Angels Dance to Demons Music : Ch1

The acoustics were not the best, Dean decided. It was the low ceiling and the lack of an entire wall that did it. Through the years, the garage has been the birthplace for the majority of the world's musical talents, even the Beetles had to start out somewhere, though Dean thought inwardly that even Ringo in his younger years had had better sense than to nurture his musical genius in a small, damp excuse for a garage. But it was adequate for their band, if they could even call themselves that.

The four of them were not the best but they could carry a tune and Crowley was a demon on the guitar. Dean was reduced to bass while Sam expressed his skills on the keyboard quite excellently (though Dean wouldn't say it in earshot of his little brother). Ash, co-founder of their band and soul possessor of a garage that could successfully hold the four of them and a battered drum-kit with enough legroom so that the sardine-feel was marginally lessened, was the drummer. He was brilliant when he actually put his mind to it, but that rarely happens as he almost always looks and acts stoned.

Right now though, they weren't playing but were trying to figure out a name for their band. Apparently Ash's suggestion of 'The Band of Awesomely Epic Dudes' didn't quite have the right feel to it.

"Oh, how about 'Hell's Angels'?" Sam volunteered.

"Overdone," said Dean with a yawn. They had been at it for almost an hour and Dean was getting bored.

"Hey guys, what about--" Ash started.

"No," said Crowley, who was sitting the wrong way on a dilapidated office chair, plucking dust off his black jeans.

"But you haven't eve--"

"No." Ash huffed out an indignant breath and collapsed back onto his back where he was lying on a scruffy mattress that was on top of what looked like everything else in the garage.

It was then that Ash's little sister Jo entered the garage, kicking a few pieces of car out of the way of the door that lead into the house. "Hey guys," she greeted amiably having put up with their noise for a few months now. "How's it goin'? Found a name for your sucky group yet?" The four were used to her poking her head in and throwing out the occasional insult so they didn't mind her.

"Nope, it's slow goin' at the moment," said Sam, shifting his position on the cardboard box and stretching his back until it gave a satisfying pop.

"Well, it's not the end of the world," Jo said encouragingly, "though sometimes I think it is when you start playing. God, the number of times I think my ear drums have burst because of you guys, I can't even--"

Dean cut her off; he'd had a brain wave (which was even rarer than Ash's sobriety). "I've got it," he announced, "the name of the band. We can be called 'The Apocalypse'." Dean glanced around and saw four sets of eyes fixated on him as he continued to press his point. "There's four of us right? So we can be the four horsemen of 'The Apocalypse'," he said, raising his fingers at the inverted commas. Dean waited to hear the verdict as the others took a moment to process this idea. It was Sam who spoke first.

"That's actually quite clever if you think about it."

"Not bad Winchester." Crowley said approvingly.

Dean turned to Ash. "Um, I don't get it," he mumbled. Life's too short, thought Dean.

"So, are we agreed?" Dean asked the garage at large and was replied with nods and a grunt of approval from the mattress.

"Who are you guys gonna be then?" asked Jo who was now leaning against a long since dead lawn mower who had yet to be put out of its misery. She received four puzzled faces and she let out a sigh. "You're the horsemen, so who's who? War, Death and the rest of it?"

"Well Ash is definitely Pollution, or whatever he's called," said Dean, gesturing to the teen in question who was still lying on his pile of garbage.

"I think its Pestilence," corrected Sam, "but Pollution fits him better I guess." They were answered by a grunted 'whut?' from the mattress but just ignored him.

"Dean is War, no question about it," said Jo. Dean was about to protest but Jo gave him a look that shut him up. "Remember that fight you got into with Alistair the other week? And the one with Michael the week before that. And the one with Raphael the week before that, or was it the same week? I can't remember, but there was the one with Zachariah and--"

"Yes! Alright we get the picture," said Dean a tad abruptly. It wasn't Dean's fault, really it wasn't. Either they pissed him off or he pissed them off or they insulted him or Sammy, if they did that then it wasn't Dean's fault that they deserved a fist to the face. "Those sons of bitches had it coming anyway," he mumbled in his defence.

