Over twenty four hours, seven unanswered messages and two missed calls later, Dean was sat in his Impala. Not hiding, he definitely wouldn't have called it hiding.

Despite his desire to find out the whereabouts of his boyfriend, Dean was extremely resistant to actually leaving the safety of the car. The short walk up to the Wesson's front door seemed miles long and practically lethal. In the hunter's head, it had extended 100 feet from the last time he was here, merely two days ago.

His hands twitched from where he still grasped the steering wheel even though he'd stopped the car over fifteen minutes ago. The comforting smell of leather couldn't even settle his nerves like it usually would. He nibbled at his bottom lip and considered breaking his promise to himself by just driving away without discovering where Sam was.

He took a steadying breath before pushing open the door, which let out a squeak, and steeping out onto the curb. The neighbourhood was quiet which really didn't help as it gave the area a horror movie feel.

Realising that he was acting really suspicious, Dean wiped his hands down his jeans and took the first step towards the house. He knew that, in theory, he shouldn't be nervous as it was his boyfriend's home but Mr Wesson had seriously given him the chills. As a result, he had put off chasing up his boyfriend until his curiosity got to him. The phrase, curiosity killed the cat, kept spinning around his head. He wanted to be anywhere but there but wanted to be with nobody but Sam.

Everything would be easier if Sam would just answer my calls, Dean mused as he stepped closer to the house. Why can't he just answer my texts? Each step was a chore as he worked his way closer and closer. He knew that he probably looked like a weirdo lurking on the path to someone's house but he couldn't find the energy to care.

The door got closer quicker than he'd been expecting making him want to turn around and start again. It felt like a sick game of what's the time Mr Wolf. He steeled his nerves and pushed on towards the house that made him feel wrong inside; like his very existence was forbidden. It hadn't felt like that before Mr Wesson had come back from, what Sam had previously said was, a business trip to Europe. Dean could imagine Sam wanting to visit Europe but he could imagine Sam wanting to visit all sorts of places and travelling loads.

He took the steps one at a time as he closed in on the entrance. Swallowing, he reached the door and nibbled at his lower lip as he reached an arm out. The limb felt heavy but he persisted onwards. He knocked against the wood. He suddenly felt very self conscious; should he have rung the bell instead? What if they don't hear it? What if nobody is home?

The door being opened interrupted his thoughts. He blinked in surprise when Mrs Wesson stood peering up at him with a part cautious, part curious expression upon her features. Dean felt immensely guilty for coming up and disturbing her day. She already looked tired as her eyes were dark and lacked any spark of energy. Her posture was stiff as she leant against the door and her breathing seemed almost laboured.

"Mrs Wesson?" He asked as though he hadn't met her before. It made him feel stupid. She nodded anyway, allowing him to continue, "Is Sam okay? Is he home?" He asked quickly.

She shifted to lean more weight against the wood of the door, "Yes, he's home."

"Can I see him?" Dean was already going to step in the door when Mrs Wesson pushed the door shut slightly so Dean couldn't fit though the gap. It made her feelings on him entering the house very clear.

"He's ill at the moment." She frowned and look behind her into the house where Dean couldn't see.

"Can't I just go and tell him that I hope he gets better?" He pleaded desperately. At first, he thought that her resolve was going to crumble but she suddenly harder her features and straightened her posture a little bit.

"He's really ill." She peered up at his face before glancing away, "And probably sleeping. It would be best to leave him to rest."

Dean sighed but wanted to argue with the woman. For some reason, he seriously doubted the credibility of her story. He opened his mouth to speak when a loud, barking voice echoed from within the household. It made both Dean and Mrs Wesson jump.

"Who is it?" The man's voice was deep and grumbled menacingly.

"Just a school friend of Samuel's. Wondering when he'll be back..." She called back quietly.

There was a brief silence and Dean supposed that the man, clearly Mr Wesson, was thinking for a moment. They didn't have to wait to long though before he came to a decision, "Friday at the earliest. If not it'll be Monday."

