The fluorescent light flickered overhead, making everything look pale and sickly in the small room, especially his flesh as he stared into the cracked mirror above the sink. His hands braced on the cold dirty porcelain as he was rocked forward by the hard thrusts of the man behind him. Hard hands on his hips gripping tightly, pulling him back roughly. The man's breath stinking of cigarettes and cheep beer as he grunted in his ear.

Dean took the roughness without complaint. The liquor he'd drank helping to dull the worst of the pain. It actually wasn't all that bad. Whenever the man accidentally brushed that place inside of him it actually didn't feel bad at all. Still, it was nothing like when Samuel had… and that's what he wanted.

The man finished in him soon enough, groaning obscene dirty things as he came. Leaving Dean unsatisfied, but the young man didn't really care about that. He turned around, letting the man give him a sloppy kiss before taking the cash he'd been promised. After the guy left Dean stayed in the bathroom for a little while longer to clean himself up and pull up his jeans before returning to the main smoke filled bar. Sitting back down at the bar, and waiting.

Waiting for the next man to come and try to pick him up. Maybe even offer to take him home so Dean would have someplace to sleep tonight. With a face, and an ass, like his he knew he wouldn't have to wait too long.

If nothing else, these last three weeks since he'd left Samuel's apartment had been a learning experience and the angel was right about one thing. He was a fast learner.

The first night on his own he spent wandering aimlessly through the streets all night, sometime after two in the morning when Dean had been standing on a street corner, trying to figure out what he was going to do, where he was going to go, that someone stopped their car and asked him how much he cost. Dean was confused a little at first, but he'd watched enough racy television lately to realize quickly that the man thought he was a prostitute. He was about to correct the man on his 'assumption' before the guy made an offer of his own and being as cold and tired and hungry as he was after only a second's hesitation Dean accepted it.

It hadn't been as bad as he'd thought it would be. The guy took him back to his place. Offering him something to 'help him relax', and he hadn't been all that rough either. Letting him stay the night, though he'd fucked him again in the morning he also let him have a bowl of cereal before kicking him out. The first meal Dean had in over a day.

He'd been able to use the cash the man had given him to feed him the next day. The next night, with a sense of déjà vu he'd spent it at a bar rather than just walking the streets. It was definitely a sleazy place and Dean wondered if he had subconsciously chosen that place on purpose because there was no end to the guys offering to buy him drinks, or offering him cash for a quick blowjob or fuck in the back. Dean had made enough that night to rent himself a motel room to sleep in.

He'd quickly fallen into a routine. Sometimes varying the bars he went to, but this a good place to pick up a trick. He was already tipsy from liquor and still a little bit high from the cocaine that one of the guys had shared with him earlier. Leaving his mind feeling pleasantly numb, though he always made sure to keep his mind closed. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not but he swore he could still feel Samuel sometimes. Like he was 'pressing' against the barrier Dean had thrown up between them and so he always checked to make sure it hadn't slipped.

The last thing he wanted was for Samuel to come looking for him. Samuel didn't really want him anyway. The angel wanted him to go be with other people, humans? Sam wanted him to be 'independent'? So he could survive on his own? Well, that's what he was doing.

So much for 'chocolate' being better. Dean chuckled a little to himself as he tossed back another shot someone had just bought him. The man already had his hand on his ass and Dean didn't bother to push it off. Giving the guy a lustful look. The same look that had tempted even an angel, and it worked every time.

The days were bad. The nights were worse.

Samuel was raw and exhausted from throwing himself up against Dean's mental barriers. Sometimes, sometimes they slipped just a little, and it never failed to horrify he angel.

Cheap liquor and cigarettes. He didn't taste like innocence anymore. Samuel wept, because he knew what it meant. He hadn't been there, but he knew.

Pressure and pain. It wasn't Rick. It was Dean... he let it happen. Sam's tears struck the sidewalk, splattering the way their lives had been.

His mouth was full. He was choking. But what stuck Sam the most was that he was silent, he wasn't asking for more, he wasn't trying to talk... his mind was cold and silent, empty of joy. Standing on the roof, Sam threw his head back and shouted... shouted for it to stop. This time, the skies opened up and cried for him.

*

It was late for company. Sam padded to the door and opened it. "I didn't order dessert," he said, recognizing one of the waiters from the restaurant downstairs.

"Hi Sam. Daryl called, he said to get you. That ah, he saw your friend at Lucky's, it's a bar at—"

Slamming the door shut behind him, Sam ran down the stairs. By the time he reached street level, he had shoes on.

*

Sam at the bar with his back to the back room. The seat next to him was empty. Each person who was initially drawn to him had only to look into his eyes, and they found themselves backing away.

He stirred the toothpick pierced olive around in his martini glass, nostrils flaring. 'Buck' was getting some, they'd said. And he knew who was giving up his 'sweet little ass.' They were older, rough looking and vulgar as they gave blow by blows of how the kid was probably taking it up the ass right now.

