waywarddone | Season of the witch

"Isn't this nice? Quite charming, I reckon." Rowena looked at the house the car stopped by with approval, lightly slapping Aleister's shoulder to make sure he was paying attention. "It's very American."

There was a front yard, there was a porch that had a swing on it, it all looked rather stereotypical. Right down to the American flag on display. "Oh my."

Rowena wasn't certain how to feel about that. She got out of the car when the driver opened the door for her, taking the arm of the man she had dazzled - with only a bit of magic - into driving them all this way from the airport. They had two moving trucks with them that parked up currently. Rowena didn't travel lightly.

"What do you think, Fergus? I think it will be a beautiful little home for us, won't it?"

"Aleister." Fergus was not a name he wanted, associated with or cared for. Honestly, it was the start of a long list of things he hated his mother for. The name, the abandonment, the lack of apology. He hated that he wanted to be with her and he loathed that he wanted her to want him but... it was what it was.

He got out of the car and shut the door behind him, frowning at the trucks with such confusion. What on earth was going to come out of there. He had no idea, given he had never actually lived with his mother. All of his possession fit in a bag, so it was all on her. He hoped it was more witch stuff than pointless nick-nacks.

Turning around, he peered down the road at where the other houses were and then back up.

"I think it's weird." It was small and quiet, it was pretty cold and the houses were all similar but different colours. And the flag? Creepy.

"Yes, mundane life can be a little off-putting, I agree. Nevertheless, it pays off to assimilate. You'll learn, Fer-- Aleister." She bowed her head graciously as she acquiesced to his request to be called by that name. "You should go drive that car back, dearie, I expect you're a couple of hours late to work."

With that, she dismissed the man that had driven them here. Instead she reached for her son's arm and pulled him along as she headed up to the porch. She unlocked the key and stepped inside, taking a deep breath. "Ah. It will smell like home soon enough."

She turned to the men that had gotten out of the trucks, calling out to them. "Please just put everything in the right room, according to label. And unpack, carefully. Except for anything for the basement, that's not for your hands or eyes."

With those instructions given, she took Aleister's hand and pulled him along. "Isn't that a darling fireplace? So utterly charming. Now, what's with the long face, pet? Do you have to be such a sullen teen all the time?"

"So you told them to do it and they're just... going to do it?" They would do what she wanted, as long as that glamour laid a hold. He cocked his head to the side, looking at the men as they worked and stumbling after his mother as she dragged him inside. It smelled weird inside, like plaster and mortar. Must have been repaired recently.

No damp smell. Weird. Definitely wasn't in the UK any more.

He pulled away from his mom, hands in his pockets, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not being sullen. It's just all... weird. Besides, I'm not exactly desperate for as reunion, you know?" He was but he wasn't about to tell her that. "You tossed me aside! How do I know you won't do it again in the middle of buttfuck America."

"Because, darling, I simply left you behind because you were a useless bundle and I had my career to worry about. I will not apologise for being a career woman." She stopped in front of him now, running a hand through his hair and sorting it a little. Silly little hairstyle he insisted on, but it could not be helped. "I have to say, you went through a rough patch but you are turning out decent looking for a man."

She was very pleased with that. "Dearie, all I want is to provide well for myself. And you, now that you're here." She gestured to the men who were currently carrying in the bigger pieces of furniture, four of them working on one very sizeable bed and hauling it up the stairs. "You're about to no longer be useless, son. I'll teach you everything about that."

"And if I had never learned magic, if I had no natural skill... you never would have come." He wasn't looking for an answer, he knew the answer. He was useless unless he was a witch. He had memories of his mother before she left, he remembered the sort of things she complained about. Lack of skill, in the way, holding her back, not a girl - he was no idiot. He knew she wanted something from him and that was all that mattered.

But even broken, evil people could play pretend and act like they cared. And he could enjoy that, couldn't he? What spoke against a little false love?

He brushed his mother off and then shook his head. "I want to learn more than tricks. I want to learn the good stuff." He wanted to know how to really hurt people, to commune with demons, to levitate - he didn't want to be a notice any more. "That's why I'm here. Not because of you."

"Of course that's why you are here, dearie. That's what you have to focus on. Be strong. Look out for yourself. Survive. At all costs and always, survive. Then you can thrive. And don't worry about the enemies that you've made along the way, once you thrive all they can do is envy." It was a pretty solid philosophy, Rowena felt. "I will teach you all you're capable of learning. You have potential, that much is true. What you make of it depends on your will and your drive."

She was hoping that the way she had raised him would have equipped him with plenty of both. "Oh, and I've enrolled you in the local high school. I've got a brochure for it somewhere here..."

