reply; just walked to his bed and fell face first onto it. Dean turned to face him and sighed. He couldn't understand the way Sam was feeling, having never really been in anything that could be counted as a relationship. They usually didn't stay in one place long enough for that to be possible. And besides, Dean's future was already laid out before him; the solitary life of a hunter. Sam still had the freedom to make a choice. Long ago, Dean had accepted that the only path open to him was the one of a hunter, but he'd be damned if he let Sammy take the same path unless he truly wanted to. And Sam had made it plenty clear how he felt about hunting. For now, all he could do was try and fix what their father had started, and calm Sam down. The job that was always thrown onto his shoulders, whether he wanted it or not; his wants were irrelevant.

"You'll make new friends, Sammy." He said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. "You never know. They might be better than the ones you made here."

Again, Sam didn't reply but he didn't need to.

His silence voiced his obvious scepticism for him.

Only just holding back the weary sigh he longed to release, Dean slid off his bed and continued packing his rucksack. After a while, Sam joined him but still refused to speak a word. Within the hour, both of the boys' things were all packed up and the motel room looked as empty and barren as it had when they first arrived. Sam took this time to sit on his bed, staring forlornly at his mobile phone. Dean stole a glance at it as he passed and saw Jess's number on the screen. As he watched, Sam's thumb jabbed down on a button, and the number vanished.

Not long afterwards, the unmistakeable sound of the Impala's engine drawing back into the motel car park reached their ears. Dean slung both his and Sam's bags onto his back and walked towards the door. When he reached it, he became aware that Sam had not followed, and turned back. His brother was standing by the window, peering out into the car park where their father was waiting, nothing but a silhouette in the dark shadows of the Impala's inside.

"Come on, Sam." Dean called to his brother quietly. They were the first spoken words between the two of them in over an hour of complete silence, and at the sound of Dean's voice, Sam jumped and turned.

And then, without a word, he walked across the room, past his brother and out of the door. A moment later, Dean heard the sound of a car door slamming closed. Giving the interior of the room one last glance, Dean closed the door and hurried down towards where his father was waiting in the car. He slid silently into the seat beside his father, dropping the bags into the foothold behind his chair. He stole a glance at John, and then at Sam. The surly-looking man was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were turning white and his eyes were focused unblinkingly at the road ahead. Sam was staring out of the window, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, looking downright miserable.

Rolling his eyes, Dean turned away and stared out of his own window. He was sick of the constant arguing between his father and brother. He was sick of being on the receiving end of one or both of their tempers should he ever dare voice his opinion, God forbid that he should have one. No, he was supposed to be the one who followed without question; he wasn't worthy of having an opinion or a choice. He was just meant to pick up the pieces his father left behind, and he was the one that had to stand up and take care of Sammy while John was out hunting.

There was no time for him to get too bothered about moving from place to place; he had more important things to focus on. Like convincing Sam this new school wouldn't be as bad as he feared, and that losing Jessica wasn't the end of the world. Just like normal, he, Dean, would be adopting the role of a parent and consoling Sam. That was just the way things were.

Knock, knock.

Gabriel rapped his fist as quietly as possible on the wooden door. As he waited, he glanced up and down the darkened hallway, ears pricked for the slightest sound of movement. When he received no reply from the other side of the door he was currently crouched in front of, he frowned, and turned back to face the wooden surface. He raised his fist and knocked again, this time harder.

Knock, knock.

Again, he checked the corridor straight after making the soft noise, but just like the last time, there were no sounds of movement anywhere else in the house. And yet again, there was no response from behind the door. Gabriel's frown deepened, and he curled his hand around the handle. It moved easily down in his grip, and the door swung away from him with a gentle creak. He straightened up from his crouched position and crept into the room, closing the door behind him as he did so. Moving slowly, he slid the bolt across so that the door was locked as it should have been. Had he known it was unlocked, he wouldn't have wasted so much time spent crouching in an uncomfortable position.

But the unlocked door was doing more than annoying him; it was sending a cold wave of apprehension spreading around his body. Gabriel's youngest brother was meticulous about everything in his life. There was little change, little altering of his schedule. Rarely did he stray from his chosen path and even then, he did so with an air of anxiety and fear. And locking his bedroom door at night was one of the rituals he carried out every single day, as soon as he went to bed. So to find his door unlocked at around midnight when Castiel had vanished up into his room a good two hours ago was concerning for Gabriel.

Trying to ignore the surge of fear now nestling in the pit of his stomach, Gabriel turned on his heel and peered around the bedroom he stood in. The calming, sky blue walls were lit up by a lamp sitting on the bedside table, casting a soft orange glow around the room. The plain white duvet looked untouched, the pillows without a crease. The bed hadn't been so much as sat on. Thinking quickly, Gabriel's pupils slid to the window, and a small smile crept onto his face when he saw that it was open, the curtains wafting slightly in the gentle breeze. Letting out a breath of relief, he ran a hand through his mop of light brown hair.

