"Dean, can I get a little help here?" Castiel helped Sam sit on the edge of his wheelchair, Dean swooped over and helped Cas move him into his bed. Sam winced as they positioned him. His healing incisions itched and he was sore all over, but he'd wanted to go outside for awhile and Cas had obliged him. Sam had been home for a few weeks, and was healing quickly, but it had taken its toll on everyone. Getting him into the chair was a lot easier than getting him out, and Cas was going to take the chance to get Dean's help while he was home before zipping off to another job.

"Got everything you need, Sammy? Want me to pick anything up on the way home from work tonight?"

"A new body?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna get one less gigantic. Moving you is a pain in the ass, I don't know how Cas does it all day."

Dean walked out to the kitchen and Castiel followed him and caught his hand and pulled him back into a kiss.

"I miss you," he said quietly between gentle smooches.

"I know, I'm sorry, babe. I miss you too." He was having trouble look Cas in the eyes.

"Can't you take the weekend off? Dean we never see you. Handy man jobs before work, work, more handy man jobs. You come home to shower and sleep and that's it. You don't even sleep. You just sit up and clean the guns and check the salt lines over and over." He reached up to turn the man's face to him, "Dean, I can get a job. I'm not some helpless baby in a trenchcoat. I have skills. I have knowledge. I'm not your burden, I'm your partner. Sam will be well enough to take care of himself. Why won't you fucking look at me?"

"I'm going to be late for work, I just came back to grab some tools I need for a job tonight."

He pulled away and left Castiel standing in the kitchen silently fuming. He went back to Sam's room to play xbox and scheme.

Dean checked the trunk and made sure his date clothes were there. He'd have to wash up at work again, but he should be fine. The customers didn't seem to mind the faint smell of engine grease. So far he'd been on a date almost every night for two weeks. Escort, was the term he used. A few of them were just lonely older women. One was a woman who just needed to make an impression on her boss at a dinner function. Tonight, this guy was a repeater. Dean didn't like him, but money was money. He'd taken Dean out once before, he'd wanted a blowjob before Dean left. And for an extra $50, he gave it to him. He was repulsive, pudgy with bad hygiene. A disgustingly gaudy watch whose metal band kept pinching Dean's hair as the man forced him down on the minuscule dick. The man wanted more this time, and he knew it. With bills to pay, he didn't have the option to deny the man.

Work went quickly, at least at his job at the garage he was doing things he liked. Fixing cars. He could speak their language, and understand their workings. His mornings were spent repairing fences and cabinets and pipes, dull monotone jobs with housewives and househusbands hovering over him. His nights spent sweet talking people and pretending to care for money. But at least during the day he could breathe in the scent of grease and oil and listen to the music of metallic workings and purring engines. By the time he got home, Sam was asleep or too absorbed in a book to be of much company, and Cas was asleep, tired from helping Sam and fixing up the house all day. He couldn't sleep, he was filled with too much guilt. He'd clean the guns, it was the closest thing he could get to cars. If the night was nice he'd go out and work on the impala in the garage. Sometime around two or three in the morning he'd crawl into bed with Castiel and sleep for two or three hours and start again. He looked worn out, he felt it. But he couldn't stop. The pile of bills on the table wasn't getting smaller.

The clock read closing time, he went to change and scrub his hands and face clean in the employee bathroom and duck out before he had to answer any questions from his boss. The client, Clark Grant wanted Dean to come to his house tonight. It was a nice house, but he could see through the window that it was a mess. When the door opened the faint smell of body odor and rotten food wafted out.

"Dan," The man leered with a crooked toothed mouth. Dean had been using the pseudonym Dan Steele. If anyone caught the Steely Dan reference, they hadn't said so.

"Hey you," he said in a false purr, "What are the plans for the evening?"

"Drinks, and I thought you would provide the entertainment, and then we'd have some fun."

"What kind of fun and games are we talking? I want to be paid up front, Clark."

"I want you to do a strip tease for me. And then you're going to fuck me," he leaned close to Dean and whispered in his ear, "Hard." Dean could smell his acrid breath.

"$500."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Then I'll just be on my way."

