Dean Winchester had been raised to believe in destiny. How else would you explain that he was there at the right place, at the right time? How else would you explain that he happened to walk past that alley? How else could it be explained that in a moment he made a decision which would change the course of his life?
Dean had checked into yet another faceless and nameless hotel, the kind that you pay for by the hour. An interrogation on the part of the concierge, if he could in fact be called that, was quickly stopped when Dean threw a bunch of money on his desk, and let him to understand in no uncertain terms that there was more where that came from if the concierge would keep his mouth shut.
After disposing of his possessions in his room, Dean went in search of the closest bar where the local prostitutes and bikers generally hung out. It was easy to get laid there and sometimes Dean even managed to nail a biker wife in the toilets. That would happen when the pros were not giving him freebies, which they often did. It wasn´t difficult to get it on and then pretend you forget the wallet. Most of them even believed him when he patted himself down and pretended to look for the wallet everywhere.
After finding the joint, gulping down a few beers, he headed back to the hotel. Sometimes the loneliness seemed to engulf him, and on those nights, he often sought out bars, where he could sit undisturbed and listen to the people around him, but he didn´t have to interact with anybody if he didn´t feel like it. Dean sometimes wondered what it would be like to have somebody for company, to confide in, to share his burdens. Little did he know how soon his wish would be granted.
He walked past an alley and could see the two shadowy figures within its depths. He pulled up his collar, and moved on, intent on not getting involved in other people´s private business. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the smaller figure punch the taller and the person fell down like a sack of potatoes. What struck him was the fact that the other did not make any effort to protect himself, even if he was taller and seemed more athletic then the attacker. The smaller figure put the icing on the cake by kicking the lying person in the stomach with his foot. Dean could discern a groan and a plea from the fallen man to the attacker to please stop.
Dean thought there was something eerily familiar about this voice, as if he had heard it all his life, and yet he could not quite place it, which was strange since as a rule he avoided any relationships beyond a slight friendship.
Before Dean knew what he was about, he had run into the alley, grabbed the perp by the shoulder, forcefully turned him around and hit him squarely on the jaw. The man, about the same size as Dean himself, went flying, landed and lay still. He was clearly down for the count. Dean turned his attention to the man who had been attacked. The stranger seemed to be conscious and Dean helped him stand, yet in the darkness of the alley, it was difficult to assess the injuries.
"Are you okay?" Dean asked the stranger, who did not respond. Instead, the tall man walked slowly up to the attacker who still lay there, and kicked him forcefully in the stomach.
"I am now," the other man replied before Dean escorted him out of the alley and they walked two blocks before hailing a cab. Without a thought, Dean gave the name of his hotel and the cabbie drove them there without a single question asked since Dean tipped him well.
After giving the driver his instructions, Dean turned to the man seated beside him in the back of the cab. "I cannot believe the nerve of the thieves these days."
"That man wasn´t a thief," the stranger replied confidently.
"How do you know? Do you know him?" Dean was hardly believing that someone could be that callous to a person they knew.
"I know him in every sense of the word," came the response which puzzled Dean ever further.
The man he had saved turned to look out the window at the city lights now flying by before turning back to Dean. "He is my boyfriend."