Rummaging through her purse, she finally produced the brochure and handed it to him. "Do you want to take part in any after school activity? I don't really see you as an athlete... Theatre, perhaps?"

"What? Are you fucking joking? I'm 16. Why the sodding hell would I go back to school?" In England, sixteen was enough to finally be rid of all that nonsense. He had planned to enrol in long distance A-Levels and go to a good university, all while working and living in the group home, but now it seemed he was sliding back. Goodbye A-levels, hello school all over again. And American school too. With all of those stupid electives and social order. "I'm not taking any school activities. Can't I just do all of this from home?"

Homeschooling was a thing? He could do that. He had a good work ethic. "I hardly want to go to pep rallies and hang out of at the soda pop shop or whatever they do here!"

Most of his knowledge was, admittedly, from Grease and various sitcoms.

"Socialising is important, dearie. You'll need to learn that skill if you want to make it in the world. It takes a lot more power than you're going to have for at least another century or three to be as independent as I am." Rowena patted his cheek and then walked past him toward the sofa that had just been put town. She sat down and took her shoes off, making herself at home while the movers were doing all the actual work. "Just make a few little friends. It's always good to have a few spare ones. You want people to practice your spellwork on, don't you?"

"I have excellent social skills, that's not a problem for me. It's tolerating the tediousness of my peers." He was good at socialising, he had a lot of charm when he needed to and could talk himself out of trouble. Hell, he always did. It was just that he had little time for American jockery. "I suppose I can find myself some puppets."

Aleister sat himself down on the arm chair they had set down earlier and looked across at his mom, just studying her. He had read up on her, knew a fair bit about her on reputation alone. He was on edge, he couldn't deny it. He wanted to believe she cared but what if she didn't? What if it was a trap? "The better have decent tea here. And I want to see the basement once it's done."

"Oh, my dearest boy. If all goes well and you are what I need you to be, then you'll help me set up everything in the basement. We'll draw the circles together, you and I. Mother and boy. There is power in that." More than she would have expected. She never wanted to have any kind of attachment to a child, but now that there was some, it would be a shame if she didn't make use of it.

"I've brought some teabags from Scotland, don't you fret." She waved his concerns off. "Now, I've made sure to have some books of interest on the shelves in your room. Make sure to read them thoroughly, won't you? Be a good boy for your mommy."

"You're so strange, can't you just not talk about yourself like that? I'm not five." Rolling his eyes, Aleister leaned back and his mind raced excitedly over the idea of drawing the circles, setting up the basement and reading every book. Before, he had to search high and low to get his hands on anything remotely magical. Now, it was all at his finger tips.

The excitement was hard to push down. "I will be what you need me to be." He didn't have any other choice. "You watch."

"Make me proud, my dear Aleister." There, she was using his chosen name. If he was even half the witch she was hoping he'd be, he had earned that much at least. "I know you won't disappoint me."

She trusted her own judgement, if nothing else. "Now, stop bothering me, will you? I've got some maintenance to do."

"Cut it out! The fuck's wrong with y'all?" Bobby didn't see much of what was going on, but between the calls of 'faggot', 'perv', 'cocksucker', 'limey', the big commotion and the open locker door, it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out.

So Bobby grabbed the shoulder of whoever looked biggest, pulled him back and decked him, which made the others back off, at least temporarily.

"Calm down, Singer!" One of the guys had recognised him and gestured to their target. Right, the new kid. "He's an arrogant, faggy asshole, he's asking for it."

Bobby rolled his eyes, looking at the other boy. Aleister, if he remembered right. "Were you asking for some idjits to be idjits near you?"

"I came to school dressed like this so you tell me?" Aleister answered as he felt one of the guys shake him in annoyance. His lack of backing down coupled with his smirk and smart words kept getting him into trouble but what was a boy to do? They hated him anyway and he may as well let them. It made it easier to find targets. Made it easier to disassociate from caring about them as people.

He looked the Singer guy over, trying to be subtle as he took him in. Damn. What a handsome bastard.

"Though not specifically, no. If you don't mind, gentleman--" He tried to get out of the one guys grip but that stupid gorilla had an iron grasp.

"Dunno. I think it looks great, brings out your eyes." He was trying to sass, sure, but it was also true. He'd never seen a boy with eyeliner before and certainly not one with eyes as pretty as this. No wonder those insecure bastards were all seeing red.

"How about you lot worry about your own wardrobe and fuck off?" Bobby moved forward, trying to get himself between Aleister and those assholes. He grabbed the arm of the biggest guy tightly. "Don't make me put the hurt on you. Do you really wanna see who can do worse?"