A gust of wind had the patrons startled and looking around. Samuel tightened his fingers around the glass. Tonight time wasn't passing in the blink of an eye.

The door opened. He imagined the sound of a zipper and harsh laughter. Then Buck rejoined his friends and Sam tuned him out. Angels should not strike out in anger or revenge.

Another ten minutes passed. He sensed Dean come up to the bar, and had his head turned away until he sat on the empty seat next to him. "How much?" He turned to lock gazes with green eyes that had put him through hell. "Fifty. One hundred? How much to come home with me?" He lifted his chin and looked straight through to his soul. "Two hundred?" There was nothing soft or gentle about him now.

Dean winced a little as he pulled his jeans back up after his latest 'customer'. The guy had been pretty rough with him, and the young man was grateful that he wasn't his first of the night. That he'd already been opened up by others, or the guy might have actually torn him.

Still the young man waited a little while before returning to the bar. Long enough that he was sure he could walk without a limp. He'd definitely have to have a few drinks, and wait a little while before he accepted another 'offer' after that. Maybe even find someone who had some 'stuff' to take the edge off if he wanted to make any more cash tonight.

He probably should just leave and go get a room somewhere, he'd made enough tonight, but he didn't really want to waste money to rent a room if he could find someone willing to take him home. So he went back to the bar instead, sitting down on one of the empty stools with another wince. This time trying to wave down the bartender to order himself a drink.

How much? It was a phrase he'd heard often enough, but Dean still wasn't drunk or high enough not to recognize the voice even before he turned his head to look directly into Samuel's eyes.

He felt a little like he'd been punched in the stomach as they stared at each other. Everything he'd been trying not to feel for the past few weeks hitting him all at once. Pain. Disappointment. Longing. Shame. Guilt… and a slew of other emotions he couldn't begin to name.

Dean could only stare with at the angel for a few moments until Sam's words finally registered and he blinked in disbelief before his eyes finally narrowed.

"You can't afford me." Dean answered bitterly before he stood up and started to walk out of the bar.

In a few long strides, Samuel caught up to him right outside the door and closed his hand around Dean’s arm in an iron grip. “You only sell yourself to people who will use you and throw you away without another thought? Why? To get back at me? Fine, mission accomplished. Congratulations, you win.”

Sam felt his eyes sting, but didn’t care. He didn’t hide from the truth, and the truth was Dean had hurt him. He’d felt sorry for many humans. He’d felt their pain. He’d cried for them. Dean made him cry for himself.

“You wanted a reason. Maybe this is the reason.” Samuel had been looking for the truth behind the rules, but they were still shrouded in mystery. “Teachers are forbidden from having relationships with their students. Psychiatrists with their patients. There are some relationship where it’s sure to hurt one of the two people. You and I...” he gave a bitter laugh, “look how it fucked you up... we just proved the rule, you and I.”

And still he was rebellious, Sam could see it in his eyes. Dean should be responding to his calming touch, should be accepting his suggestions. So much for humans being in awe of angels.

Pulling himself up to his full height, he towered over Dean. “I didn’t save you from hell so you’d find your own way back there.” He tightened his grip. “Come home with me. If you don’t want it to be me, then I’ll have Michael take over tomorrow, take care of you. You can hate me just as much without doing... this, without hurting yourself.”

Once, he always had the right words to get through to Dean. Now... now he was grasping and felt useless. A lump rose in his throat. “Bobby keeps asking about you. Everyone misses you.” I miss you.

Dean glared hot daggers at the angel when Sam caught him outside. Trying to twist his arm out of the angel's tight grip, but Samuel simply wasn't releasing him. Even as Dean sneered at the angel's 'reasons' behind the 'rules'.

Yeah, maybe he was fucked up. But Samuel seemed to forget he had been fucked up before too. He'd been fucked up his whole life. The time he'd been able to live with Samuel had been like a brief flicker of light in his world where everything was dark. No matter how painful some of those moments had been, the other moments he knew he'd still treasure.

For a little while, Samuel had made him feel genuinely happy. Made him feel like he wanted to live... But that was over now. He couldn't come 'home'. It would only start all over again, torturing them both, and Dean couldn't go through it again. He just couldn't.

Samuel definitely got one thing wrong though. He didn't hate Samuel. He hated himself.

Finally the young man managed to wrench his arm out of Samuel's tight grip. Taking a few steps back before the angel could try to grab him again.

"I told you. I didn't want anyone else but you. But since you don't want me..." Dean smirked and held his arms out. "There are plenty who do."

He knew his words were cruel. Hurtful. They were meant to be. If he had to hurt the angel so that Samuel would leave him alone, then that's what he would do. He didn't need Samuel... and Samuel definitely didn't need him in his life screwing everything up. He would take care of himself from now on.

