"So, would you like to accompany me to dinner later?" The man who only came near my shoulder in height asked, smiling. His hazel eyes looked brown as the dull lights of the deceased professor's office reflected on them. He was wearing a light blue button down shirt, which I assumed was one of the school's team colors, with a nametag that read, Hi My Name is GO FUCK YOURSELF. He was also wearing jeans that were starting to sag under the weight of his tool belt- but it's not like I was looking down there for any other reasons than to have a full profile of the guy in case he ended up being a suspect.

"Um… what?" I asked for clarification, thinking I'd heard the janitor I just met wrong. I looked at Dean for conversational help, but found that the jerk was too busy "interrogating" one of the female teachers down the hall. Typical. I huffed out a frustrated sigh. She shouldn't even be wearing a dress that short. This is a high school for crying out loud. Just the hormones oozing off of the football team will eat her alive. I looked back at the janitor. "You mean for beer? 'Cause I'm not into the whole drinking 'till I can't piss straight thing."

"No, Gigantor." He said, chuckling as if he had heard my thoughts. "I mean the two of us fly down to some fancy- schmancy, super - expensive restaurant, I tell you what's good, and then you order anything you want - on…" He licked his lips in an obscene way that made me uncomfortable for some reason.

"… and off the menu," he said, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows. His eyes were almost hypnotic as they twinkled with never ending amusement.

"Uh, I'm flattered, really, but um-" I stuttered. I felt my cheeks burning and I'm pretty sure they were turning fifty shades of embarrassment. Is this guy saying what I think he's saying?

"Aw, c'mon Sammy, let's light this candle! I give the best dessert." Oh dear. He's serious. Why does everyone always assume I'm gay? And why do they always hit on me? Isn't Dean supposed to be the good looking brother?

"Look dude, I'm really, really flattered, but I don't swing that way man," I responded, trying to turn the guy down gently. It wasn't exactly a true statement. I've been attracted to some guys before- even slightly with the guy I was supposed to be questioning right now. He was kind of cute. It ain't fair. You see, I kind of have a tendency to get any girl interested in me killed, so you might understand why I would avoid the opposite sex. At least if I stick to one gender, I won't be a complete hazard to all organisms.

"What the fuck are you talking about? You think I'm gay?" He shouted angrily.

Oh my God. Did I interpret his words the wrong way? I started to go over the whole conversation in my head. It sounded like…Maybe I was wrong. "I am so sorry, I-"

"Sheesh, Moosey. Don't burst that pretty little head of yours. I'm joking kiddo." He said, doubling over with his hands on his knees, laughing hysterically.

"You-you're, you were-" I stuttered again, completely flabbergasted and confused on whether I should be angry at him for scaring me like that or laughing along with him. It wasn't that big of a deal, but it was just terrifying how quickly he had went from Sir Smirks-A-Lot to looking like he could pick up a mountain and impale you with it.

"Yes, Samsquatch, it was a joke. I'm as gay as a daffodil, my dear."

"Okay, Freddie Mercury, so about what you were a—"

"Next time then, right Sammy?" He interrupted, seeming to take the previous rejection light heartedly, still with an unwavering smirk cast over his face.

"It's Sam," I corrected. "And how do you know my name?" I'm pretty sure that I introduced myself with an alias.

"It's on your name tag, 'ya moron."

"Oh," I replied intelligently.

"So next time, kiddo?" Janitor guy replied, eyebrows raised and arms crossed as he patiently waited for an answer.

"Uh… sure," I said without really thinking about it. It's not like I was ever going to see this guy again. Dean and I would be on the road in about a day or two. It sucks, but that's my life. I can't make any long term connections.

"See 'ya then," he said, walking away.

A sudden thought occurred to me. "Hey, wait!"

The sound of footsteps in the hallway outside the office ceased.

"What's your name?" I asked. Hey, it's a small world.

"I go by many names," the voice replied, echoing dramatically. "But you can call me Gabe."

"And you're sure you didn't see anything weird or out of the ordinary these last few days? Flickering lights? Strange noises?"

He laughed. That was what I liked about him immediately- he laughed a lot and it was contagious. He probably thought I was a joke. I had above average grades in law school and here I was playing dress up as an electrician in a school located in a small town I've never heard of. Living the life.

"No, nothing Mr. Clean couldn't handle."

"Well, thanks anyway, Gabe." I said, rolling the new name off my tongue.

"'Welcome Samwich."

I allowed the corners of my mouth to turn up in a small smile.I didn't expect an outcome from this, but at least Gabe had given me a nibble of normalcy since Je-since the last time I had taken a break from the life that was forced upon me. I could use a friend.

Later on, Gabe was unfortunately revealed to be a Trickster and the one harming all of these people - which was wrong even though Dean had so nicely pointed out that all of the victims were dicks. As the illusions of the killer strippers, chainsaw psychopaths, and the adrenaline still pumping through my veins from another near- death experience faded away- another victorious hunt, according to Dean- I scrunched my nose in concentration, wondering how Ga—no, the Trickster knew my name when I wasn't wearing a name tag.