"That means I'm Death then," Crowley said as if he was stating a fact rather than asking his fellow horsepersons. Sam was about to complain that he wanted to be Death but the glare Crowley sent him was worthy of his newly appointed title. "And little Sammy can be Famine. Rather fitting I think, what with all that healthy food he insists on eating every day."

"Yeah, Sammy, Death isn't well known for his puppy-eyes either. You'd be useless as Death, you'd want to save every sap that bites the dust instead of sending him downstairs," Dean reasoned. Sam replied with a bitch face that clearly said thanks-for-nothing-jerk-who-I-unfortunatly-have-to-call-my-sorry-excuse-for-a-brother.

The small silence was torn apart by a piercing scream from inside the house and a very pissed voice yelling so loudly that the windows looked like they were going to give in, "ASH! GET YOUR SORRY ASS UP HERE RIGHT NOW!"

"Oh shit." Ash jumped when he heard that he was the subject of his mother's wrath and fell face first onto the garage floor. He scrambled to his feet and floundered for a moment glancing between the door to the house (and certain death) and the open garage door, possibly weighing his options of how successful he would be if he legged it and faced the music when the music wasn't so pissed off.

"ASH! IF YOU'RE NOT HERE IN THE NEXT 10 SECONDS I'M GONNA DRAG YOU UP HERE, YOU HEAR ME?!" Two things in the world frightened Dean Winchester to his very core: flying and Ellen on a bad day, especially when Ash had done something monumentally stupid and royally pissed her off.

Crowley gave an exasperated sigh. "What have you done this time?"

"Well, er…" Ash started, edging his way closer to the garage door. "You know those booby-traps in that horror film we saw?"

Dean groaned in contact embarrassment at his friend's utter stupidity. Sam face-palmed and muttered something along the lines of, I knew we shouldn't of let Crowley pick the film and let Ash watch and take notes. Crowley just sighed again and pulled a hand through his raven hair.

"You didn't. Oh you bloody idiot." Ash wasn't listening, he was too busy being dragged to his death by his sister.

"Sorry boys. Gotta cut this short. It would probably be best if you didn't come around tomorrow either, mum sounds as if she could go off for days," said Jo as she struggled to get Ash to let go of the door handle. "Come on you wimp, grow a pair and face your fate like a man. Dead man walking!" she called as she finally managed to get him into the house and shut the door behind them.

There was an unnerving silence that seemed to echo around them. It was broken when Sam stood and started to make his way quickly to the garage door. "I don't know about you, but I'm out of here."

"Right behind you Sammy."

"Ditto."

They didn't run away, hell no! They strategically quickened their pace to avoid the damage to their well being that surely would have been the result of them staying a moment longer than they had to in that house when Ellen was in a full rage. At least that's what they'd say if you asked them.

"Well boys," said Crowley. He always called them 'boys' or 'Winchester' even though he was in the same year as Dean, "not that barely escaping with our lives isn't fun, but I've got to get going. Things to do, people to see, lives to ruin."

"Yeah, see ya later," called Sam.

"Yeah, bye Crowley." Crowley didn't like being called by his first name and no one could blame him. 'Anthony' had all sorts of connotations that didn't bode well for anyone's reputation. Dean found this out the hard way after he called Crowley by his name the first day that they had met when Crowley had just moved over from England a year ago. His nose hurt just thinking about it.

"Hey Dean, I'm gonna head home ok?" Dean hadn't realised that they were automatically heading into town. Must be a subconscious habit or something smart that Sammy usually says, he thought.

"Hmm? Oh, sure thing Sam. I'll be back in a bit." Sam nodded and headed off in the other direction. Dean sighed. He liked hanging out with his friends but sometimes all he needed was an aimless walk (or drive if his dad had been in a good mood and decided to hand over the keys to his beloved Impala to Dean for an afternoon) to just clear his head.

Dean wasn't paying attention to where he was going, he knew his town like the back of his hand, so he obviously had no idea that there was a boy running down the street looking rather flustered as he clutched to his bag and kept glancing over his shoulder. Dean rounded the corner at the same moment the other boy had looked over his shoulder and collided right into Dean with a faint 'oof'.