"I'm not hurting myself. Its just sex. I even 'enjoy' it sometimes. Just like you said I would, so I don't need your help, or anyone else's. I'm going to hell anyway, I might as well enjoy the ride. So just leave me alone." He said bitterly before he turned and started to walk away again.

And you’re taking me with you.. Sam stood there, watching, hoping for what never came. Dean was gone.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Sam headed home, shoulders slightly hunched. His heart was pulverized by a ‘mere human’, and he was smiling just a little at that. At that, and all the memories he chose to think about. The irreverent and relentless teasing, something he’d never experienced at the hands of a human. The little plays on words and innuendo that sometimes had Sam stuttering and wondering which of them had been the one sheltered from the world. The way Dean insisted on tasting his dessert, and then practically making love to it before returning the spoon. The music he chose and blared as if they were deaf.

So many good moments. Until now, more good than bad.

Let him go. Maybe he’ll find his way back.

Let him at least find his way, Sam prayed.

*

Leaving the front door unlocked, he walked in the darkness straight to his room. No one whispered goodnight to him, as his head touched the pillow. He was well and truly alone. Again. Only now, he knew the difference.

As Dean walked he stared at the ground, hardly looking up even when he came to an intersection to make sure it was clear of traffic before he crossed. The cool night air dried the tears on his face, but there were always more ready to wet them again. Damn Samuel for finding him tonight. He didn’t know how the angel had done it, but Dean was going to make sure it didn’t happen again. Not that he thought it really would. Samuel had let him walk away after all, he doubted the angel was going to come looking for him again.

The young man’s heart clenched a little at that thought before he pushed the feeling away. Reminding himself that this really was for the best. For both of them. Samuel would forget about him soon enough. Find someone else to help. Dean would figure out how to survive on his own, and if he didn’t... what did it really matter anyway?

He knew he should probably try to find some place to sleep tonight. It was late, but he wasn’t exactly tired. He felt sick, mind, body, and soul so it wouldn’t do any good to try to rest, he wouldn’t get any anyway, so why waste the money.

So he just kept walking. Trying not to think. An impossible task, but he tried anyway. The effort making his head ache. Just an annoying throbbing at first, like when he was suffering from a mild hangover, but steadily growing worse. His stomach twisted and he groaned as he stumbled. Reaching out blindly to a brick wall for support. He’d broken out in a cold sweat and he was shaking.

What the hell...

The pain in his head grew worse and Dean doubled over. Almost collapsing. There was no one on the street to see him. Not in this part of town anyway, not right now. At least, so Dean thought, but when he managed to lift his head, his vision going double for a few seconds, he saw a man standing on the street across from him staring at him. Just staring at him.

Suddenly Dean knew. He just knew. He’d had these kinds of ‘attacks’ before, though it had been years since his last one.

“Oh god...”

The ‘man’ started across the street slowly. Approaching him. Dean couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t need to. He knew what he was. He wanted to run but every step the man took towards him the pain in his head grew worse. His shaking grew worse. The cold sick feeling he felt grew worse and it felt like a bitter cold was wrapping around him. Choking him.

He dropped to his knees. The ‘man’ stood over him and Dean looked up into its rotting face. The glowing red eyes staring at him in a strange kind of interest before its blacked mouth pulled back into a vicious smile. The demon reached for him. Touched him, and Dean heard himself scream in pain as his body convulsed.

The soul shattering scream jerked Samuel out of the disturbed state of his sleep. Disoriented for a moment, he thought it was a nightmare. Then it slammed into him full force, it was not his nightmare, not even Dean's nightmare... it was the truth, and it was happening now.

Dean, I'm here.... He pushed his way deeper into Dean's mind, much like Dean had to his during the battle. Seeing the demon, he gave a mental shout. Don't let it touch you, move away... move Dean.

Tendrils of smoke rose from his arm, leaving the smell of burnt flesh in the room. Dammit... dammit he'd let the demon touch him. Pull away, I'm coming... get away from it. But Sam knew by now, it was too late to get away from that thing... once it touched you, it started to suck your essence into hell.

Dean, listen. I'm coming, but you have to start the exorcism. You HAVE to. Sam tried to brush his mind, tried to take the pain, as much of it as could be transferred. Look at it, in the eyes. Don't fear it... stare at it. Repeat these words... do it!

Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei

As Sam took to the air and flew to the area of the bar, he searched the streets, knowing Dean was in the area, but unwilling to make him look away from the demon even for one second. in nominee Dei, he repeated as Dean stuttered over the words. Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine Jesu. Christi Filii ejus, Domini et Judicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus.

Fear ate at him. He wasn't sure whether it was Dean's or his own, probably a mixture of both. You're strong... you see him, right there you have an advantage.

