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"Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints.
It takes, and it takes, and it takes...
If there's a reason I'm still alive, when everyone who loves me has died. I'm willing to wait for it." ~Hamilton
Dean remembers dying. He was sixteen and really didn’t have solid people he could call friends. The ones he did have treated him like an afterthought. They never offered for Dean to hang out with them, only reluctantly extended the offer if he was present while they were discussing plans. Dean always brushes it off, for the most part. Dean’s father, John, had no doubt he would present alpha. He has been trained since before he can remember to be nothing else. He has to be daddy’s good little alpha, and “carry on the family name”. Even as Dean grew older, people would make comments to John about how he was “looking more alpha every day”, or “you must be proud of your boy”. Dean knew once he designated alpha things would be different, and everyone would be begging him to hang out. He just has to wait until he popped his knot. It started out slowly, at first. You’d notice a kid wasn’t sitting in front of you in class one day and think they were out sick. The next week they’d return and be a totally different person; holding their head held high, giving condescending looks to people who use to associate with them. Or, on the really rare occasions, they’d sink into their chairs trying their best to become invisible. For the most part, ninety percent of kids presented beta. Dean wouldn’t admit it out loud, but they were the ones who got off the luckiest. There wasn’t really any fanfare with it. One day you could just smell a person’s anger, happiness, or sadness, if felt strong enough. And that was it. You just kind of knew and carried on after that. Even knowing he would eventually be alpha, Dean couldn’t help feeling bad for those few select people. They couldn’t help how their bodies presented. The stories he heard from people who presented omega were hardly ever happy. Sometimes it was lifelong friends completely abandoning one another, or parents having switch schools. You heard rumors of even some kids never being seen in town again. Of course it wasn’t all bad. If you were pretty enough, had the right family, or had more money than you knew what to do with, it was alright. Dean didn’t worry much about presenting omega. Omega males were rare and hardly heard of anymore. The worst that could possibly happen would be beta; which in his book would be perfect. The day Dean presented was just a regular every day Friday. He woke up to his alarm for school with his stomach hurting. Figuring it was nothing he went along with his morning routine anyway. He woke up his little brother, Sammy, got dressed, walked Sam to his bus stop, and made it to school on time like always. By the time second period started, his clothes were starting to make him itch uncomfortably. By lunch he was feeling warm enough to figure he really was sick, and probably had a fever. He doesn’t bother grabbing his book bag, just tossed his books in his locker and heads out the doors. A little ways off school property, closer to the busy main road sat a statue of Lincoln. His group of friends usually hangs out there, either skipping class or enjoying a quick cigarette before their next period started. Dean debates about taking the longer route home to avoid the kids, but another wave of warmth washes over him and he carries himself over to the statue. Two of his friends, Ruby and Eve, give him a once over before they reluctantly tell him about plans for the night. Since it was probably the last warm day they’d get before winter arrives, they are going to their hang out spot called The Circle to drink. The place itself isn’t really anything special. It is a small vacant lot at the bottom of a hill, beside the railroad tracks. There are taller trees on the outskirts of the grassy area giving them an illusion of privacy. It isn’t really enough to block out the light from the fire they always seem to light, though. “No Trespassing” signs were posted every few feet, but they’d never paid it any thought. In all the time Dean had known the group, they never complained about being kicked off the land. They had claimed the area theirs after dragging a broken couch down the hill that was sitting outside someone’s house. It took all five of them to push and pull it next to a tree that had fallen down. After that they dug a hole wide enough to have a small fire, and deemed the whole area complete. Dean never lingered when they decided to go there. Something about the place rubbed him the wrong way. He usually walked with them to the spot, and then went his own way. In all honesty, part of him just flat out doesn’t like his group of “friends”, and the other part just doesn’t want to make an ass of himself drinking for the first time. If he is going to be an alpha, he needs to keep up the illusion of control and strength, after all. By the time Dean reaches his house, he is hunched over holding his stomach, practically crawling through the door. He makes it halfway into his room before stumbling and landing face first into the old, yellow carpet. He manages to kick his door closed, crawling up onto his bed, promptly passing out from exhaustion. When Dean wakes up, the first thing he had notices is that it is dark. Secondly, he is ridiculously hard. Unable to see his clock lying down, he tries pushing himself up. Dean hisses, falling back down onto his mattress as his aching dick barely rubs against the fabric of his boxers. Dean lays there in the darkness, trying to rationalize everything. His mind must still be foggy from sleep, because thinking seems almost impossible. He wishes he paid more attention to his dad and kids at school talking about presenting. Was he presenting? Had he finally popped his knot? Was being in rut this sensitive? He tries to remember something-anything- but his mind seems too heavy to navigate. Dean lays there, feeling like his room is a damn sauna, panting in the darkness, desperately trying to gather his thoughts. His fingertips laying on his stomach twitch, lightly brushing the skin just above the edges of his pants, and he moans at intense sensitivity. He feels something wet as he shifts to try and slip his jeans off. Had he gotten off in his sleep? Dean palms his dick through his jeans unable to help rocking his hips against the pressure. Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before. He feels like if he doesn’t get off soon he’s going to explode. Dean rubs his bulge again, this time feeling something damp soaking through his jeans. Was this normal? Has he managed to sweat his way through his clothes, or is it really just come? Maybe a mixture of both? Dean vaguely remembers something his dad told him about alpha’s coming a lot more than usual. Still, this doesn’t feel like that. The thoughts are pushed to the back of his mind as Dean fumbles with his zipper and button. He arches his back in attempts to yank and pull the wet, clinging jeans from his legs. Just within the last few seconds his temperature has risen to the point he swears his blood must be boiling inside him. His freed dick twitches, causing Dean to hiss at the unexpected movement. He swears if he doesn’t get off his inside are going to begin melting. After some serious tugging, the damp jeans come off and land on the floor heavily. Dean wraps his hand around his dick, stroking it quickly before he can think twice about it. He strokes himself faster, twisting the tip just the way he likes. Dean can’t focus on anything but his hand gripping, stroking, and squeezing himself. He can feel the sweat dripping off him, as he groans and pants desperately trying to push himself over that edge. He can feel his orgasm building inside him as he tries to quicken his pace, toes curling with anticipation. His thoughts are hazy, blurred and unimportant. All Dean cares about is just getting off and making this unbearable heat go away. Dean only vaguely notices how uncomfortably wet his bed is underneath him; it is more of a passing thought he doesn’t want to dwell on too much. His orgasm is right there; body tightening, toes curling and his mind begging for release. His wrist begins to burn with his vigorous speed. Dean’s chest heaves as he gulps in the thick air, trying to tip his orgasm over. Still, his body refuses to give him any release. Something…Dean needs something more. In the back of his mind, through the fogged haze that’s settled in, there is this quiet yearning for something more to push it over. Dean let out a low whine as he squeezes the head of his leaking cock. He sucks in another breath, trying to gather enough strength and determination. When the taste of the air hits his tongue he pauses, rolling his tongue in his mouth trying to figure out exactly what he is smelling? Tasting? A sharp pain stabs through his stomach, bringing him back to his current unresolved situation. He’s never wanted to come so badly in his life. Not even wants, he needs to get off. Everything touching his skin-the bed, his shirt, his sweat-Dean swears it all feels like sandpaper rubbing at him. The sweat beading on his body feels like acid rain eating away at his flesh, and nothing can possibly make it cool down. Somehow he knows that if he can just come, everything won’t be so bad. His body is begging for something-someone- to rub against. An itch spreads underneath his skin, making him squirm. An overwhelming feeling of emptiness seems to almost swallow him up out of nowhere. He whines again, uncaring at how pathetic he sounds. The thought catches him off guard, lifting the haze momentarily. Dean’s hand pauses. The silence of his room, besides his own panting, rings in his ears. The want and, dare he say it, desire, to be filled is confusing, yet steadily consuming him. Still, his dick twitches in his stilled hand at the thought of being filled with another person’s cock. Thinking about something sliding into him has Dean biting his lip to hold back a moan. He swears he can feel his temperature inch up a few degrees higher. If Dean wasn’t already sure he is flushed with warmth and arousal, he could be sure he is blushing feverishly as he turns slightly on his side. He awkwardly moves his free hand behind him, fingers touching something pooling and cool beneath him on his blankets. Dean has never touched himself like this before, but the closer his fingers creep to his hole, the more powerful his arousal seems to become. Through gasps of air he’s sucking in, he can taste something heavy and energized on his tongue; almost how the air gets before a storm. Dean’s thoughts dissolve, scattering away into the back of his mind the moment the tips of his fingers brush his hole. He doesn’t even try and stop the loud moan from falling out. Without hesitation, he slips a finger in easily, completely ignoring how painless and smooth it slides in. His stomach cramps as he pumps his finger into him. A gush of liquid runs down his finger, dripping over his hand. Dean arches his back rocking back onto his finger the best he can. Still, it hardly feels like enough. He still feels empty, and his body is screaming for more. Dean slips in another finger, pushing back against them, desperately trying to feel fullness from them. Through the fog that has been filling his mind, Dean tries to make sense of how he is able to be doing this without pain. The thought is quickly replaced with wondering why he’s never done this before; because, fuck does it feel like the most amazing thing in world to have something filling him up. The thoughts are forgotten the moment his fingertips barely brush a bundle deep inside him. A cross between a moan and a scream spills from his lips before he can stop it. He tries to slam back down on his fingers hitting that same spot, but the angle is off. Another cramp washes over him, causing more pathetic whimpering to pass out of his lips. He just wants the pain and heat to go away. Desperate to just come, Dean lets go of his dick to push against the bed, trying to push his fingers deeper inside him. His arm shakes with the exertion from having to push his body at such an odd angle. His hole clenches around his fingers, more wetness pouring out past his fingers, soaking into his bed. Dean, again, lets the meaning of the wetness fade into the haziness of his mind. Nothing else matters except needing to feel what he felt moments ago. Dean rocks his body back, breath coming out loud enough he can hear himself through the haze of his intense arousal taking over his rational mind. Deep down he knows he shouldn’t be this turned on about having his own fingers shoved up his ass. In the same breath, he could care less; it feels so fucking good being filled with something, even if it is barely enough to ebb off the yearning. Frustrated with being unable to reach that spot inside him, Dean turns his body so his knees at underneath him, ass in the air. He buries his face in his pillow and shoves three fingers into his hole. His fangs extend, ripping the pillow as he bites down into the cloth. The tips of his fingers hit his prostate, and Dean’s body instantly tightens. He hits it again and again, faster and faster, making himself see an explosion of stars. Dean lets out a rough scream as he finally comes on his bed beneath him, untouched, fingers buried deep inside. After a few breaths, Dean’s body collapses on the bed onto his own mess. He starts to come down from his high slowly, and with it the thick fog that had been clouding his mind begins to lift. He is still warm, but not the same kind of intense heat as before. He is hot enough that sweat is still trickling down from his forehead. His dick is somehow already twitching back into being half hard. Dean groans, pushing down on it trying to will it to stay flaccid. It hits him, then, what is happening. He is in heat. He is presenting omega. Dean jumps out of bed, ignoring the soreness of his thighs, and quickly strips his bedding off, throwing it into a pile. He can’t let his dad find out. If his dad finds out he has no idea how he will react. He is suppose to be an alpha, for fucks sake! He has to get rid of his blankets. He has to air out the room. He has to- The bedroom door flies open, slamming back into the wall. The strong smell of gunpowder, ginger, and alcohol bombards Dean’s nose making it twitch right before he gags. The light pouring in from the hallway is too bright, and he squints up at the silhouetted figure standing in his doorway. Dean’s eyes adjust to the light as his stomach clenches with another cramp. He feels more slick running down his leg as he feebly covers himself with his hand. Dean’s cheeks burn with embarrassment and shame as he watches his father’s nose flare and eyes narrow down at him. “What have you done?!” Roars John. Dean lowers his head, chin hitting his chest and whines. The gunpowder smell grows stronger, as he starts to turn his head to the side, baring his neck in submission. “I-I-I don’t know, sir.” “What did you do to make this happen!?” Dean flinches as his dad slams his fist into the door. “I thought I was sick.” Dean mumbles staring at the ground, neck still exposed. “This isn’t supposed to happen! I fucking raised an alpha, not some weak little pussy omega! You were suppose to be alpha!” Dean glances up just as John’s eyes flash red for a moment. He seems his father’s fangs poking out of his snarl. “You couldn’t even fucking present right!” John spits. “You have to go and fuck up just like you always do! ‘The hell is wrong with you? I raised you better, boy!” Dean’s shoulders hunch closer together as he tries to turn his body away from the anger coming off his father in waves. Worst of all, Dean doesn’t even have any defense for himself because he knows dad is right. He did screw up. It has to be his fault he is presenting omega. His dad did everything he knew how to lead Dean in the direction of being an alpha. Maybe he didn’t want it bad enough? Maybe all his half assed slacking got him into this mess? “I will not have any son of mine stinking up the house with their needy bitch hormones. They’re all brain dead sluts, always whining about needing the next cock to fill them up. Disgusting, worthless pieces of shit only good for one thing.” He feels the weight of his father’s eyes burning into him, and suddenly wishes he could just sink into the floor. “You smell fucking disgusting.” The pain of rejection hits him in the chest, making him whine like the pathetic omega he is. It feels like a punch to the chest and his insides are already starting to bruise. John replies in a low growl, causing Dean’s body to move to be more open to submit to the alpha. He couldn’t hate himself or his body anymore than he does in this one moment. He looks back over to his father, hoping to see some kind of emotion that might mean he still accept him. “I won’t have you messing up any chance Sam has of being alpha. You don’t need to be here, rubbing your needy scent on him, contaminating his chances to be something you apparently are too fucking weak to handle.” Dean flinches as his father turns his head away from him, looking out into the hallway. “The fucking chances are there to being omega? A fucking male omega.” John shakes his head, his cold glare returning to Dean. “You’re damaged and anyone with a nose can smell that. No decent alpha will ever want you.” His words are like a dull knife slowly pushing its way into his chest. The weight comes next. All his of his father’s words feel like they are sitting on his shoulders, trying to force him to sink low into the ground. He tries to lift his head fully, but another growl sounds