"What, you gonna kill him like you did your dad?" That was a voice from the back, clearly feeling more secure there. Bobby decided not to rise to it. Much.

"Won't need a gun to do any of you in," he promised, and then he threw a punch, so they'd at least focus on him rather than Aleister. He was confident he could beat them all up if he had to. Even if he might not come out looking pretty at the end.

Killed his father? Interesting. That must have been the small town mystery that always came up in these kind of teenage drama shows. Intriguing - the handsome guy had a lot going for him. And he liked his eyes. Talk about the whole package. He watched Bobby deck the one fuck and then Aleister eyed up the guy who had talked shit about Bobby and his dad.

He drew a symbol behind his back and muttered three words under his breath. When the guy went to move towards Bobby, he tripped over himself and knocked his friend over with him. Aleister snorted in amusement. "Elegant. There might be more of you but I have my money on the guy with a brain."

Especially since the guy Bobby had punched was struggling to recover, holding his face still. Aleister thought it was a nice change of pace, he had a stupid bloody lip because of these morons. "Just get lost, you're embarrassing yourselves."

"You're such an asshole, Singer!" Bobby acknowledged that with a grunt and a nod, moving closer to Aleister as they were backing away, still sneering at both of them.

"Just wait, faggot, you're gonna get it!"

"Think he can do better than you," Bobby spat back, fists still raised while they fell back further and finally moved away. Travelling in a pack, the cowards. Bobby relaxed, shaking out his hands as he turned to look at Aleister. "You doin' all right there, man?"

That lip did not look nice. "They've got cold packs in the nurse's office."

Ooh, shaking hands, how very manly of them. He took the hand and shook it, fascinated by the callouses and the heat - such masculine hands. He moisturised. Aleister smiled at Bobby, entertained by everything, honestly. "I'm doing fine, could be worse. Sure, I got punched but a cute guy said my eyeliner was nice so I can't complain."

He waggled his eyebrows at Bobby and then caught himself. Why was he so determined to have the living shit beaten out of him?

"Thank you for the rescue. I wasn't expecting it."

Bobby was taken aback for the moment, mouth agape at first and then he pressed his lips together for a moment, swallowing. Honestly, he never knew how to react to a girl flirting with him and this was the first time a guy had flirted with him. He knew even less what to do with that. He felt heat come to his face and he hoped that didn't mean that he was blushing.

"Don't think nothin' of it. I can't stand idjits like that. Coward move to, ganging up on one." He hated that he had to go to school with morons like that. "Sorry they're botherin' you. Folk around here can't deal with different. They're dumb as shit, you see? Makes it difficult for 'em, I reckon."

"It's the same no matter where you go, I'm afraid. Morons exist everywhere." He threw his arms out into a shrug and then decided that this handsome man was not leaving his side. This 'Singer' fellow was his. "I'm Aleister. It's a real pleasure. I appreciate meeting people who don't immediately punch me or call me faggot."

He raised his hand and touched his lip with a small wince. "You said there were cool packs? Mind showing me."

That was, he could stall more time with his hunk.

"Yeah, I don't like usin' words like that. Idjit works just fine most of the time, unless folks are being fuckin' bastards." Then he'd tell them that too. Bobby nodded his head and started leading the way. "I'm Bobby. Bobby Singer."

He did clarify that, else the guy got the idea that he was just someone who sang a lot and had earned the nickname that way. No, just his last name. "Doesn't look too bad, your lip. Did they knock any of your teeth loose?"

"Not for lack of trying but fortunately, no." He supposed he should really stop provoking, he didn't want to lose any teeth and end up with a wonky smile. Hopefully that's a problem magic could solve but he didn't want to chance it. Besides, he didn't need his mother commenting on how he had been so handsome once.

"I'm no stranger to taking a hit, I think you build up a resistance. Get used to clenching your jaw. Though I do think it's starting to give me an uneven bite." Aleister had spent his life bouncing from unstable foster homes to group homes, all of which had no lack of aggressive boys or men coming at him. It was a skill - to take a punch. "I bet if someone punched you, it'd shatter their hand, never-mind your teeth."

"I dunno, think they can punch me just fine. They just gotta feel brave enough to feel that one punch would be all it takes." And it never really was. "Though it seems like you don't go down easily either."

For a pretty boy, Aleister seemed to be tough. Fancy accent and all. Bobby stopped by the nurse's office and knocked, then simply opened the door when no one answered. "She's probably out smokin'. Just help yourself, they've got the cool packs in the fridge over there."

He indicated the appliance while leaning in the doorway, looking at Aleister. "You like getting under their skin, don't you? Makes sense."

