It's been about an hour and a half since Anna and Claire left. Dean fell asleep on the couch, so Castiel is sitting on the floor with his back against it, using his phone. He's already been through Twitter — "Castiel Novak sucks why does he have fans?", "Can't wait for the day Castiel Novak stops making music,", "I hope he took that ~20% of people who don't want a new album to heart and stopped." Pretty much the usual.

He did make an amazing discovery, though. No, it has nothing to do with Samandriel's newfound precious ice cream. Apparently, when the hacker went through and deleted his social media accounts, he or she completely forgot about his Wattpad. His message board is full of worried questions from when he went MIA, but otherwise, nothing much has changed. He's being tagged in the same amount of stories as usual, and there are a lot of updates, but otherwise, Wattpad is fairly uneventful.

But he doesn't really feel like reading. He finished a few books that have been updated, making sure to vote on all of the new chapters, but he's not really feeling it. What he is feeling is the sense of adorableness that comes from these fictional relationships he keeps reading about himself being in. It's actually inspiring, really. So much so that he decides to do something he's never done before.

He creates a new work.

He stares blankly at the title spot, finally putting, "Book" in its spot. When it comes to the description, he just says, "Stuff happens." Obviously, that's not going to be the final copy, but he needs to figure out what's going to happen in this book first, and that will only come with writing.

He just sits there for a few moments, fingers hovering over the keys. Finally, he decides to just go for it. Hopefully, it'll be nothing anyone has ever seen before.

~~

He doesn't get very far before the front door opens. Lucifer, who had been absorbed in his phone as well, looks up, clicking his phone off and lying it down on the table. Castiel barely glances up from his own phone at first, getting really into this story he's writing.

It's the sound of crying that gets his attention. Instantly, Lucifer is at the door to see what's going on. He comes back into view with a barefoot Anna, her head buried in his chest as she sobs.

"Hey," he says quietly, rubbing her back reassuringly. "What's wrong? What happened?"

She just shakes her head.

"Okay, better question, where are your shoes?" he asks.

She shrugs.

Lucifer sighs, then seems to realize that's pretty insensitive, and says gently, "C'mon, let's sit down, okay?"

He leads her to the living room, sitting with her on the couch that Dean isn't sleeping on. He keeps an arm around her shoulders, and she buries her head in his chest again as she sobs.

"Talk to me," Lucifer coos. "What happened?"

"Ruby —" she manages to get out, then seems to decide against speaking, reaching into her purse from where she dropped it on the couch next to her. She pulls out what at one point used to be a crown, though now it's just fragments of one.

"You won prom queen?" Lucifer guesses. "Girl, why are you crying? So what if some asshat broke your crown? The people have spoken. You're a queen, with or without your tiara."

She shakes her head. "I'm not," she chokes out between sobs.

"Look at yourself!" Lucifer insists. "You fix your makeup, and we'll go buy you a new crown — a better crown — and you can rule over everyone with your fabulous sense of style."

"This isn't about some plastic piece of crap!"

"Then what is it about?" Lucifer asks.

"She — she broke my crown, and they — everybody just laughed!"

"Well, screw them, then," Lucifer replies, not missing a beat. "They're dicks. Who needs 'em?"

"They were my friends!"

"And now they're just dicks," he adds. "And this Ruby chick is a jealous asshat and I hope she dies in a hole."

"You don't get it!" Anna insists. "We've been friends for years! I don't have anyone left at school for me without them!"

"You have Claire," Lucifer reminds her.

And, speak of the devil, Claire takes that moment to barge into the house, slightly out of breath. She runs into the living room and lets out a sigh of relief when she sees Claire. "Oh, thank god, you did make it home."

"Yeah, how are you guys getting here?" Lucifer asks.

"I got a cab," Claire replies. "I think Anna just ran."

She nods, confirming this. That would explain the lack of shoes: running in six inch heels has got to be tough. Upon closer inspection, it's clear she's been barefoot for a while; her feet are dirty and scratched up, and, in some spots, even bleeding slightly.

"Okay, first of all, I think you do too much cardio," Lucifer tells his sister. "You're not out of breath at all."

Castiel doesn't feel compelled to tell him that her shortness of breath could be hidden by her sobs, which have quieted a bit since she came home.

Misha seems to understand that something is happening, because he trots into the room and looks around. He walks over to Castiel, putting their faces close together as if he's going to lick the boy. Instead, he backs away and hops up on the couch with Anna, sitting down and leaning against her arm.

She's never been a big fan of him, so no one is surprised that she doesn't immediately go to hug him. But after a few moments, she pulls her arm out from between them and puts it around him, petting him gently as he leans into her. She doesn't seem to care that he's going to shed on her expensive dress, which is definitely a first for her.

It's silent in the room for a few minutes. Claire sits down on the floor, leaning against the couch that Anna, Lucifer, and Misha are sharing the same way Castiel is leaning against the one Dean still sleeps on. Eventually, Anna stops crying, but she doesn't try to leave, instead snuggling with her older brother in a way she hasn't done since middle school.

It's about ten minutes later that there's a knock on the door. Everyone looks around to see who will check who it is, but no one makes a move to go. It's only when the doorbell is rung that Lucifer reluctantly agrees to check it out, sliding away from Anna with a sigh and walking away.

There's some quiet chatter at the door, and Lucifer returns with Cain behind him.

"Hey, Anna," he says, panting slightly as if he just ran all the way here, too. "I —"

"Go away," Anna interrupts.

"Anna —"

"I said 'Go away'!" she snaps.

"Whoop, there's your cue," Lucifer says, flicking a hand to dismiss him.

"Wait," Cain protests.

"Sorry, but the lady asked you to leave," Lucifer replies. "So, like, shoo, m'kay?"

"Can you just not?" Cain asks, exasperated.

"Not let you in my house? Sure. Here, tell you what. I will give you five seconds to leave, and if you're still standing here when those five seconds are up, I will break your face."

"You can't break a face," Cain tells him.

"Oh really? Care to test that theory?"

Cain eyes him for a moment, sizing him up to see how much of a threat he really is. Finally, he looks back at Anna. "I think I could take him, but you'd know better. Thoughts?"

She hesitates, then says, "I think he'd end up with a bloody nose and you'd have a concussion. Don't underestimate my brother. But it doesn't matter; no one's fighting anyone. Just leave me alone, Cain."

"Give me five minutes," he insists.

"If you're not going to leave, I'll make you want to leave," Claire tells him, then adds, "Although I'm pretty sure even if you did want to stay, Lucifer would forcefully drag you out of here."

"What are you talking about?" he asks, confused.

"Cain made his ex kill herself," Claire announces.

"Oh, you son of a bitch," he growls.

"Hey, I told you I'd tell everyone if you hurt her," Claire replies cheerfully.

"God, just stop!" Anna practically yells, pushing Misha off harshly and walking out of the room.

"Anna!" Cain calls after her, but she doesn't even look at him. He sends Claire a glare, saying simply, "You may think you've won, but come Monday, you'll see just how wrong you are."

"Ooh, so scared," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Cain clenches his jaw and walks out of the house without another word.

"I heard yelling," Dean murmurs, his eyes still closed. "Who's yelling?"

"No one," Castiel replies, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Mm," he agrees, shifting slightly into a more comfortable position.

Everybody lapses into silence after that. What the hell just happened?