from John and it snaps back down. “Get out.” John says, quietly. “Get out of my house.” Dean’s mouth falls open, speechless. He looks up at his father, hoping to catch some sort of sadness, remorse, doubt, anything really. The man glances back at him quickly as if to dismiss him entirely. “I want you out in ten minutes, and don’t you ever come back. You are not my son anymore. You’re nothing more than wasted time. A disappointment. Fucking worthless.” Dean watches his dad shake his head then disappear back into the hallway. The smell of gunpowder and ginger lingers, making his nose tingle. Numbly, Dean walks over to his dresser. He pulls out fresh boxers, jeans, a plain black shirt, and a flannel. He throws it all on running on autopilot, flinching as another trickle of slick leaks out, soaking into his clean boxers. Saying the clothing is uncomfortable would be an understatement. It makes his skin itch and his temperature rises almost instantly. Dean walks through the house, silently wishing Sam or his mother would notice him. They must have heard his dad-no, not dad, John- yelling. The pressure of the dull knife feeling that he’s been trying to ignore spreads as he slips his shoes on. His chest feels like it’s being dug into, as his movements are clumsy and heavy. He stumbles out of the house slowly, listening to the door close behind him loudly. Dean has heard of what happens to omegas in heat when not indoors. He knows he needs to get somewhere safe, but he can’t think of anywhere to go. Dean walks aimlessly, unable to really think about anything. A cool breeze caresses his face as he feels a trickle of sweat roll down his neck, soaking into the back of the collar of his shirt. The continuous friction of his clothes rubbing against his dick makes it twitch despite his pleading for it to stay still. A “No Trespassing” sign catches his attention as Dean lifts his head up from the road. Somehow he had made it halfway across town without incident. He chews on his bottom lip debating on approaching his friends and asking for help. After weighing the slim list of options, he walks under the chain between two trees and stumbles down the path to The Circle. Laughter is the first thing Dean picks up on. The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of alcohol becomes. He can see firelight flickering just ahead through the tall grass. It can’t be that late where everyone is wasted, can it? Dean realizes he hasn’t even checked the time since he woke up. “Well, well, well. Do my eyes deceive me?” Ruby smirks, putting a hand on her hip. “Dean Winchester has decided to grace us with his presence for once.” “I was just-“ The words catch in his dry throat. He tries clearing it, but it comes out more of a croak. Dean swallows thickly, wishing he had something to drink. He can’t tell if it is the closeness to the fire or just his dysfunctional body, but he can feel sweat breaking everywhere he has skin. “I was wondering if, uh, I could stay with one of you guys for awhile.” The laughter and voices abruptly stop, and Dean feels the weight of all five people’s eyes on him. He rubs the back of his neck nervously, shifting his feet as another trickle of slick leaks out. The fire pops and sparks rise in the air illuminating his friend’s faces momentarily. Ruby’s eyes narrow suspiciously, almost as if she is trying to figure out a puzzle. Eve holds the same smirk she always does, looking over to him in amusement. Alastair’s has an eyebrow raised; bottle of vodka paused halfway to his lips. Gadreel has his arms crossed, eyes squinted, and a somber expression on his face. Richard (Dick, they liked to call him) is smiling over at him like he is the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day. And who knows, maybe Dean is. “I’m sure I can make some room for you in my bed.” Alistair’s nasally voice cuts through the silence. “Gross dude!” Ruby throws something at him that Dean can’t see. “I’m sure my parents won’t care if you stayed with us for awhile.” “Thanks Ruby.” Dean replies hoarsely, wiping away some sweat building up on his forehead. “Not to be a buzz kill, but, uh, I’m still kind of not feeling well. I mean, I just-“ “Yea, yea. You look like shit. Even in the dark.” Ruby grabs the bottle out of Alastair’s hands and takes a quick swig, face scrunching up at the taste. “Fuck that tastes awful. Where’s my chaser?” “We ran out a few shots ago.” Dick mumbles, sitting down on the edge of the fall down tree. “I am defiantly not drinking this straight.” Eve huffs, straightening her back. “I’m going to walk down to the gas station and grab a soda for us. Anyone want to walk with me and keep me company?” Alastair nearly falls into the fire jumping up quickly, scurrying over to Eve. Ruby rolls her eyes, sitting down next to the fire, patting the spot next to her for Dean. He hesitantly walks over to her, shirt now sticking to his chest. He catches a faint whiff of Eve’s perfume and sneezes. He sniffs, rubbing his nose, and tries to swallow dryly again. Dean’s mouth feels like a desert, and he suddenly wishes he would have been coherent enough to ask Eve to pick him up a bottle of water. “Seriously, though. You look like shit.” Ruby says taking another swig from the bottle. A train whistle blows as Dean sighs, pulling at his shirt. He casts a silent prayer of gratitude to whomever is listening, thanking them that his friends are either unpresented or beta. The train clicks closer, blowing a warning whistle again as Dean sits up straighter when another slight breeze hits his skin. It is probably the most glorious feeling in the world. He knows he must reek of heat, sex, and slick. It is amazing no one has followed him here. He’s heard stories, after all. The train cars move past slowly, the click-clacking sound relaxing Dean slightly, till it finally passes and fades away. The noise is only replaced with the crackling and popping of the steadily dying fire. Dick sighs loudly, shifting his sitting position on the tree. Dean looks around he sees that Gadreel has disappeared. Typical, though. The guy is weirdly stealthy and too quiet for his own good. “Not to be pushy or anything, but-” “Help me finish these off and then we can go.” Ruby holds up another liter of vodka and a bottle of some sort of beer in another. “You’ve been holding out!” Dick exclaims, leaning forward to grab for the bottle. Ruby holds it just out of reach. “Ah, ah now Dick. Can’t you see Dean here has had a pretty rough day? We should probably honor him by giving him the first drink.” “He doesn’t feel well and you want to give him alcohol?” Dick scoffs. “That’s not a recipe for disaster or anything.” Dean stares at the outstretched bottle of yellowish looking liquid, trying to weigh the pros and cons. His mind has been increasing the cloudiness from earlier, so the list really holds one thing: he feels beyond thirty and craving any type of liquid. If he doesn’t get something in him soon, he feels like he is going to combust into flames. He grabs the beer bottle, twisting off the cap. The smell of something like rolls only more bitter, with a tang of sharpness assaults his nose. Dean brings the bottle to his lips, taking a tentative swing like he saw Ruby do with the vodka. It tastes just as bitter as it smelled and almost flat. If he didn’t feel like he was doing to burst into a pile of flames and dust, he wouldn’t even be drinking. But seeing as it’s his only option, Dean tips the lukewarm bottle back and swallows it down in a giant gulps. His thirst is hardly quenched. If anything it feels worse than it did previously. Ruby whoops as he lowers the empty bottle from his lips, belching loudly. Dick flips them both the bird, and stomps back through the brush mumbling about going to get food. “Holy shit, Winchester! Why haven’t you ever come to drink with us before? I bet you could give Al a run for his money.” Ruby praises, passing him the sealed bottle of vodka. Dean cannot help but preen at the praise, even if it’s over something as stupid like being able to handle his alcohol. Another cramp, only slightly more painful than the last, passes through him. He hisses, bending over his knees trying to steady his breath. “Uh, you okay? Gunna hurl?” Ruby asks. “M’fine. Just my stomach.” Dean stares out at glowing embers of the fire trying to force his mind to clear. “Sounds like you need more booze.” Ruby nudges his leg with hers, causing his body to sway. Dean shakes his head, trying to still his vision. He unscrews the lid with a snap, taking a swig. His nostrils flare with the smell of rubbing alcohol as the liquor burns down his throat. Dean coughs trying to make the fire in his throat stop, as Ruby pounds on his back a few times, laughing. “Spoke too soon, huh?” She laughs taking her hand away and wiping it on her tight black jeans. “Um, by the way your shirt is kinda, uh, wet?” Dean straightens back up, pressing the bottle to his lips again and takes a few gulps, grimacing at the taste. The thirst refuses to ebb, even a little, leaving him to glare at the quarter empty bottle like bottle like its fucking challenging him. “Hey, you alright?” Ruby asks placing a hand on his shoulder. He can feel slick leaking out of him at the touch. Dean shrugs off her hand, trying to get away from the warmth of her touch as his dick hardens in his jeans. He knows he is so fucked if he doesn’t get out of here, but he is just so ridiculously thirsty it feels like if he doesn’t drink something soon, he is going to waste away. Either way, until the alcohol is drained Ruby refuses to leave. His only option is to drink, hoping his body will hold off until he’s somewhere he can take care of himself. “M’fine.” Dean mumbles standing up from the tree. The world is suddenly tilting and spinning Dean sideways. He falls back down, groaning at the friction from the tree on his ass. He rubs his head as his thoughts start to get more hazy and heavy. The underlining need to be filled is still there, like an itch under the surface. The alcohol seems to have snuck up on him though, dulling the actual physical pain of it all. Ruby’s laughter breaks through the fog. “Dude, are you drunk already?” Dean starts to shake his head, regretting his decision immediately as everything spins more. Something hard and somewhat cool is slipped into his hand. He squints down at it, trying to focus on the object. He recognizes it as the bottle of vodka he must have dropped. Somewhere in the back of his alcohol clouded, heat hazed mind something is telling him to put down the bottle. Dean tries to come up any logical reason why he should. Maybe he could just drink until he makes himself pass out? That way he wouldn’t have to deal with his fucking body, and the fact he is basically homeless. With that thought, he fumbles with unscrewing the lid, bringing the bottle to his lips. The liquid burns going down his throat, but he expects it this time. After a few gulps, Dean lowers the bottle and tilts his head over to Ruby. She smiles at him, taking quick sip out of her own. He notices that barely anything is gone out of her bottle. Dean tries to remember why he is sitting on a dead tree in the first place. Something tickles the side of his face and he brings his hand up to rub it. Dean grimaces as his fingers slide across his skin. He is disgustingly soaked and dripping with sweat. He holds his hand in front of him, staring at the moisture shining on his hand from the firelight. He doesn’t feel hot, but something is telling him the way his clothes are clinging to him isn’t quite normal. Another train whistle sounds in the distance as Dean hears voices behind him. He takes another pull from the bottle, swaying slightly as the gentle click-clack of the railroad cars rolls by. Ruby jumps up from her seat disappearing behind him to the voices. Dean lifts up the bottle, squinting at the remaining liquid, wondering how more than half of it is gone. His vision strays from the bottle to the fire behind it. He watches the flames lick the wood, dancing beside each other. The oranges, reds, and blues of the fire swirl and meld together in something so memorizing Dean is unable to break his stare. The fire pops again, sparks flying into the air, and the flames seem to embrace then push apart like a beautiful tango. It could be minutes or hours, Dean doesn’t know or care. When he looks away from the dying flames, everything is spinning and dancing. His throat feels uncomfortably dry, but other than he doesn’t really feel anything. Dean tries to remember what exactly he should be feeling, but only comes up with a colorful mixture of images that don’t make any real sense to him. He tries to take another drink from the bottle only to realize it’s empty. How long has he been sitting here? People are talking around him, but he can’t make out any clear words. It all seems like a jumble of voices meshed up together. He thinks he might try and scent the area, but all he can scent is rubbing alcohol and campfire smoke. Dean tries to look around to see who’s there, but ends up losing his balance and falls over onto his side. He tries to push himself up, but his arms can’t seem to push up his weight. All at once everything just seems so heavy; his wet clothes, his eyes, his arms, everything. Dean stares at the orange, red, and blue spinning in front of him. He feels ridiculously hot, suddenly, and wonders how close he fell to the fire. If the people the voices belong to aren’t moving him, he can’t be that close. His eyes blink slowly at the colors, watching as shadows interrupt his view periodically. Somewhere far away another train whistle sounds. The gentle click-clack brings a smile to his lips as he decides to rest his heavy eyes for just a moment. It should be strange to Dean that everything is lit up in some eerie type of cloudy day, sepia like twilight. It should concern him that he is above The Circle, staring down at everyone, including his lifeless body laying on the ground. He should feel something-anything-about what he is witnessing. There isn’t any pain. There isn’t any hot or cold. He doesn’t feel any breeze or air circulation of any kind, though he is aware the trees are swaying in the wind. There isn’t any sound, though a train is passing next to the area. There aren’t any emotions. There aren’t any thoughts. He simply just is. He watches a girl with brown hair yelling at an older man and pointing at his body. The girl bends down and checks his body’s pulse. The girl eventually rises up, talking to the man again. Dean watches as she grabs his body under his arm pits, lifting him up. The man grabs his ankles, supporting his other half. They stumble and carry his body down the path to the road. The girl ends up losing her grip a few times and dropping him, rubbing her hands over her jeans a few times before lifting him back up and moving again. Eventually they make it to the man’s little red car, and the man takes on most of his body’s weight, shoving him in the backseat. The man and the girl disappear inside the car. Time moves forward or maybe being unable to see his body makes the world go dark. It doesn’t really matter. Nothing does. Dean doesn’t feel anything one way or the other. Just like opening back open his eyes from a blink, he just simply is, again. The only difference is he isn’t watching from above, he is closer to the two people, watching them trying to carry his body up some depressing looking front steps. The brown haired girl accidently knocks his head into the side of the doorway. Dean watches everything fade, then quickly flicker back into the yellowish lighting. He is closer now than he was before; practically inches from his own face. Dean watches again as the girl knocks his head against the doorway once more, disappearing into the entryway of the house. He follows them to the inside of the doorway, staring up after them as they fight with his body up the stairs. And then everything fades to black.