After the club and dropping Luci off at his apartment, he left with his boyfriend's words ringing in his ears.
"I'd kill myself if I didn't have you here."
After months of hidden bruises and false apologies, those were the last words he expected to hear. Sam walked back to his apartment, but he knew he wouldn't be going home tonight. He knew Luci was bad for him, and he'd been meaning to break things off for a while, but somewhere he hoped to no avail that Luci would go back to being the strong man he loved so much. He used to have so much respect for him, having been kicked out of his house for being who he was. He was so wonderful and strong and amazing. Now, it was hard to reconcile that person with the one who yanked him around with too much force or resorted to begging and guilt trips to get sex from Sam whenever he felt like it. He knew the good times were getting fewer and farther between. But now, Sam genuinely worried that Luci's threats were serious. What reason would he have to lie anyway?
Sam stumbled into the next alley, eyes stinging with angry, unshed tears. He couldn't be responsible for someone's death. He couldn't be responsible for that someone's life either. He was trapped, and he knew it.
"I'd kill myself if I didn't have you here."
Sam slammed his fist into the cold brick wall.
"I'd kill myself."
How had he gotten himself into this mess? He punched the building again.
"Kill myself."
Slam.
"Kill myself."
Slam. His knuckle split with a sharp sting, making Sam hiss in pain.
Dammit. He slid to the ground in the dark alley and wrapped his fist in his shirt. Well, what was one more thing to hide, anyway? After all this, he'd become a bit of an expert at hiding minor injuries. He let his head fall back against the rough brick. Maybe if he cracked his head hard enough against wall, none of this would matter. Angrily, he smashed his uninjured fist into the wall next to him.
"Whoa. Hey, that's quality brick you're roughing up there," said a light voice. A man who was a good foot shorter than Sam sauntered up to him. His feathery hair caught a bit of moonlight in it as he looked down at Sam. From where Sam sat on the hard, Chicago ground, the man seemed to tower over him.
"Just kidding," he said. Sam eyed him warily; this time of night, no one was out on the streets for anything good. The man seemed to sense Sam's apprehension. He crouched to be eye level with Sam.
"What are you doing out here so late, kid?" he asked.
Sam replied, "I could ask you the same thing." The man nodded and plopped down next to Sam on the ground.
"Fair enough," he said. For a few moments, they sat in silence. Sam silently questioning what the hell was going on. Finally, he looked at the other man and didn't regard him as a threat. Honestly, he just seemed exhausted.
Sam broke the silence first.
"I'm trying to avoid going home," he said. The man turned to look at Sam. A light turned on inside one of the buildings, allowing a window to illuminate part of the alley. Sam saw his mysterious companion didn't seem to be much older than he was. The man smoothed down his disheveled hair when he noticed Sam's scrutiny. Quickly, those amber eyes shifted away from Sam to stare at the opposite wall from them.
"Oh, yeah?" he said, responding the Sam's vague answer, "Same for me, actually."
"Really?"
"Yeah, my dad's going at it with my brothers again. Not quite my scene tonight," the smaller man explained.
Sam nodded. He remembered enough screaming fights with John and Dean that he could easily relate.
"How about you?" the stranger asked.
Sam shrugged, trying not to think about Luci and failing, "I don't really want to talk about it."
"Really? You're not going to share your personal drama with a perfect stranger? I see how it is," he said with mock anger. Sam smiled a bit at the other man's attitude.
"Well, your loss," the man said, "Perfect opportunity for a non-biased audience. But you don't want to talk about it. I get it."
"It's my boyfriend," he said hesitantly, testing the waters for just how non-biased this guy really was. He seemed completely unfazed.
Sam continued cautiously, as it was clear his listener was waiting, "We haven't been doing well lately. Haven't for a while actually. I don't think I love him anymore to be honest." He waited for a response but received nothing but a nod to continue.
"He's been really awful, but now I know I can't leave, and it just sucks." His companion cocked his head ever so slightly when Sam said Luci was being awful.
Sam removed his cut up fist from his shirt and pulled up his sleeve to reveal the finger sized bruises wrapping around his wrist and forearm.
"Awful," Sam reiterated. The man reached out gingerly and gently touched Sam's marked up skin.
"I see," he muttered. Sam took back his arm and slid his sleeve back down to his fingertips.
"I'm just not okay enough to go home right now," he concluded. The man nodded and stood.
"I get that," he said stretching.
He brushed off his pants and said, "Kid, it's your life, I'm not gonna tell you what to do. But, as hard as it is, you should probably get home. It's late, and the next guy you run into may not be as nice as me."
Sam slowly got back on his feet.
"You're probably right," he said. Telling this guy about it all had calmed Sam considerably.
As the man started to walk away, Sam asked, "Hey, what's your name?" The guy turned around to face him from just outside the alley. The streetlight swathed him in an urban glow.
"You show me yours, I'll show you mine," he replied with a grin.
"I'm Sam."
"The name's Gabriel," he said. Sam struggled to find his voice again and replied, "Thank you, Gabriel, for listening." Gabriel sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.
"No need to thank me. Just take care of yourself," he said.
Sam nodded and they went their separate ways. Much to Sam's surprise, he did actually find his way to his own bed that night.