Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1363729.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester, Gabriel/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Castiel, Gabriel_(Supernatural), Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester,
      Alastair_(Supernatural), Azazel_(Supernatural), Ruby_(Supernatural), Anna
      Milton, Balthazar_(Supernatural), Pamela_Barnes
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Rape/Non-con, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Omega_Dean, Omega_Sam,
      Alpha_Castiel, Alpha_Gabriel, Underage_Sex, Abused_Sam, Abused_Dean,
      Assassin_Castiel, Assassin_Gabriel, Mpreg, Assassins_&_Hitmen, Forced
      Prostitution, Forced_Incest, Murder, Assassination, Rape, Implied/
      Referenced_Rape/Non-con, Hurt_Dean_Winchester, Hurt_Sam_Winchester, Hurt/
      Comfort
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-24 Updated: 2014-09-12 Chapters: 7/? Words: 28761
****** This Unfamiliar Road- ******
by J3_(CaseMatthews)
Summary
     Sam and Dean Winchester have lived with Alastair Gray for a long
     time. Alastair Gray is a criminal. Castiel and Gabriel are assassins.
     You do the math.
     OR
     Alastair Gray is big in the prostitution world of omega's, his own
     pair in the form of Sam and Dean Winchester. Castiel and Gabriel
     Novak have worked as assassins for most of their lives. When they
     take out Alastair they come across two omegas they didn't know they
     would be meeting...
     Alpha/Beta/Omega.
Notes
     Updates will be coming soon and I have recently edited this chapter,
     though not drastically.
     Please comment.
     Warning for rape in this chapter and implied, forced incest. Hey, no
     one ever said it was gonna be nice...
     Pleeeeaaase comment!!!
     The fics title is now from the song Home by Phillip Phillips.
***** A Prayer You Can Borrow *****
It’s another normal day for Castiel Novak.
Well, it is in the fact that today, as with a countless amount of others,
Castiel will be invading whorehouse number dot dot dot. He’ll be joined by his
colleagues and he’ll be expected to do his job - a routine thing that’s still
managed to carry excitement for him after ten years on it. He’ll finish up
quickly and smoothly, he’ll drink a beer with Gabriel because that’s what they
do. And he’ll go to bed, safe and happy in the knowledge that just a few more
alpha bastards in the world won’t be pimping out or raping underage and non-
consenting omegas. Because they’ll be dead. Because Castiel, one of the best in
the business, will have killed them. And he will have done so without regret
and with a certain amount of smugness that goes with a satisfying job.
It’s different in that today, they will raid the home of one infamous Alastair
Gray.
Mr Gray, a man so far outside of the law, yet so far into media speculation, is
a repulsive human being. Castiel has come across his proceeding reputation a
few times in his travels, his name has cropped up in numerous ‘visitor books’
in several brothels the country over, and Castiel has never been allowed to get
to him. He’s mentioned the name a few times, step foot out of his solid
position of mindless attack dog and informed his superior’s. But the name
Alastair Gray had only appeared on his ‘kill list’ two days ago.
Alastair is a man that Castiel would personally like to meet.
Castiel Novak doesn’t get personal.
But he would introduce himself to Alastair Gray. He wants Alastair Gray to know
just who ends his repulsive existance. Castiel will watch the life drain from
his cold, dead eyes.
                                      ***
It’s a normal day for Dean Winchester.
Or, you know, so he hopes. It is Alastair, after all. No one can ever really
expect anything from him, every day tends to be different than the one before
and a week before that.
Yesterday, Dean had spent all his time on the floor of the library with Sammy
deciding which Weasley was the best and possibly most attractive. Alastair had
been out on some business transaction thing and he’d taken Azazel with him for
'moral support' something or other, so they'd both been blissfully free for
those precious hours. Days like that are ridiculously rare and they both basked
in it for as long as they possibly could.