"Hey! Watch where you're go--" Dean stopped himself. The boy was on the ground franticly trying to regain the spilled contents of his bag and throw them back in. Dean kneeled down and helped collect the boy's books and what looked like a gym kit.

"Hey, I'm sorry." Dean apologised, "I wasn't looking where I was going and you were going quite fast and I just wasn't paying--" Dean stopped himself again but for a completely different reason. The boy was staring intently at him with a tilted head as if to ask why he was still there. Those eyes were the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. Probably the bluest blue Dean had ever seen too. They were just so intense. Dean realised he was staring and quickly looked away, coughing to hide his embarrassment.

When he looked away though, he saw something peculiar sticking out from under a book. He picked up the object finding it very light, both in weight and colour. The boy's eyes widened as he realised what Dean had found and quickly snatched it away from him, throwing it unceremoniously into his bag. Dean opened his mouth to speak but before he could say a thing the boy picked himself up and took off like a shot around the corner and out of sight.

The first thing Dean thought was, that's ok, I only helped you with your stuff, no need to thank me. His second thought was, who the hell was that guy? Surely he would have noticed a guy with eyes like that wandering around school, although Dean did have tunnel vision when it came to looking out for people and it mostly landed on the chicks. What do you expect from an eighteen year old? Dean's third thought (man he was thinking a lot these days, he really needs a break, poor guy) was why did he have a pair of ballet slippers in his bag?

Dean hauled himself up and rubbed the shoulder that the boy collided into. He didn't even know his name. Before Dean could walk away and forget that this ever happened, he found one of the boy's books lying on the sidewalk with it's pages open showing complicated looking diagrams of the human anatomy. Dean's fourth thought was, God this guy must be a smart-ass if he can understand shit like this. Dean picked up the book and as he did so something occurred to him.

"If you're as big a geek as Sammy," Dean muttered to himself flicking through the pages of the well-used textbook, "I know what will be right… here. Yahtzee!"

On the inside cover of the book, in neat, pencilled handwriting was a name. Castiel Novak.


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Castiel hated his life. No, that wasn't exactly true. He did like his life, but it wasn't his. It was a life that his parents had chosen and were making him live, and he hated it. They chose what subjects he was to study for. They chose what clothes he wore. They chose to ignore his real passion and talent make him want to become a doctor instead. Castiel didn't want to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or anything his parents wanted him to do. What he wanted to be was a dancer.

His older brother Gabriel, who had a similar dream of becoming a choreographer, had moved out when he turned seventeen because he was sick of being told how to live his life. Sometimes Castiel wished that he had gone with him but he didn't know then what he knew now. It was almost six months after Gabriel left that he told his father what he really wanted to do. That's when he got the lecture about dancing being a worthless and pointless career and that he should try to do something more realistic and that actually paid well.

That was almost two years ago and Castiel was now seventeen himself. He wasn't as confident and rebellious as Gabriel but he was rebellious enough to break his curfew. He would come back from school and go straight to his room to do his homework for an hour or so. After that he would grab his kit and several books and throw them into his bag and left. He would tell his parents that he was meeting up with friends to do a bit of extra studying at their house and they'd let him go with a warning not to drink, smoke, get into any fights and generally have a fun-free time while returning home at six-thirty sharp.

Everyday Castiel would make his way to the gym in town where he would meet up with Gabriel, who had started going to the college, and he would teach his little brother all that he had learned that day. This gave Gabriel the advantage in his classes and also gave Castiel the chance to finally do what he loves with his parents none the wiser. This had been going on for a few weeks now, so it stands to reason that something had to go wrong at one point or another.

"Castiel, darling," called his mother, "would you come here a moment?" Obediently Castiel laid down his pencil and made his way down the stairs. "Your father would like to have a word with you."

Castiel sat down cautiously on the couch as he waited for his father to start speaking. This never ends well, he thought. "Castiel," started his father. Castiel had the same dark hair as his father, but he had his mother's eyes. "As you know, exams are coming up and your mother and I think it best if you were to continue your studies without any distractions. This would mean that you are not allowed to go to your friends houses after school hours." Castiel's eyes widened but he knew better than to interrupt. "We need to make sure that you do your best in these exams; they could change your life for the better my boy."