Where ... where... then he saw black smoke rising, and catapulted across buildings until he found them. Dropping down, he roughly shoved Dean so hard, the boy sailed back through the air, leaving just the angel facing the demon.

Wings spread wide, eyes blacker than coal, Sam reached out and grasped the demon's throat in his hands. It scratched him, his face, his throat... it burned him, the smell of sulfer and acid dripping from it. Without acknowledging any pain, Sam relentlessly squeezed and continued the ritual.

"Sancti, ut descedas ab hoc plasmate Dei, quod Dominus noster ad templum sanctum suum vocare dignatus est, ut fiat templum Dei vivi, et Spiritus Sanctus habitet in eo. Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum, qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et saeculum per ignem."

The demon slid to the ground, and appeared to drain through the cracks in the concrete and disappeared.

In a few strides, Samuel was at Dean's side, pulling him up. His eyes were still dark, his hair being whipped by wind. The hard edge that showed when he engaged evil was no longer masked. His nostrils flared as he fought against what he wanted to do, to do what needed to be done. Last time he'd rescued Dean, he'd made a mistake. It wasn't one he intended to repeat.

"That is what awaits you in hell. That and a hundred thousand more of them. Every day, day after day, year upon year, for centuries and tens of thousands of centuries, THAT is your destiny." The wind died down, and he blinked away the inky darkness of his eyes. "Take my hand. Meet me half way, and we can change that."

A new fear tore at him. "If you want me to beg. If you want me to kneel, I will," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Help me find your price."

The pain was like nothing he’d ever experienced. The smell of his own burning flesh where the demon’s fingers were wrapped tightly around his arm made his stomach churn and he wasn’t sure that he didn’t vomit because of it. But it was more than just the blistering burning of his skin and muscles. More than just the agony inside his head like his skull was being ripped apart. It slid down deep inside of him, past his flesh and bones, down to his very soul and he could feel that burning too. He could feel his life literally being sucked out of him and it was agony.

He just wanted it to stop. Just wanted it to end, and he didn’t even care how.

At first he couldn’t even hear the angel’s voice in his head over his own screams. Though he could hear the demon laughing. A twisted, evil sound that made him shudder. He could feel warm blood dripping from his nose, from his ears… perhaps the only reason he did feel it was because it was such a sharp contrast to the cold of his skin, and he realized he was dying. He remembered the feeling all too well. It hadn’t been all that long since the last time, after all…

Dean remembered his words to Samuel, barely an hour ago. I’m going to hell anyway… he just hadn’t realized it would be so soon…

I’m coming… The words, when he finally did hear them were so shocking they were probably the only thing that kept him from passing out from the pain. Samuel… Get away from it! But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He could barely think.

A choked sob worked its way out of his throat and Dean tasted blood in his mouth. His vision started darkening. At least… at least he wouldn’t be alone this time. At least he’d known what it was like to be happy, for a little while, before he ruined everything.

I’m sorry… he wanted to say, but he couldn’t manage even that. He could only hear what Samuel was saying to him, barely, he couldn’t respond. He heard Samuel ordering him to look at the demon. Telling him to… exorcism…? Like Sam had done? But he couldn’t… how could he possibly? Repeat the words… Samuel might as well have told him to part the red sea. But as he grew even colder inside his fear grew and he tried. He forced his head up to look at the horrifying face of the demon, even as his vision swam and he tried to take in a breath, so he could speak. He didn’t think he’d ever done anything so difficult in his whole life.

“Ex…orcizo… te” At first the words came out in barely a shaking whisper. But the demon’s reaction was immediate. It was pissed. Its hand tightened on him and Dean swore he could feel its claws scraping against his bones, the pain increased if it was possible, choking off his next words. But when the angel repeated them he forced them out of his lips in a moan of agony.

He kept speaking, repeating Samuel’s words, because he could do nothing else. If he was going to die, at least he’d die fighting. The hard shove when it came took him completely by surprise, but by that point he didn’t have the capacity to understand what it meant or much less to feel relief that Samuel was there.

The young man landed in a crumbled heap and didn’t move except to curl in on himself protectively. Moaning softly in pain as his body trembled in shock from all it had been put through. He didn’t look up to see what was happening around him. Barely even heard the demon’s angry hisses and curses or Samuel’s words finishing the exorcism he’d started. Even once the demon was gone the pain was slow to recede. The cold didn’t want to leave him.

When Samuel lifted him up he moaned softly, though he managed to force his eyes open even though they were glazed and unfocused. The angel’s angry words made a different kind of tremor pass through him. A different kind of fear. He swallowed hard. Tried to speak, but couldn’t manage it. At least not with his voice.

Change to what? What do I have here? The only thing I ever wanted… I can’t have… He barely managed, the effort making his head hurt all the worse and a small whimper escaped his throat as a tear slid down his cheek. He didn’t hear if Samuel answered his question however, because he finally lost his battle with unconsciousness.