~~~ Pain. The first thing Dean registers is pain. His body is singing with it, everywhere. Every muscle feels overworked and abused. He swears not one surface over his flesh doesn’t scream at him. The lack of oxygen registers with him, and Dean arches his back, gasping in air, only to roll over coughing as his throat and lungs burn. Tears slip out of his closed eyes as he tries to suck in more air past the coughing. Carefully, he slowly pries open his crusty shut eyes, flinching at the brightness. The second thing Dean realizes is that he is in a room of a house he’s got no idea who it belongs to. Ruby is sitting up on a couch across from him, eyes comically wide, staring at him like he’s got two heads. Before he has a chance to even process Ruby’s reaction, she bends over, vomiting all over the floor. “You were dead!” She groans hoarsely, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “For hours.” Dean attempts to push himself up on the uncomfortable couch only to let out a yelp, hissing as his ass feels like it’s on fire. “What the fuck.” Dean croaks out, grabbing at his throat, trying to understand what the hell is going on. Ruby just stares at him with wide eyes, holding a knitted blanket tightly in her lap. The smell of her vomit hits his nose first. Dean gags, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth that feels like sandpaper, throat clicking with no moisture to work properly. The next scent he smells is fear. Ruby smells like ash and something moldy. The next scent that bombards his nose smells like sour milk. He has no idea where it’s coming from, but he could almost swear it’s on his skin. “He’s alive.” A voice somewhere above him states. The sour milk smell increases and Dean rolls over again, throwing up nothing but clear liquid all onto the wooden floor. The liquid burns his throat and nose, almost blocking some of the new smells out, only to be replaced with a grotesque stomach acid mixed with rubbing alcohol. He gasps in short breaths in between vomiting more and more liquid. When finally nothing but bile comes up, he forces himself to roll back onto the couch. Dean groans as Ruby’s fear floods his nose again. He hoped the stomach acid still lingering in his nostrils would’ve canceled it out, but whenever has he been that lucky? Sweat starts to bead up over his skin again and he, once again, feels too hot all over. Dean grabs the blanket over top of him and yanks it off. The smell of sour milk bombards his nose making his stomach twist unpleasantly, again. What should have been the first thing, but is the last thing Dean realizes is that he doesn’t have any pants. The rush of air that hits his naked bottom half makes him freeze in place. He slowly lowers his eyes downward, swallowing back another wave of nausea as he sees dried come from where his shirt has risen up on his torso, all the way down to his dick. The smell of sour milk coming from the man above him and the smell of the release dried on him are the same. Too hot fingers card through his hair a little too roughly, pulling and tugging a little too hard. Dean is too numb to move away or fight it. “It’ll be so much more fun now that you’re awake, omega.” The name of his designation snaps a bit of his sanity back. Dean pushes his body up and away from the man as much as he can on the couch. He lets out a snarl, pulling some of the blanket back over his lower half. The rush of air has Ruby’s strong ash scent tickling his nose into a sneeze. “What the fuck did you do?” Dean growls. He attempts to push himself further against the arm of the couch, glancing over at Ruby quickly, hoping for somebody to give him some sort of clarity. “I took what was mine.” The man shrugs and grins down at him. “I’m not yours.” Dean spits at the man. Something about him, though, seems familiar. “Your friend here may argue with you on that, I think.” He nods over to Ruby. “Instead of her having to pay for the alcohol, she offered you as a replacement. An omega.” He smacks his lips together and then lets out a laugh. “Even dead, you still had some amounts of slick leftover. De-licis-ous. By the smell of you, you must’ve been in heat.” He tisks Dean, shaking his head. Slowly the man walks around the couch to where Dean is pushed up against the other side. The way the sunlight is hitting him, Dean swears the man’s eyes are yellow. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to drink during heat? Didn’t you pay attention in school?” Dean tries to take in everything, piece it all together. Somewhere in this entire blender mess of shit, he failed to notice that Ruby had figured out he is an omega. Apparently he had been fucking dead, and fuck it all if he knew how he was back to living and breathing oxygen again. And this guy had raped him while he had been a literal lifeless body. “Ruby?” Dean asks keeping his eyes on the man slowly creeping closer. A trickle of sweat drips off his forehead onto his eyelashes. He rubs it away with his freehand, gritting his teeth. “You were…dead.” She chokes out. “I checked. You didn’t have a pulse. I checked you so many times, Dean-“ “So you take me to a fucking hospital!” He snaps, glaring at the man’s growing grin. His stomach chooses this moment to start cramping again, and he bites his lip to suppress a flinch. “I could smell you right when you walked up, tonight. I might be beta, but I’m not stupid. Our noses still work with strong scents. Anyone and everyone could smell that you were in heat.” She pauses and Dean glances quickly over at her. She is staring down at her hands still holding tightly to the blanket. “When Azazel came to collect his payment, I knew how drunk you were, how you didn’t have any place to go, and I mean, come on! You’re an omega in heat! All they want is sex, anyway. I thought it’d be a win-win for everyone.” “I’m not some sort of whore you can just use to pay off someone, Ruby! I’m a fucking person!” Dean snarls, gripping the blanket tightly in his hand. “You don’t own me! No one does! Fuck! I’m still me!” “And you taste fantastic.” Azazel says making Dean jump off the couch at the closeness of his voice. “Stay the fuck away from me!” He growls, stumbling backwards, ignoring the pain shooting through his lower half with every move. Even despite the pain, his dick twitches as a wave of arousal washes over him. Dean tries to walk backwards, but his feet catch the bottom of the blanket and he starts to fall. His shoulder hits the wall, and he grunts letting the blanket slip off him. The scent of sour milk suddenly increases to the point Dean briefly wonders if he can pass out from smelling too much of something so horrible. “What are you going to do, little omega? You’ve got nowhere to go.” Azazel waves his hand around the room. “Don’t you fucking touch me you sick fuck!” Dean growls. He glances around at the floor trying to find his pants, but still keep his focus on Azazel. All at the same time Dean desperately tries to pretend the trickle of slick leaking out and dripping down his thighs isn’t happening. “Mmm, you smell so good.” Azazel purrs. “Listen to your body, it knows what it wants, Dean. Just give in and let me take some of that pain away.” Dean sees jeans peeking out from the couch he was just laying on. He glances back up at the yellow eyed man, noticing he is almost around the couch. He knows he is quick, but with his body aching can he still grab them and get out before Azazel got him? Dean doesn’t care if the outcome looks bleak, he decided he’s going to go down fighting. He will not submit to anyone, and if this guy is going to touch him, he rather be unconscious when it happens. “Fuck you!” Dean yells, pushing off the wall and diving for his jeans. He grabs them, and then pushes off the ground and sprinting across the room to the door. Dean pauses only to throw it open, then bolts out the threshold and down the wooden stairs as quickly as possible. He skids to a brief stop at the bottom, yanking open the front door and running out on the porch. Only then does he pause to shove his legs into his jeans, hopping down the steps at the same time. When Dean gets to the sidewalk, zipping up his jeans, panting, he looks back at the wide open door expecting the man to come running out after him. No one follows him. He looks up at the windows, and sees Azazel grinning down at him. Dean shudders and looks away, rubbing absentmindedly at his arms wondering what was he suppose to do now. Yes, Dean remembers dying. So when his consciousness is aware he is in blackness, he knows he is not dead. Somewhere around him someone with a deep voice is yelling. There is an annoying beeping somewhere beside his left ear, and everything is cold. There is a heavy amount of pressure coming from his lower torso, almost as if a car is sitting on him. Dean reminds himself that when you die you don’t hear or feel anything, so he must be doing pretty well regardless of being out of it. “Sir, you aren’t allowed back here! How did you get back here?” A frantic female voice yells. “Are you in rut? Damnit he’s in rut! Call security!” The beeping speeds up until it lands on one shrill, steady tone. Somewhere he hears a male voice swear before the darkness swallows him up again.~~~ Something clattering beside his head jolts Dean’s mind into consciousness. His eyes refuse to respond to his command to open, and his arms don’t feel like functioning either. The coldness he felt before seems more like a weight pressing down on his body, and he swears he can feel it flowing throughout his veins. “Have you called his emergency contact?” A female voice asks, quietly. “Yeah.” A higher pitched voice replies. “A beta named Michael said he would come down to go over paperwork.” Dean wants to scream at them that it’s wrong. Michael is wrong. He doesn’t want or need Michael here. He has an alpha, he has a mate. If the alpha was here, he knows he wouldn’t be feeling half this bad. He wants to scream all of this, but his lips refuse to move. “You hear about the alpha trying to get into the surgery room?” The high pitched one asks. “I heard he was in rut big time. Kept saying the omega was his mate.” “I heard something like that. Didn’t it take three hits to put him down?” The sound of papers shuffling and a strong scent of medicine seeps into his nose. Dean tries to open his mouth to say something, wiggle his hand to get the girls attention, but nothing works. Everything except his mind remains lifeless. “I heard just a double, but he just woke up a little bit ago. Security is going to escort him out.” Something cold begins spreading from his hand up his arm. “The doctor said to give him five milliliters extra this time to try suppress his heat, keep him asleep. Patient keeps burning through the doses, so it’s really a guessing game at this point. Can you add the increase to his chart?” “Added. It says the usual for pain, but isn’t that effecting his heat?” He hears someone rustle papers again as the beeping starts to sound further and further away. “So the patient’s heat is strong enough it got to an alpha in rut through hospital grade neutralizers? That seems a little…” “Yeah, it’s not the normal type of thing you hear about, I guess.” Dean desperately tries to cling onto his consciousness. The coldness from his arm is steadily creeping throughout his whole body, and every ounce of him is at war fighting to push it away or cling to it. “Alright, Dean’s vitals seem good for-“ “Dean?” The sound of his name coming out of the familiar male voice makes his skin crawl. “There aren’t any visitors right now, sir.” The high pitched one states. “You called and requested I come down to sign papers. Does anyone want to tell me why the omega is laying in bed with wires and tubes attached to him?” Michael, he realizes. Michael is here. Everything is silent, save for the beeping growing more and more faint beside him. After what feels like hours, he hears a soft voice mumbling something he can’t quite make out. Michael’s words slur and jumble together as he feels the cold finally reaching his mind, spreading out slowly, numbing any logical thought he has left. “You!” A deep, rough voice breaks through Dean’s numbing cold, shattering the silence. “Who the fuck are-“ “Is that the alpha from-“ Shoes squeak somewhere, and he hears something hit the floor and bounce a few times. “How he get up here? Where is security?!” “Get away from him!” Instead of wanting to cower from the alpha, this man’s voice makes him want to reach out for him. Warmth begins to bleed through the coldness that had been coursing through his veins. Dean hears the two nurses whine not far away from him, but Michael just huffs. Somewhere in him, even though Dean knows nothing about the man, he knows the alpha would never hurt him. This man wants to protect him. His inner omega whines, trying desperately to react to the alphas presence. He wants his alpha to know he wants him, needs him, too. “Listen, I can see that you’re in rut officer…Novak, is it?” A low growl sounds in response. “I can guarantee this omega here isn’t your mate. He doesn’t want a mate, and honestly? It would sheer idiocy to take on his level of damage as a mate. We were just with each other earlier today, well, yesterday. We were at the station even. I’m sure if you go back and check your records you can see-“ “Dean is my true mate, and you will do well do keep your hands off him.” The alpha snarls. Warmth starts to prickle over Dean’s skin, eating away at the lingering numbness slowly. The room has fallen silent, once more, except for that ever present annoying beeping that won’t stop. He tries again to open his eyes, but they ignore his request. The warmth steadily spreading over his skin is slowly is growing hotter. Dean can feel sweat starting to bead over his skin, everywhere. “That…That can’t happen. That isn’t a thing. True mates don’t fucking exist.”The beeping increases for a moment, and then falls back to its usual rhythm. He feels someone touch his hand, and wishes he could yank it away. Their touch is like molten lava, and he swears it must be melting his skin off. “Becky, his skin is on fire. He’s already burnt through the dosage we just gave him. He’s going to wake up if he doesn’t get another-“ “Why aren’t you letting him wake up?” The alpha, Castiel, he remembers, asks. “I’m not leaving my mate. You are not taking me from Dean again.” “Dean’s heat is out of control.” The nurse, Becky he assumes, states. “He has a fresh bullet wound that, lucky enough for him, went straight through. It missed his spine, but only barely. It nicked the bottom bit of his lung, but with his fast healing and the doctor’s quick thinking, started mending fairly well.” Dean twitches his fingers against the nurse’s hand and feels like cheering. The nurse only gasps and yanks her hand away. “He’s moving! Gods Becky, we need to put him out now!” He listens to shoes squeaking and fading away. “I don’t understand. People wake up all the time from gunshot wounds. What are-“ “So you want me to let the omega in a heat this extreme with a gunshot wound wake up?” The nurse snaps. “And how exactly do you think that’s going to work out?” For a long moment, the steady beeping from the machine beside him is the only sound in the room. Dean tries again to open his eyes, and manages to feel his eyelids pulling open slightly. He feels something trickle down the side of his face. “Dean.” The deep voice breathes. He swears his temperature increases fifty degrees at his name. Every atom inside his body is screaming for Castiel to touch him. “You’re out of control! I’m not letting you near him.” Michael snaps. “He needs me!” Castiel snarls. Dean hears something solid being hit hard enough it echoes through the room. “Officer, please.” Becky’s voice shakes. “What Dean needs is to sleep through this heat. Medically speaking, sir, the chances of him actually surviving the physical needs of his heat is about two percent. That is being generous. That is without taking in consideration the demands of hydration and nutrition needed during a regular heat.” Dean hears the alpha growl, low and deep. He focuses on opening his eyes, desperately trying to ignore the way his blood seems to be boiling inside him, again. He knows that if he can just touch Castiel, everything is going to be okay. “I…I can’t just…” Castiel clears his throat. “When I think about not being next to him, I…It feels like something is physically tearing my insides apart.” Hearing the alpha is in pain makes every part of Dean ache and scream in response. His back arches off the bed, body igniting in hot, searing pain. He feels it more than hears a hoarse whine in his throat. The beeping beside him speeds up faster than he’s ever heard it, and his left eye squints open. The dim yellow lit room still manages to somehow almost blind him. He hisses, the noise scraping inside his dry throat, and starts coughing immediately after. Pain radiates from his midsection, and he clutches at it trying to turn on his side. Something attached to his hand and arm pulls painfully at his skin, preventing him from holding his stomach. Somewhere off to the side there is a lot of shuffling and yelling he cannot quite make out. The beeping of the machine is going ballistic, making any other voices or noises difficult to make out. “C…Ca….Cas.” Dean only manages to quietly rasp out part of the alphas name, his throat feeling like he’s swallowed glass. “Dean, listen to me. My name is Becky. You were shot earlier, and you’re in the hospital. ” He squints open his eye again and to see a brown haired girl staring down at him with wide, terrified eyes. He tries to reply, but only a whisper of a whine escapes. Somewhere behind them there is more yelling he isn’t quite able to make out. “It looks like you reopened your wound, and we’re going to have to fix you up.” She attempts a smile, but it’s too tight and shaky. “I need you to lay back and be still for me. We’re going to give you something to help you sleep, okay?” On top of the pain pulsing through his lower half, a cramp sneaks up on him, and he feels like his insides are ripping and shredding apart. Dean’s own hoarse scream hit his ears before he realizes he’s the one making the noise. He is only half aware of how much sweat is seeping out of him, and thrashes at the covers clinging to his body. He twists, painfully yanking out whatever is in his arm and hand, as he arches his back, screaming again as another cramp hits him. His back lands back down into a pool of sticky, warm liquid. The copper smell of blood is so fresh and strong it manages to reach his nose past the clean hospital smell. There are so many voices yelling around him, the beeping is just letting out one shrill note, and someone is pushing down on his arms. The physical contact feels like fire. Dean is unable to stop another scream from escaping his throat, and just prays to whatever deity is out there that the flames would just hurry up and burn him alive. Hell has to be better than what he’s feeling now. Something sharp pinches his in his arm, and both his eyes shoot open. Dean glances over to another girl holding a needle in his bicep. His vision begins to spin as he looks towards the entrance. He makes out Castiel is reaching out for him as someone (or a few someone’s) is dragging him away, and he raises his hand trying to reach out to the alpha. His hand falls back to the bed, the weight too much to lift up any longer. As Dean’s vision starts to darken at the edges, he sees Michael enter the room, a satisfied grin pulling at his lips. He opens his mouth to tell the nurses this is wrong, but everything dissolves into blackness, again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"'You,' he said, 'are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain." ~Emilie Autumn, The Asylum For Wayward Victorian Girls
