"Dean? You going out again?"

"Yes, Sir"

"Am I invited?"

"No."

"Oh.. Fine." Dean managed to practically make it out of the door. "So, Dean, where you going?"

"Out. Thought I'd go to a bar or something."

"Gonna be an expensive nite?" indicating the pocket Dean had just shoved a fair amount of cash into.

How come his father could notice all the small details but miss the massive 'fuck off' expression he was giving him?

"Goodnite, John," and he was out of there before the man could stop or follow him.

=0=

He was not there. Dean looked around panicking. He gripped the steering wheel, breathing hard, trying to calm himself. Maybe he had taken the night off, after all whores had to sleep just like everyone else.

He had not said another word to the kid as they had driven back and had not even acknowledged him as he asked if it was okay to keep all the money. Dean had not expected that. Hell, he had not expected any of this. And worst of all, he had not expected that once he had gotten back to the hotel room, he wanted to go straight back out and find him again.

It was as if being with the whore took the pain away. Sammie took the pain, the emptiness away. He was becoming addictive. A balm on his soul. Could that be another term for love? No, he was not in love with the kid. That was ridiculous. It was lust. Must be. Lust and loneliness. After all the women, all the alcohol, had failed to fill him up, he was somehow drawn to finding solace in a teenage boy. And not just any boy, obviously, because, except from that make out session one time in the locker room at one of the many High Schools he had been forced to attend, he had never been with a male. Had never wanted to be. But Sammie was like a drug. A painkilling drug. And he was wearing off.

Dean had managed to last long enough to go get something to eat with his dad and had mentioned about leaving town. His father had just shrugged and said he was okay either way but had agreed to find them a simple 'salt and burn', something to give them a direction to go. He had already called his friend Bobby Singer but he had nothing on the radar. Dean hated it when things were this quiet. It always felt like the calm before the storm and he was fed up with getting piss wet through!

He scanned around again. Although he could see plenty of merchandise on sale, he could not see Sammie. He chewed his lip, hands moving around the steering wheel as he considered putting the Impala in first and heading off to Sammie's 'spot'. He sat back. He did not want to see him with someone else. He would probably beat the crap out of the 'client'.

There were several boys looking over at him, some putting on a display, trying to catch his eye but no one approached. He slid over and wound the window down giving them all the once over, a couple taking a step forwards as he looked. He frowned. There that one. It was the one he had seen Sammie with. He caught his eye and beckoned him over.

Billy moved to the car and leant in. Sammie was right. He was a damn fine looking man. But he was Sammie's. Hutch's boys did not poach from each other. There were plenty of sad bastards to go around. But if he had tired of Sammie that was a different mater. "Where Sam?" the man asked. Guess not, then.

"Busy," he replied.

"Where is he?"

"I just told you."

"When will he stop being busy?"

"Twenty for a hand job. Thirty for a blow. And if you want my ass, its fifty for straight with a rubber. Take it or leave it!" he waited a heartbeat then pushed himself from the car and took a step back making sure his hips tilted as that would be the view from the interior.

Dean's head began to pound. He rubbed at his temples. "Get in!" he called and waited for the blond to close the door then drove off down the street causing the teen next to him to ask panicky, "What the fuck man? Where d'you think you're taking me?" Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a twenty, throwing it at the boy. "What's your name?"

"Billy"

"Well, Billy. You friends with Sammie?"

"We live together."

Dean turned down the next alley he saw and drove slowly, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Near the far end he stopped the car but did not dare to ease his grip. Through clenched teeth he asked, "So you're his damn boyfriend?"

"Look Mister. I sell myself just like he does. If you want something, fine. If not, just leave us the fuck alone."

Dean looked over at the kid and damn did he looked scared. He let out a breath and relaxed back. He twisted in the seat, leaning his arm on the back, holding his head as he studied the hustler. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen." But it was a lie. One he would not be able to get a way with much longer. The man did not believe him, he could tell by the narrowing of the eyes.

"Tell me. How old is Sammie? The truth," not as old as this one he reckoned. He looked to be nearing his twenties, the same as himself, unless he had aged prematurely due to the life he lived. He had dark circles under his eyes and his skin was wane, not pale. He had a feeling Billy was finding it harder and harder every day.

Billy could understand the man's fascination with Sammie. He had been in love with him almost from the moment Hutch had brought him to the hotel room they shared and told him to make him feel at home. From the look in the boy's eyes and the flinch as the pimp had stroked his cheek, Hutch already had. But sometimes it pissed him off how Sammie got them begging for him. They always came back for more while he ended up with the leftovers. But then, at night, or rather the morning, when Sammie crawled into bed beside him, it made it all better, bearable.

Billy looked at the twenty he was turning over in his hands and sighed, "Sixteen. A couple of months back. November."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean felt a stabbing pain behind them. He had hoped he was older. He felt like crap. Men like him that prayed on kids were the scum of the earth. "That's not young in our world," Billy said seeing the pained visage.

"That doesn't make it better."

