Disclaimer: This chapter is NOT meant to spark any political debates, nor reflect my own opinions on the issues presented by the end. I'm not trying to be preachy or moralistic and holier-than-thou. This is just how Dean (and Seth) feel about the issue. I feel their opinions are true to their personalities in the story. Enjoy. ^_^

He's got the sun in his eyes

He's got his head in the clouds

And the world follows behind

Asking what he's up to

But it don't occur

If there's some kinda fate

That guides his walk by the step

'Cause he's going his own way

Now

Chorus:

You get on with life

You're a dashing kinda fella

You like playing guitar on Sunday mornings

Hold me in my sleep

You like to contemplate the sun

And don't ever for a second wonder why

Spirit on the run

Not bad for a first draft.

While working on his song for Dean, Roman also had his laptop open in front of him. The University of Colorado's website was functioning today, quicker than usual since it didn't have hundreds of students logged onto the network all at once. He scrolled over two separate tabs: a list of recommended classes for his second semester as a junior with his major, and the enrollment sheet used to sign up for whatever classes he decided on.

Calculating his credits, he realized with pain in his head that he'd need to complete another five classes next semester. Perhaps his senior year would require less of him, but right now, he needed to devote himself to five health courses. No electives this time; he'd gotten most of those prerequisites out of the way already. It took him nearly an hour to crank out a schedule. He limited his classes to Mondays and Wednesdays only, so he could use the other days of the week to work—and rest. Going up to the campus five days a week was exhausting. He'd rather have fewer, longer days than several shorter ones.

A peaceful Christmas afternoon existed around him. Seth was captivated by his new game, and he didn't fail to mention whenever he noticed an improvement or new feature compared to the original Metal Wars. Dean was alone on the couch, strumming random notes away on Caroline. He hadn't played anything Roman recognized, keeping his word that the first full song he wanted to play on her was Roman's piece.

Roman submitted his choice courses to the website. A confirmation email made his phone buzz beside him. Great. Finished. He sat back in the chair and sighed. "Finally. Who knew staring at a computer screen for an hour was so tiring?"

"What's it look like?" Dean asked, referring to his finalized schedule.

"All health classes. 425: Instructional Methods in Health Education. 435: Epidemiological Basis of Diseases. 220: Sexuality in a Diverse Society. 208: Mental Health/Stress/Crisis. And 405: Drugs in Our Culture."

"Wow. That sounds like quite the workload," Seth remarked.

"Sounds like it's either gonna be really boring or really fascinating," Dean said.

Roman closed his laptop and recovered his pen. "Either way, I have to put up with it, so let's hope it's the latter."

"Oh, shit," Seth said, laughing. "Oh, guys, check this out. You know how you have the flamethrower class in the original?"

"Yeah, Sergeant Pyro," Dean said. "What about it?"

"Well, Sergeant Pyro must have had a secret love child with Captain Cold or something, because there's a class you can unlock called 'A Song of Fire and Ice' where you can have pyrokinesis and ice manipulation."

"How does that work?" Dean asked.

"The game isn't based on logic. Just accept the awesome."

"You know who Captain Cold is?" Roman asked.

"Yeah. From The Flash, right?"

"Yeah. Good job."

"Hey, it's not because I'm an expert on all superheroes, though. I've seen him on the CW show."

"I figured, but I was about to be really impressed."

"Are you still impressed I'm at least aware of his existence?"

"Partially."

Something exploded on the TV, and Seth nearly threw his controller in the air. "This class is sick! I just made that guy explode by turning him completely to ice, then launching a missile at him."

"This series is every boy's fantasy rolled into one game," Roman said.

"Hell yeah it is, dude, and it's awesome!"

Roman returned his attention to the song. He wasn't sure how patient Dean could be.

He's got eyes full of stars

The moonlight in his hair

I've been waiting all night

And he's finally there

Universe put on hold

God will just have to wait

As he walks through the doors and

Determines his own fate

Now

Chorus

Roman wanted more. He needed a bridge to lead into one more powerful chorus, then draw to a close with the slashing of Dean's pick against Annie's—Caroline's—strings. He could already hear Dean singing this.