The week before, Alastair had tied Dean to his bed and marked his skin with
some new magical contraption until jagged, angry cuts had formed that would
inevitably scar. Dean had gone back to his own room shaking and stumbling where
his baby brother had to wash the blood from his back and convince him he was
alright.
So Dean knows he could never presume how days with Alastair might turn out.
As it does turn out, though, Sammy does get the day off. Or, at the very least,
the morning off. Alastair’s gone to visit somebody somewhere, Azazel tagging
along beside him like the butt-buddies they are. Tuesday mornings are Sam's
Azazel mornings, which means he's home free for the better part of the day. So
Sam, of course, spends that time in the library. Dean joins him in hope for the
start, but then Ruby retrieves him and sets him up in the bedroom on the top
floor. The guest bedroom. And then Dean knows he doesn’t have the same luck as
his brother.
The man that meets him up there is a stranger. He’s a lot younger than most
alpha’s Alastair sets him up with so he must be a good friend of his. Alastair
doesn’t like Dean being with younger alphas. Something about his ego, Dean’s
pretty sure. Rotting old bastard he is.
He absolutely reeks of alpha; cologne, body wash, the works. Overcompensating,
Dean thinks.
He introduces himself, which Dean thinks is weird. Dick Roman. Although, the
air he does this with is so superior, he must expect it to mean something to
Dean. It doesn’t. Dean just nods and lets Dick get on with it.
An hour of, “you’re a big thing, aren’t you, boy? So weak for me though, aren’t
you? You need my knot, fucking begging for it, aren’t you?” later and Dean can
go back and join Sammy. All the ‘aren’t you''s, would have Sam suggesting some
sort of psychological insecurity, so that’s probably the reason he came to
Alastair in the first place. And Dean didn’t have a choice but to keep
answering, “Yes, yes, yes,” because that’s what Alastair had taught him to do,
and he doesn’t need to piss off Alastair, at the very least not right now. He
wants this Dick guy to give him a good word, and maybe Dean can get rewarded,
maybe he can spend more time with Sam. Maybe Sam won’t be touched for a while.
“Hey Dean, light side or dark side?” Sam asks when Dean walks back into the
library. He isn’t limping, which they both see as a good sign, but he still
fucking exudes alpha. He won’t bother with a shower until Alastair comes back
for the day and requests him, and only then because if Dean smells like another
alpha he gets punished. Even though Alastair’s the one that sold him out to
said alpha in the first place. But Dean doesn’t want to be punished, especially
when they’re on such a good streak. Especially because if Alastair really wants
to punish Dean, Sammy will be mixed up in it and he’s been so relaxed and open
lately, Dean can’t see that happen. He won't see that happen.
“I hope you’re talking Star Wars, dude,” Dean replies, shuffling down into the
giant armchair against the back wall. Alastair never goes near it so Dean, of
course, loves it.
“What else would I be talking about?” Sam laughs from his sprawled out state on
the carpet, so carefree and young it hurts Dean’s chest.
Dean pretends to think for a minute before answering, “Light side. Stupid
question, Sammy, next.”
“Robert Downey Jr or Benedict Cumberbatch?” An old, totally read-out copy of
The Hound of the Baskervilles is sat on the rug next to him, closed and
studied.
“As Sherlock or just in general?”
Sam lifts his eyes to the ceiling and makes a concentrating face. “General.”
“Downey was Iron Man, so…” Dean stretches out his aching legs. “Yeah, Downey.”
“But Benedict Cumberbatch was Khan.”
Subtle, Sam. Dean quirks an eyebrow at his baby brother and smirks, “Just
‘cause you have a raging crush on him, Sammy boy, it doesn’t mean he’s the
best.”
Sam glares back. “I do n-”
The creak of the old wooden door leading from the library into the main hall
stops Sam in his tracks and they both turn their heads to look at the intruder.
Dean smells nerves slowly excrete into the room from his brother; years in this
place and the kid still gets scared when he knows he’s about to go upstairs. It
pisses Dean off in some primal, raging anger that he has any repeating reason
to be scared. 