The next time Dean starts to pull himself out of the blackness, it’s different. There aren’t any low murmuring voices, there isn’t any coldness, but there is that annoying beeping is still present. He cracks his eyes open, blinking at the brightness, trying to get them to adjust. His body feels sore and stiff, but there isn’t any pain. Dean looks around the empty room, gauging his surroundings. Just the bed he is lying in, doorway off to the side he imagines is a bathroom, and a TV against the wall. He glances out the room’s door and sees a few nurses talking and laughing as they pass. Dean lets his eyes drop down to where he’s lying for the first time, readying his mind for anything. A simple white blanket is tucked around him from his chest to his feet. His left arm has an IV tube hooked up into his hand and the bend in his elbow. His nostrils flare as he tries to catch a scent-any scent- that someone might have been here not directly linked to the medical field. All he gets is the too clean scent of neutralizers and cleaning supplies. “Finally decided to wake up, I see.” A female voice says from the doorway. Dean narrows his eyes at the woman with long, vibrant red hair in a white coat. “How-“ His voice scrapes and tickles his throat sending him into a coughing fit. Tears spill over as he coughs and gasps trying to settle himself down. He feels the bed dip and something lightly touches his hand. Dean squints down to see a white foam cup being offered to him. He fumbles closing his fingers around it, finally managing to grab it weakly. He shakily brings the cup to his lips, taking a tentative sip, wondering why his hands aren’t working properly. “You’ve been out for a little over a week. Your body has to readjust to some simple things, again.” She states, answering his unsaid question. “I’m sure you have about a hundred questions.” Dean sighs as he swallows the cool liquid down. The soreness and tickling from his throat instantly subsides, only to be replaced with a sudden thirst. He gulps down another mouthful greedily. “Easy now, Dean.” She says, brown eyes dancing with amusement. “Don’t want to push yourself.” Dean lowers the cup, leaning back against the pillow. He opens his mouth to try and speak, but the doctor raises a hand to stop him. “We’re going to take this slow, okay? My name is Anna. Anna Milton. I’ve been your doctor since you were brought in.” She scoots back onto his bed and picks up a clipboard beside her. “Do you remember why you were brought in, Dean?” He pinches the bridge of his nose trying to push past the fading cloudiness in his mind trying to remember. Images flash through his mind, accompanied by memories of voices and noises; blue eyes, yelling, the police station, his pups, and so much pain. Dean drops his hand, looking back up at her and shakes his head. “It’ll come back to you, I promise. For now I’m going to help fill in some of those blanks.” Anna says, flipping over a page and reading something. She looks back at him with a soft smile and places a hand over top of his free hand. “You were brought in with a gunshot wound. I’ll leave out the medical mumbo-jumbo that no one really understands.” She squeezes his hand, sitting up a bit straighter. “The bullet went straight through you, grazing your right lung. Thanks to an officer who kept pressure on the wound until the ambulance got there, you are still alive.” An image flashes through his mind of worried, ocean blue eyes staring down at him “What we noticed first was, obviously, you lost a lot of blood. Secondly, you were in heat. A very strong heat.” Anna tilts her head at him, eyes searching his as if trying to see if this jogged a memory of any kind. After a beat, she drops her eyes back to her paper, hand slipping away from his. “With your quick healing, the graze to your lung wasn’t really the issue. It was literally healing as I was working inside you. But, Dean, you had a bullet go through you. And you were in heat, dehydrated already when you were brought in.” She sighs heavily, looking back at him with sad eyes. “We had to keep you in a medically induced coma on top of some pretty strong suppressants for your heat. I was informed you woke up a few hours after the surgery, reopening your wound, and I had to fix you up again. Your heat was so strong, and your body seemed to be working in overdrive, eating away at the medicine we tried to sedate you with, along with the medicine used to numb the heat side effects. Three times the normal amount, every two hours for forty-eight hours. We’ve been steadily decreasing as the week progressed, trying to see what worked and what didn’t.” Anna smiles sadly at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s about it from the medical side. If you have any questions, I would love to answer them.” Dean blinks at her, fingernails absentmindedly scraping into the side of the foam cup. It’s a lot to take in, and honestly he has about a million questions. Where are his girls? Has Ellen been told what happened? Does he still have a fucking job? Why was he at the police- Something clicks and slides together in Dean’s mind, making him suck in a sharp breath. The images slowly entwine together as he begins to remember everything; Michael, the police station, Castiel, Lucifer, his heat, the gunshot, and even waking up and seeing Castiel being drug away. “Castiel.” Dean whispers, wincing at his own voice. Anna smiles twitches up a bit more. “Officer Novak, yes. He was the one who helped with your bleeding. He even rode in the ambulance with you.” Dean shakes his head. He takes another drink of the water, and clears his throat. “He’s my…” His what? They had met for maybe what, a max of fifteen minutes? Most of that had been with his heat clouding up his mind. Chances are the alpha has forgotten all about him, or wants nothing to do with him. Dean knows he is a mess, and why would someone like an officer of the law want someone damaged like him? He actually seemed like one of the good ones. The coma was probably a blessing for Castiel. He didn’t have to spend it with Dean, only to realize he had made a huge mistake of being stuck with him, mated forever. “He’s your…?” She asks, an amused smile dances on her lips. “Forget it.” Dean mumbles, staring down at the tube sticking out of the back of his hand. She shrugs, looking down at the clipboard again. “Castiel will be disappointed to hear that. He’s been relentless in calling me, checking on your status and asking about your progress.” Anna glances at him quickly, then back at her paper. “He got himself banned from the hospital until you’re given the green light to be released.” Dean stares at her, unable to understand what he’s hearing. Memories of Castiel’s voice yelling for him, blurry images of him being drug away, and then pain. “He set off my heat. I set off his rut.” Dean picks at the top of cup he’s still holding. “He said I was his mate.” The bed dips as Anna bends over, placing a finger under Dean’s chin, lifting his head. She smiles warmly at him, pulling her hand away. “True mates exist, Dean. I’ve seen a lot working at a hospital, and believe me when I say I’ve witnessed a lot of what people might think is unimaginable-miracles, even. I’m just sorry about the timing.” Dean shrugs taking another drink from the cup, draining the last of it. Anna slips it out of his fingers, sliding off the bed gracefully. “Unfortunately, Castiel is unable to see you until you leave. With the bond not formed, well…” Anna shrugs and tilts her head at him. “Round two isn’t going to be as nice as round one was. And a fair warning, Dean. I know that what you felt before was painful, but this time around it might be a bit more intense.” “How is he?” Dean asks. “I don’t think I’ve had a heat that bad in, well…his rut was two months early and he was walking around in the hospital unable to…” “He’s strong, Dean.” Anna smiles sadly at him. “It was hard but he managed to get through. The separation from knowing his true mate was away from him-injured, no less-seemed to almost take on a form of rejection.” A growl escapes his mouth and Dean glares at the doctor. “I didn’t reject him. I…I needed him.” Anna nods and takes a step towards the door. “I know that. And deep down, past the rut, Castiel knew that too.” He watches her look over him quickly, as if she’s choosing her words carefully. “As the medicine we’ve given you starts to leave your system completely you might start to feel the effects of the unformed bond. Symptoms could be anything from feelings of rejection, extreme sadness, or anger. It all depends on your body and mindset, honestly. Mind you these are just things I’ve read about and not witnessed firsthand. Omegas can go completely numb, shutting down entirely.” “So you’ve never actually seen true mates, and expect me to just buy it? I mean, it could really just be hormones.” She stares at him hard, almost scolding him with her eyes. He shakes his head, looking anywhere else but the doctor. “You know what? Don’t even bother feeding me a line. I can handle whatever happens.” Dean replies, sitting up a bit. “I have no doubt about your strength and what you can withstand.” She sighs, tilting her head back to him. “There are a few things you should be aware of. A beta named Michael is the name we had on file for an emergency contact. He came and signed papers that needed to be taken care of right away. The police stopped by shortly after, asking questions about the gunshot, Castiel, and another officer named Lucifer. Obviously neither Castiel nor you were in any state of mind to answer, so I’m sure they’ll be catching up with you again.” Dean nods and runs a hand down his face. Week old scruff rubs at his hands, and he flinches imaging what he must looks like. “Lucifer, the guy who shot me, he…” Dean wracks his brain trying to remember anything that happened to the officer that shot him. “I am unable to discuss any other patient by law, Dean.” She answers robotically. Just knowing that Lucifer is being hospitalized for something makes Dean feel a bit better. Hopefully Castiel had broken his nose so bad it would never fix itself properly again. Anna shifts her feet, drawing Dean’s attention back to her and all the information she’s thrown at him. “You said something about round two. What does that mean?” The doctor leans against the wall, hugging the clipboard to her chest. She stares at him; forehead creased in the center like the question itself is painful. “Your body-your omega- is aware it has found its alpha. Your cycles were set off by the profound bond you two share, and that bond barely had any contact or time for you two to do anything about.” Dean watches as her hold tightens to the clipboard. He regrets asking the question watching Anna grow uncomfortable. “The next time you two meet, I have no doubt the chemicals, chemistry, bond, whatever you want to call it, will take you over. But this time, it will hit you hard, fast, and it will be brutal and relentless. You might not even realize what’s going on because your instinct will just override your mind.” “So you’re saying I’m going to have another heat?” Dean tries desperately to stop his voice from cracking, but it doesn’t work. “I don’t know.” Anna says, quietly. “I wish I had the answer for you on that, but I don’t. The chances of you being thrown into another heat so soon are slim, but with you two being unbonded truemates…” She gives him a sad smile. “This whole thing is uncharted territory. The typical stories you hear about are true mate meeting have them completing it later that day. The effect it will have on both you and Castiel’s body, well…My medical recommendation is to hold off seeing Castiel for as long as possible.” He opens his mouth to protest as the doctor holds up a hand to silence him. “I realize you or Castiel are not even going to entertain the idea of doing that.” She lowers her hand the pushes off the wall. “I will just tell you to expect anything, and be prepared for everything. Regardless of your heat coming or not, you have just been shot. Yes, your body heals quickly, one of the perks to being omega opposed to beta. Still, you’ve been in the hospital for a week recovering, but you are still weak.” She points to his hands. “You could barely grasp a cup, and where as you’re fine now, it takes a little reintroduction to simple things. It’s normal for your body to be still weak from everything it’s gone through. You just need to keep that in mind.” Dean watches as the doctor walks to the door. More questions about everything keep popping up, but the way she seems to be leaving is almost like she’s escaping. “Doc, one more question.” Anna pauses in the doorway, turning her face back to him. “When can I get out of here?” “Your body has pretty much healed itself, like I said, along with the help of modern medicine. I just need to make sure you can keep solids down, walk on your feet, and go to the bathroom alone. Do all those for me and maybe by tonight we can part ways. I’ll be back to check up on your progress.” Anna turns her head and walks out of the room quickly, white coat flowing behind her. Dean glances up at the clock above the door and groans. It is barely nine in the morning. He looks at the edge of the bed, then back at his feet. He wiggles his toes and throws off the cover determined to prove himself. Come hell or high water, he will be walking out the door tonight. He just needs to figure out what he is going to do after his release. He needs a plan.~~~ By the time twelve o’clock has come around, Dean is an irritated, tired, grumpy mess. After Anna had left, he attempted to get out of bed. Immediately his legs ended up giving out on him. Two nurses had rushed after hearing the IV stand go off after toppling over. They helped him up, getting him back into bed, lecturing him on “doing too much, too soon”. He denied them rejabbing him with any more needles. They reluctantly bandaged him up where the needles were ripped out, explaining the importance of baby steps. After nearly three hours of stretching, taking assisted steps, and eating ice chips he feels like taking a nap. The idea of sleeping again seems asinine considering he was just in a fricken coma for a week. The overly chipper nurse, Becky, assures him it is normal to feel tired or even exhausted after waking up. She even jokes that after lunch he needs a nap before attempting the difficult part; a shower. Dean manages to stomach a cup of broth, two crackers, and half of the roll he was given before starting to feel sick. He asks Becky about his girls as he starts walking towards the bathroom for a long overdue shower. She says a lady named Ellen came in to see him with Claire, but they didn’t stay long. He nods, taking a pair of dark blue scrubs from the nurse. It makes sense that all this would probably be too much for his pups, especially Emma. The water pressure is more than a trickle, but not by much. Dean has the dial turned all the way over to the hottest setting, but the temperature refuses to budge from being lukewarm. He shivers under the weak spray, trying not to focus too much on how gross he feels. The scent blocking soap provided for him makes his nose twitch as he rubs it into the coarse rag, then all over his skin absentmindedly, trying to ignore the slightly raised angry red patch on his torso. Dean knows that someone must have been washing his body while he was out. The lack of dried slick, sweat, and blood is a giveaway, if nothing else. It makes his skin crawl thinking about the fact someone was around him, while unconscious, as he was in heat. Dean rubs at his skin harder with the soap and rag, trying to rid himself of the phantom fingers he swears he can feel. Arms, legs, ass, dick-everywhere. Over and over again, as the stream of water steadily grows cooler. The sliver of soap left slips from his fingers, falling to the bottom without sound. Dean shivers under the water, as an itch begins to spread over his body. Despite just using up the entire bar of soap, he feels dirty and used all over again, and begins itching at his arms. Why is he even trying to leave so quickly for? His pups are better off with Ellen, anyway. His job can replace him in a heartbeat-if it hasn’t already. The doctor and nurses are wasting all their time and energy on him, and for what? He isn’t anyone special. He is just some random, piss poor omega with nothing to show for his long thirty-one years of life. “Hey Dean, everything okay in here?” The frosted plastic curtain separating him from the world slides open slowly. “I knocked but you didn’t-“ He watches as Becky’s nose flares, lips silently parted with her unfinished words, as her wide eyes lock onto something away from his face. Blinking everything back into focus, Dean drops his eyes down to his arms. His claws are extended, half buried into his arms. Up and down over his arms, chest, and legs are gouges, scratches, and claw marks he doesn’t remember doing. The freezing water beating over his back runs down his body, leaving a pool of red swirling down the drain underneath him. Dean looks back up at Becky, slowly retracting and pulling his claws free from his arm. “My skin itched.” His voice snaps Becky into action. She grabs the towel hanging up on a hook, turns the shower off, and quickly dabs at the marks over his skin, shaking her head every so often. Dean stands there too numb to move, or even attempt to offer to do it himself. He should feel embarrassed at his