"If you know that someone hates you anyway, why try to please them? You can annoy them instead. It's more likely to be satisfying." Why try to gain impossible approval when one could upset and provoke? He was falling into a similar pattern with his mother lately too. He didn't think he could get what he wanted so instead, he tried to get to her. It didn't work though.

After all, she was much better at getting to him than he was at getting to her.

He held the cold pack to his face and gave Bobby a look. "And that all makes sense for you, does it?"

"I ain't ever tried to please anyone. Doesn't work for me." He was no good at that, building any kind of positive relationship. All he ever did was break stuff. He supposed he didn't have the queer thing going against him or the accent or anything else, but Bobby got the lack of giving a fuck. What would be the point? "You should wrap that into a towel."

He walked over and handed Aleister one. "You're gonna freeze it to your skin otherwise. Kinda embarrassing."

"My hero again." He took the towel from Bobby, brushing their fingers, as he wrapped it up and placed it against his lip. He looked curiously at the other, wondering what his story was. Killed his dad. How? Why? He assumed the usual - after all, he had met his own fair share of arsehole fathers to know there was always good reason. "You say you try to please no one but I'm pretty damn well pleased."

What a lucky soul he was, to have Bobby taking care of him. "When do I get to see you again? Promise me that this isn't the only time I get you alone."

"Er. Dunno, flu season is coming up, maybe it's just the two of us in English lit one of these days." Wouldn't be too surprising, already not the most popular class to begin with. Bobby enjoyed it, he liked literature. A lot more than people usually expected.

He wasn't sure what was happening. More flirting? Just a guy trying to make a friend? He honestly couldn't tell, he sucked at things like that. "I don't got much free time. Usually I work at the junkyard when I ain't at school. Fixin' up cars and what not."

"Really? You think you could fix my mom's car? Well, you don't have to fix it if you can't but I think the suspension went. We moved from England to here and in the process, a lot of stuff came along. The new car, it wasn't doing so well under the pressure so-- yeah." Great, he was going to have to find a car, break a car and bring a car to Bobby if this worked. What a mess. Even so, he wanted more time with Bobby so he'd do it.

"Perhaps I can read you a classic while you work on it." He smiled playfully. "A Picture of Dorian Gray is quite the read."

"Yeah? I guess it'd be better read with your fancy accent. I liked Lord Henry a lot when I read it. He gets the best lines." There was something about a charming bastard, Bobby supposed. "But sure, I can have a look at your car. Do you want to bring it by the shop or should I come over to yours? How far do you reckon you can drive the thing?"

Hard to say, it didn't sound as if Aleister knew that much about cars.

"I think I can probably get it there but we shall see. Do you have time tomorrow afternoon?" Was he insane? He didn't even have a car for his made up car repair session and he knew he should focus on it but his beautiful new friend read Dorian Gray and that was kind of stealing focus here. Details could be ironed out later, this was a moment to enjoy.

"Look at that, coming to my rescue again. You really are something else." Hot, sexy and helpful. He wanted to keep him forever. Could familiars just be very handsome boys one liked?

"I mean, I'm just a guy working at a scrap yard, but sure. I like the way you're makin' it sound heroic." Maybe it was the accent, just made everything sound a bit better that way. Aleister had a nice voice. Bobby had never really thought that about anyone before, but now that he was dealing with Aleister he couldn't help it. Most folk around here just kind of talked like him and none of them had ever offered to read to him.

He took a step forward, inspecting Aleister's face. "Doesn't look too bad now, your lip. You can probably hide it from your folks at home."

"I don't know my father and I can't imagine my mother will care much either. Or maybe she will, I'm not sure. She's doing a whole 'I can be your mom' thing. It's very strange." Aleister explained as he felt no concern sharing his unusual family situation with Mr I-Killed-My-Dad. "We only just started living together again. Last time, I was 7 and she got bored so let's see how long this time will last."

He crossed his fingers playfully and then smiled at Bobby. "I was dreading being ditched in South Dakota of all places but ... I don't know, not everything here is terrible." Especially not this handsome fella.

"Yeah? That's news to me, I ain't found much good around here." Bobby felt a strange sense of ease upon discovering that Aleister didn't have a happy home life. Maybe that was a selfish attitude to have, but it somehow made him feel less other. Obviously their situations weren't the same, but they were different from everyone else. Different together. There was a bond in that, as it turned out.

"It's not exactly the kinda place Dorian Gray would stop and visit. But I guess it ain't so bad that you stopped by instead. Dunno if you can find anyone who can paint you around here though."

Season of the witch

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