Ruby sticks her dumb-bitch head through. “Azazel’s here, Sammy.” Dean growls at
the nickname. She ignores him. “Step on it, Sam, you know where to go, he’s up
there already. Wash Dean, you stink of Dick.”
She leaves before Dean can slam the door on her precious fucking neck...
Dean looks at a paler, shier version of his brother. Sam scrambles to his feet
and makes his way out of the room, pointedly avoiding Dean’s eyes. He must
smell Dean’s temper.
So he tries, however uselessly, to lighten it, “Think of a few more questions
for when you get back, okay Sammy?”
Sam nods and then he’s gone.
Dean swallows, draws in a huge breath and gets up from the armchair he uses for
comfort. He doesn’t deserve it when his little brother is upstairs with that
bastard.
Nicholas Azazel is Sam’s most frequent visitor and a good friend of Alastair’s.
Every single time Sam comes stumbling down those steps he’d trip into the
library or their bedroom and Dean could distinctly smell blood through forced
upon slick. He would be bruised and weak and sometimes even Alastair might
comment on it. One time, a bitter memory for both Dean and his brother,
Alastair took him straight after, right in the middle of the kitchen, just
because he said he liked when Sammy smelt scared and bloody.
That terrified Dean. Smelling Sam in fear is one sure fire way to get Dean to
do anything, so Dean rarely ever refuses any more. In fact, Dean can’t really
remember the last time he did. He could utter a simple “but,” and Alastair
would threaten Sam or punish him in front of Dean because Dean was being
disobedient. Alastair discovered Dean’s weakness too quickly when they arrived
here.
Dean showers. If Ruby’s telling him, he should probably do it. And if Azazel's
back, Dean would bet Alastair isn't far behind.
The water is a sweet distraction and Dean would stay under it forever if he
could.
But he can’t, because he has to be back in the library when Sam gets out. He’ll
comfort and stroke his brother, tell him over and over that he’s okay,
and Azazel won’t hurt him down here. Even if Azazel does come down to spend
time with Alastair in the living room, like they frequently fucking do, he
won’t hurt Sam. He might request Sam to sit beside him, suck him off or
something while the two alphas talk, but no hitting or too harder stuff comes
into play in Alastair's royal presence.
After a particularly bad meeting up in Azazel’s specific 'guest room', when Sam
was still crying when the man returned downstairs and slumped on the couch, he
laughed like Sam was overreacting and jacked Sammy off. Dean was on the floor
beside Alastair, and watching his brother tearfully come from the hands of the
monster who had done that to his face had maddened (enraged) him. Alastair had
smelt it and Dean was across the room in a heap in seconds.
He beat him, that night, and Sam watched.
                                      ***
Castiel gets up, runs for an hour, showers, dresses and eats. A daily routine.
He gets in the car when Gabriel swings back round to their house to pick him
up. He reads over the floor plan of the place, he memorizes every detail, every
turn or hidden room. He ignores Gabriel’s singing.
When they finally arrive at Alastair’s place it’s late in the day, the sun down
and the moon low in the early night sky. They park at least a mile away in
meeting with Anna and Balthazar and set off to the house. Anna fills Castiel
and Gabriel in on everything else they might not know; there’s two omega’s in
their now, seven house staff, a frequent client and Alastair himself. Castiel
will go after Alastair on the ground floor, Anna at his back and Gabriel will
take out the alpha upstairs with Balthazar. They know exactly where everyone is
because Jo, a young beta, is undercover as a maid in the main house.
Inconspicuous and perfect for the job, she’s never been anything but efficient
and capable. Castiel likes her.
Castiel adjusts the black trench coat around his chest. He’s not exactly
nervous, but his heart does beat with the knowledge that one way or another, he
gets to put an end to Alastair Gray. Tonight. He’s positive he will not be
forgetting this for a very long time to come.