nakedness or maybe even just a little bit ashamed by the fact he was caught trying to itch off his own skin. He should feel the want or independence to grab the towel away from the nurse, and clean up his own mess. He isn’t a pup, after all, he is an adult. Maybe a really lousy excuse for one, but he’s still functional and independent. Still, knowing and recognizing all this, Dean cannot bring himself to care. He just feels exhausted. His limbs feel weighted down, too heavy for him to lift up anymore, and lets them dangle lifelessly beside him. A laugh bubbles up from nowhere, shaking Dean’s body as he feels it escape. Becky glances up at him once before going back to dabbing at his already healing scratched thighs. Something about Becky showing him more kindness than anyone has really shown him in years is fucking hilarious and Dean cannot stop laughing. The poor girl looks like she’s going to start crying, and as Dean clutches his stomach trying to make the laughter stop. “Dean, you’re going to be fine, okay? I need to get you a new gown so I can get these scratches looked at so I need-“ “They’re healing.” He gasps out, between laughs. “M’fine.” Dean tries to clamp his mouth shut. He looks down at Becky kneeling down staring up at him, and his body shakes trying to hold back another fit of laughter. “You’re not fine. You just-“ “What the hell is going on in here?” Dean snaps his head up to the door. Anna stands there, arms crossed, looking like a cross between really disappointed and really pissed off. Dean glances down at Becky still kneeling at his feet, towel held against his thigh, and loses all his self control. Giggles bubble up and tears spill over his cheeks as he looks back at Anna. The doctor drops her arms and crosses the short distance quickly, making Becky scramble out of the way. Anna tilts her head at him, which just makes Dean lose it even more. There are so many things he should be concerned about right now, but the fact his doctor just caught his nurse on her knees in front of him seems like the most hilarious thing to him right now. The fact anyone would get on their knees for him is even more humorous. “He’s in shock.” Anna says grabbing his arm, gently nudging him out of the shower. “The effects of the bond not being formed are starting.” Dean shakes his head, trying to catch his breath to tell Anna she’s wrong. That this whole screwed up situation they are in is just because of some childhood bullshit he never got over and the fact his skin is itching like crazy. “I need to go get another gown so I can bandage-“ “They will heal, Becky. The bleeding has already stopped.” Anna pulls the scrub shirt over his head not so gently, causing knocking off Dean’s balance slightly. “Get me a sedative, regular dose, and-“ Dean sobers immediately, grabbing and squeezing Anna’s arm. “No. Please don’t knock me out again. Don’t…just…I can’t be like that. The people touched…someone was…” His eyes blur with hot tears, and he blinks them free. Anna searches his eyes for a moment, slowly patting his hand, stepping backwards. She helps him into scrub pants, tying them loosely and leading him back to the hospital bed. Dean begins to sob as he climbs into the bed, pulling his knees to his chest. “I can’t just stay here, Anna. I haven’t seen my pups in a week, and Emma has…has…she has these issues, I mean she’s fine, normal, but she really isn’t. And if I’m not there to take care of her-I mean she needs me! I’ve never not been there for her! Even in heat I still check in and see her.” Dean squeezes his eyes tightly closed, another sob shaking his body. He cannot get his mind to connect with mouth. He knows he probably sounds crazy, and the words sound like random babbling, but they won’t stop spilling out. “I can’t sleep here again, doc, I won’t sleep here again. I need to get home to my girls. Listen, I just got this-well, have because it’s still there-itch. I must be allergic to something, maybe it’s this bed. It probably is the bed. See! I can’t stay here! I need to get out, I need to…to…I need something. It itches so fucking much, and I can’t just sit here! Just give me some fucking cream, or some other shit. I need to get out of here. I did everything you asked me to do. I walked, ate, took a shower, please Anna. Please, you gotta let me leave.” He watches as Becky slowly walks back in, handing the doctor a needle. All the air in the room seems to have been suddenly sucked out, and he feels a cold sweat breaking out over his body. More tears spill over his cheeks as he stares down at the needle in the doctors hands, trying to gasp in what little oxygen seems to be left in the air. A sharp pain shoots through his chest making Dean gasp as he grips his shirt tightly. He whines, curling up tighter on himself as another sharp pain rips through him. It hurts. Fuck, why does it hurt so much? He tries to push himself as far as he can into the bed, clutching desperately at the thin hospital shirt. The sharpness isn’t going away. If anything, it is spreading underneath his skin like a wildfire. Dean just wants it to end. He is so sick of feeling pain. Nothing really matters, anyway, not really. His pups are taken care of and that’s all that matters. Everything is coming back to him in bursts. The memories of how much everything hurt, and how his body, skin, soul was calling out for the alpha. How he just craved a touch, just one simple touch. But that’s just it. If he touches him anymore than he already has, he’d taint his soul that, somehow, Dean knows is pure and good. He darkens and destroys everything he touches. It’s completely selfish to want Castiel. The alpha deserves so much better, something good. Dean knows he is far from anything good or worthy. “Dean, you need to calm down for me. Everything is fine, okay?” She reaches over and touches his hand gently. Dean yanks his hand away, scooting back as far as he can on the bed. “I need you to breathe, okay? Can you just breathe with me?” “Don’t fucking touch me!” He snarls. “You don’t want to help me! You want to knock me out and let complete strangers-“He chokes on the unsaid words, leaning over the side of the bed as his lunch comes back up onto the floor underneath him. Dean feels a sharp prick on his arm, and swats blindly beside him as his stomach continues twisting inside him. He groans, falling back onto the bed, glaring at the bright sunlight illuminating the room. His vision begins to swirl as Anna rises from the bed. His eyes blur, making the natural light surrounding Anna almost appear she has a halo. He wants to chuckle, but that requires effort he doesn’t have at the moment. “Don’t wan’ this.” Dean slurs, trying to lift himself up. “Don’t n‘stand. Have to tell Ellen…Emma…Claire…” “I need you to trust me, Dean. Your body is in shock, and now appears the beginning process of shutting down. Rather quickly, might I add.” He squints at the blurring white and red blob in front of him. “I’m going to bring you something to help the pain, but I need you calm down.” Something bright lights up in Anna’s hands, and Dean rolls his head to the side to look away. “C’mon Cas, pick up the phone.” He hears Anna mummer to herself. “Don’t do this, please. Answer the damn-Oh thank the gods! Cas, I need you to give me something you’ve just worn.” Dean’s ears prick up at the alphas name. He jerks his head back to look at the blurry doctor, and tries to reach out for the doctor. Hearing the man’s name makes Dean’s vision clear a little. Fuck, he doesn’t care how selfish he is, he wants his mate. If he could just touch him, maybe he wouldn’t be in so much pain. Why won’t it just stop? “Cas…tiel.” Dean whispers. “Yes Dean, Castiel. I’m going to have him bring in a shirt with his scent on it.” Anna says. A cool hand softly touches his arm, fingers firmly pressing on his wrist. “Nuh shirt…Alpha.” Dean slurs, trying to sit up again. He manages to scoot up just a little before collapsing heavily backwards again. “He’s fighting the sedative I just gave him. It should have knocked him out within seconds.” Dean pries his eyes open that he hasn’t realized fell closed. “Symptoms appear to be shock, ptsd, and possible rejection. His body is shutting down at an alarming rate, Cas. There isn’t going to be anything I can medically do! He already is unable to hold down any food, chest pains-” He pushes up from the bed trying to force his muscles to support his weight. “No! I didn’t call you to ask you to-You got through it!” Dean shakes his head, trying to clear his mind from the fog. “Of course I fucking realize that. I am a doctor, you asshole. He is barely holding it together here, so what makes you think- Don’t you dare!” Dean reaches a hand out, blindly, for the most part, hoping Anna will understand. The silence stretches for what seems like forever before something solid and cool is placed in his hands. He blinks his heavy eyes open as Anna’s soft hand closes his fingers around the phone, slowly helping him guide it to his ear. “Cas…” Dean whispers. “Oh fuck you have no idea how good it feels hearing your voice, Dean.” The alpha’s rough voice vibrates through the phone. “Need you.” Dean says a little louder, trying to lean forward to get up. “I need you too, my strong, beautiful omega.” Despite the gentle but firm hand pushing him back down, something feels like its being lifted off his chest hearing those words. A smile spreads over his lips as he takes in a breath a bit easier. His fingers clutch the phone a bit more tightly, as if the action might bring the alpha closer to him. “Please, Cas. Alpha, I need you here.” Dean doesn’t care how pathetic he sounds, his omega knows that if he can just feel his alpha’s skin, breathe in his scent, everything will be better. “Already on my way. No one is going to keep me from you this time.” Castiel growls lightly, and Dean feels warmth rush through him at the protectiveness in the alpha’s voice. He whimpers as the phone is tugged out of his fingers. His heavy eyelids slipping closed despite his attempts to force them back open. “I can have his release papers done in about fifteen minutes. Becky get somebody in here to clean this mess up.” Even though Dean knows she is right beside him, Anna’s voice sounds far away. “I wasn’t kidding, before. He is unstable and-Don’t go all alpha on me, Castiel, you know better than to pull that bullshit with me. If you are going to take him home, you need to know what to look for in case his symptoms spike. You need to be prepared how to handle an omega going through-Yes, I know you’re a cop. This isn’t the same thing. You can’t…” Her words drift off into ear ringing silence. Dean squints open his eyes with what little strength he feels he has left. Anna looks like she’s yelling at Becky from the look on the poor nurse’s face. The doctor has the phone cradled to her ear as she writes something furiously onto a clipboard Becky hands her. Dean’s body feels like jello, but he still tries to sit up, again, anyway. Anna finally looks back over at him, and says something to Castiel on the phone. She hangs up, and walks over to him, unexpectedly shining a light into his eyes. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, rolling his head to the side away from the sudden brightness. His eyelid is being forced open as the penlight shines in his eye again. Dean tries to squirm away from his grasp, batting weakly at her hand. He can hear her voice, but the words aren’t making any coherent sense. She lets go of his eyelid as he hears a gravelly voice breathe out, “Dean.” Dean wants to open his eyes. He wants so badly to look at the man his body has been calling out for and craving for the past week. They refuse to open. Instead, Dean raises his hand as much as he can off the bed, desperately trying to get any type of contact with the alpha that he can. Dean sighs as he feels warm fingers slip gently in between the gaps of his own. “Remember everything I told you over the phone, Cas. This is serious. It’s his life I’m handing over to you. I’m not comfortable with any of this.” “You said so yourself that his body shutting down is a direction reaction to us not bonding.” Castiel whispers, rubbing his thumb in slow circles on his hand. “So us being together should solve that issue, correct?” “Yes.” Anna sighs and Dean feels his bed dip beside him. “Something happened to him that set him off. It was something that had to do with being unconscious and someone touching him. He was beyond terrified for me to sedate him” Dean feels the vibrations of Castiel’s growl through the bed into his chest. “It’s not something that will not be miraculously healed by true loves kiss.” “And you knocked him out anyway.” He snaps, the grip on his hand tightening. “His claws were extended and he was scratching through his skin everywhere over his body. Becky said he had been in the shower for almost forty-five minutes, the water was freezing.” She sighs as the alpha’s growl grows louder. “By the time I found him and the nurse, he was in hysterics, not really knowing what he was doing, covered in blood. When I mentioned that I was going to sedate him, it was like something inside him broke.” “And you did it anyway. Of course you did. Because why wouldn’t you? You always-“ “I was trying to save his sanity and not let him become an empty shell!” The strong scent of cinnamon and pine suddenly hits Dean, making him sneeze out of nowhere. After weeks of breathing in nothing other than clean, neutralized air, actually smelling someone-mate or not-seems like some type of sensory overload. The alpha responds with a chuckle. Soft, fingertips brush his forehead gently as Dean slowly lets his eyes flutter open. Dean’s breath catches in his throat as he looks up into Castiel’s blue eyes. Gods, are his eyes always so vibrant blue? You think a blue that color he wouldn’t be able to forget. Dean decides, in this moment, he could live to be a hundred and never grow tired of staring into the alpha’s eyes. They look like pictures of the Caribbean water he’s seen in books. The way the light is hitting them, they almost appear to be glowing. Dean lifts his hand to the alpha’s face, fingertips tracing the man’s eyebrows then down around his eyes. Castiel’s eyes crinkle on the sides as he squints, lips lifting into a smile. “Alpha.” Dean whispers, cupping the man’s rough, stubble cheek. “Hello Dean.” He whispers, leaning forward and knocking their foreheads together gently. Beside them, Anna clears her throat. Castiel sighs, his warm breath falling over Dean’s lips like a promise, and pulls back from Dean. Dean blinks over to the doctor, feeling somewhat relieved his sight is clear. In fact, he is steadily beginning to feel more like himself. A smile twitches at the edge of his lips. He knew that having the alpha here would work miracles. The thought catches him off guard, and he glances at their still joined fingers. This is wrong. He shouldn’t force himself on the alpha. The doctor is putting all this pressure on Castiel. The officer probably feels trapped into to helping Dean. Hell, he’s made it this far in life, he is strong enough to fight through this and whatever else comes his way. He can’t let himself pretend and think the alpha really wants him. Nobody ever wants him. It’s only a matter of time until the alpha decides to tell Dean all the reasons it won’t work and why he doesn’t want him. Castiel won’t be any different than the rest. True mates are just faerie tales for pups. “I have no idea how long it will take for both your bodies to realize the proximity of each other.” She hands Castiel a large handful of papers. “Read them, Castiel. At least the first three, if you want to be stubborn. Those are discharge instructions should you have any concerns with Dean.” She waves at the pile. “The rest are different papers on mating, nourishment, and other things we discussed. If anything happens, please don’t hesitate to call. You know my rotation. I’m serious, Cas. I don’t feel right about letting him go.” “Hey! I’m literally right here.” Dean snaps, looking between the both of them. “Don’t pull that because I’m omega shit. I’m still an adult with fricken rights.” Anna purses her lips and crosses her arms. “And, of course, you should read them too, Dean. But by law I have to hand the papers over to the alpha, or beta, that’s taking you into their care, with instructions on your health.” He watches Castiel pinch the bridge of his nose, mumbling something to himself. “Especially when I am exaggerating the state of your health to sign off on the release.” Dean bristles, nodding to the door. “Free to go, right?” Anna nods and points to a plastic bag hanging from a hook on the back of the door. “Your belongings from when you were brought in. One wallet, one pair of boots, and one phone. The clothes we were unable to save.” Dean pushes past Castiel, practically jumping off the bed. Anna steps out of his way as he strides over, yanking the bag off the door, pulling his boots on. Dean grips the bag tightly, glaring back at Castiel who is just standing there beside the bed, eyes narrowed at Anna. “Whenever the alpha is ready, I’d really like to leave.” Dean practically growls. Fucking stupid law bullshit. Castiel runs a hand through his dark hair and then grabs the stack of papers off the bed. He nods to Anna once, following Dean out the door. The hallway is busy; patients walking around with nurses, a food cart rolling past, and doctors coming and going from rooms. Dean glances at a room to see they are on the second floor and beelines it to the elevator. The tingling he feels on the back of the neck is enough reassurance that the alpha is close behind him. He sure wouldn’t want to chance getting security called for an unaccompanied omega in scrubs