Samuel caught him in his arms, and climbed up into the sky. He sensed defeat, where there should be triumph.

*

He sat in a chair next to Dean’s bed, elbows braced against his knees, his chin resting on the back of his clasped hands. He’d taken care of Dean’s scrapes and cuts, and his burn. Taken away the pain in every place but one. Now he waited to chase away the nightmares and make sure Dean had a full night’s rest.

It used to smell like soap and Dean’s unique scene in here. Sam always liked breathing it in as he changed the sheets, or put things away for him. Now Dean’s scent was buried under the stink of sweat and sex and stale cigarettes. Samuel kept his breaths shallow.

Occasionally, he glanced at Dean’s face, visible under the moonlight. Even in sleep, gone was the softness. A man had replaced the boy who had stolen his heart and made him see the world in a new light. His throat closed up on him.

He ached to touch the boy’s face and make him smile. Those days were gone.

Dean slept through the night. Though his dreams were not peaceful, filled with memories he'd much rather forget, they didn't wake him in fear like they normally did. Maybe he was simply too exhausted, or maybe the weeks he'd spent away from Samuel had hardened him even more than he realized.

Whatever it was, the young man didn't open his eyes till nearly noon. Blinking against the bright sunlight coming in through the windows. Turning his face away from it with a hiss. His head was throbbing with an incredible headache, his stomach twisting with nausea, but over the last few weeks he'd almost grown used to that feeling, so it didn't come as much of a surprise.

The fact that he woke up in 'his' room, in Samuel's apartment didn't come as any surprise to the young man either. He was remembering the events of last night with remarkable clarity. All of them. From the men he'd let fuck him, to when Sam had found him the first time. The angry words they'd exchanged and Dean walking away from the angel. The demon. The pain. Samuel saving him… again…

He also wasn't surprise when his eyes finally adjusted to the light and he took his first good look around what used to be his room that he was alone. Though maybe what did surprise him was he didn't feel anything by that. It was just another observation. Like he observed that the glass from the broken mirror had been cleaned up, or that the burn on his arm had been bandaged.

Dean pushed aside the blanket and sheet covering him and sat up. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but he was still dressed in the jeans he'd been wearing for the last week or so. He probably should have found it funny that Samuel didn't even trust him while he was unconscious to strip him naked. But then again, he wasn't surprised.

He was indifferent.

He checked the mental barriers he must have instinctively put up at some point. After weeks of keeping them up it was almost second nature now. Probably a good thing. Maybe he would take a shower and pack up some clothes to take with him before he left. Not like Samuel was going to wear them.

Sam had made Dean one of those fiendish peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches that he seemed to favor, and left it on a plate on the coffee table. Doing his best to keep his mind busy since he’d worried enough all night long, Sam sat on the couch working on his lap top.

Eventually, he hears the bedroom door open and footsteps approached. If he’d thought Dean would come talk to him, he was wrong. Instead, he was making a bee line for the restroom.

“Dean.”

Though he stopped, he didn’t even turn around.

Samuel pursed his lips and got up to walk to him. He put one hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to but failing to will him into looking at him. He sighed at his failure. Any other human would have been manipulated into complying.

“A few things.” Still no eye contact. This time Sam was the one who looked down. “Alright, you don’t have to talk to me. Everything I say seems to get you angry anyway,” his voice was full of sorrow. “There’s a sandwich over there, in case you want to eat. Bobby called and… I don’t know, he said something about an axel on some car you worked on, and that you’d forgotten to pick up your check.” He wet his lips. “That’s it, other than… my door is always open to you. Always.”

When he couldn't ignore his physical needs anymore Dean finally stood up stiffly, his body moving slow and painfully for a variety of reasons, and made his way as quickly as he was able to the bathroom. He barely looked up as he opened his door, staring at the hallway rug rather than risk accidentally meeting Samuel's eyes since he didn't know where the angel was.

He probably shouldn't have been surprised when he heard his name from the direction of the living room before he could make it into the bathroom. He probably should have just kept moving, pretending he didn't hear Sam at all, but instead he stopped for reasons he couldn't really explain to himself right now.

He couldn't stop his muscles from tensing however when he felt Samuel's hand come to rest on his bare shoulder. Once the touch would have comforted him and he would have been leaning into it for more. Now he only stood there stiffly, his throat closing with emotion and his eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Sandwich… Dean almost wanted to laugh. Like he could even think of food at the moment without feeling like he was going to vomit.

The mention of Bobby came as a bit of a surprise. Mostly because he wasn't sure why the older man would be calling for him. He remembered Samuel saying something about Bobby asking about him, but he didn't know why. The man had only met him that once. Why would he care if he picked up his 'check' or not?

That's it… Dean nodded stiffly and stepped away from the angel. Shutting the bathroom door behind him.