Castiel nodded dejectedly and was about to take his leave when he had an idea. "Father, may I be allowed to start this new schedule tomorrow? It's just that I have loaned my friends a few of my textbooks, can I spend today retrieving them then spend tomorrow studying from them?" Castiel waited with baited breath as he saw his father turn this information over in his head.

"Alright Castiel, you may. But remember to be back no later than six-thirty, clear?"

"Yes, sir." Castiel had to stop himself from running up the stairs. "Father has gone too far this time," he mumbled as he gathered a few of his books and things in his bag (Castiel didn't posses many material things, only what was deemed necessary by his parents). His meetings and dance sessions with his brother helped him get through the day and he was not going to let his father take that away from him. "This time I'm not coming back." Castiel slung his bag over his shoulder and left without another word.

His mind started to wonder as he made the familiar journey into town. This is a terrible idea, what will mother and father think when they find out? Then Castiel realised something; he didn't care. Gabriel would be more than happy to put him up in his place, he'd drop out of school and get a part-time job and when Gabriel came back from college he'd teach Castiel like he always did and--

Castiel's train of thought was derailed when a hand landed on his shoulder and roughly spun him around. He was greeted with two all too familiar faces. Brilliant.

"Well, look who we have here," sneered the taller of the two.

"Yeah, how's it goin' point-dexter?" The second boy was much fatter than the first and jabbed a podgy finger in Castiel's chest.

"Raphael, Zachariah, I don't have time for--" Castiel started, pulling himself free from Raphael's grasp, he was already late as it is. He really wasn't in the mood for this.

"What's in the bag, momma's-boy?" Zachariah reached for the bag but Castiel took a step back.

"Just books, not that they'd be of any use to you," said Castiel coolly, still edging away.

"Did you just insult me you little freak?" growled Zachariah, taking a menacing step closer to Castiel so that he was now leering over him.

"Just give us your money and I'll tell Zach here to back off," said Raphael calmly.

Castiel couldn't tell them that he really didn't have any money on him. In his haste to leave he'd forgotten all about it. They wouldn't listen anyway and they'd turn his bag inside out for good measure, and he couldn't imagine what they'd do when they found out what he actually had in there. So Castiel did the first thing he could think of.

"Go to Hell!" Castiel yelled, and punched Zachariah square in the face. Zachariah was sent reeling into Raphael, nearly knocking the two of them over in the process. Castiel didn't waste any time in turning on his heel and running as fast as he could down the street.

"Come back here you bastard!" he heard Zachariah yell. Castiel continued running as fast as he could, darting around corners, sprinting across the street, trying his best to loose them. He kept checking over his shoulder to make sure that they weren't following him too closely but it turned out that he'd finally lost them. He was still running and had just turned around in time to collide with someone who had decided to round the corner at the same time. Castiel fell backwards, his bag spilling its contents.

He quickly started to refill his bag and was vaguely aware of the person apologising, but he didn't pay any attention. They would say they were sorry and be on their way soon enough. Castiel then felt a book nudge itself against his hand. He looked up and found a boy on his knees gathering his books and babbling to himself. Castiel involuntarily tilted his head (a bad habit, his father said) in confusion. He didn't have to help him, so why was he bothering? It was then that the boy looked up and Castiel was confronted by one of the most beautiful faces he had ever seen. He had short blonde hair, soft green eyes and a small cluster of freckles across his cheeks that looked as if they were airbrushed on.

The boy then coughed and turned away. Castiel's eyes widened as he saw what the other boy had found. Hoping that the boy hadn't got a good look at it, Castiel snatched the slipper from his grasp, righted himself and restarted his original course at a much quicker pace. He couldn't deal with any more bullies today. After a minute he slowed down. It was then that he realised that he'd dropped his science textbook. Castiel paused and debated whether or not to go back and retrieve it but thought better of it. He's probably stolen it or thrown it away by now, thought Castiel. He was only a block away from the gym now anyway so it would be pointless. Besides, he was never going to see that boy again.

