Hi, everybody! This is Ava. Before the story officially begins, I thought I would give you a little bit of info on myself and the story.

First, this will (hopefully) be the first of 3 stories. As of now, I have plans and outlines for a Lysander fic and a Nathaniel fic. Their stories will intertwine, meaning that you'll see a little bit of Katherine Morrison and towards the end, Ella Bennett. I'm hoping it will be interesting, because when I write the other stories parts of it will have the same dialogue as what's in this, but you'll get to see it all happen through their points of view.

Second, we're dealing with my character, Nelly, and Castiel, as well as Rosalya and some other characters who may be more prone to talking about suggestive topics. It does come up a lot in this story, so just be careful. I never go in to explicit detail.

Okay, lastly, I always love to hear what you think of the story, any predictions, etc, so please review! It's awesome to know that people are reading the story and if they like it.

Sorry for that really long author's note. Enjoy!

PROLOGUE: NELLY CARTER

I watched in dismay as my mother said "I do." She looked so happy, walking down the aisle to that man. So, so happy. Simon Faraize was his name. He had come to Chicago on a vacation, and when he spilled his morning coffee all over my mom's white blouse at Starbucks, they called it fate. Love at first sight; that's what they said. Destiny was calling. True love.

Love. What a ridiculous word.

I suppose I was happy for my mom because she was happy, but the last time she was "in love," it ended badly. I remember the scene all too well. My father, the one person in the entire world that I felt like I could trust, had violently struck my mom's porcelain cheek with the palm of his hand. She cried. And cursed. And then, without even saying goodbye, he picked up his acoustic guitar; our acoustic guitar, and I never saw him again.

That was seven years ago.

Now, Mom had supposedly found love again. But this time, she said, this time it was real. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with this Simon.

Now, I may be going out on a limb here, but I'm pretty sure that's what everyone says before they get married. She'd never admit it, but I'm positive that when my father asked her to marry him, he said, "Deirdre, I love you with everything that I am, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." And she would have said yes, because at the moment, that's what she wanted too.

But that's all love is; a temporary infatuation, a temporary desire, a temporary need. Love, like everything else that lives, eventually dies. So why do people waste their time?

The reception was even worse than the ceremony, because at the altar, if I cried Mom would believe that I was shedding tears of joy. Or if I appeared solemn, it was because a wedding is a serious event. But at the reception, I was required to smile. As the daughter of the bride, I was expected to be joyful, and most importantly, I was expected to dance.

I did not want to dance. So for the vast majority of the time, I sat at my table and pretended to be very interested in a purple grape that rested on my plate. That was all fine and dandy until the DJ decided he wanted to kill me.

"Please welcome the groom and his new daughter to the floor for a father daughter dance!" the DJ screamed into his headphones. Everyone applauded as Simon Faraize approached me at my seat and held out his hand, grinning like an idiot. I suppose he thinks that this is the happiest day of his life. I'll bet Dad thought that on his wedding day, too.

Mom smiled at me from across the room and gestured for me to take his hand. I didn't really have a choice, did I? I forced a grin onto my face and took my new stepfather's hand. As we danced, he began talking to me. Thankfully, around that same time people started joining us on the dance floor so that our conversation wasn't the center of attention.

"I know that I can never replace your father, Nelly," he said, "but I want you to know that I still think of you as my daughter. Your mother and I only want the best for you."

"Fantastic," I mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.

"Someday, perhaps, you will think of me as a father as well."

"Sorry," I replied, "but you're not Dad. You teach English; you don't play the guitar. You wear sweater vests, not leather jackets. You-"

"Nelly," he cut me off, his voice low. "I know I'm not your father. I just told you as much."

"Then why don't we just stop pretending that you are?" I snapped. "And tomorrow you and Mom can go on your little honeymoon and enjoy each other or whatever, and then we'll go to…" my mind drew a blank. "Where is it you live?"

"Amoris," Simon said gently.

"Right. Amoris. Some little town that doesn't even show up on MapQuest. And then I'll go to school, and we won't have to see each other except at dinner."

"Uh, Nelly…" Simon shifted his grip on my hand uncomfortably. "There's one thing you don't know about me."

"You play guitar?" I asked somewhat hopefully. To my disappointment, he shook his head.

"No…I'm afraid that I teach twelfth grade English," he divulged. "I'm going to be your teacher at school." Immediately, I dropped my hands and stepped away.

"You're what?" I mouthed, unable to voice words. Simon gazed at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner," he said. "We didn't want to upset you."

"Oh, you didn't want to upset me?" I asked. My voice was suddenly high. "So you think that now is a good time to break the news?"

"Honey, is everything alright?" asks Mom. She comes up behind Simon Faraize and puts her hands on his shoulders. "Nelly, you look upset."

"Well, before I was informed that this douchebag is going to be my English teacher, I was only mostly angry. Now I just want to go home!"

"Nelly!" Mom admonished. "Apologize immediately!"

"No. I'm not apologizing because I'm not sorry. Now, if you'll excuse me." I ripped off my ridiculous high heels and stormed across the field to my car; a cute little red convertible. I had driven myself to the wedding because Mom had to be their early to get her hair curled. Earlier that morning, I had been a little offended by it, but now I saw that it was for the best. No one was going to make me stay.

I drove home alone in the dark at least ten miles per hour over the speed limit, with Imagine Dragons blaring from the speakers and the convertible hood down. The wind rushing through my hair gave me a sense of freedom, and for twenty blissful minutes, I could forget all about my mother and Simon Faraize. I could forget about them the whole week, too, while they were on their Caribbean cruise.

But when they came back, I was moving. Moving away to that little, tiny, pathetic excuse for a town. Not that I really cared much about moving; there wasn't much in Chicago for me anyways, but I did not want to live in a little house with that man, and I did not want him to be my English teacher. I would never get a break from schoolwork! I could see my future right before my eyes.

Nelly, no going out until you finish that book!

Nelly, your writing skills are lacking. I want a thousand words before dinner!

Nelly, darling, pop quiz! Who invented the paperback book?

Nelly! Nelly! NELLY!

So, sitting there in the car, I made a decision. At this new high school, whatever it's like, I was not going to submit to anyone. Not anyone. This Simon Faraize will not control my life. I just have to get through one more year, and then I'll be free.