divorcee

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Another lonely night had passed since deans divorce with Lisa, and he was drunk, and depressed. He reached into his pocket and twirled a small slip of paper between his fingers. On this paper was the number of Crowley Novak, the most well known pimp in town.

Dean didn't seem to be in the mood for a woman tonight, however.

He needed something... A little extra. His gay was showing and he had to embrace it.

He put the number into his phone and waited for the ring. On the forth ring, Crowley picked up.

"Crowley's services, only the best women and men around." they had the same motto for 13 years. "How may I help you?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Give me your best guy"

The tone got serious. "How long will you book him?"

"5 hours tops"

"Return him with the money when your done with him" the receiver then said is a sickly cheerful voice, "have a nice day!"

Dean hung up and waited at the door for the chime to signal someone's presence. He glanced at his watch. It was 4 o'clock already.

He laid in his leather recliner and nearly dosed off waiting for the doorbell, but he eventually heard the familiar song.

Dean raced to the door and opened it. A slightly chubby man, Crowley, stood by a young man who seemed to be around 20 years of age.

The man had dark black hair. Sad solemn eyes, a black bruise around one, stared at the floor. Beneath the sadness was a stunning blue and behind the dark bags was dead joy and once upon a time, curiosity.

Never in Dean's life, has he ever felt sorry for a prostitute, but something about this one bore him with a deadly feeling of guilt. He was riddled with dread just looking at the cut on the poor boys face.

Crowley half shoved the boy into the room, thanked Dean surprisingly politely for his business,  then left.

Dean turned to the poor boy. The sight of the kid 10 years younger than him shattered his tough heart. The boy almost robotically started to remove his shirt from his frail broken body, getting ready for sex or rape or whatever you call it.

There was no was Dean could have sex with him. It would destroy him further to know he contributed to this boys pain and suffering. He put his hand on the boys shoulder to stop him from proceeding in removing his shirt.

"There's no need to remove this. Keep everything on. Come sit with me." He led the boy to the kitchen and swiped a few empty bottles and cans off the chair. He sat the boy down, him wincing when his butt touched the hard wooden seat.

Dean cleared a chair off for himself and tossed a can into the garbage can. It bounced off the rest and fell onto the ground with the rest of the bottles littered across the floor. He had a bit of a problem.

"What's your name, kid?" He said as softly as he could. The boy hesitated before answering quietly, "me?" Dean had a small smh moment before replying, "yes you." The boy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I forgot. But my uncle calls me Castiel. He said it's the name of the angel of Thursdays."

Dean looked at Castiel before continuing. "What happened to your eye there uh... Castiel?" He seemed to flinch at the mere mention of his own bruise, as if just the thought of it existing hurt him, but nonetheless, answered deans question.

"Well master tried to.... Do more things.... with me and I tried to tell him to stop..... He didn't listen so I tried to stop him physically. He hurt me the other way and this way" Castiel explained and ran the tips of his fingers over his eye as if it where to help him remember.

Dean didn't want to ask too many questions but was absorbed into Castiel's life story. "How old are you? How many years has this been going on for?"

Castiel answered the question with alot more ease. "I was put under my uncle's care at age 6 when my dad died and my mom wouldn't take me in. He started using my body for money right away and for his own pleasure. I'm turning 21 in three months. I hope to be free by then."

Dean wanted more than anything to free this kid, but had no plan and he knew they would both die if he stayed with Dean for a minute longer than booked. He had three months to conjure up a plan and he planned on doing it by then.

They spoke to each other for the next few hours and before they both knew it, it was time for Castiel to return to his master. Castiel looked sad upon the time and Dean was tempted to cuddle him up to his body and protect him with everything he had. There was no way to do that now though.

"Dean you need to give me the money. He'll hurt both of us if I don't have it. And pay extra. He warms up to customers who top extra."

Dean nodded and searched his wallet for a few hundred dollars. He had to dip into his beer budget but he rounded up enough money for Castiel and extra. He sent Castiel off with a goodnight and sweet dreams, shutting the door behind him.

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