The woman nodded and turned back to Dean, "Either Friday or Monday. It'll depend upon how he's doing." Her voice seemed to wobble slightly as she spoke. It looked as though she was fighting to stop her bottom lip pouting out. She swallowed, "I'll pass on your well wishes."

Without waiting for a reply, Mrs Wesson pushed the door closed with a gentle click. Dean stood their for a moment feeling something similar to heartbreak. He hadn't been allowed to see his boyfriend. Maybe they knew about their relationship so we're trying to keep Sam away from him. He really hoped not. Acceptance was all a person really wanted from their family no matter whether you're gay or straight. He just felt lucky that John had somewhat accepted it.

He backed away from the door slowly while kind of wishing that It'd open and Sam's mother would invite him in to see his boyfriend with cookies and cakes. If he were really ill he could care for him and make him better. He'd be happy to help. If he wasn't sick then he'd sweep in there and steal away his boyfriend and take him away from a family that doesn't appreciate him.

He made it back to the Impala and got inside. It took another 5 minutes for him to collect his thoughts and finally begin driving across town to his apartment.

"It doesn't make sense!" Dean declared as soon as he burst through the front door.

His father gazed up in shock but didn't interrupt him. Dean was still furious with his father but the situation with Sam had managed to keep his mind from wondering onto the rage that he had stored up. After Sam was back in school then he'd probably reopen that bag of anger and then rage at his dad for hours. Maybe he'd even throw a plate or two.

"What doesn't?" John's brow creased in concern as he watched his son collapse onto the couch across from him.

Dean rolled his eyes as though his father should already know everything that had happened within the last half an hour.

"They wouldn't let me see him!" He cried out while throwing his arms in the air.

"You were gone so long that I had assumed that you'd gone in and then eloped." It was clearly meant as a joke but his voice betrayed to emotion so Dean blinked in confusion at his father.

"They said he was ill." He pushed after deciding to ignore his father's comment.

John looked up from the newspaper, where he was looking for local cases, spread across his knees and over to the young man, "And? Maybe he is ill?"

"No, he is definitely not ill. I could feel that she was lying, you know?" He waited for his father to nod before continuing, "She told me that he was really ill so I couldn't see him at all. Not even for 5 minutes!" He ranted as the crease of his brow got deeper and deeper the more he thought about it.

"Dean," John tried to placate his son with a soothing and somewhat reassuring tone. He was careful with his words though as even though it was almost two days later, it was clear that Dean wasn't exactly happy with his father, "Maybe he is just really sick?"

Pouting, Dean crossed his arm and brooded for a moment. It was obvious that he was thinking over what had happened. He didn't believe that Sam was sick and he was suspicious of the Wessons but tried to be logical. He nibbled on his lower lips as he sat pondering.

"Fine... But if I don't hear from him soon then I'll be breaking into their house myself," Dean muttered.

"Don't think I'll be trying to stop you." He said. He then went on to mutter, "Especially since you're so sweet on the boy."

The young man pretend that he didn't hear his father so instead he got up and retired to his room. Collapsing on the bed, Dean gripped his cell phone tightly in his fingers as he prayed that Sam would call or at least text. He just needed to know that one, Sam's father didn't see them kiss and two, that Sam wasn't mad as Dean for something.

Despite it being early, the hunter fell asleep with his phone clutched to his chest. If they were on better terms then John would have teased him about acting like a chick but their relationship was on rocky ground anyway.

John knew that Sam Wesson meant a lot to his son and if he wanted to be a better father then he'd support him.

Wednesday then Thursday came and went in a flash. Dean had skipped school so instead spent most of the day lounging around the apartment. His phone was never more than a few meters from him at anytime. He was a little bit worried that he'd miss Sam by being at home so sent off a message to a friend.

-Hey. Is Sam in?-

It was a while later when he got a reply. Despite knowing that it would probably be his friend, he leapt for the phone.

-No. Y? -

Dean chewed at his lip which was beginning to become dry and cracked for his constant worrying at it.

-just wondering.-

He felt back onto the couch and threw the phone onto the couch beside him so it was in easy reach. He checked it several times a day even though he didn't hear it ring a single time. Optimism was the only thing that stopped him chucking his phone against the wall. He was certain that Sam would call and that patience was the answer.

