Gabriel yawned and put one more pair of skates up on the rack. It was close to 11:45 and things were starting to wind down in the rink. He went and stood back at the counter, propping himself up on his elbows and watching the last handful of people fly around the track laughing while the Bee Gees streamed out of the speakers in the corners of the vast space.

"Five minutes 'til closing," Gabriel shouted, hands cupped around his mouth when the bright red wall clock above the counter read 11:55. The last three people rolled to stops and exited the skatefloor, pulling the rentals off and sock-footing their way to the counter. They gave him their skates before stepping back into their own shoes and departing together, talking about disco.

Gabriel sprayed them with disinfectant and placed them up on the shelves with the corresponding sizes. He walked around the rink and checked the bathrooms, calling "Last chance to get out," in a voice only slightly above normal volume. He shut all the lights off and turned the speaker system and music off. The restaurant section of the rink closed at ten every night, and the janitor got off as soon as everything pertaining to food was cleaned up and taken care of. After everything was shut off and the main doors were locked, Gabriel grabbed his worn jacket and left through the backdoor, making sure it was locked behind him.


John was hard asleep on the couch, and had been since dinner ended. Dean was in Sam's room, sitting on the edge of the bed as Sam told him about Bobby.

"Really? He subbed?" Dean sounded almost like he didn't believe him.

"Yeah, he was at school, and he said we should go over sometime. It's been a while since I've seen him, and it sounds like he hasn't really seen you around, either."

"I haven't seen him. But it was kind of a let down when he stopped coming over. Maybe we can invite him over for dinner sometime," he suggested.

"I don't think so," Sam replied quickly.

"Why?"

"He didn't say anything specific about what happened between him and dad, but he it's pretty clear he's the reason Bobby stopped coming over. So I don't think that's the best idea. Maybe we can go to his place, or we can go to a restaurant or something if we have money. But I'd say it's best not to bring him around here, you know?"

"Gotcha. But how are you supposed to get a hold of him?"

"He gave me his home and work phone numbers after class," Sam answered, getting up off the bed and grabbing his pants from earlier. He dug around in the left pocket, retrieving a slip of paper with two phone numbers, one with an 'h' and the other a 'w,' signed Bobby Singer. Sam passed the paper to Dean before getting back under the covers. Dean studied the numbers and then set the slip of paper on Sam's dresser.

"Good night, Sammy," Dean wished his brother a good night before leaving his room and closing the door behind himself.

"Night," Sam answered, rolling over and pulling the blanket over his shoulders. Maybe tomorrow he would tell Dean the truth about his sexuality.


Gabriel dragged a hand through his hair, agitated. The man on the phone repeated his question. "What is your household's yearly income?"

"Somewhere between zero and six million dollars,"

"Okay, I'll mark that down," he replied, no hint of joking in his voice. Gabriel frowned, irritated between the questions and the man not understanding he would rather be doing anything else. He put the phone back on the hook as the man started to ask a new question. Since when was "$0-$6 mil" a box that could be checked off on a telephone survey?

"Damn vultures," Gabriel muttered. Between himself, Naomi, Hannah, and Cas, they managed to make enough to get by year to year, with some to spare for themselves every now and then. The actual numbers and salaries hardly mattered unless they were filling out tax forms or were running negatives at the bank, neither of which were happening right now. He reminded himself it was Saturday and that meant he was only a day away from being able to stroll down to the park with his guitar. He smiled and brushed his hair back into place with his fingers.

In the other room, the kids were watching Saturday morning cartoons and eating cereal. The teens were all still in bed. Cas was the only other adult at home, Hannah and Naomi were at work. Saturdays were lazy days for Cas, apart from keeping an eye on the younger ones and helping Gabriel if needed.

Cas stepped into the kitchen, showered and dressed for the day.

"Do you need any help?"

"Nah, unless you've got a way to filter out calls telephone salesmen and surveyors."

"Unfortunately, I can't do anything about that."

"Figures," Gabriel teased, the corners of his lips turning upwards. "When's the last time you went out?"

"What?"

"Like, when's the last time you got out and did something with friends? Or even just on your own for fun?"

"I don't know, not that long ago. I don't think."

"Everyone's behaving, and if I really need help getting them under control I think the teenagers are responsible enough to give me a hand. Some of them are probably going to stick around and need to know this stuff anyway. Treat yourself, little brother," Gabriel said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yup."


On Sunday afternoon, Sam's stomach did somersaults and his fingers were losing feeling. He sucked in a breath and flexed his hands, trying to get the blood flowing in his fingertips again.

"Hey, Dean," he swallowed, looking over at his brother in the driver's seat. They were on their way home from the grocery store.

"Hm?"

"Can I tell you something?" He squeezed his hands into tight fists, digging his fingernails into his palms.

"Sure thing, Sammy."

"I think," he paused. "I think I'm," he stopped again.

"Think you're what?" Dean asked, turning his head to look away from the road and at his brother. "Whoa, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, no I'm fine," he composed himself a bit. "I think I'm gay," he spat the words out quickly. Dean stomped on the brakes and pulled off next to a curb.

"What?"

"You heard me," Sam managed to say sternly, even though his stomach was in a million knots. Dean stared at him wordlessly, and he lost whatever fleeting courage he had briefly caught. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Sam threw the Impala door open and hopped out, slamming it behind him and sprinting off.

sorry this update's taken so long. i had finals and one of my best friends moved a thousand miles away. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer!