Wayward ➳ Edward Cullen

1. Forks

I was halfway down the truck bed when a duffle came flying at me. "OOF!" I had to hurry to juggle the bag stuffed with all my clothes before it dropped to the ground.

"Think fast." Dean wore his typical shit-eating grin.

My glare didn't do jack against it. "Screw you."

"Language," Dean reprimanded, laughter in his voice. He reached over and pulled up another duffle. From the sound of metal clanking within, it was the weapon's bag. I braced myself, but Dean let it fall to his side.

"Ass."

"Brat."

"Enough." The sparkle didn't quite leave Dean's eyes as Dad passed. "Get those bags inside." A set of keys sailing through the air accompanied the order.

Dean caught them with barely a glance. "Yes sir." He hefted another bag over the side of the truck bed and sauntered off towards the front door. I followed after.

It took a moment for Dean to unlock both the deadbolt and the doorknob. The front entrance groaned open.

It was dim inside with the lights off and curtains closed. Despite that, a hardwood floor creaked underfoot. A sectional was pressed against the far wall, a sixty-inch television seated across the way. An arrangement of photographs hung from the wall that separated the room from what looked like a dining room beyond a square archway. A few lay-z-boy recliners and a coffee table made up the rest of the room's furnishings.

"Nice place."

Dean's approval met with a rumbled hum from Dad as he crossed the threshold. "It'll do."

Dean and I exchanged a glance before Dean shrugged Dad's comment off.

"And this old buddy of yours won't mind that it's just a couple of teens?" I checked.

Dad let his duffle drop in front of the couch. "They're too grateful someone will be around to look after the place while they're gone to worry over particulars."

"Wintering in Florida." Dean dropped his bags off beside Dad's.

"Perks of retirement," Dad replied, gaze flickering over the photographs.

All part of a normal life. But you didn't need a normal life to visit the sunshine state. I'd been to Florida plenty of times even though Dad still had training wheels on me. Salt and burns, mostly. Always supervised by either himself or Dean.

But I was at an age where he'd let Dean start helping on bigger hunts. Shifters and werewolves and the like. Even so, he still had me watching after Sam. Story of my life, really. I had to look after my little brother while Dean got to tag along.

Speak of the devil, Sam picked that moment to come in and join us. His eyes rounded minutely as he took a quick visual sweep of the living room. "This is great!" His sights drifted towards the stairs. "Bedrooms upstairs?"

"You know as much as me," Dad answered, journal already open on the coffee table.

"Better grab a good one before the Princess plants her bag down," Dean advised, throwing a quick smirk in my direction.

I rolled my eyes as Sam glanced my way before practically running for the staircase. I didn't care which room I ended up in. It'd be my own.

While Sam's footsteps creaked around upstairs, I turned back to Dad. "When you leavin'?"

"First thing tomorrow morning," he answered, attention fixed on his journal. I nodded anyway.

"Have fun at school," Dean teased.