He took a relatively quick shower. Just long enough to wash the stink off his flesh. He brushed his teeth afterwards and shaved. Packing all his supplies into the little shaving bag and taking it with him when he left the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Shutting his bedroom door once more while he dressed. Then began packing what clothes he could fit into a gym bag he couldn't even remember Samuel buying for him but they'd shopped for so much crap for him that wasn't much of a surprise.

His hands faltered a few times when he remembered how good Samuel had been to him. The angel had saved him, how many times? He should be grateful. He probably should be kneeling and kissing Sam's feet for all the angel had done for him, instead he could only selfishly focus on the one thing that Samuel hadn't given him.

It doesn't matter how I feel, it doesn't matter what I want, we can't be together… Those same words echoed over and over in his head just as they had for the last several weeks. When he'd first decided to get into the car and sell his body for the first time. Every time after. When he tried to drink the pain and disappointment away, to forget about Samuel and punish himself at the same time for everything he was doing.

These last few weeks had shown him what he was really like and how he had only caused Samuel one trouble after another. Even if he wanted to stay, there was no way things would ever go back to the way they were. He simply couldn't forget the way Samuel had loved him, for one night, and only as a dream… Something he would never have again, and seeing the angel every day and knowing he'd never be able to have him… it would be torture. Worse than any he had put himself through the last few days.

Before he'd left in a childish display of rebellious anger. Now he was leaving for the same, and different reasons. Maybe Samuel was right about the 'rules' after all, Dean thought bitterly as he zipped up his bag and hoisted it on his shoulder.

Dean kept his eyes on the floor again as he opened the door to his room and walked out. Deciding to use the front door this time. He paused for only a second after opening it, wanting to say… something… he wasn't sure. Maybe thank Sam. Maybe apologize. But his voice failed him so he simply walked out. Shutting the door quietly behind him.

He was going to run. Sam’s gut told him that even as Dean woodenly walked into the bathroom and shut the door. He was going to leave. He preferred to live on the streets, to hurt himself, to be a slave to other people’s lust and money... than to face me every day. What did that tell Samuel about how much he hurt Dean?

Sitting heavily down on the sofa, he looked at his hands in his lap and went over the past. Again. He’d tried his best, he really had tried. But it hadn’t been good enough, not to save Dean.

Maybe he should have passed him to Michael when he realized their mental connection was uncontrollable, and that other feelings were coming into play. It was a wonderful feeling... to touch someone from far, to be able to express yourself in a new medium, to be able to show rather than tell. And to feel... to feel them, and what they felt.

He licked his lips. Once he’d realized both of their feelings went far beyond friendship, he should have maybe done something about it. But the truth was, it had been like a runaway train... he couldn’t... didn’t want to...

His head jerked up when the door opened, and he watched Dean take his shaving kit with him to the bedroom. Won’t you talk to me?

So stubborn. So strong. A sigh left Samuel. He tried to prepare, to be ready.

But he wasn’t.

Not when he saw Dean with his bag over his shoulder, and his eyes cast down like he couldn’t stand to look at him. Not when he paused at the door, and Sam thought for one split second, maybe... maybe he’d say something. And not when the door closed behind him, with finality.

Don’t leave me.

Sam took another deep breath and prepared to be plunged back into the hell of wondering where Dean was, whether he was alright, and worse... getting glimpses of those times when he was not alright.

He felt something on the back of his hand, looked down and watched with despair as the tear drop rolled off and disappeared into the couch.

It was harder this time. So much harder. Every step he took away from the apartment. Down the stairs. Outside. Felt like a cold vice was slowly squeezing his heart inside of his chest. His feet almost didn't want to move, but he forced them to. His eyes cast down to the pavement to resist the impulse to look up towards the windows. Perhaps hoping for one last glimpse of Samuel before he never saw him again.

Dean laughed bitterly to himself. He'd tried so hard to avoid looking at the angel as he left, now what he wouldn't give for just one last look at him. One last touch. One last hug. One last kiss… The vice squeezed his heart just a little tighter and he closed his eyes. Feeling the slide of tears down his cheeks but he didn't bother to wipe them away.

He didn't hear his name being called. Didn't even realized he'd stopped walking. Just standing there on the sidewalk, people pushing past him impatiently. He didn't open his eyes or look up, until he felt a hand touch his arm. Unknowingly touching the burn there concealed under his shirt and making the young man jerk away with a hiss of pain.

His head snapping up and eyes locking with two of the waiters Dean had come to know who worked at the restaurant outside Samuel's apartment that he'd unknowingly stopped in front of in his misery. The young man swallowed hard and quickly wiped at his face, erasing the signs of his crying with a slight flush of embarrassment.

Sarah stopped and looked down. She hadn't expected tears, and that made it awkward. He probably wouldn't like being caught crying.