walking out of the hospital. The happiness he should be feeling at being together again is being sucked away by stupid designation bullshit. Of course the world needed to remind him that he’s just an omega, basically owned to an alpha he knows nothing about. Even without a bond, the alpha holds more power over him than anyone ever has because of his designation. Whatever kind of person he is Dean has no choice but to deal with it the rest of his life. Castiel seems like a nice enough guy in the few minutes they’ve had together, but that’s just it; a few minutes. Dean jabs the down button on the elevator and it dings open immediately. He walks over to the corner and leans against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. Castiel enters, pressing the button for the main floor, staring straight ahead at the slowly closing metal doors. The little compartment fills with Dean’s anger and irritation, making the air grow heavy. He knows that it’s strong enough that Castiel will sure as hell feel uncomfortable. He glares at him, daring the alpha to show the slightest hint of unease. Dean’s eyes begin to stray off the man’s face, and for the first time, he really looks at him. Dean will give it to the guy, he’s actually pretty good looking, even in a t-shirt and a sweats. He’s never really had any time to really look at him before. Castiel’s hair is dark, and messy; it looks like he might have a habit of running his hands through it too often. Of course he has those amazing blue eyes he is really trying to avoid right now. His skin is tan, almost making Dean a tiny bit jealous of the sun for kissing his exposed skin. He watches Castiel’s muscles flex as the alpha crosses his arms, discharge papers crinkling against his chest. The elevator dings, announcing their arrival. Dean jumps at the noise, ignoring the alphas concerned side glance. They exit out into the lobby together, but Dean slows his walk as they approach the automatic doors to the parking lot. He lets Castiel take the lead, unsure of where to go. Castiel turns his head, walking towards the back of the lot. “Blue Prius over there.” As much as Dean wants to stay mad, he snorts at the blue car in front of him. “A Prius? Seriously? Aren’t you supposed to be some big, bad, police enforcer alpha?” A faint flicker of a smile ghosts on the edges of Castiel’s lips before he faces away from Dean. “I can still be a big, bad, alpha and care about the environment.” He clicks the unlock button on his key fob, opening his door, and shrugs. “I don’t-didn’t- drive it much, anyway. Always working.” “Didn’t?” Dean asks. “Shouldn’t you be at work, anyway? I can walk home from here.” The alpha disappears inside the car as Dean just stares at the door handle like it might zap him if he touches it. He chews on his bottom lip debating if he can just tuck tail and run in the opposite direction. Does he really not have a choice to be bonded to Castiel? Would his body really shut down if he isn’t mated to him? He jumps back as his passenger door pops open, Castiel’s long arm reaching over to keep the door from closing. “Hop in.” Dean climbs in without a second thought, mentally kicking himself for complying so quickly. The intoxicating scent of Castiel, laced with arousal, slams into Dean. His mouth begins to salivate, fangs extending as a whimper he has no control over slips out. Dean’s head swims for a moment, as he pants trying to control his body. He digs his fist into his thighs, shaking his head trying not to think about how good it felt having Castiel’s warm hands on him. He feels slick trickling out as he begins to crave the alpha’s lips on his own. Those warm, full lips trailing down to his neck until he finds the perfect spot… Why hasn’t Castiel kissed him again? All the stories Dean has ever heard about true mates, the alpha can barely keep his hands off the omega. It’s just more proof to how wrong the “true mate” thing is. Maybe he really does disgust the alpha, and everything was just rut and heat hormones before. They might actually be somewhat compatible on some sort of level, but you aren’t made for just one person. Dean lets out another whimper, shaking his head and trying to ignore his omega whispering alphasubmitmate. A rush of fresh air, followed by a cool breeze takes the intensity of the cinnamon, pine, and alpha arousal smell. Dean practically leans his whole body out of the open car window, sucking in the fresh, air. “I didn’t think about airing out the car.” He hears the alpha fidget with something behind him. “I have been a little, uh, preoccupied this past week and I, well, had to get supplies during my rut.” Castiel coughs and clears his throat, turn signal clicking on. Dean licks his lips and swears he can somehow taste the alpha’s scent linger on them. He bites his lip to suppress the moan wanting to break free. Dean hardly hears himself whisper, “You smell so fucking good.” And licks his lips again, almost purring at the taste. Dean is knocked back into the car as it suddenly swerves. “Fuck, sorry!” He looks over and watches as Castiel runs a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting that.” “Shit, no, I’m the one who should be sorry.” Dean rubs his knuckles into his eyes groaning. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.” “You’ve been through a lot.” Castiel says, softly. Dean shrugs, looking out the window as they pass by rows and rows of houses. “Could say the same about you. ‘Cept you’re acting pretty fine about everything.” After a few moments of silence watching houses and buildings go past, Dean chances a glance over to the alpha. Castiel’s knuckles are white with how hard he is gripping the steering wheel, face set in a deep scowl. He has the strongest urge to reach out and touch the alpha, offer some sort of comfort. Instead, he looks down at his boots, tightening his already clenched fists until they hurt. “We should talk about things.” The alpha basically growls beside him. This is it. This is what Dean’s been waiting for. The guy came to senses enough to know that Dean is basically too screwed up to be with. Hell, the guy is an officer and probably looked into his record. Dean flinches at thinking what Castiel has read about him. No one wants a smart mouthed omega, anyway. Especially a male omega. A male omega with a shit past and two pups. Fuck, the list goes on for days if you actually wanted to dig in deep enough. “Dean?” Dean keeps staring down at his boots, trying to ignore how good his name sounds from the man’s lips. The feelings aren’t real, it’s just hormones. He doesn’t even know the guy. Talking about things and feelings isn’t something Dean’s ever been good at, and he doesn’t really want to start dipping into that disaster right after leaving the hospital. He just needs his pups at home where they can all get a good night sleep, in his own bed. “Listen, I get it, okay?” Dean snaps. “You don’t need to try letting me down easy or whatever. You don’t gotta try and be a nice guy here. It’s just hormones and shit, and you don’t owe me anything. I’m not stupid, I know this…” He raises his fist releasing his fingers, and waves between the two of them. “Isn’t real. So you can cut the crap and just drop me off on the corner and I’ll be out of your hair.” The car doesn’t swerve, it doesn’t pull over, and it doesn’t stop. Maybe this guy isn’t one of the nice guys. Maybe Castiel puts on a show, but is really just a knothead like the rest of the alpha’s Dean has had the pleasure of running into. If he has actually read his record, the guy probably thinks he still has a chance. The thought has a mixture of anger and arousal running through him. He grits his teeth, even more frustrated with his stupid omega body. Annoyed with the alpha not stopping the car is steadily settling closer into anger. He is getting officially pissed off with this whole drug out situation. He wants to be out of this car, back home in his bed, and sleeping until this whole shit show is out of his system, waiting in peace for his own failing body to win. Dean lifts his head and glares at the alpha. “Pull over.” “Do you really think that?” Castiel snaps, glaring right back at him quickly before returning his eyes to the road. “That what I feel for you is just ‘hormones and shit’.” The quick air quotes Castiel angrily makes does not make butterflies flutter in Dean’s stomach. “Because I know what I feel, how you smell to me, and the thought of losing you nearly-“ The alpha chokes on his words, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Castiel gasps, rubbing at his chest, eyes glaring out at the road. Without noticing, Dean’s hand has reached out towards the alpha. He touches his arm tentatively, waiting for Castiel to jerk away. When he doesn’t, Dean lets his fingers spread out on the man’s warm skin. “Right after Lucifer shot you, I saw red.” The alpha’s voice dips low, growling slightly. “I’ve never given into the basic primal urges like I did when I saw red. I pride myself on having good control over my emotions and feelings, but he…he…my brother shot you, Dean.” His name comes out of the alphas man, hoarse and broken. Dean swallows down a whine, rubbing his thumb in slow circles over Castiel’s arm. “Through everything, lying on the pavement, the hospital, being forced to stay away from you- It felt like I was being torn apart from the inside. I thought, maybe, that I was dying right along with you.” He clears his throat, flipping on his turn signal to pull into a driveway of a nice looking townhouse. “You’re strong-so strong, Dean. You fought so hard. I kept trying to see you, but they wouldn’t let me.” Castiel puts the car in park, turning it off, and turns to Dean meeting his eyes. “You can’t tell me what I feel for you isn’t real. It’s as if every other emotion before you never mattered- nothing could ever compare to what I feel for you.” Castiel searches Dean’s eyes, almost frantically. All Dean can do is stare back, afraid if he moves the moment will shatter around him like glass. “For the first time in my existence, I actually understand what it means to feel.” “True mates don’t exist.” The same words Dean’s heard ever since he presented slip out in a hushed whisper. He immediately drops his hand, looking down at the space between them. “I know what I feel, and I-“ “You don’t even know me!” Dean yells, glaring back up at the alpha. “I’m probably the last person you want to be mated to! Our bodies may want each other, yeah, I’m not dumb, but I can guaran-fucking-tee you won’t want me. I’m such a damn mess, Cas. Hell, when’s the last time you heard about a male omega? ‘The hell would you want someone like me? I’ve done so much crap, and I mean there are-” “You were literally dying without me! Your body was shutting down, and you would’ve died if I hadn’t come back!” “So I’m a fucking charity case? You feel like you have to save me?” Dean growls. “News flash, buddy, I’ve been surviving just fine for the past seventeen years without you, and I can survive this too! Without your damn teeth in my neck.” “I could physically feel pain as…as…I knew something was wrong! We aren’t even mated, and I could still feel you slipping away.” Dean snaps his mouth shut with an audible click of teeth, glaring at Castiel’s softening stare. “You aren’t some charity case, nor do I feel like I need to save you. I want to save you, because I can’t imagine my life without you.” “I’m not saying we don’t need to adjust; we will and it will be hard, but I already know it’s going to be fine. I have baggage, too. Things that will probably make you recoil in disgust knowing.” Castiel says tilting his head to the side. “But I do know I need you, Dean. I need you like I need air in my lungs. Your very presence makes me feel whole and steady. It was like I had been living in a colorless world, and then I saw you and everything exploded into these vibrant colors. I didn’t realize I was so empty until I met you. I was able to smell your amazing scent through working neutralizers shoved up my damn nose. I knew, then, who you were to me.” A warm, callous hand cups Dean cheek, and he lets himself lean into it. “You are my true mate, whether you chose to believe so or not. I know without a doubt you are made for me, and I for you. Now that I can finally touch you, I don’t ever want to let you go.” With every word the alpha has said has pieces of doubt fall away from his mind. Dean lets himself get lost in the warmth of Castiel’s gaze, trying to process everything said. It doesn’t make any sense how someone like Castiel can possibly want or need him, but for the first time in his life he wants to believe it’s true. The alpha isn’t even trying to hide the arousal smell coming off him. Dean can practically feel his omega begging for him to submit. His body is pleading for him to just give in to anything and everything he’s feeling. As if sensing his thoughts, Castiel leans towards Dean. Dean’s breath hitches as he watches Castiel’s eyes darken the closer he leans in. Unexpectedly, the alpha stops, eyes glancing to Dean’s lips, back up into his eyes and stares. Dean realizes he still hasn’t replied one way or the other. Castiel is somehow restraining himself from closing the gap between them until he says something. How that is even possible, Dean has no clue. His own control is literally hanging on by a thread. He feels his slick is leaking out, and Dean’s face flushes as he remembers he’s just wearing scrubs and nothing else. The thought makes a heavier trickle of slick pour out, immediately soaking through the thin pants into the alphas passenger seat. Dean shifts in the seat, watching Castiel’s eyes flash red when the smell of slick hits his nose. “Rumor has it I need a bite from a certain alpha to stay alive.” Dean leans forward, tilting off to the side of Castiel’s face at the last minute. He smirks as he hears the alpha suck in a breath, baring his neck slightly for him. The smell of alpha arousal is coming off the man in waves making Dean feel slightly drunk. He has never been this affected by another person’s scent before. He honestly has no idea how he is even holding back at this point. Every instinct in him is screaming at him to give him. And for the first time ever, he wants to. He wants to, and he knows it will really be okay. Dean moves his lips as close as he can to the alpha’s ear without touching it, and lowers his voice into a husky whisper. “I want you to bite me, alpha. Make me yours.” Castiel’s lips are on his before Dean can process even having moved. It’s like his mind and body is lost on the alpha’s intoxicating scent and he’s lost all control over his own limbs. He feels Castiel’s teeth nip his lip, the alpha’s tongue sliding over the bite immediately after, a low, possessive growl rumbling through his chest. Dean chases his tongue, desperately trying to push his body closer into Castiel’s. Warmth is spreading over him like tiny pinpricks, somehow intensifying the touches between them into something he cannot quite explain. It isn’t overwhelming or even painful. It’s something more. Dean knows if he thinks about the feeling and what it might mean too much, he’ll break. Instead, he lets out a whimper as he rocks forward, the thin layer of fabric rubbing on his full hard cock. Castiel breaks the kiss, pushing Dean back just enough he can see the alpha’s hair totally wrecked, lips spit slick and swollen, and eyes blown wide with arousal. They are panting together, scents mixing into something Dean can only explain has heavenly. He leans forward, unable to deny his inner omega, to try and capture Castiel’s lips again. Castiel pushes Dean back a bit more, shaking his head with a pained look over his face. “I want you in my bed, where no one else can see you.” A shiver runs up Dean’s spine as he responds on automatic, “Yes, alpha.” Castiel spins around, throwing open his door so quickly Dean almost gets whiplash. Before his mind can connect to his wants, the alpha already has his door open, scooping him up like he weighs nothing. Dean wraps his arms around the alpha’s neck, burying his face into the alpha’s exposed skin. For once in his life his mind doesn’t come up with some smartass comment about him being some weak omega bitch, or being able to walk by himself. He inhales Castiel’s scent greedily, as his lips kiss everywhere over the alpha’s neck, up his jaw line, and nibbles on his ear. Dean feels high and throws all caution to the wind as he brings his mouth back down to the alpha’s neck and beings to suck a mark into the skin. Dean knows Castiel is carrying him, but is only vaguely aware of the movements. He’s so scent drunk, and completely lost in the grunts, gasps, and other noises the alpha is making. His large hands holding him up tighten on his body as Dean nips at the deep purple mark he created. One minute Dean is in the alpha’s arms, and the next he is literally tossed onto something soft, that catches his body, conforming to it without bouncing. The strong smell of Castiel and arousal wafts up from the blankets, almost making Dean black out at the intensity of it. Dean’s fangs extend, back arching as he moans shamelessly, more slick pours out, soaking through his already ruined pants into the blankets below him. He squirms on the bed, tipping his head to the side trying to breathe in more of the alpha’s scent. Dean whimpers as he buries his face into the bed, only realizing then, Castiel hasn’t washed his blankets since he’s been in rut. “You look amazing in my bed.” A gravelly voice rumbles somewhere above him. He realizes his eyes have been closed this whole time. Dean opens them slowly, licking his lips at the sight of the completely wrecked alpha in front of him. Screw the blankets and bed; Dean has the source of the smell right in front of him. The smell alone is taking him apart. He hears himself whimpering in between pants and gasps of air; and how slick he is, gods, he’s never been this wanting and ready for anybody in his whole damn life. He wants to rub himself all over Castiel, let the world know he’s taken and claimed. Dean wants to give up all control, and lose himself completely and totally to the alphas desires. The thought should be terrifying. Dean’s never been so sure of something in his whole life. For once, there is no doubt. This, he and Castiel, is the only thing in his whole life that has ever felt right. