The rain was coming down in lazy sheets, streaks of water flowing down the dirty windows of the old hotel. The occupant sat huddled in the corner of his room; the walls covered in a hoard of papers slathered in scribbles and the floor was barely visible under all the various empty bottles. The moon hung high in the sky as a sad writer known as Dean Winchester slunk deeper into despair.

He hadn't moved from the corner in his hotel room for what seemed like ages. His face now covered in a lengthy scruff of beard, and his eyes looked too old for his face. Rather, his entire being looked as though it had aged significantly in a short time. He moves slowly, as if in a pool of sadness, swimming toward an almost empty bottle of liquor. He picks it up, it was empty as well. Empty, that is what he has become. An empty shell of existence. His look was vacant, his eyes were desolate.

Dean sighed heavily, crawling off the sunken mattress. His bones creaked, as he crossed the old broken floor, it was groaning under his weight. He approaches the desk next to the open window. He winces as the light pours in. Dean Winchester was a sad writer indeed. As he sat down at the type writer, he knew where to begin his tale of freedom, truth, beauty and love, as well as all the pain they brought. He would tell his story of the greatest love he had ever known. The story of his Angel. The story he promised he would tell.

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

He cracked his fingers and his neck then continued to type slowly. He hadn't written in what felt like centuries; in reality, it had only been a few weeks. His fingers had adjusted all too happily to the lazy life of holding a bottle in place of dancing over a type writer.

He continued typing.

Learning to love, and be loved was truly the greatest thing Dean had ever learned. Love had given him hope, it had filled him with a glow; love helped him after a life time of feeling incomplete to finally feeling that taste of true happiness. The happiness you only feel when you are in the arms of your soul mate. So, he starts from the beginning of his tale.

When Dean had moved to New York City, his father had warned him all about the repercussions of moving to a city.

"That town is filled with nothing but drink, sluts and sin!" shouted John Winchester, a born-again Christian.

"You would know from experience, wouldn't you?" Dean retorted.

John's history was no secret to his first-born. Pervious to renewing his religious faith, John Winchester has been a wonderful drunk and a terrible father. He had dragged his two sons to every city, town and village that had a bar. They had to beg for money to fuel his next bender. At the expense of extorting his two young sons. Of course only Dean would remember this, he was after all old enough to know what was going on around him. He routinely left the brothers to figure their own way after getting what he needed.

However, by the time he had enough cash for his nightly 'medicine', the people would already be tired of the two Winchester boys. Dean received most, if not all the abuse from the strangers and his father. Many nights were spent in the dingy wrecked hotel rooms' washroom, where Dean would clean his bloodied nose or scrapped knees and hands. He lived through it only for his brother. He did whatever he could to protect his brother from the hurtful world.

Dean, being the oldest, would steal whatever food he could, and break into whatever shelter he could. Often leading to his severe beatings. But he always managed to get food for his brother and made sure they had some make shift roof over their head. Dean would never forget that feeling of going hungry for days. Dean would never forget what his father did to them and this is why no matter what his father said, he would not listen or take into consideration his feelings.

"I insist you stay here. I command you as your father." John said fiercely.

"You stopped being my father the first time you got drunk. So do not think you have any right to try and step in and be a father now. I'm leaving, leaving all of this behind to start new. Now that my baby brother is grown up and living on his own, I have nothing left here for me." Dean spat at his father.

And with those words said, Dean slammed the door, leaving his father clenching his fists in anger. He made his way to the train, carrying his trusty typewriter and a small luggage of clothes, he snuck his way into an empty cart. There he is left with his thoughts. His life's journey was just beginning. Dean wasn't going to let his father's negativity bring him down anymore.

Dean was going to be born again as well: without restrictions, barriers or duties. He was going to live in bohemian New York, in the artists' area of SoHo. He heard of this area from a few friends, he was told it was the place to go if you wanted to be in the arts. Where everything imaginable could happen. An area of New York filled with artists, writers and every flavor of person you can imagine. A magical placed filled with love and hope. This is where Dean would call home. This is where he will start anew.