A dull ding from his phone pulled him from his sleep. He peered around the dark room in shock as him mind struggled to understand where he was and why he was sleeping on the couch. He'd obviously drifted asleep during his relaxing stretch out and his father had left him to doze. In a way, it was good as it allowed him to catch up on missed sleep. That didn't explain why it was almost pitch back.

It suddenly dawned on him that it was his phone that had awoken him from his slumber. His hands searched desperately for the cell phone which had slipped away from him during his nap.

It was partial underneath his torso where he'd tossed and turned so many times. He pulled it out and flipped the small device open so that he could peer at the small screen. Green eyes struggled to focus as they tried to desperately readjust from sleeping. He squinted at the words displayed there.

-One New Message: Sam-

Dean's breath caught in his throat as he quickly opened up the message. His eyes scanned it rapidly to try and get the information from the text as quick as possible.

-I'm sorry.-

Sorry? Sorry for what? What is going on? The message made Dean frown. It seemed cold and distant; not his Sammy. He wondered if Sam really had been seriously ill. He pondered over his answer but couldn't think of anything intelligent or funny. All he really wanted to know is that Sam was okay. He played with the keys before deciding on the message and tapping it out onto the keyboard.

-sam! are you okay?-

He held the cell phone tight in his fingers, hoping that the answer would come quickly. Staring down at the device, he tried to imagine what Sam's answer would be. He tried to predict the words and explanation for his silence.

It was five minutes later when Dean finally gave in and put the phone down on the couch beside him. His impatience was making the situation 100 times worse. Casting his gaze over the clock, Dean squinted against the darkness to make out the time. 12:47, it was nearly one in the morning but he didn't feel tired as energy buzzed through him. Sam had finally replied!

Suddenly, he jumped. The device beside him buzzed and the ring tone seemed too loud against the silence of the night. Without hesitation, he grabbed it, flipped it open and held it to his ear.

"Yes?" His mind was begging to hear Sam's soft tone and gentle giggle. He craved his presence.

"Dean?" The voice rasped. It sounded unused and dry. It seemed almost as though the owner had been crying.

The hunter had to make sure it was him as the voice revealed nothing, "Sammy?"

There was a brief pause, "Yeah." It whispered.

"Are you okay?" Concern colored Dean's tone. He frowned.

There was another moment of silence, "I need to see you." Sam said quietly as though he was scared that someone was listening to him. His voice was weak which caused knots to form in Dean's stomach.

"Of course." He answered immediately without even stopping to think, "Are you in school tomorrow?"

"No, Dean. You don't understand. I need to see you right now." Sam sounded desperate like it was his last chance to see his boyfriend.

"Now? Sam, it's nearly one am!" Dean argued even though he was already pulling himself up and his eyes were searching for the Impala keys.

"That's never made a difference to you before." Sam begged. Dean could hear the younger man moving around slightly.

Dean bit down on his lip and chewed at the skin there. He thought over his dilemma. On one hand, it's one in the morning so Mr Wesson would get mad but on the other hand, he hadn't seen Sam in days. He knew exactly what he wanted to do but he had to think about what would be best for Sam.

"Please?" Sam added moments later, disrupting Dean's thoughts.

"Ah, fuck it." Dean muttered as he spotted he keys and rushed over to them. "I'll pick you up, okay?"

"No, no, no! Wait!" Sam stopped, waiting for Dean to confirm that he was listening, then continued, "Not to my house. I'll be waiting on the corner of my road... Okay?"

He wanted to stop and ask why. He wanted to know what was happening and whether Sam really was okay but his body was yearning to touch his soft skin and to kiss his tender lips. He swallowed and closed his eyes to decide but deep down he knew that he could never say no to Sam when he asked like that.

"Okay. Give me 10 minutes." He hung up, grabbed his coat from by the door and threw it on.

He considered leaving a note for his father but he was in a rush now. He had to get to Sam and to the bottom of this mystery. He'd had a bad feeling since Sunday night but now everything just seemed wrong.

He glanced over the small flat one last time before pulling the door closed behind him.