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” Castiel praises, causing Dean’s head to dip as blush heats up his cheeks. The alpha strips out of his t-shirt and sweats, tossing them somewhere on the floor. “You’re so wet, soaking through my blankets, making sure everyone else knows I’m yours.” The alpha leans down, squeezing Dean’s thigh before slowly moving up. “Gods, your scent is so fucking amazing.” Dean tries to stay still, but the alpha’s hand moving up his thigh is sending electricity buzzing through his body causing him to rock his hips into nothing. Whimpers are falling past his lips, his mouth apparently too incapable of making actual words form. He’s never been this slick before, not for anyone, not even in heat. His dick is so hard he swears if Castiel just barely touches it he’ll come. It should be pathetic, all of it. It should make Dean feel ashamed, but it doesn’t. Castiel is his alpha, and he wants the world to know. He wants his alpha to know how much he wants him-needs him. He wants to show Castiel how good he can be. How wet he can get for him, how turned on the alpha’s scent makes him. He wants it all, and what nearly makes Dean lose it is that he knows Castiel wants everything he is giving. Castiel’s slowly moving hand dips low, rubbing and grabbing into the wet cloth sticking to Dean’s skin. Dean’s legs spread wider, hips trying to push down on the touch-trying to feel more. The alpha growls in response to the movements, and grabs Dean’s clothed ass and squeezing it hard, but not painfully so. Castiel’s hand disappears, and his shirt is quickly taken off. Next, Dean feels the alpha’s fingers grabbing the waistband of the ruined scrubs, roughly tugging them off. Dean lifts his hips, letting the alpha pull them free of his skin. Before his hips can rest back down on the bed, Castiel has his hands pushing Dean’s legs further apart, tongue spearing deep inside his hole. Dean lets out something between a scream and a moan, grabbing the alpha’s hair trying not to come right then and there. “You taste so good.” The alpha’s deep voice muffled as he twists and swirls his tongue deeper inside him. The vibrations of Castiel’s damn voice make another wave of slick pour out, causing Dean to cry out. He pulls on the dark hair, rocking his body so he’s fucking onto Castiel’s tongue. The alpha obliges, flicking and twisting it inside him. The wet, slurping noises coming from the alpha eating him out are probably the hottest thing Dean has ever heard. He tries to open his legs wider, tilting his hips up more for his alpha. Castiel slips his tongue out, sucking and kissing around his rim. Dean only now notices his legs are shaking; with arousal, exertion, or right on the verge of release he isn’t sure. Maybe all three. “I could do this all day, Dean, tasting you.” Castiel rumbles, licking his perineum. “You taste absolutely divine, do you know that? You’re so wet for me. It’s soaking into my bed, letting everyone know who I belong to. I wish you could see yourself, already so gone and I’ve barely touched you.” Dean lets out a choked sob in response as the alpha licks up over his balls, slowly letting his tongue slide along his neglected cock. His mind is a static numb, only pleasure and want humming registering. “This is so much better than anything I’ve imagined.” Dean cracks his eyes open to look down at Castiel, unable to find his voice. Dean’s toes curl as the rough stubble cheek of the alpha rubs against his thigh. Castiel immediately kisses down where he rubbed his face, making Dean squirm. “And gods have I imagined you on my bed. Your legs open wide, just like this. Your wet hole open and so ready for me to take you, knot you, claim you as mine. The noises I imagined you making were nothing compared to how you truly sound.” Castiel squeezes Dean’s thighs as the alpha slowly kisses up his chest. “I’d dream about you, every night. It was such a beautiful torture, being there with you. I swear I could even taste you. I would wake up, knot about ready to pop, and swear your slick was lingering on my lips.” Castiel warm hands runs up Dean’s sides, finally brushing over his nipples. Dean lets out a small moan, and the alpha places the numb between his fingers and rubs, twisting. Dean’s brain function-what little is left of it-short circuits. His back is arched, hips rubbing against the alpha, trying for any type of friction. “Look at you, omega. My omega. So perfect, so ready. Just waiting for me to fill you up with my cock. Pump you full of my seed.” “Yes, please alpha.” Dean squeezes his eyes closed, begging, running his fingers through the alpha’s hair, down his neck. “I…I need you. Please. I can’t take anymore! I need…I need…” “What do you need?” His rough voice bleeds alpha possessiveness through the words. Dean’s eyes snap open settling on Castiel’s. They are ringed with red that threatens to spill out, consuming the blackness. Dean honestly has no idea how Castiel is holding it together so well. He’s a slicked up, begging, naked omega about ready to lose his damn mind if he doesn’t get his alpha’s length shoved in him in the next sixty seconds. And Castiel seems, well, he seems fine. Controlled. Something in the back of his mind starts battling with all knowledge and feelings inside him. Hadn’t Anna said something about them not being able to control themselves the next time they met? Does that mean that he isn’t enough for the alpha? Maybe he’s been right the whole time, and he is far too damaged to truly be mated properly. A real omega-a good mate-would be completely irresistible for their alpha. The slightest hint of their slick should have their mate bending them over, shoving their dick in. Hell, Castiel hadn’t even kissed him until Dean basically made the first move. He’s heard a lot of alphas talk in his time, maybe this was just Castiel’s way of getting him to comply. Maybe- “Whatever you are thinking, stop. It isn’t true, Dean.” Castiel whispers, leaning forward and slowly rubbing his cheek with a thumb. “Focus on me. Focus on this.” Castiel’s fingers wrap around Dean’s wrist, raising arm slowly. Dean glances nervously from the alpha’s eyes to his clenched fist being placed on the man’s tanned chest. Castiel rubs his thumb on his wrist until Dean’s fingers slowly uncurl, spreading out over the sun kissed skin. He feels the alpha’s steady heartbeat thumping under his fingers, and he takes in a shaky breath. The mixture of the warmth of the man’s skin and the constant beating of the strong heartbeat is grounding. Dean’s whole body begins to relax, and he wonders when he began to tense up. “You’re here with me, and it’s going to be okay. No one is ever going to hurt you again.” The words seem to hold enough truth, but that’s always been Dean’s problem. He holds onto the slightest bit of hope, and that’s how he keeps getting hurt. He glances nervously up to the alpha above him, then down at his hand across his firm chest. Castiel still has his fingers around his wrist, his other hand splayed across his cheek. The mixture of the alpha himself and that gentleness of gesture and is almost too much. He doesn’t deserve the kindness or anything the alpha is offering. Dean feels his breathing pick up as all the thoughts come flooding back. Everything Anna had said, the police station, and back in the car. All of it is happening so, so fast, and he doesn’t have any control over any of it. Regardless of actually wanting it or not, his free will has been stripped from him. Being omega you think you might have choices, but in the end it’s all really decided for you. The illusion of allowing you to chose and make decisions might seem sincere to other people, but Dean knows enough of the cold cruelty of this life to know it’s the biggest scam out there. Fate has, once again, decided to fuck him dry leaving him left to deal with the fallout. Dean doesn’t feel Castiel’s fingers leave his wrist, but suddenly both his hands are holding his face delicately like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Castiel’s bright unearthly blue eyes, lost of all their red and blackness, are the only thing in Dean’s sight. The depth of emotion they hold catches Dean off guard, and he tries to turn his head, shying away. It’s too much, why can’t the alpha understand that? It’s too much, too fast, and he didn’t sign up for fucking with feelings. Warm, timid lips brush his hesitantly. The quick, simple kiss stalls his attempt to get away. Dean’s eyes flick back up into the alphas. “Please, Dean. I don’t know what’s going through your head right now, but it’s bad enough that you smell hurt and afraid.” Castiel leans down, resting his forehead against Dean’s. Their breaths mix together, so warm that moisture begins to gather above Dean’s lip. All his years of guarding himself, pushing away real feelings are screaming at him to do something about the intimacy of the moment. He wants to pull out of the alpha’s hands and run from the room just so he doesn’t have to deal with this shit. His arousal is still simmering under his skin, calling out for the alpha, which only complicates his feelings inside him more. A mixture of his needy inner omega and the touch starved part inside him overrides all fear, and Dean feels himself leaning into the tender touch. “Please Dean, please talk to me.” Castiel whispers, lips slightly brushing over his with each word. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you before. I failed as an alpha. But I swear to you, no one will ever hurt you again, myself included.” “It’s not you.” Dean’s whispers hoarsely. “It’s me. I just…I mean, I told you I’m all fucked up. You just gotta realize what you’re signing up for.” Dean tries to move his head away from the alphas, preparing himself for any type of rejection once more, but Castiel’s hands refuse to budge. Dean huffs, dropping his palm from the man’s chest, letting it fall across his own. He bites his lip in attempts to hold back a pathetic whine from instantly missing the feel of the man’s skin under his fingertips. Fuck, he needs to get a grip. “You think I’m not good enough for you.” Castiel’s voice comes out so broken, his scent sinking into rejection and sadness, Dean almost chokes on it. He did that. He made his alpha feel that. Dean’s arms move around the alpha’s back tugging him down on top of him in some sort of awkward hug. Castiel’s hands fall from Dean’s face, bracing himself from collapsing entirely on him. Dean’s nose tingles at the smell burning pine, hurt alpha, as he shoves his face into Castiel’s neck, trying to rub his own scent into his alpha’s skin as comfort. “No. Please don’t ever think that, Cas.” Dean rubs his cheek underneath Castiel’s jaw. “You’re amazing, okay? You’re probably the only decent alpha I’ve ever met, and it’s me who isn’t good enough for you.” He rubs his hand up and down the alpha’s naked back nervously, trying to get a check on his emotions. Fuck, they’re everywhere. “Fuck, I’m not good with this chick flick crap.” Dean rests his forehead Castiel’s shoulder, taking in a slow breath trying to calm his racing heart. Castiel’s scent is only hinted with burning pine now, which Dean takes as a small win. “If I was a good, decent omega you probably would’ve already knotted me. I mean, you kinda didn’t kiss me until I made the first move.” He tries laughing at his attempt to lighten the mood, but it comes off some kind of croaked noise. Dean clears his throat, and tries to bury his head deeper into Castiel’s shoulder. “True mates and shit is all great, but you didn’t even kiss me, let alone fuck me. So, I must be some sort of shitty mate for you not to even be that affected by my scent.” He shrugs trying to pretend like it doesn’t matter. “Which is whatever, ya know? I get it.” So many emotions feel like they’re crammed inside him, stuffed full, threatening to spill out. Hurt, arousal, confusion, fear, but steadily working its way up to the top is anger. Dean feels it welling up, building on top of itself, bubbling to the surface. He’s so fucking angry, suddenly, he wants to scream. He and his pups were doing perfectly fine without anyone else. Their lives were slowly getting better, more on track and all without a fucking alpha or beta coming in and telling them how to live their lives. Now he can’t live without being mated? What kind of unfair crap is that? But his life has only ever been unfair, cruel, and downright sadistic. How could he have expected anything different? Dean fingers dig into Castiel’s back, trying to fight back a growl rising in his throat. “You seem like you actually care, and that’s just…people just don’t care about me!” Dean feels the box holding everything in shattering as the anger breaks free. He grabs the alpha’s sides trying to push him off him. Castiel tenses, resisting, but slowly pushes his body up from Dean’s. “I don’t fucking deserve you, Cas! Nothing in my pathetic, godforsaken life has led up to having you. Damnit, you’re throwing everything away just wanting to mate me! I’m not a good mate! I’m not even a good omega! You deserve a mate who makes you lose control, or hell, at the bare minimum, who you actually want to kiss!” Castiel’s body falls back onto Dean’s, their lips crushing together almost frantically. Dean’s body tenses as he tries to fight off every urge inside him screaming to submitmatebreed. The man’s hot tongue pushes its way into his mouth, claiming every inch as his own. His world blurs as he feels Castiel’s hardening length rubbing against his own growing cock. The slick he had leaking out of him before is nothing compared to how much he is dripping now. His body is ignited into an inferno of want and lust so suddenly, Dean almost loses himself completely. The way Castiel’s tongue is fucking, claiming, devouring his mouth like it’s his last supper is beyond sinful. The possessive growls coming from the alphas chest are vibrating into Dean making his body pliant, submitting to the alpha completely. Castiel pulls back from Dean’s mouth slightly. “It took every ounce of self control not to claim you in that hospital bed. I knew that once I kissed you, I’d be lost.” He traces Dean’s lips with his tongue, rolling his hips. “I’ve meant every word I’ve said. Everything is true, Dean, I won’t ever lie to you.” Dean’s breath catches as he watches as dark pupils slowly seep into the alpha red. “We’ve only known each other such a small amount of time, but already I know how good you are; not just as an omega but as a person.” Dean bites his lip, hissing as Castiel grabs his hair, moving his head to the side to expose his neck. Wet, searing kisses run across his jaw, down his neck. “So good for me, my beautiful omega. You’re scent is calling out for me, you’re still so wet, waiting for me to fill you.” The alpha’s mouth stops at the base of his neck, right where Dean’s shoulder beings. Castiel sucks hard, nipping at the skin as Dean lets out a cross between a whimper and a moan, fingernails scratching at the alphas skin. Dean tries to spread his legs wider, hooking his ankles around Castiel’s thighs pulling him closer. He shamelessly ruts against Castiel, mumbling words that could or could not be making any sense; he has no idea, nor does he care. For the first time since Dean has presented, he lets go of his mind, and lets his omega take control. Dean is only half aware of a hand tapping his thigh, but he still understands the request. He untangles himself from Castiel’s legs, planting his feet on the bed, arching his body into the alpha’s hands as it moves slowly down his chest to where their cocks are still rubbing together. Castiel gives his neck one last kiss, before lifting himself up to sit between Dean’s legs. His dark hair is sticking up in every direction, eyes deep red with arousal, lips shining with spit and swollen from kissing. Dean lifts his hips in an invitation, making Castiel growl in approval. He lines up his cock with Dean’s hole, and slides in without hesitation. Dean slams his head back onto the pillow, moaning at the feeling of being so full. Sure he’s been fucked by alphas before, but he’s never felt this…this…full. This complete. Even though he’s leaking out so much slick he swears you could swim in it, and the alpha having fucked him with his tongue, he still feels the burn from Castiel’s dick opening him wider. He’s panting, moaning, writhing beneath his alpha, trying to adjust to the feeling of being connected together. Dean’s mind on repeat of fuckmatealphabreed, and he finally knows-realizes- that this is what he has been missing. This is what he’s been waiting for sense he presented. This, being with Castiel, is why everyone and everything has felt so completely off his whole life. Dean stares up at Castiel with lust filled eyes, squirming, trying to feel any type of friction. The alpha’s mouth is parted, breathing in quick breaths, eyes locked with his. Dean knows, now, without any doubt that they are true mates. It would be complete idiocy at this point to keep denying it, or believe anything different. He doesn’t want to fight, anymore. He’s been fighting everything his whole life, and he’s