Doesn't play by the rules, no, he wrote them

Then decided to break them anyway

He captured, enslaved me, I adore him

In the way that he locks me afar and away

I'm safe here, don't let go

You're safe here, don't let go

Whatever you do, don't let go…

Chorus

Roman glanced over his words, hoping they were good enough for his musician, if the point that he wanted to make in the lyrics came across in the right translation. He liked the idea of Dean existing as his own deity, existing in a world he didn't create yet ran on his own. In charge of his decisions, his own fate, judged only by the consequences of his actions. That was what Dean believed.

Roman believed in God. But he also believed in Dean.

And he sure loved that Dean.

"Alright, babe," Roman said, delivering his notebook to Dean. Dean tucked the pick—the one Roman made him, the box of picks from Guitar Center left unopened as of now—between his lips and took the composition book in hand.

"I like it," he said after only a few seconds. Must have been a fast reader. That or he was obligated to like anything Roman wrote, even if it was complete shit. "It's about me, I take it?"

"Well…" Roman grinned.

"So I'm singing about myself as someone else. More specifically, you. Interesting." Dean scooted to the floor, notebook open in front of him. He crossed his legs and perched his guitar in his lap, the strap—an unusual sight, considering he never used one with Annie—draped over his shoulder.. Roman remembered how he'd responded to the first song he wrote: strumming spontaneous chords on his instrument, trying out different ways to sing each line, repeat each word in a different key until it worked.

Roman left Dean to his craft. He didn't have any fancy options for a Christmas lunch/early dinner, not like at the Rollins's house, but he had several frozen dinners he could heat up and pretend they were fancy. Nobody in this apartment needed an ornate dinner to be happy. Roman grabbed three of the boxed meals from the freezer: chicken biryani, roasted turkey breast and stuffing, and white cheddar mac and cheese. They could all split these meals between the three of them.

The closer Dean got to completing the song, the louder his voice grew with each repeat of the lyrics. Roman didn't realize just how badly he missed listening to Dean play his guitar, sing in that celestial voice of his, until listening in now.

He placed one of the meals in the microwave to cook, the other in the oven, and left the mac and cheese out to thaw while waiting for the other two to finish heating up. Then he sat in the living room, on the carpet close to Dean.

"Okay, I think I've got it," Dean said. "I'm a little rusty, so bear with me."

"Take your time."

Seth paused his game.

Dean kicked off the lyrics. There it was. That's what Roman had been missing so much. His carrying voice. His fingers over those strings. The soft smile playing on his lips just as his hands played the guitar. His oceanic eyes glancing over each verse to ensure he didn't miss one word.

And he didn't.

Roman could feel himself falling in love all over again, and again, hearing Dean's voice, remembering just why he ended up falling for the Lunatic in the first place. He was hungry, thirsty, longing for more, so much more, even though he had everything and more with Dean.

Dean went into his own improvised solo at the end of the song, then looked to Roman for confirmation. "So?"

"I fucking love you, Ambrose."

Dean grinned. A blush crept to his cheeks. "You liked it?"

"Of course I did. God, I missed hearing you play, my God."

"I missed playing. More than you missed hearing me play, probably."

"That was fast," Seth said, jaw unhinged. "Can't believe it only took you, what, fifteen minutes or so to put music to that? Well done. And Roman, excellent lyrics. Pierce the Veil has nothing on you."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Roman laughed.

The oven timer beeped.

"Dinnertime?" Dean asked, hopeful.

"Almost. Have to cook the macaroni first, and then everything'll be ready."

Three and a half minutes later, the food was ready. Roman set the table and added a touch of "embellishment" to the third-rate Christmas dinner with three glasses of wine. It was a dessert wine, so even someone with a mad sweet tooth like Dean could enjoy it.

"This has seriously been the best Christmas ever," Dean said at the table. "The best Christmas I ever had before this one was the Christmas after my dad was sentenced to prison. We were poor and we didn't do much, but at least nobody was drunk."

As Roman divided up servings, Seth patted Dean on the shoulder.

"But now, this one gets to be at the top. And if the two of you can find a way to make next Christmas even better, I'll be set."

"Next year, I'll buy you a boat," Roman said, chuckling. "That should up this year."

"Nah, but a car, though. That would be sweet. That's sort of what I'd been expecting to get before you showed me Caroline."

"You thought we got you a car?" Seth asked.

"Of course I did. You guys happened to mention getting me a car someday while we were opening presents, and when you said all those gifts were a package deal, I thought they were all car accessories. But I much preferred my guitar."