"Hey, Dean," Daryl pulled his arm away, a little surprised by Dean's rough gesture, but there was pain etched in his face… the same expression Sam had been wearing for weeks. "I'm glad you're okay. We were all worried about you, especially Sam."

Sarah's gaze shifted to Dean and then slid over his bag. "You're not leaving him again." Okay, maybe a few weeks ago, she'd have whooped for joy, but not once she saw how it had affected Sam. "In all the years I've seen him, I've never seen him depressed."

"Look sweetie, why don't you come on in and have a coffee? I'll put it on his tab, that way, if you're pissed at him, you can think of it as revenge," Daryl grinned. "Come on, what's the worst that can happen, you lose fifteen minutes."

"And gain a date," Sarah looked at Daryl.

"Girl, you're so suspicious."

Dean was unsure what to say to the concern displayed by Sam’s friends. Couldn’t understand why they would be worried about him at all, however hearing them say how Sam had been worried made his throat tighten a little more.

His gaze shifted down to the bag at his side, following the gaze of the woman and he had absolutely no words for her question that was not really a question. Though he felt his eyes sting just a little bit more and he found himself fighting against more tears.

Never seen him depressed…

The offer to have him come inside had him looking up in surprise. Why were they trying to be nice to him? Especially if they already knew that he had hurt Samuel? He knew he should refuse. Thank them politely, but just keep walking, the longer he stayed the harder it was going to be, yet he found himself rooted in place.

At the asylum he’d always hated the shrinks who tried to make him talk about his ‘feeling’s. Like they cared. They already thought he was crazy, they just wanted to know the level of crazy he was and gauge how to adjust his medication.

But for the first time Dean felt like he really needed to talk to someone, and someone was offering to listen, so he found himself nodding shakily before he realized it. Following them inside, sitting down at one of the tables with the promised coffee that Dean didn’t touch but at least holding it kept his hands from shaking too much as he started to speak.

Giving a very abbreviated and edited version of how he and Sam had been ‘together’ and the fight they’d had the next day. How he’d left. The trouble he’d gotten into. Not going into details however talking about that was somehow easier than talking about Samuel. How he’d been attacked, of course editing out the part that his attacker had been a demon. How Sam had saved him and brought him ‘home’ but there was no way he could stay.

When his voice finally grew quiet he was sure more than fifteen minutes had passed.

Sarah and Daryl exchanged glances. She let him do the talking for now.

“Okay, let me get this straight… you guys fucked once, and you’re hurt or angry that he won’t commit. That’s basically it? You know he loves you but he won’t say the words. I think Sarah should field this one. Us ‘guys’… one fuck doesn’t mean forever,” he shrugged.

Sarah gave him a wide eyed look, then turned to Dean. “Don’t listen to him, he’s a slut.” She tried to draw on her own experience. “Look, relationships are hard. It’s just that way. A date… a one night stand, that’s easy. You get down to the nitty gritty, you start wanting commitment, and then there’s a bunch of complications.” She took a sip of her coffee. “This guy I fell for, hard? I asked him to marry me, and he was gone like the wind. I didn’t know it, but he built stuff up in his head… about me wanting kids, and … well his mom died when his brother was born.”

Daryl blinked. “What she’s saying is, everyone has fears. We all do. And a lot of people are afraid of commitment, for whatever reason. People don’t always tell you their reasons.”

“Know what the important thing is?” She cocked her head to the side, “people change their minds all the time. There was this guy who thought of me ‘like his sister.’ Then … a little lipstick… a little peekaboo tops, a little swinging of the hips and…”

“A little hip grinding action, and she seduced him. Though, I gotta say, we BOTH tried all of that on Sam. He seems immune.” Daryl chimed in.

“To us. But to you? I think he’s fallen hard, and you just gotta give him that old ‘knockout punch.’”

“Trust me on this, you’ve turned that guy’s life upside down. He’s Mr. Routine, and since you’ve been gone,” Daryl shook his head, “I don’t know … wouldn’t be surprised if he mixed up night and day. So if anyone has a chance at his heart, it’s you. But you know what… with a body like that… I’d give it up with no commitment.” Course Daryl was thinking of the guy he’d seen Dean with at the seedy bar last night.

“He didn’t run.” Sarah looked at Dean. “You might be right about him being afraid of commitment, but he wasn’t like my guy… I think you got a chance. If you want it.”

Dean made a face as he stared into his coffee when Daryl basically called him a 'girl'. Maybe he had been wrong about talking about this with them. After all, he couldn't exactly give them the whole story.

Yeah, Samuel is an angel, he rescued me from an insane asylum. I was there because I can see demons. And guess what? We can talk to each other with our minds. He didn't really fuck me, it was just a dream. But even though he 'loves' me and 'wants' me we can't be together because it's a sin for angels to fuck… That would be 'fun' and probably win him a one way ticket back to the asylum for sure.