so fucking tired of fighting. But the depth of intimacy in Castiel’s eyes is just too much, right now. Even giving into his omega, Dean cannot take what the alpha wants to give. He just now came to grips with the reality of the situation, and spewed out his emotions like some hormonal girl. Dean knows he cannot mentally or physically accept anything else. He’ll be damned if the alpha thinks he’ll be doing anything else than fucking him silly. “Fucking move, Cas!” Dean growls, feeling his fangs scrap over his lips. He tries his best to push the alpha away from where his thoughts might be going. “You gonna fuck me, alpha, or just look at me all night?” His words snap Castiel back into the moment and out of whatever he was thinking. The alpha grabs his hips, starting up a steady rhythm. Dean raises his arms above his head to the headboard behind him, using it to help him push into Castiel thrust for thrust. Dean lets his eyes fall closed, relishing in the feel of his alpha’s length. The perfect burning stretch is fading into something new, something different. Dean’s mind is buzzing into a beautiful haze of the smell of his alpha’s scent and arousal. He knows that at this moment Castiel smells the same. It catches him off guard, and the sound he that slips out he will forever deny making. More slick spills out, making the sounds of Castiel’s cock diving in him repeatedly so completely profane it would make a porn star blush. Dean clenches around the alpha’s cock, dragging gasps and deep moans from the man, trying to taunt the alpha into something not teetering the line of being emotional. The coolness of Castiel’s body falls back over his. The alpha’s lips are back on his, his thrusts slow in time with kisses, making Dean’s jaw clench. He pushes against his alpha’s lips, sucking on the bottom lip, nipping the kiss swollen skin hard enough to almost draw blood. Castiel rolls his hips in deeper, and Dean smirks as the alpha moans into his mouth. “Dean,” He pants between kisses. “You feel so good. So, ahh ahh! So tight. So perfect.” “Feel amazing, Cas.” Dean moans as the alphas cock brushes against his prostate sending hot electricity running through his veins. “Oh fuck, right there.” Castiel’s fingers slide smoothly into the empty spaces between Dean’s, pinning his hands against the headboard. Dean squeezes the alpha’s hands tight, using the man’s weight to help slam back into his thrusts. “Harder. Fuck, Castiel, harder!” Dean whimpers as Castiel kisses down his face, rubbing himself against Dean’s neck, scenting him. “Damnit I’m not made of glass, Cas, you’re not gonna break me.” The alpha pauses all movements, and Dean freezes. A thousand thoughts are going through his head, almost all wondering how badly he screwed up this time. The sudden silence is ringing in his ears, and he swallows thickly, flinching at how loud it sounds. Castiel slowly raises himself up over Dean, staring down at him with an eyebrow raised. “Is that a challenge?” Dean’s dick twitches in between them, tapping against the alpha’s stomach. Dean grins up at Castiel, relieved he is willing to play along. “It’s a guarantee.” Hands still clasped together, Castiel slowly pulls himself almost fully out of Dean. The alpha’s red eyes stay locked into Dean’s as he snaps his hips back in fast and hard. A cross between a scream and a moan escapes as Dean’s head falls back onto the pillow. He squeezes Castiel’s hands tighter as the alpha dives into him at a relentless pace. He’s pretty sure he’s still screaming, or at least one of them is, but everything is mixing together with touch, scents, and sounds. Dean is hyperaware of how Castiel’s knot is already catching on his rim, and tries to rise into each thrust encouraging the alpha to give him more. The sweat dripping down the alpha’s chest should not look as hot as Dean’s find it. He almost sits up to lick the drops off his skin, wondering if it would taste as good as the alpha smells, but shakes himself out of it at the last moment. At some point Castiel has let go of his hand, because his fingers gripping his hips so tightly he knows there will be bruises. The thought of Castiel marking him everywhere makes his skin tingle even more, and a white hot pooling in his gut grow. Castiel must have changed the angle; because the next time he slams into Dean it hits his sweet spot perfectly. He screams out Castiel’s name, his free hand twisting in the blankets under him. Castiel’s fingers grip tighter, using Dean’s own body to help hit it again and again. Castiel’s knot is stretching him impossibly wider, his length hitting that right spot inside him. His skin seems to have come alive, aware of every touch, feeling, and sensation. He feels the sweat dripping off the Castiel falling onto his skin like rain, claiming him with more of the alpha’s scent. Every inch of flesh on his body is so hypersensitive to everything going, he’s convinced that another minute of it will make him combust. Dean squirms and moans unabashedly, drinking in Castiel’s scent hinted with something Dean only assumes is his own, and welcomes the high of how amazing it tastes on his tongue. “Cas, Cas.” His name comes out like a prayer trying to warn the alpha he’s almost there. “Mine.” Castiel growls, surging forward as Dean feels the alpha’s knot fully pop. As Castiel’s teeth bite into his neck, right above his collarbone, it tips Dean over the edge. He screams out Castiel’s name over and over, coming untouched over his stomach, tightening his hole around Castiel’s length. Dean’s vision whites out and he sees stars, planets, damn galaxies. Everything is too much, but not enough. A part of him feels incomplete, almost empty. Dean’s sight comes back slowly, and he has no idea how much or little time has passed, only that Castiel’s lips are moving against the bite on his neck, saying something he cannot quite hear. Gentle fingers are running through his hair, pushing his mouth against the dip between Castiel’s neck and shoulder. His amazing spicy scent is coming off the strongest here, making Dean’s mouth begin to water. “Claim me.” He hears, and Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. His fangs sink into without hesitation. The copper tang of blood lasts for only a moment before it’s overpowered with cinnamon, something crisp and refreshing, with an under layer of smoke-campfire smoke. He feels Castiel coming again, barely hearing the alpha breathing out his name. Dean can actually feel the alpha’s happiness and contentment, which startles him back into reality. Dean slowly relaxes his jaw, pulling off Castiel’s neck, licking away a few drops of blood trickling down the alpha’s neck. He feels…good. He knows he should probably be freaking out, but a warm buzz is swimming underneath his skin calming him. Dean feels completely sated and content to just lie here tied to Castiel, basking in the afterglow for forever. In one very fluid movement, Castiel has them rolled onto their sides without as much as a tug from his knot. The alpha slowly cards his fingers through Dean’s hair, and he finds himself melting into the touch, sighing happily. “You smell so much better like this.” Castiel whispers in a rough voice. “Mmm.” Dean rubs his head against the alpha’s fingers and chuckles. “Because I smell like you?” “No. I mean, that is a nice factor to it, but no.” Castiel’s hand leaves his hair to cup his face. “Because you smell happy.” Dean just stares at the man in front of him. He has no idea how to respond to that. “I want to make you feel this way all the time. You deserve it.” He brushes a quick peck on Dean’s lips before settling back down. “How, uh,” Dean coughs, adjusting his legs, his movements dragging another orgasm out of the alpha. “How long does it usually take before…”Dean looks down at them joined, then back up to the alpha. Castiel’s eyes are dancing with laughter as his lips twitch trying to hold back a smile. “Before what?” Dean rolls his eyes, deliberately clenching down on the knot, milking out another orgasm. Castiel moans, leaning forward and panting into Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t be an ass.” He whispers into the alpha’s ear. “About twenty minutes or so.” He mumbles in between kissing Dean’s shoulder. “I, uh, I need to get home and see my pups. I haven’t-“ “Pups! Shit!” Castiel pulls back sharply, making Dean wince at the tug. “I forgot you aren’t on birth control. I can call Anna and-“ Dean pushes a finger against Castiel’s mouth silencing him. Dean huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes at Castiel’s terrified, wide eyes. Despite the slight bitter smell of burnt cinnamon, he manages a small smile. “Doesn’t matter, Cas. I can’t have pups.” He watches the wide blue eyes blink slowly, forehead creasing as if this information confuses him. Dean readjusts his body again, trying to ignore the silence. When Dean finally hears a sad, quiet, “Oh”, he looks up at the ceiling, walls, anywhere but the alpha. “So, uh, kinda disappointing, huh? Probably shoulda said something before you bit me or something, but, uh, wasn’t really thinking much.” Dean’s mumbles, thinking he must have just broken some kind of record. They were just mated less than a few minutes ago, and already his mate is disappointed in him. He’s probably starting to see how broken he really is, and regretting everything. Warm hands settle across Dean’s cheeks, gently nudging him to look at the alpha. Those fucking unreal blue eyes search his for a moment, face almost unreadable. Unable to take Castiel staring at him anymore, Dean tries to pull away. The alpha narrows his eyes, face finally cracking into something frustrated. “Scent me, Dean. What do you smell?” Castiel says firmly. “Am I angry? Sad?” Dean shifts his body to lean closer, scenting around him. He smells, for the most part, happy. There is an underlining hint of unhappiness, but Dean feels it somehow isn’t directed at him. He pulls back, letting Castiel’s thumbs rub gently across his jaw line. “No.” Dean whispers. “You aren’t.” “I don’t need pups to be happy.” A small smile edges at the corners of the man’s mouth, and Dean bites his lip trying to fight the urge to argue. “I have you, and you come with two beautiful girls.” He opens his mouth to reply, but the alpha presses his thumb against his lips. Dean glares, annoyed, at the man. “My only concern was what you must have gone through to not be able to carry anymore.” Dean nips at the thumb. “S’fine. Not a big deal.” Castiel squints his eyes at him, as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “’Sides, they’re a handful so I couldn’t imagine more than two, anyway.” “I would very much like to meet them.” Castiel says nonchalantly, as if he’s talking about the damn weather. He goes back to running his fingers through his hair, unaware of the sudden cold shower his insides have just received. Dean’s body completely tenses, freezing up as a panic attack starts to take over. “Meet them…” Dean swallows thickly, trying but failing to hide a tremble running through his body. Castiel hisses at the movement, hands stalling. “Of course. We are, after all, mated. I am going to have to meet them at some point.” “I, uh, I…” Every warning inside his head is going off, screaming at him to get away, run away, and wrap his arms around his girls. After leaving Michael and finding out what happened to his girls, Dean has sworn off any type of anything with anyone. Nothing and no one could be trusted. If he and his pups couldn’t even be safe inside their own home, how could he possibly trust anyone at any place else? Emma was under a year old, and Claire was fucking eight when it started. Michael’s son hadn’t even popped his knot yet. He was still undesignated, and still took it upon himself to touch them; to try and be an alpha. Just like his piss poor excuse of a father. “Dean?” He hears somewhere far away. Dean pulls on his hair trying, shaking his head to try and make the voice ago away. Alpha’s are all the same. Castiel is an alpha. Fuck! He just mated an alpha. Not just any alpha, his true mate. How is he going to explain this? He has to meet his pups. He has to be around, but there hasn’t been any type of introduction period. Just, “hello, sorry papa’s been gone for a week, here’s my new mate! Come say hi girls!” Ellen is going to kill him. He’s here fucking his new mate, right out of the hospital, instead of seeing Emma and Claire first. He’s a terrible parent. A terrible parent that’s going to force some random alpha stranger into their lives, and pretend like its all okay. “Dean!” Someone is shaking him. He pulls on his hair harder, shaking his head, trying to curl up as best he can with a fucking dick stuck in his ass. “I got you, you’re okay. Focus on my voice, okay? Come back to me.” The realization of why he has a dick in his ass hits him in the gut, and his stomach twists violently. Dean fights off the urge to vomit by biting down hard on his lip, letting his fangs sink in. He had to get mated otherwise his body would shut down. He can’t even survive on his own. Dean hears himself laugh out loud, and then pulls his hair again in some sort of fucked up punishment for finding humor in anything. How much can one guy screw up? Even life deems him unfit to live the life he wants to live. He is only half aware that the shaking has stopped and slow, soothing circles are being rubbed on his back. Waves of calm are rolling off someone from somewhere in front of him. Dean can feel his omega screaming at him to just give in and relax. But he doesn’t want to be calm. He wants to scream, run, throw something, and hideaway all at the same time. But most of all, right in the moment, he does not want to think about the fact he knows whose hands are on him. Dean does not want to think about what it means that he can actually feel how worried the other person is. He does not want to grasp what it means that his omega is trying to take over just to submit what the alpha is saying or doing. He does not want to look at the man who’s trying to comfort him because he knows once he finds those blue eyes; he will do anything the alpha says. But most of all he just hates himself. Castiel was right, he was happy. He was happy being fucked by his alpha. He was happy feeling cherished and cared for. Dean hates himself for actually enjoying the happiness he felt. He hates that he felt it, because now when something happens-because something always happens- it’s going to hurt that much worse when it gets torn from his life. And not just his life, but his pups lives too. Dean gags as the dizziness hits him, followed by a wave of pain passing through. He flinches at the sharp pain of Castiel’s knot being pulled out of him. Dean guesses the knot wasn’t all the way down. He gets it, though. He wouldn’t want to be connected to a crazy person either. He lays there, tugging at his hair for what seems like hours. Thoughts and visions play through his mind like some nightmare Dean is unable to escape. He is only slightly away of something warm and damp rubbing over his body. But that too quickly disappears, only leaving the air in the room left to begin to chill over his body. Warm hands grip his shoulders, gently shaking him. “Dean, I am not going to hurt your girls.” Dean shakes his head, digging his nails into his skull. Castiel doesn’t understand. It’s not about him hurting them, or not hurting them, but it’s about trust. It’s about how Dean cannot afford to trust anyone, because his pups lives are at stake. He couldn’t pretend to understand what he feels like knowing that your own pups- “You’re right. I don’t understand.” Dean’s eyes blink open. He slowly raises his gaze to look up at the alpha staring back at him with a gentle look. How did Castiel know what he was thinking? “I told you this would be an adjustment. I don’t expect to be thrown into your pups lives out of the blue. We all have to get to know each other.” Castiel sighs, sitting up and resting his head against the headboard. “I know this is going to be…different, at first, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to show you it is going to be okay. I want to be able to trust me. I don’t care how long it takes, because we have forever. You deserve to feel that with whomever you let into your life. No one can force another person to trust them. I only want the best for your pups, for you, for us. All of us.” Instead of replying, Dean scoots over, laying his head on the alpha’s thigh. Long, warm fingers begin running through his hair slowly as Dean tries to let his breathing get under control. What Castiel is offering, willing to do, means more to Dean than the alpha could ever possibly know. He has no idea how to express this in words, so he nuzzles the alpha’s bare skin in response, hoping he will understand. He isn’t dumb; he knows it is going to be a long road. Not only merging his family into Castiel’s life, but letting Castiel into theirs. It will be messy, bumpy, and probably hurt more than not. But isn’t that what life is in general, anyway? Now, at least, they won’t have to go at it alone. They have each other. Dean feels his eyelids drooping, his fight to stay awake losing against the warmth and gentleness of his alpha. He has so many questions he wants to ask. He wants to know about what happened to Lucifer, about Castiel’s work schedule, about Emma and Claire meeting him, about what the alpha expects out of him. Castiel’s fingers sliding through his hair, fingertips gently rubbing against his scalp are lulling him into Dreamland. Five more minutes, Dean thinks to himself. Five more minutes and then I’ll get up. He hears Castiel chuckle above him and smiles despite himself. In this moment, he is happy. And being happy, this time, is okay.