As the train rolled through New York City, it barely resembled what it had looked like as a child. It had nothing to do with the height change, the whole city seemed to have grown quickly over the last years. Towering buildings had sprouted like weeds every which way he looked. It was dusk now and all the lights were glowing, it was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was a beacon of beauty, the city was turned into a gorgeous canopy of stars from the flashing lights from each corner of the buildings. Seeing this many lights was a shock for him, he had never seen anything like this before and the last time he was here as a child he did not remember anything of the sort.

Once Dean gathered his bearings, he headed toward a familiar hotel that stuck out as like a sore thumb. It was just on the outskirts of the now SoHo village, he was close enough to the area he wanted to be. It was run down, tired looking, with an aging face, but a sturdy foundation. A little TLC to the front and it would be a very homely place to stay. A loud crash came from the inside of the building, and an elderly man exited through the door with a roughed up gentleman. "And stay out ya idjit!" shouted the man, who looked in need of some grooming, but otherwise functional.

"Bobby!" Dean ran up to the man, who titled back his hat in ways of greeting.

"Dean? Dean Winchester?" He checked Dean from top to bottom. The short brat with attitude that Bobby Singer had fostered grew up into a decent looking man with strong shoulders, bow legs, and beautiful eyes. The boy's eyes were too damn pretty to forget. "You remember me?" Dean asked the shorter man. "'Course I do, my boy. Don't know any other kid who could get into so much trouble. What brings you back here?" Bobby asked as he led them into the lobby of the hotel, which was simple and clean. A hard wood desk sat at the end of the entrance, with two chairs, one well worn, and the other dusted by time.

"Just trying to make it in the world." Dean said as he walked up to the desk, Bobby took his place on the worn chair. Dean knocked on the wood, as he looked around. "And how are you going to do that?" Bobby questioned Dean.

"Well..." Dean started to explain before Bobby cut him off.

"I hope you ain't expecting a free ride this time. You were just a kid last time, but now you don't have an excuse," pitched Bobby.

"I'll help you fix up this place, just let me keep a room for a while?" Dean pleaded to the older man.

"I'll hold you to your word." Bobby handed him a key to one of the more spacious rooms.

Sure, Bobby ran a hotel, but back when Dean was a kid, he had a habit of helping the strays in this area. He didn't earn much money, but the gratitude he got from helping others helped his pain, from the time being.

"Thanks Bobby," Dean clapped Bobby on the back, and picked up his bag. He climbed the stairs, reaching a spacious room with a simple desk, a double bed, and a small dresser. Dean sighed, looking over the city. This would be the backdrop setting to his story, a story of truth, love and freedom, everything that meant to be in love. The only problem was Dean never knew what love is. Sure he had been with plenty of women, but he never had the taste of true love. What was he supposed to do? How can he write a love story if had never been in love. Dean paced his room thinking of what he could do, then there was a light knock on his door.

"Dean? It's Bobby." The man said lightly through the door. Dean crossed the room and opened the door for Bobby. There he saw Bobby and some other man, shorter in height than Dean, he was blond with blue eye.

"This guy here will be helping around the place," Bobby jutted a thumb at the man. "Name's Balthazar. He's a writer, like you. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." With that Bobby turned on his heel and walked away.

"Well then, it's nice to meet you Dean." Balthazar said with a heavy European accent and out stretched his arm for a hand shake. Dean took his hand and shook it.

"Hey, nice to meet you. Now, I have a question for you, where do you go when you need to get inspired?" Dean asked the man.

"Well there are many places to go in SoHo, many absinthe bars, brothels and bars, it depends what type of inspiration you need." Balthazar told Dean.

"I need, love. Inspiration for a love story." Dean said innocently to Balthazar. "Well, I do know this one place." Balthazar said "Interested Dean?" With that question Dean and Balthazar headed out of the hotel and into the heart of SoHo. "You can't exactly go out looking like that, now can you?" Balthazar exclaimed.

