"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

- Jeremiah 29:11

"For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self discipline."

- Timothy 1:7

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." Dean whispered, the sound harsh as it passes across his dry lips.

"The Lord be in your heart and upon your lips that you may truly and humbly confess your sins: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." A deep gravelly voice replied beside him from the other side of the grate.

"I… I've never done this before, so I haven't got a freaking clue about how I'm supposed to do this. But, Padre, I've got a problem." Dean mumbled.

"What is it you need to tell me son?"

"Well, uh… I've been dating this really hot chick Lisa and she's great and everything, but I just don't… I don't, I don't think I'm actually capable of loving her. I'm not sure she's really my type, if you know what I mean? And I know that's a sin. I know about the whole 'Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind' and about it being an abomination and I know that my dad and my brother Sammy would be disgusted and kick my abominable ass to the curb if they ever knew. But, Padre, what am I supposed to do here?" Dean asked, his voice hoarse with the tears he refused to shed; Dean Winchester did not pity himself.

"Believe me, I've tried to stop all of those feelings, but it never seems to do the trick. I bottle it all up and I tell everyone I'm okay, but I'm going freaking crazy. I'm white knuckling it everyday. And I dream and I can't control what goes on in my dreams and it makes me so God damn – sorry Padre – angry. I had this one dream the other day where I took a load of pills and drank myself to death and I woke up and I thought maybe that was the solution. But, that's a sin too isn't it? If I live I live in sin, but if I end that life of sin then I die in sin too? I'm struggling to see a good option." He murmured, desperation clawing up his throat.

"You are very hard on yourself. You must remember that there are many interpretations of the Lord's words and the guise you are taking of the Bible is very literal. Many believe that the Father cares little for men who lay with other men and that it is a small evil; after all, the Lord taught us love above all else. However, this second sin you speak of is almost uncontested. To take a life that has been gifted to you by God is a sin of the highest order. I entreat you to reconsider. You are young and the Lord has plans for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. You must remember that God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline. You can defeat this lesser evil, these urges and thoughts of yours, if you so wish. The greater evil you speak of though, that cannot be undone once committed." The priest explained, his voice a low and soothing hum in the cold and quiet chamber that gave Dean the heebs and full on jeebs.

"So I should just try harder?" Dean asked softly.

"You are strong and God has given you the power to defeat from within. Your inner demons are appointed with challenging you; they help you to grow." He replied.

"Thank you, Padre."

"The Lord has put away all your sins." The priest finished before it fell silent once more.

Dean closed his eyes and tilted his face up to the warm sunlight as he released a heavy, burdened breath. It felt good to have finally said the words aloud and it had taken a little of the weight from his shoulders, but he did not feel any relief. So maybe God wouldn't care if he started fucking dudes instead of chicks, but his dad certainly would. John Winchester was a macho ex-marine who drank copious amounts and got into bar fights. He was the type of man to encourage his sons to go out and have no-strings fun with the girls from the small towns they passed through, and he was the type of man to pointedly look away from any gay couples or individuals he noticed. Needless to say, he would be anything but accepting of Dean's preferences.

It had crossed his mind that Sammy might be different, more tolerant of what Dean considered to be a flaw in his character, a crack in his chassis. In fact, he was pretty sure that Sam would be fully on board with it, simply for the reason that his dad wouldn't be. Sam and their dad had always bumped heads and it was incredibly stressful for Dean to be constantly trying to hold their fragile family together, especially when trapped inside the impala for hours on end. He knew this piece of information about himself would be enough to shatter the peace entirely; it was a delicate balance and one he fought hard everyday to keep in tact. Therefore, as you would expect, he wasn't planning to drop any bombshells.

He'd fantasized often enough about living in an alternate universe where he would come out and his dad and his brother would pat him on the back or hug him and tell him it's okay, they'd known all along, it didn't change anything, they still loved him. But then the dam of illusion would break and he'd be forced back into reality, forced to look into the mirror and face himself. It was difficult to keep smiling whilst he felt so empty, a shell of a being, yet also so filled to the brink with rage and frustration. He sometimes wondered how his dad and Sam couldn't see the apocalyptic mayhem the was going on within him, the sound of the waves crashing harshly against his ribs, the storms thrashing in his veins, the energy burning and spitting furiously in every cell and every fiber. He did everything he could to take the edge off without them noticing. He drove just that little bit too fast, got into a few too many fights, drank enough for him to occasionally slip into a stupor, maybe fucked Lisa harder than he intended every now and again, took unnecessary risks on a hunt, looked for trouble where none was to be found. He was ridden with guilt and shame and self-loathing and his dad and Sam never even suspected something was wrong because it just came with the job, with the life.

That night Dean found himself sat on the porch steps of the old abandoned house they were squatting in on the outskirts of town, beer in hand and cooler at his feet. Sam was busy studying upstairs in one of the rooms, the light of the kerosene lamp casting a rectangular stretch of pale yellow on the overgrown, sad excuse for a lawn. His dad was God knows where; he tried his damn hardest not to worry that he hadn't heard from him in a few days, but the effort was futile. He stared up into the oblivion and void of the inky black sky, the stars surprisingly bright away from the lights of the town, and he thought about his uncharacteristic trip to the church that afternoon before picking Sammy up from school.

The concept of there being a God, some almighty, divine being somewhere up there, seemed utterly impossible if he was being honest. How could He exist and yet not lay a finger to stop all the crap and the evil that plagued the Earth. Why would a God, who was supposedly all loving, design him to be the way he is when it would cause him nothing but pain and suffering? It didn't add up. He doesn't even really know why he went to the church: a last desperate attempt to cling on to his sanity perhaps? Either way, it was less terrible than he'd been expecting. The priest he'd spoken to hadn't been a douchebag like he'd been anticipating and actually sounded sympathetic. He was pretty sure the correct path for the priest to take would have been to damn him to hell. Dean knew it was where he belonged anyway after all the things he'd done in his life.

"You're a fucker, you know that?" Dean murmured begrudgingly up to the sky as he opened another beer.