Little did he know that Dean Winchester was following at a more sedate and cautious pace, curious to know more about this Castiel Novak that happened to run into his life.


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Dean had followed Castiel to the gym in town and now stood in the reception wondering what the hell he was doing. I've basically just stalked this guy that I ran into just to return a stupid book, Dean thought to himself because it was just too weird to say out loud. It's the polite thing to do, he reasoned with himself, I mean the guy was in a rush and all, probably didn't have time to go searching for his stuff; I'm doing him a favour. I'm not curious at all. Nope. Well… oh come on! The guy had ballet slippers for Christ's sake! That's a little interesting.

After an awkward conversation with the receptionist Dean found out where the dance rooms were and decided to hand over the book and leave as painlessly as possible. Dean heard some soft piano music drift down the corridor so decided to try his luck. The door that the music was coming from was slightly ajar so Dean, being Dean, poked his head through to make sure no girls were doing any stretches or splits. What he saw though was much more breathtaking.

Castiel, clad in a baggy shirt, leggings and his slippers, was dancing. It was the most graceful and beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. Wait, did I just use the word beautiful to describe a dude? The thought didn't last long as Castiel had leapt through the air and landed perfectly. The way his eyes were downcast and a small, barely noticeable smile graced his lips, he was the very definition of beauty. His moves flowed and melted into one another like liquid; it was flawless.

Well, it was, until the CD player decided that it liked these three seconds the best and wanted everyone else to appreciate them. With a huff of annoyance that can only be pulled off by someone who has had to put up with faulty technology for most of their life, Castiel switched it off.

"That was amazing." Castiel visibly jumped at the sound of Dean's voice. A deer-in-the-headlights look passed across his face then decided to return and camp there. "Um," started Dean lamely when he realised that Castiel wasn't going to say anything, "I mean, that was the best ballet done by a guy that I've ever seen. It was ballet right? I don't know much about dancing, nothing really." Dean realised he was babbling (and that he only seemed to do it around this Castiel guy) and raked a hand through his sandy hair. He slowly took a few steps into the room like he was approaching a real deer. "Um, you dropped this," he said, producing the book and handing it out to Castiel. Cautiously Castiel reached out a hand and took the book and clutched it to his chest as if it would offer some form of protection.

"Thank you," said Castiel with a curt nod. "I never apologised for running into you earlier."

"No, it's fine. It was my fault really." Dean stopped himself before he could start rambling again. "Name's Dean Winchester," he said extending his hand, which Castiel took.

"Castiel Novak."

"I know." Castiel looked taken aback and then became even more confused when Dean let out a small chuckle. "Don't freak out. You wrote your name on the inside page. Sorry, I was curious."

"Oh," was all Castiel said.

"I meant what I said you know. The way you dance… well, it was really amazing." Castiel blushed and dropped his gaze to the floor. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off when someone burst through the door.

"Hey kiddo! Sorry I'm late, I had some-- oh hello. Got company have we?" The short blonde guy quirked an eyebrow at Dean and had a mischievous grin that seemed to be permanent. "Who's your friend Cassy?"

"Oh, I'm--"

"He's just leaving," Castiel supplied giving Dean a subtle but meaningful look.

"Yeah, I am. Sorry 'bout that um…" said Dean making his way towards to door. "Well, I guess I'll see ya around sometime Cas," and with that he left.

What Dean didn't see was the surprise that flashed across Castiel's face at the nickname. Gabriel was the only one that gave him nicknames but that's default brother settings. That was the first nickname anyone had ever given him that wasn't degrading or humiliating. That was the first nickname that he actually liked. Castiel secretly hoped that he would in fact see Dean Winchester around sometime.


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"Where did you go then?"

"Just for a walk." Dean decided that it wasn't really lying when you didn't tell the whole truth but just a small insignificant part of it. Sam just shrugged and carried on with is homework.

"What are you idjits doin' here?" Grunted Bobby as he came through the door. Bobby was like an uncle to the Winchester boys so whenever they needed a safe house (which Dean needed at an average of once a week) they'd lie low here. Or, in this case, when their dad was away on business and Bobby was promoted to Winchester sitting duties.