Balthazar led Dean back to his suite, where they walked into a huge closet full of high end suits. "What is happening here? How did you come by so many nice suits, on a writer's meager salary?" Dean asked with awe in his face. "Well you see, I come from a very influential family and before I left, you could say I took my inheritance." Balthazar explained. They each selected a suit of their liking and headed out to town.

The city, with its many splendors, had a beautiful center piece: Heaven's Gate. A spectacular night club more so a gentleman's night club, filled with dancers, partying, and filled with life. It was a bright shining gem compared to the surrounding buildings, with eccentric decorations and loud flashing lights all around the building, twinkling like the stars in the sky. Catching the eyes of wandering men, like a moth to a flame. Behind the club there was a lovely outdoor cafe, with a large elephant shaped building which seemed to have some sort of room inside.

This night club was renowned for its lively nature and its beautiful dancers of all types. Whatever your taste, they had it. It was a place where all your greatest fantasies could come true. A kingdom of pleasure and sin. The workers ruled over all the men there, filling them with lust and desire. And for a price, that desire and lust would be satisfied. The music coming from within was booming outside, thrumming loud enough to shake Dean to his bones.

Balthazar was telling him all about the beautiful creatures inside. As they approached the doors to Heaven's Gate, the music got louder and louder, Dean can hear his heart pumping in his ears, from pure excitement. They opened the doors and that's when the lights hit them. Beautiful shades of red, purple and blue engulfed the dance floor and bar. On the dance floor, bodies were grinding together in an erotic display that looked akin to sex, with more clothing however. Courtesans dancing with their paying men, grinding against them as the girls earned their keep. The smell of the place was a mixture of alcohol, desire, lust and pure sex.

Everywhere Dean looked he saw beautiful creatures of all shapes and sizes. Each of the lovely ladies was wearing a wonderful dress that suited them from head to toe, but exposed as much as it could. Breasts seemed to overfill the corsets, and the ruffled skirts didn't stay down for long as the girls lifted them showcasing splashes of magnificent thighs. Dean was taking it all in, his breath caught in his throat excitement rushed over him and he suddenly wanted to get to that dance floor and catch himself one of those women. However Balthazar told him to sit and enjoy first, because the real show was about to begin and Heaven's Gate.

"Despite the large variety of dancers, there is one dancer in particular that is known for being the best, and she is Castiel, the crowned jewel of Heaven's Gate." Balthazar explained to Dean.

"Rumor has it, that Castiel's eyes are pure sapphires. This is who I want to introduce you to. Just wait and see her."

Dean sighed; his father had warned him all about Heaven's Gate. It was here were John Winchester enjoyed his single, drunk life the most. Dean did not want to think about that though, what happened in the past will stay in the past. He had come here to write, to express his feelings on truth, beauty, freedom, and above all, love. Pushing that thought aside Dean passes a comment on how beautiful this place is, though a little run down and in need of repair, it still was a classic beauty.

"So is this girl as beautiful as you say she is? Now I am really curious" Dean asks Balthazar. "Yes, she is and she should be out soon." Balthazar said as he looked towards the two huge sparkling doors. "She will be coming out of there." And points to the doors.

That is when all the lights in the club turn off. Then the spot lights turn on, their focus of the two diamond encrusted doors. The doors shining brightly start to open and that is when Dean sees her. "Oh my God" He exclaims. There she is, sitting on a throne encrusted with diamonds and sapphires. It is being hoisted up by the men who work there, they carry her through the sea of people and set her down on the stage in the middle of the dance floor.

She stands herself up, her short dress just covers her bottom slightly and her corset is wound tight showing her slender waist and beautiful hips. Her dress was just as reflective as the rest of her embellishments. And even at a distance Dean saw those deep set eyes made of what seemed to be sapphires, they sparkled like the deepest ocean under the brightest moon. Oh how Dean was stricken by the sight of such a beautiful girl.