"Jeez Castiel, could you at least tell me where you're going..?" He mumbled under his breath before he crossed the room and slid the window up fully.

He leant out so far that his abdomen was pressed to the windowsill and turned his head towards the roof. There was no sign that his brother really was up there, but Gabriel knew that Castiel had more sense than to make it obvious. He doubted that many of the families in the houses that surrounded theirs would find the sight of a teenage boy sitting on the rooftop a normal sight. It would raise some odd questions, to say the least. And Gabriel highly doubted their Father would appreciate having to explain that away whenever He came home from wherever it was He'd gone this time.

Gabriel backed into his little brother's bedroom and slid the window closed. Taking a moment to pause and listen, he stood with his hand aloft, thumb already balanced on his finger. When he had made sure the sleepy atmosphere was still over the house, he snapped his fingers. A moment later, he landed on the roof of their house, slipping a little on the smooth tiles. Lying on his back, staring up at the sky above, was Castiel, who hadn't even flinched as his brother appeared out of thin air before him. He was huddled up in a tan trench coat, wrapping it around his pyjama clad body with his arms that rested on his stomach. Gabriel walked over the tiles, icy cold on his bare feet, and settled down next to his brother.

"What brings you up here, bro?" He asked, tilting his head back to look at the sky too.

Castiel's blue eyes remained unblinkingly fixed on the massive span of inky black above them, dotted with the odd silver spot. His features, as usual, were fixed in his usual serious expression; the only thing that seemed alive about him were his eyes. They were shimmering brightly in the pale moonlight above his and Gabriel's heads, reflecting the stars.

"I needed to think, Gabriel." Castiel replied eventually, not taking his eyes away from the night sky.

"And you need to come to the roof to do that?" Gabriel asked. "Normal people go on walks."

"We are not normal, are we?"

Gabriel drew a blank at this, not certain of how to reply. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever floats your boat."

"I do not understand that reference. I am certain that it is no choice of mine what makes a boat able to float."

"Just forget it, Castiel.." Gabriel muttered, trying to hold back the snigger that threatened to escape. His brother could be so dense sometimes. "And what, may I ask, are you thinking about?"

When Castiel made no attempts at replying to his brother, Gabriel adjusted the way he was sitting, the tiles far too cold on his bare skin. Still, that'd teach him for walking about on the roof at night in just a vest and boxer shorts. It was alright for Castiel, he was perfectly warm in that trench coat; Gabriel was freezing waiting for a response. As Castiel continued to lie there as if he had all the time in the world, Gabriel only just managed to supress a sigh and snapped a jacket out of thin air, which he wrapped around his torso.

Gabriel tucked his knees up against his chest and hugged them, willing his Grace to warm him up, even if it was just a little bit. As he did this, he kept his eyes fixed on Castiel. The young angel was awkward and utterly hopeless at any social situation. He could barely speak to anyone outside of his family and even then it was mainly he, Gabriel, that he conversed with. They weren't exactly blessed with a great family. Their two elder brothers, Lucifer and Michael, were constantly at one another's throats, sometimes physically as well as verbally. Raphael, younger than Gabriel by one year, adored stirring up trouble between the two of them; it was his favourite form of entertainment. He also seemed to love teasing Castiel, but Gabriel quickly put a stop to that. Out of all of his brothers, he felt the closest to Castiel; he just seemed to be much more human than the others were. Just like he, Gabriel, was.

"Castiel, it wasn't a difficult question.."

"But it has a complex answer."

"Can't really help you with what's in your head, bro." Gabriel reminded him. "You're just gonna have to tell me what you're thinking about up here in the freezing cold when you could just as easily be tucked up in your nice, warm bed."

Again, Castiel paused a few moments before he answered. "Something's coming."

Gabriel was tempted to crack a joke about how cliché that sentence had sounded, but he reminded himself at the last minute that Castiel probably wouldn't have understood why, thus the hilarity of the moment would have been totally wasted. So instead, he opted for a very simple, "What?"

Castiel finally sat up and stared his brother straight in the eye as he spoke. "I am unsure, but I feel as if something is coming. Something big."

Gabriel could resist it no longer. It was almost as if Castiel were choosing his words deliberately, picking sentences and phrases that he knew would tempt his elder brother.

"Wow, all we're missing here is the dramatic 'dun dun duuuun!' music.."

True to form, Castiel's head tilted to the side and his frown deepened. "I do not understand that -"

"Never mind.." He interrupted, bringing his palm to his forehead in mock exasperation.