"I guess I could see that," Roman said. No wonder he'd looked so smug after that particular conversation. He took a sip of wine. It was almost too sweet for him to enjoy. Almost. "Well, a car is definitely in your future, anyway. But first, you need to learn how to drive. Get a Colorado driver's license."

"I have a Colorado driver's license."

"A Colorado license with your updated information and isn't stolen by the Wyatts," Seth pointed out.

Dean scooped a hunk of macaroni into his mouth. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Probably should get back to that DMV eventually, then."

Dean took the end of that conversation and spun it into another, completely unrelated. "Seth, are you sure you want me to hold onto that money your dad gave you?"

"Absolutely." Seth fixed eyes on his food, carving into the sliver of turkey breast with his fork.

"There's four-hundred bucks in there. I don't even know what I'd do with it."

"Don't care."

"Okay, let's think practically," Roman said. "I know your dad gave it to you with really cruel intentions, but we can still put it to good use for our family."

"I guess you're right. Rent or something."

"Wait, what about cruel intentions?" Dean questioned.

Roman glanced at Seth. Was he going to reveal how Seth's parents truly felt about Dean, just moments after Dean declared this the best Christmas of his life?

"Just my father being a dick, that's all," Seth said, dismissing it.

Roman was relieved.

"But it's Dean's money now, so he can do with it what he wants."

"I'll use it practically. I promise. Some of it, anyway."

"What did you plan to do about the rest?" Roman queried.

He watched Dean inspect the apartment. He looked from the living room, the TV and the fireplace and Seth's Xbox; to the kitchen, a stocked kitchen and pantry; back towards the bedrooms, with blankets and pillows, a warm and soft place to lay his head every night. What was he thinking?

"Is it cold outside?" Dean asked.

"Uh, probably?" Seth ventured a guess. He checked the temperature on his phone. "Thirty-eight degrees, partly cloudy. Chance of snow, forty percent."

"I know what I want to do with the rest."

Dean answered no questions. Even if he asked, Roman felt he wouldn't get anything more than a vague statement, a Yoda-like approach to whatever Dean was up to without a direct response. He simply told Roman and Seth to bundle up and drive him downtown. They didn't have to join him—on whatever adventure this was—but he appreciated the ride.

Since a hundred percent of the downtown businesses were closed for the day, parking was available and free.

The air was frozen outside, still and chilled. Roman wished he'd brought a hat along to cover his ears. His long black hair wasn't doing the trick on its own. Seth was sporting his new Chicago Bears beanie and work gloves. He hadn't taken the order to "bundle up" lightly…like Dean had. The guy stayed in Roman's sweater with only a windbreaker that Roman was certain didn't even belong to him, but rather Seth. No gloves, no boots; just jeans and tennis shoes. Add those to the list of late Christmas presents to get, along with Randy's, Dolph's, Neville's, and Cody's.

This was Roman's first Christmas where he had to buy more than one (obligatory) gift, for his roommate.

Dean led the way, knowing where he was going. Even sheafed in winter wear, Roman found Seth was shivering, trailing slightly behind the keyed up Dean.

"You alright?" Roman asked.

"Sure. It's like being dragged to your kid's best friend's birthday party supervise. You wish you were anywhere else, but you love your kid and wanna be there for him."

"Probably the best analogy I've heard you use to describe Dean. Wonder what's going on at this birthday party."

"Hope it's a quickie."

Acacia Park was around the next block. Dean seemed to be heading there. He approached the stage which hosted a series of concerts in the spring and summertime, and mobs of homeless people for the rest of the year. Watching Dean advance towards the cluster of poor, shivering drifters was unsettling, and Roman and Seth were quick to catch up to him. Who knew what any of these guys were capable of?

"Merry Christmas!" Dean hollered.

Sleepy heads turned towards him.

Dean fished several twenties out of the envelope with cold fingers. "I know there ain't a lot of places open today, but hold onto these for me until tomorrow. Then treat yourself to a hot chocolate or a new sweater from Goodwill or something, okay, guys? No booze."

Six pairs of eyes blinked in confusion, but Dean handed a twenty-dollar bill to each of them. One of them turned out to be a woman, and she shook Dean's hand and sobbed through her "thank you." Two of them said, "God bless." Another stood up and gave Dean a tight hug. Dean patted his back.