Thinking back on what he had been able to tell them… yeah he supposed he did come off sounding like a girl… a moron… or completely childish. The young man sighed heavily.

"It's not that simple… he told me his reasons. He said it didn't matter what he felt for me, we can't be together. I can't even look at him without wanting to touch or kiss him and…"

It would be hell.

But by his own words he'd told Samuel he'd go to hell for him. Shouldn't he at least be able to go through hell for him? If there was the slightest chance they could come out on the other side…

Dean took a deep breath and slowly lifted his head. Offering Samuel's friends a weak smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"Thanks… for the advice, and the coffee." He said as he stood, taking out a few bills he'd 'earned' last night and then considering. "You wouldn't happen to know his favorite dessert, would you?"

About five minutes later Dean was walking back up the stairs leading to Samuel's apartment, his bag over one shoulder, a takeout container from the restaurant in the other. His steps surprisingly easier than they had been when he'd been walking away, even despite how his stomach was in knots with nervousness.

Outside Samuel's door he stood for another few minutes, trying to shore up his courage, before he lifted his free hand to knock. Thought better of it, and simply opened the door instead.

He hadn't moved. There hadn't been anything pressing for him to do, nothing that couldn't wait. Stupid thoughts flitted through his mind. Dean never missed breakfast. Today he'd missed two meals, and he couldn't imagine he'd been eating decently. Was it so bad here? With him, that he preferred…

No, he'd seen enough of humanity to know that not every reaction was logical or measured. Besides, Dean had been on drugs most of his life, and maybe he couldn't deal with strong emotions, he didn't have the tools to yet. Maybe…

As the 'maybe's' melded in his mind, he heard the twist of the door knob and his gaze shifted to the door. He really wasn't expecting Dean at all, and was momentarily shocked into silence, though his eyes clung to Dean's. Was he back because he forgot something? Was this round two of 'rip an angel's heart out?'

But when Dean took a couple more hesitant steps into the house, and Sam recognized the box in his hand, he shot up from the sofa. "Dean? Did you change your mind?" His voice was thick with unshed tears, as he crossed the floor and closed his arms around Dean, so tight, he threatened to break bones or maybe an item in Dean's bag. Even as he nuzzled Dean's hair, he wanted to kiss him, he wanted to brush his mind against his, wanted it to be the way it was such a short time ago.

But this was better than nothing. Much better. "It's the peanut butter sandwich, isn't it… irresistible," he said, speaking over the lump in his throat. If he was wrong about this… if Dean hadn't changed his mind, the angel wasn't sure he'd ever recover.

Dean’s heart was beating so hard he was sure that Samuel could probably hear it. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there frozen in the doorway, his eyes locked with the angel’s. Seconds, minutes, or hours. It all seemed the same. Time measured in the thundering beats of his heart.

Sam didn’t say anything, and though Dean’s throat worked, no sound seemed willing to come out. A new fear began to creep over him. What if he’d already missed his chance? What if Samuel had changed his mind, and now told him to leave? Hadn’t he caused the angel enough trouble?

Doubt and fear began to eat away at the little courage he’d managed to find, but he shored up what was left. Enough to let him take a few hesitant steps into the apartment. Even if the angel did tell him to get out... at least he tried... one last time...

Dean’s heart skipped a beat when Samuel suddenly stood up and he might have even flinched a little, he wasn’t sure. Did you change your mind? The young man opened his mouth. Tried to speak, but again no sound emerged but suddenly it didn’t matter because Samuel was right there. The angel’s warm arms wrapping around him tightly, almost too tightly, but he didn’t care.

His bag fell to the floor, along with the container in his hand, but right now Dean didn’t give a damn as he clung to Sam just as desperately. Holding on just as tight. A harsh, almost wounded, sound rather than a laugh breaking from his throat at the angel’s ‘joke’ as he buried his face against Samuel’s chest.

“Yeah.” He agreed anyway, holding on just a little tighter as he felt some of the cold pain in his chest melt away just a little. “Yeah...”

"Yeah…" Sam softly echoed, still holding him for a long, long time. He didn't know how it happened, but they were sort of swaying together. "You know… I've never danced before," he said, laughter in his voice.

*

A short while later, they were sitting next to each other on the couch. Dean was nibbling at his sandwhich… or playing with it, while Sam was doing anything but 'playing' with his dessert. Chocolate mousse with dark chocolate shavings was his favorite, and he hadn't had any in… since Dean left. With each dip of his spoon, he was just a little more confident they might find themselves back where they'd been before…

In between bites, careful not to bring up the last few weeks, Sam tried to keep up the chatter. He told Dean about the various upcoming events in the city, and that there was a cocktail at a museum that he could come to with him, if he wore a suit. Chuckling at the look on Dean's face, he took another spoonful of mousse into his mouth, then pointed the spoon at him. "You might be surprised… maybe it won't be as boring as one of my history channel shows."