Billy made a decision. For a start that was different. Usually the men wanted them younger, fresh and if Sammie had to service men just like he did, he aught to be able to have a least one he liked. "Sammie likes you."

"Sure he does," he was paying way over the odds or Billy went cheep.

"If you pay Hutch enough, you could get him exclusive."

"Yeah?" wistful not hopeful. They had to leave this place. Even if he wanted to stay, which he did not, they could not.

"Yeah. I bet…"

"How much for the night?"

"Me or him?" but he already knew.

"Sorry, kid," looking at him, trying not to look disdainful or pitying.

"Two hundred. Hutch will try to get more but two's right for Sammie." He felt like a pimp now. It did not sit well. He had to get out real soon but he had nowhere else to go. Billy's future did not look promising. Nineteen was just not bankable. He was not good looking enough to transition to being an adult escort. His time was just about up. Hutch would wipe his hands of him soon. And he had a real bad feeling as to how he would solve a problem like Billy. He would sell him off to a particular type of client and he would not see the light of day again. He had to get out and soon.

Dean started the car. "I'll take you back," and saw the dejection on the kid's face and something else, resignation possibly. He put his hand in his pocket once more and counted out more cash. "Here. Take the night off," and handed the folded wad over. Billy did not say anything but looked damn grateful. "Don't mention it kid," and he was not being sarcastic. It could so easily have been him.

He parked across and down the street and, as Billy left, not slamming the door he noticed, Dean set up vigil. Billy pulled the money out of his pocket, counting as he went. He stopped, thinking to go back, asking if the man had made a mistake. Quickly before any of the others or, more importantly, Hutch or his heavies could see, he hid the hundred, putting the twenty back in his pocket as his earnings.

=0=

It was over an hour before a pretty expensive looking car pulled up, letting out it's passenger then sped away. He was still wearing the too small, pale blue shirt. It was getting late, the streetlamps having come on while Dean waited. The light shone on the boy's hair and Dean thought he saw that 'glow' again as at that first sight of him. Just the lamp light but he moved, turning over the car and before he could change his mind, he pulled along the curb behind his obsession.

Sammie heard the car without looking around. He had been ready to call it a night, if Hutch would agree. He had another hundred in his pocket so had done more than enough for one day but the bastard was greedy and it did all mean he could hide a little more.

He spent as little as possible. If he could get his tricks to take him for food he would. Some bought him presents which he sold. All the cash went into his escape fund. He did not turn around but looked back over his shoulder playing the coquette, part of his success and yes, it was the big, black, ugly car with the far from ugly man inside.

He felt dirty. He was dirty. He was covered in another man's spunk and normally not caring what a punter thought, he did not want Dean to see him like this. To smell another man's sweat on him. Another man's spittle. They all had their 'kinks'.

He was staring at him with those emerald eyes and slowly Sammie moved to the car. Hands on knees, he bent down but said nothing, just watched Dean reach a decision, "Spend the night with me."

"Don't you want to know how much?" he stepped back looking over his shoulder. He had seen the bastard's reflection approaching in the black paintjob. "I'll have to clear it with the 'boss'," motioning to Hutch more for his benefit than Dean's. He did not want the man to think he was trying to stiff him on the last payment. Dean just nodded.

Sammie walked up to his 'protector'. Was he really that ugly or was it what he did to them that made it appear so? No, Sammie decided, he was born that bad. He handed over the hundred and accepted fifty back. He should not have to give up that much. Better than the alternative he supposed.

"What does Mr Impotent want now?" Hutch sneered, indicating to the black car with his head.

"The night."

"Try to get three hundred. At least you'll get some sleep," and he laughed. It was not pleasant.

Sammie had had to explain all the extra time somehow so had stuck with his original lie. He moved back to the waiting car. "Three hundred," and was puzzled by the knowing smile.

"Tell the Bastard, two."

"Don't you think I'm worth it?" pouting, twisting his hips non too subtly in Dean's eye line.

"Yes. But is he?" indicating the slime ball that had Sammie caught.

Sammie smiled conspiratorially and twisting at the waist called back, "He say's, two." There was a growl then a begrudging, "Get that tight ass back here by eight," and he stomped off.

"You know where to go?" as he slammed the door closed.

"Yes" mentally apologising to the Impala.

"Can we go via the seven. You need to buy me a toothbrush."

Deans knuckles whitened yet again as he said, "Fine," sounding anything but.

Pulling up outside the store, he handed over a twenty. "Well I ain't going in," as Sammie looked at the money but did not move. "Get what you need," and he watched as Sammie grinned like a big kid and bounced out of the car, "And don't slam…" but it was too late.

Five minutes and he was back with a paper sack. Dean held out his hand. "What?" asked Sammie innocently.

"Change?"

"Nope," and laughed with genuine delight at the put upon expression.

Dean said nothing as he pulled away from the store. He should have known from all the years of his dad sending another teenager into a store or gas station. There was never any change.

"You said you knew where to go?" Sammie asked puzzled at the direction they were headed.

"I do," glancing briefly across. But said nothing more, just driving with the teenager sat watching him, gripping the bag.

==000==

TBC...