Seth and Roman smiled at one another. They imagined how Dean felt, once one of these homeless folks, starving in the cold, nowhere to go and nobody to see. Dean felt for them. He related to them.

"Merry Christmas," Dean said, hopping off the stage. His greeting was received with a round of extra "thank you"s and "Merry Christmas"es.

He next approached a man sleeping under a ratty comforter on a park bench. He tucked the twenty beneath one of the folds in the blanket, then scurried off before the man stirred.

"If I ever gave anything to a homeless person, I always wanted it to be food or something," Seth said. "Giving them money kinda concerns me that they'll use it on booze or drugs."

"A lot of them do," Dean admitted. "But a lot of them don't. That's on them. Their choices is theirs. It's in your heart what you're doing for them and nothing beyond that point. Good intentions don't go unnoticed all the time."

"Very insightful," Roman said. He couldn't feel his face. He hoped Seth wouldn't suffer from hypothermia again. He appreciated Dean's good intentions, but the three of them couldn't stay out here much longer. It would be dangerous here in a little while.

There were no street musicians out in this weather; however, near the area where Roman found Dean playing "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas", there was a man with long greying hair and a matching mustache, sitting against a concrete barrier with a guitar case propped up next to him. Dean approached, hands in his pockets. As warm as his heart was, the rest of his body wasn't feeling it.

"Excuse me, sir, do you have a permit to be lingering in this area?" Dean asked in a deep, mocking authoritative voice.

The man looked up and chuckled, flashing a set of yellow, rotting teeth. He lifted to his feet and tackled Dean in a tight hug.

"Ambrose, back from the dead. How've you been, man? Where've you been?"

"Locked up. Brunette bitch got me again."

"For real?"

"No, dude, I found a home in the spring. I told you this. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah…my memory ain't what it used to be."

"What the hell are you doing back out here, Jake? Don't tell me I slammed your car into a wall in vain."

"Nah, you sure didn't. Worked for a while. Got into housing after that, actually, and got a job."

"Oh?"

"Fired after three weeks. Failed a random drug test."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Ups and downs, part of life. It's all good."

"See, you should listen to me one of these days. Get high on life itself. It's the only drug you need."

"Too late for me to be that optimistic, kid. But I'm glad to hear that you're doing well."

Dean twisted his body to Seth and Roman. "Guys, this is Jake Roberts. We played together a few times when I was living out here. Jake, this is my buddy Seth and my boyfriend Roman."

"Ah. Boyfriend, eh? Suspected as much."

"Nice to meet you," Seth mumbled. Roman could tell he was a bit unnerved.

"So Jake," Dean said, fishing for the envelope in his pocket, "if I gave you a bit of cash, you promise you won't blow it on weed or nothing?"

"I promise." Jake's sagging eyes twinkled as Dean surrendered a twenty-dollar bill. He cradled it like a baby. "What's this for, Dean?"

"It's Christmas. Season of giving."

"I don't need it, son…you don't have to…"

"Clearly, you do."

"Well, thank you. That's mighty kind of you. And hey, if you're making surprise visits, you ought to bring Annie along with you next time, and we can jam together."

"Annie, uh…passed away." Dean was swaying from side to side, shifting weight from hip to hip. Was he trying to keep warm? Or getting flustered?

"Oh, no kidding? I'm so sorry to hear that, Dean."

"Hey, no worries. I've got a new gal now. Her name's Caroline."

"Oh, Caroline. Okay. I like that. We should definitely set her up on a date with Gabby Grace."

"Deal, Jake. I'll be back. I haven't disappeared forever."

"Good. Nice to see a smiling face around here for once. People are just so spiteful these days."

"Tell me about it. It's up to us to keep the candle lit in the world, right? Gotta represent the good that's left."

"You're crazy."

"But I ain't evil."

"That's a fact."

"Dean," Seth tried, not wanting to impose, not wanting to stick around.

"Yeah, I get it. Jake, I've gotta go. But it was really good to see you."

"Of course, Ambrose, you too. You take care of yourself. Watch out for Wyatt, alright?"

"Shit, we have a lot to catch up on. But I'll be back," he said again.

Just as he led the way to Acacia Park, Dean also guided the boys back to Roman's car, but at a much slower pace. Roman held both his hands, squeezing them in the warm fabric of his gloves. They were red now, stiff as icicles.

"Way to make all those people's days, Dean," Seth said. "That was nice of you."

