Late September, somewhere not too far from New York City.

(Dean's POV)

Dean knew it wasn't uncommon for someone to check him out behind his back, he was perfectly aware that he had a nice ass. Standing on his toes, stocking the top shelf with the new shotguns, he knew he should have turned earlier to accommodate the customer; however, the fact of the matter was that Dean just liked having eyes on his ass. He enjoyed teasing the ladies with a sliver of skin peeking just between his pants and t-shirt.

Not that there was an abundance of females frequenting the store, but when they did, Dean put on the charm. A few times he'd scored a date but mostly it was just a sales technique. It was his father's store and Dean always got a bonus every six months if sales were good; flirting with the ladies to get them to buy more than they planned helped the economy.

He'd noticed the little redhead outside before the bell told him he had customers. She was cute as a button, but not really Dean's type. It didn't matter anyway, Dean was ready to make her swoon, hopefully getting her to spend more money than she initially intended.

He finished stocking the shelves and cleared his throat before slowly turning around to face the young girl; however, the set of blue eyes that met his took him by surprise. The face surrounding those blue eyes was nice enough—maybe even better—but nonetheless it was not what he'd expected.

"I, I need a gun."

The voice was soft with a touch of sadness. Dean composed himself and could feel a slight blush crawling throughout his cheeks. When he panned the room he could see the girl checking out some of the fishing gear in the corner. He looked back to the man in front of him.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

So he had been flaunting his body to a guy, no big deal. He'd never been picky but it was kind of awkward at the moment. This guy seemed totally lost. His coat looked like had been slept in and his hair was ruffled. He didn't appear to be one of those guys that slept on the streets though. Despite the slight rumpled appearance it was obvious that he was clean and well dressed. The man lowered his gaze and sighed heavily.

"I need a gun."

Dean had been around guns since he was a child, working in this business since he was young gave him the ability to get a pretty good read on his customers. The guy in front of him was not a hunter. Dean was pretty sure he didn't belong to some neighborhood watch group either. This guy wanted a gun so he could off himself.

Dean also knew that his father really wouldn't care, he'd say that if strangers came in and wanted to kill themselves it wasn't any of their business. Dean cared though. He loved life. He wanted everybody else to love it too. He could never understand how some people were so eager to end it all. He coughed a little into one of his hands to make time to compose himself.

"What kind of gun are you looking for?"

The guy's eyes widened for a split second before he looked down at his sleeve, picking an invisible hair. "Um, I don't know, a small one." He lifted his head and tried to meet Dean's eyes but picked a spot above Dean's shoulder to rest his gaze on, "I don't, I don't know."

That was the ultimate give away. Everything about this guy told Dean that he was a man who'd given up on everything.

Before he got a chance to respond to him the redhead came up to the counter to ask for the price of the fishing rod she was holding. Normally Dean would've put on his charm to make sure she'd buy it, it was the most expensive one in the store, but he settled on telling her the price and returned his attention to the sad face in front of him.

"What do you need it for?"

He did his best to sound casual as he reached under the counter to pick out some guns. The guy shifted a little on his feet, and raised his hand to quickly rub at his chin.

"Uh, I, is that important? I need a gun."

His voice suddenly hardened and he finally looked directly at Dean. The stare made Dean feel a little uneasy so he bent his head to look at the guns in his hands.

"No need. It would just be easier to accommodate you."

He laid the weapons on the counter and started to explain how they worked.

The redhead approached once again and asked a question about some other fishing gear, Dean sighed, "I'm sorry. You can look at these, I have to," he nodded towards the girl. The guy just shrugged and stared down at the guns. Dean could spot touch of fear in his eyes and he worried for a moment that the guy would take one and run.

He divided his attention between the guy at the counter and the girl he was assisting. She was getting a present for her father and had a hard time deciding.

"I want to get him something nice but I don't have a lot of money."

She smiled and batted her lashes. On any other day Dean would've put in an effort even if she wasn't quite his type. Today though he just picked a rod from the rack and handed it to her, "This is very good and it's on sale."

Every so often he peeked over to the counter and looked at the blue-eyed guy, he was just standing there with his hands tucked into the pockets of his trench-coat. The girl was examining the rod for a minute before she put it back, "I have to think about it, I'll be back." Seconds later she was out of the door and Dean returned to the gun counter.

"You have a license, right?"

Dean threw the question out as he approached. The guy's head quickly jerked up and his blue eyes landed on Dean's. "Oh, no I, I didn't know…" The pained expression on his face made Dean a little uneasy. He patted the guy's forearm, "No worries, I can help you with the application."

Why the hell did I just say that? Dean thought to himself. It wasn't really his problem if the guy didn't have a license, but for some reason he wanted to be there for him. He walked around to the other side of the counter and started putting the guns back.

"You can check these out after."

Dean was perfectly aware that it could take months to get a permit but he wasn't going to say anything about that right now.

"If you can come back around noon I'm on break, I can help you then."

He gave the guy a crooked smile and got a tentative nod in response.

"Okay…noon, okay."