"Dad's at work Bobby, didn't he tell--" Dean started.

"No. I know why you're here dumbass, I'm asking ya what you're doin'. Jesus, it's like talkin' to a brick wall." Sam and Dean were used to Bobby's idiosyncrasies so they didn't pay much attention to the occasional good-natured insult.

"Studying," stated Sam as he turned the page of his maths book.

"Er, yeah. Studying," said Dean, taking a seat at the table.

"Something on your mind boy?" How does he do that? Dean thought with a sigh.

"It's nothing Bobby. Just thinking about some stuff."

"Don't strain yourself," muttered Sam, turning another page.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Shut it you great pair of idjits before you give me an aneurysm." A small silence spread out between them that was occasionally broken by rustling as Sam turned another page.

"Hey Bobby, you still got that old mustang out back?"

"Well seeing as the engine is still in the garage I'd be pretty surprised if it's driven off by itself. Go on then, but watch out for the paintwork."

Dean always found that mending the old cars that Bobby had helped calm him and help him think. That's probably why he did so well in his motor mechanics class. Right now though he was waist deep in the space where the engine should be tinkering with the electrics, mulling over the weird day he'd just had. He had so many questions and was finding it difficult to formulate any answers.

Exams were coming up soon as well but that didn't really bother Dean that much (he was relying on his natural charm and Winchester luck to get him through them) what was bothering him was how to spend his two weeks study leave. Sam, the big nerd that he was, was already taking full advantage of his time. Dean couldn't spend all his time trying to fix these dilapidated relics; besides, he wanted to know more about this Cas kid. As soon as that thought passed through his head, Dean's mind started to wander back when he first saw him dancing. It was the most stunning thing Dean had ever seen. He wondered inwardly if he was still dancing at this very moment.


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The CD player was a lost cause. It had coughed and spluttered and nearly exploded so Gabriel thought it best to unplug it and humanely destroy it when he got the chance. He and Castiel were sitting on the floor, their backs against the piano in the corner that had always been there like a piece of furniture as neither of them played.

"So, who's your boyfriend?" Gabriel teased, giving Castiel a playful nudge with his shoulder. Gabriel had inherited his mother's straight blonde-brown hair and his father's hazel eyes. No one knew where he got his height (or lack there of) from.

"Dean's not my boyfriend Gabriel."

"Oh, so he does have a name."

"He was just returning my book," continued Castiel, ignoring his brother easily through years of practice.

"In exchange for?" Gabriel said waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Fortunately brother he is not as crass as you are. He was just doing a good deed, people are known for doing them you know."

"Alright, alright. I was just hoping that my little Cassy had finally found love," said Gabriel giving a dramatic sigh and wiping a faux tear from his eye. Cas didn't acknowledge his brother's attempt at humour and continued to stare at his hands, which didn't go unnoticed. "What you thinking about kiddo?"

"Well, it's our parents."

"Are mom and dad being a complete bag of dicks again?" said Gabriel with a huff of distain.

"Not exactly the words I'd use but yes. I've just had enough of them telling me what I can and cannot do. Which is why I want to ask you if… you don't have to say yes but… can I come and live with you?" When Cas lifted his gaze any flicker of hope he had before was thoroughly doused. Gabriel had a pained expression and was worrying his lip. He looked Cas in the eye and in a split second his features contorted into a blinding smile.

"Of course you can! God, Cassy, stop being so tense!" Gabriel laughed.

"That was a dirty trick," Cas smiled giving Gabriel a rough shove.

"Would you expect anything less of me? So, I'm going to take a wild guess and say that mom and dad have no clue." Cas nodded. Gabriel thought for a moment. "Do they know that you're here now?" Cas shook his head. "Jesus Cassy, you're right in it aren't you? You do know that I am brother-bound to call them to let them know that you want to get as far away from them as possible."

"Please don't use those exact words." Gabriel sighed, patted Cas on the shoulder and hauled himself up, pulling Cas along after.

"Come on then," said Gabriel with a smirk, leading Castiel out of the dance room, "you're gonna love my roommates."