"Yeah. You can keep the rest, Roman. Use it for rent or whatever we were talking about before."

"Thank you," Roman said

Dean was more talkative on the ride home than he'd been on the drive up here. He stared out the window in the backseat.

"I'm spoiled rotten. Didn't use to be. Never thought I'd be living in a decent place with people who care about me. Who I care about."

"You're very fortunate," Roman said. The heater was blasting warm air, filling the car quickly.

"Yeah," Dean snorted. "I really deserve it, after all the crap I've put up with in my life."

"You do," Roman insisted. "After getting screwed over by the universe so many times, it's about time it treats you well."

"I don't believe in that, remember? I believe in the universe doing its thing, but it doesn't get to decide what I do with my life. I do. It makes me feel kinda rotten that I managed to get the sun shining on my life, and so many others out there don't get shit."

"Dean, don't do this," Seth said, sounding more irritated than pleading.

Don't do what? Roman wondered.

"We've been through this before," Seth continued. "Shit happens to everyone. Good things can go down without explanation just like bad things can. Not everyone chooses to be homeless. But sometimes, the consequences of their actions lead them down that road. It sucks, but it can't be helped for every single homeless guy in the country. Otherwise it wouldn't be a nationwide problem."

"It wouldn't be a problem if the damn government would take care of their own. Learn how to acknowledge that poor people are people, too."

"Dean, don't get into this preachy, political bullshit again, okay? I get it. Homelessness sucks. Humans have rights, everyone deserves opportunities, I get that. But nobody's perfect. Sooner or later, you're bound to fuck up. It's not what happens to you. It's what you do about it. You know who told me that? You."

"And I believe that. But life isn't fair."

"I know it's not. But that doesn't mean you have to subject yourself to that again to prove you care about all of them."

Subject himself? "What's he talking about, Dean?" Roman asked.

"Roman—"

"No," Seth said. "It's dangerous and stupid and I don't want to lose you."

"You won't lose me, Seth. I made it for a long time out there on my own."

"Dean, do you want to go back to the streets?" Roman asked, incredulous. Oh, no, no, please God, no…

"Not forever. Just for a night. It helps me feel better."

"He did this about once a month when we were living together, just us," Seth said. "Back then, I didn't really get him. So I let him do his thing and hoped he wouldn't freeze to death overnight. But now…"

"Dean, I have to agree with Seth. Spending even one night out there in this kind of weather…it's way too dangerous."

"If they can do it, I can do it. I've done it before."

"You can't save everyone, Dean," Seth said. "And this isn't gonna save anyone for damn sure."

"I'm not trying to save them all. In fact, I'm pretty happy in this life if I learned I've somehow saved one person."

"You saved me," Roman reminded him.

"And me," Seth said.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, sure, that's awesome and everything, but I'm not a guy who lives to be spoiled. I can relate to those people sleeping on that stage in that park so much. I pity them. I wish they'd made better choices in their lives. I wish the system didn't fuck them over. Because you're right, Seth. Shit happens. Sometimes it's not even a choice. Sometimes life just bones you. And there's no reason for it."

"Which goes completely against your belief that you make it your own in this world, right? That the universe doesn't have a say in it?"

"The universe has a say in everything. It's the universe. Doesn't mean you have to listen."

Roman pulled the car into the apartment complex.

"I'll sleep in your bed tonight, Roman. But tomorrow night? I'm having a slumber party in Acacia Park."

"Dean. Please." Roman squeezed his hand. "Just stay. Stay home with us. I want to take care of you."

Dean pursed his lips, eyes ablaze with compassion for another. "I love that about you, Roman. You take care of others. You protect the people you love. You want what's best for everyone in your life. And I respect that. But I was raised to take care of myself. Trust me. I know what I'm doing. I'm not unwilling to let you protect me. But there are times when I'm given a reminder of who I am. And I never want to let that go."

Roman looked to Seth, standing on the other side of the car, wondering what his next argument against this decision would be. But Seth just rolled his eyes and shook his head. He was done debating. Perhaps it was a lost cause.

Dean was crazy, but his commitment to what he believed in, including himself, was refreshing in a way. Roman just wished it didn't mean losing him for a night to the world Dean came from long before Roman and Seth had the opportunity to save him.

"Alright," Roman said. "But be careful."

"I always am. Don't you worry your pretty little head about me, Ro."