"No, fine. You better be worth your price, boy." He handed dean a wad of bills from his pocket.

Dean blocked out his mind for the rest of the night. Trying to focus on the nice things he could get for Sammy and Cas if they came ahead this month. As soon as they both had finished he disappeared to the bathroom to vomit and scrub his hands and face clean and discard the condom. The greasy man was still stretched out on the bed giving him a wolfy grin when he exited. He dressed and left without a word.

Castiel sat on the kitchen floor. His phone shattered on the floor from an impact door leading to the garage. The door opened, but Dean stepped through it tentatively after seeing the mess.

"Cas?" He asked to the darkness, "Cas what happened?" he leaned down to the man, taking the tear streaked face in his hands.

"Why don't you check your phone?" he hiss. Dean's heart fell into the pit of his stomach, he already knew. In the outgoing messages to Cas was a picture of Dean, naked and walking into the bathroom. Clark. That fucking slimy bastard. This wasn't worth five hundred dollars. This wasn't worth a million.

"Cas, it's not what you think."

Castiel slapped him hard enough that Dean fell from his crouch and was sitting on the floor too, stunned. "Really Dean, than what the fuck is it? I'm pretty sure that's your second goddamn strike. That's not you? Because I can pretty clearly see my fucking handprint on your shoulder. Do you think I'm fucking stupid, Dean?" his voice was like razors dipped in lemon juice slicing into Dean.

Dean pulled the wad of cash out of his pocket and threw it on the floor. He didn't know what to say.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's what I cost, apparently."

"Dean?" His voice was low, curious, rough with tears, "What are you talking about?"

"We got bills to pay, Castiel. Sam's medical shit, rent, utilities. I had to do something."

"Please, please, please, god no, no. Dean, no." he pleaded, his voice cracked. "You've been…S-selling yourself?"

Dean just looked Castiel, he'd begun crying when Cas had started begging. He couldn't speak.

"How many people have paid to have you?" Castiel looked at the money on the floor.

"One, just one. The rest just paid me to go out with them."

"I'm going to fucking kill whoever you slept with."

"He's a goddamn scumbag, I wish we could."

"I can't fucking believe you, Dean. Why would you do this to yourself?"

"I have to keep you and Sammy safe."

"You do not get to punish yourself and write it off as helping us. Did you really think this would help?"

"We need the money."

"I can work, Dean."

"Doing what, Cas?" He snapped.

"Well your brother and I have been spending the day falsifying diplomas and records. Legally, I'm a teacher now. Well not so legally."

Dean didn't say anything, he just looked at the floor.

"Dean, you have to stop fucking doing this kind of stuff. I meant what I said, this is a second strike."

"I know. Cas, I wouldn't even blame you if you left."

"Fuck you, Dean. Do you think I gave up everything just to leave you when things got bad? Lucky for you I'm going to let you earn it back. I can't fucking believe you sometimes, Dean."

They just sat in silence for a few minutes in the dark kitchen.

"Did you at least use a condom?"

"Of course I did. I'm dumb, not wreckless."

"Was it good?"

"No. it was vile. I threw up afterwards. I don't know if it was him, or the guilt." He moved closer to Castiel, and took his hand. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Are we okay?"

"I'm still really fucking pissed and frustrated with you. But we will be."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

They sat in silence for a while, holding hands.

"So, a teacher, huh?"

"yep."

"Mr. Novack, I deserve one long detention."

"I went with Winchester. And you do."

"You…Took my last name?"

"We're partners, are we not?"

"Yeah, I just—I didn't think—does this mean we're married?"

"Considering what you just did, I think the wedding would be postponed for a while."

"Cas?"

"Yeah, jerkface?"

Dean laughed a little, "I was just trying to give you the best I could."

"I know. It's why I'm going to forgive you. I just can't right now."

"I understand."

"Come on," he stood up and pulled Dean with him. "You smell like him. Shower, and then bed. I better get one hell of a wake up blowjob and breakfast in bed, Mr. Winchester."

"Yes, sir."

He smiled as Cas pulled him downstairs and into the bathroom. It would be okay.