Half an hour and a very loud phone call later Castiel was stood outside Gabriel's apartment. Gabriel lived in a small two-bedroom apartment above a bakery a few blocks away from the college. On the way he had boasted how the owner gave them a few free cakes everyday.

"Here we are," said Gabriel gesturing for Castiel to open the door. "Home sweet home."

It wasn't what Castiel was expecting. He thought that it would be a loud, messy, chaotic, stereotypical student apartment. It was in fact quite well looked after, even if they did only have one sofa that the four other occupants were currently squashed together on.

"Hey guys, this is my little bro, he's gonna be crashing with us. Cassy, meet Anna, Balty, Lucy and Alice."

"Hey! What did I tell you would happen if you ever dared to call me that again?" The guy formally introduced as 'Lucy' sent Gabriel a menacing look that he shrugged off with ease and perched on the arm of the couch.

The only girl in the room had red hair and a kind smile. She stood and enveloped Castiel in a brief hug. "Hey Cassy, I'm Anna. Word of warning; piss me off and don't expect any dinner," then she tuned and headed into the kitchen.

Cas glanced to Gabriel for an explanation. "Anna is the 'mother' of our little dysfunctional family group. She cooks like a professional and it's to die for. You think we clean up because we want to?"

"Well, you seem to get on well with each other," observed Cas as he perched on the other arm.

"Nah, we hate each other's guts. Isn't that right Balty?" Gabriel nudged the guy beside him.

"Piss off," he said in a British accent, shoving Gabriel back.

"See?"

"So, why do they call you Alice?" Cas asked the boy beside him who had curly platinum-blonde hair. He was answered instead by Lucy.

"'Aziraphale' was too long."

"We tried shortening it to 'A' but we ended up sounding Canadian," added Anna from the adjoining kitchen.

"Then Gabriel here thought it was a great opportunity to give him an humiliating nickname," added Balty. Cas really needed to learn these people's real names.

"It was not meant to be humiliating," argued Gabriel, "it was meant to be more of… an initiation."

"Initiation?" Cas asked worriedly. He didn't need or want a new nickname, especially if Gabriel had any say in the matter.

"Yeah, Aziraphale just moved here from across the pond a few days ago. He's Balthazar's cousin," said Gabriel with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"So," started Cas after a minute of silence only broken by screaming and car crashes emanating from the TV, "what do you guys do?"

"We're all dance students," summed up Lucy. Seriously, how does a guy get that nickname? Curiosity finally got the better of him.

"Sorry, but what is your real name?"

"It's Lucifer." Cas was taken aback by the seriousness and bluntness of the reply.

"Oh," was his intelligent response.

"Don't ask him why he was called that," informed Balthazar, "he changes the story every time."

"What did he tell Alice when he asked him?" called Anna from the kitchen.

"I think it was, the moment he was born a volcano erupted in a part of the world devastating the land so nothing could grow there again," supplied Balthazar trying to suppress a laugh. Gabriel on the other hand didn't seem to care.

"Oh no, my favourite was, he was born on the sixth day of the sixth month at six minutes past six!" Gabriel's laughter was cut off when he was given a rough shove by Lucifer and landed face-first on the floor. "Hey!" Gabriel was about to throw himself at Lucifer when Anna shouted from the kitchen.

"Grub's up!" Never had Cas seen anyone move so fast in his life. Only he and Aziraphale were left on the sofa.

"I never got to say hello properly," said Aziraphale politely extending a hand to Cas, "and please, don't call me Alice."

Cas chuckled, "Only if you don't call me Cassy." Gabriel was right; Anna's food was to die for. After they'd polished their plates (and washed and dried them) they spent the rest of the evening in friendly conversation.

Cas thought that they did in fact operate like 'a dysfunctional family group'. Anna was the mother who managed to be strict and doting at the same time. Balthazar was the suave uncle that always looked as though he should have a glass of wine in his hand. Aziraphale was the cousin that you always saw because he was so likable that your parents wished that you could be more like him and you agreed with them. Lucifer was the other uncle that made you fear for your life if you got on the wrong side of him and Gabriel was the annoyingly loud older brother that you wish would watch what he says. Castiel truly felt like he was finally home. Although, something was missing and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.