Sam PoV

I finished my push-ups as Dean unlocked the front door. Wiping the sweat from my chest with an old towel, I pulled on a tee, walking out into the kitchen, where Dean was putting a loaf of bread in the cupboard.
'How was school?' He asked, glancing at me. The permanent lines in his forehead seemed to smooth a little every time he looked at me, and I smiled weakly.
'It was okay. I promised Alex I'd go over and hang our tonight, if that's fine with you?' My excuse was fully plausible- I did have a friend named Alex, and Dean always stayed in until I was back in case Dad was unconscious and couldn't open the door.
'That's fine by me, I've finished for the night. Have fun, and be back before eleven.'
'Will do. Just gonna jump in the shower.'
'Okay.'

When I got out, I pulled on a beanie hat, jacket, checked button-down shirt and skinny jeans that had several tears in the right leg- Dean's old ones. My converse were getting a little worse for wear, but my work tonight would probably pay for replacements.
'See you later!' I called.

I hung around on street corners for a while, my button-down undone, jeans worn low and hair mussed and hanging out of the beanie.
About ten minutes after I began to hang around on the ironically named 'Winchester Road' - which made me feel a little sick, to be truly honest, but it was the only place the police didn't come around.
When a yellow porche coasted to a halt in front of me, I nodded at the twenty-something, skinny man with mussed black hair and shockingly blue eyes, who was sat in the driver seat, as he wound down the window.
'How much?' He asked in a low, gruff voice.
'Twenty. Each time, each person.' I answered, approaching the car. 'Cash, before hand.'
He raised an eyebrow. 'Cheap. How old?'
'Seventeen.'
'Get in.'

I could never remembered what the houses looked like. I tried to blot it out every time.
'I'll be there in a minute. Third door on the left.' I nodded, heading up the stairs, lip curling at the tacky pink cotton sheets. Stripping down slowly, hardly sparing a glance for the bruises on my hips, ribs and ass from my rougher clients.
Yep, you've guessed it. And if you haven't, then you're a little mentally deprived.
I'm a prostitute.
I didn't like it, didn't like the dirty, sad men that took me home or the whorish women who wanted it in their car, using me for their own gain, then throwing me, hard-on and all, out into the street, sometimes into the rain, and sometimes miles from home and hopelessly lost. But I persevered, because if I didn't, Dean would be shouldering it all on his own.
See, he thought Alex's mom paid me twenty an hour to tutor her son.
If only.
I stood silently with my head bowed as I waited for the man to return. Sometimes they took their time, as if to prolong my suffering, or sometimes they were bringing their friends, which was worse.
The door opened and I heard it shut again without looking up. There was a hand on my chin, pulling it up. I looked into his piercingly blue, calm, apologetic eyes reluctantly.
'I'll be gentle. Promise.' He whispered. He looked almost guilty as he pinned me on the bed, pulling himself out of his dress pants and thrusting in as gently as he'd said, but it didn't ease the sickened feeling in my stomach as he came, and the disgusted feeling as my own body reacted to the soft caresses. The hot, dirty kisses that coated my chest made me feel dirty, as did the way he stroked me to completion.
When he pulled away, handing me my clothes and telling me to dress, he couldn't meet my eyes.
I preferred it like this- no communication, and no visible evidence besides my own semen crusting in his sheets.
'I'm sorry.' He murmured, looking at me. 'My brother just died, I...'
'It's fine. If it wasn't you, it'd just be somebody else. Usually someone worse.' I replied quietly. 'Twenty.'
He held his hand out, two crisp hundreds in his palm. I shook my head. 'I can't accep-'
'You're about fifteen.' He interrupted gently. 'Too young to be doing this without a good reason. Take the money. And if I see you again... Well, I'll pay you two hundred per round.'
I swallowed, grateful tears burning my eyes. 'Thanks, mister.'
'Is there anywhere I can drive you?'
'I'll walk, thank you. Where are we?'
'West side of town.'
'I live quite nearby.' I lied- I lived on the east side, and my spot on Winchester Road was in the centre. It would take me about two hours to walk home.
'If you're sure...' He shrugged, holding open his bedroom door. 'I'll see you around.'
'Goodbye, Mister. And thanks again.'

The two hour walk didn't bother me at all- I had two hundred dollars in my pocket, and that was worth a two week long walk.
When I stumbled through the door at quarter to twelve, Dean was tapping his foot and standing by the door like a neglected wife.
'You're late.' He scolded.
'He had extra work.' I shrugged. 'So I got extra money.' I pulled the hundred-dollar notes out of my pocket, handing them to Dean.
His eyes widened minutely, and he hugged me tight. 'Well done, Sam.'
It was always worth the nasty men and demented women, just to hear that.