He turned and walked towards the door, his gaze fixed on the floor. Dean had the urge to run over and pat the guy's back, tell him to cheer up, but he controlled himself.

"I usually go to the diner across the street on my break, we can meet there."

The guy peeked over his shoulder and nodded, "Okay."

Dean watched as he walked outside. He watched as the guy hesitated before crossing the street and entering the diner. Was he going to wait for him there for the next three hours? He shook his head and tried to focus on work.

His dad had started out with a little tackle shop way back when Dean was a baby. After more than a quarter of a century the business had grown to a well renowned store for hunters and the like. The store's inventory now included everything a hunter could desire. Handguns weren't a big part of it, but every so often someone would come in to purchase one so they were kept in stock.

Around eleven Dean started to get a little antsy. He'd kept an eye on the diner between stocking shelves and attending customers. The trench-coat was obviously still there, Dean hadn't seen him leave, but he did start wondering if the guy was tired of waiting.

As soon as John came through the door Dean asked if he could leave, "I'm meeting an old friend for coffee; he's only here for a few hours, that okay?" He should be ashamed how quickly and smoothly the lie came out.

John shrugged his shoulders as he glanced around the shop, "You're done stocking? Then go, I'll be fine. Take the rest of the day, Sam called, said he'd come in later." He smiled and went through to the back to hang up his jacket, talking over his shoulder as he went. "It's gonna be a slow day anyway since yesterday was crazy."

They had a sale that ended yesterday; only a few things were left over. Now they could get ready to stock up on the new purchases. Some had already arrived but their big delivery wouldn't be in till Monday.

Dean grabbed his leather jacket and waved, "I'll come by later and say hi to Sammy." He walked out and took a moment to gather himself. With a deep breath he crossed the street to go to the diner.

(Castiel's POV)

Castiel was slowly sipping his coffee—his third cup—while thinking about his life. Ever since he was a teenager he didn't have a single happy memory to look back on. Of course there had been some pleasant moments but they were overshadowed by the pain he felt he had always been carrying inside.

At fifteen he realized that his attraction towards boys wasn't just a phase. It was a devastating realization. He tucked that notion far back into the corners of his mind and tried his best to forget about it. It wasn't easy but he'd managed for three years. He was eighteen when he had been seduced by another boy from school. Cas was tutoring the guy but Gabe had caught them kissing instead.

Cas had begged and pleaded with Gabe not to tell but it was futile; soon after he was shipped away to a camp to help rid himself of those urges. His father—the local minister—had been furious and told Castiel that he wasn't allowed home until he could swear that he was cured.

He didn't want to have these feelings, knowing they would lead him straight to hell, so he obliged his father's wishes and after three months he was back home with his family. He'd managed almost a year to convince himself that he was straight, but then his defenses started to crumble.

Over the next ten years he struggled. He concentrated on school and graduated as valedictorian, however, it wasn't enough. Sure his family was proud of his accomplishment, but they worried about him not having a girlfriend. He knew why they were concerned but he explained it away by not having the time for a relationship.

Then he met Meg.

She was different from the other girls and they connected on another level. She was not the kind of girl his family normally would've approved but they accepted her. She was a party girl and her religious views were far from what he had grown up with.

After a couple months of dating she started to get impatient with him. She wanted—clearly—to take the next step. Cas had explained to her that he was raised in a family that believed premarital sex was out of the question. She laughed, "You're almost thirty. It's ridiculous you're still a virgin!"

At that time he was working in the city, had his own place—it was even just a few minutes from a subway stop. Meg rented a house in the outskirts and shared it with a few of her girl friends. That weekend the other girls were gone and she had invited him to spend it with her.

She'd done her best to seduce him, but that night when push came to shove he was unable to perform. At first she tried to soothe him, but he soon realized he had to tell her the truth. He thought she'd understand, she was open-minded about practically everything, so when he sat her down to tell that she didn't really turn him on he expected a different reaction to what he got.

Meg exploded in a fit of rage; the evil in her eyes had scared him. It didn't take long before he was out on the street, his coat tucked under his arm, and her voice still ringing in his ears.

Whatever defenses he had built up over the years crumbled. He slumped down in an alley not too far away and cried until he fell asleep from exhaustion. He didn't realize he had slept in the alley, but when he came to next, he noticed it was morning. He'd managed to cover himself with his jacket but it was still cold. He was devastated and decided he should just end it all.

Giving into his urges was out of the question and living a lie was unbearable. He wanted to get it over with quickly, and the surest way he could think of to a quick end was blowing his brains out.

Only a few blocks from Meg's house he found the hunting shop. They sold guns and he took it as a sign that he was doing the right thing.

Now, here he sat, waiting on the store clerk to help him with a license application. Castiel felt like a fool. The courage had left him, could he go through with his plan after all? He really loved life and wanted to live it to the fullest. It was just too complicated.

Castiel looked up when someone came in and he smiled tentatively at the clerk approaching him. The guy looked a little stressed for a moment but he seemed to relax as he approached the table, a grin on his face.

"Hi, I'm Dean. You want something?" He nodded towards the counter. Cas shook his head and Dean sat down across from him and waved to the waitress.