They pass the security measures with efficiency - Anna’s very good at her job -
and they’re safely inside the house safely within eight minutes. Gabriel
gestures for Castiel and Anna to take their way along the ground floor, and he
and Balthazar creep up the side staircase without a single sound. Not for the
first time, Castiel wonders how terrifying the four of them look. Clad from top
to toe in black, they’re silent and deadly, visibly so with their stealth, and
especially if anyone was ignorant enough to try fighting back. Castiel never
really minds when they do, though. These commonplace missions do tend to get
boring.
Castiel joins Anna when they meet Jo and take out the staff. She uses her
preferred gun, fitted with a silencer, but Castiel has never really favoured
those. He much prefers his hands.
It's Castiel who takes the lead into the living room.
“You’re brother appears to be doing well.”
The voice weaves through the air in a slimy enough fashion that Castiel would
bet anything on who it belongs to. They pause at the doorway and Castiel holds
a hand up for them to stay put. Because, oh, this one is definitely his.
“Yes, sir,” says a quieter, sharply controlled voice. One of the omegas.
“Must be getting better at fucking. I should give him another go, don't you
think, Dean?”
There’s a bitter stretch silence where Castiel’s stomach has a moment to
tighten in anger.
Brother.
Damn it, he didn’t know they are brothers. Castiel doesn't even want to
consider what that monster had then do to each other.
“Don’t you think so, Dean? Wouldn’t you like to watch? Maybe I’ll wait until
he’s in heat and you can watch him beg for it. Maybe I’ll make him beg for
you…”
Castiel flings the door open.
He stands there for a second, lets Alastair click in his brain exactly what’s
happening, and lets him react if he can. He’s quick, Castiel will give him
that. He’s off the couch and before Castiel in little over five seconds, pasty
blue eyes swimming dangerously.
“You moron,” he spits, standing about a metre away and breathing heavily as he
glares at Castiel, his eyes never leaving him. “I’ll have you killed in less
than ten seconds, you and your little friends. You can’t touch–”
Castiel snaps his neck.
He would have held out longer, he might have fought the man a bit, spilt his
blood, savoured his bones breaking in his hands. But then Castiel noticed the
man behind Alastair.
Well, not so much man, actually. Late teens, early twenties Castiel would give
him. He had stood slowly when Castiel came in, emerald eyes darting unsurely
from Alastair to Castiel, and he’s stood in the same place now, hands clenched
tight at his sides; he doesn’t look scared and he doesn’t smell it. Those
marvelous eyes are apparently steady when they move to Alastair’s crumpled body
on the floor and...nothing happens. He doesn’t lose it, he doesn’t react. He
just looks back up at Castiel with something special in his eyes and Castiel
feels…odd. Out of every house he’s invaded, every omega he’s freed and saved,
none of them have behaved like this.
Like nothing. As though he's bored.
And then Castiel smells relief. Gratitude, relief and freedom all in one
wonderful stench, all emitting from the boy stood in a forced casual stance
mere metres away. He smiles a tiny smile before his chest rises in one of the
heaviest breaths Castiel has ever seen. It makes Castiel smile, too.
                                      ***
Christ, the house is fucking huge.
Gabriel’s kinda happy he has Balthazar with him, man genius of remembering
crap, otherwise he’d have missed the raid entirely and ended up revelling in
the home cinema he just spied back down that corridor. But if he did that,
little bro ninja would very likely kill him with his deadly little fingers, and
what fun would that be? So he follows Balthazar with a put on stony face and
stalks through the halls. And then Gabriel doesn’t need Balthazar to navigate
because he can hear where he’s needed.
And he can smell scared omega. Scratch that.
Terrified omega.
“Fucking little slut, huh Sammy? You beggin’ for my knot, you fucking whore,
you weak piece of shit…”
The tirade of breathy words and grunts leads Gabriel smoothly ahead of
Balthazar and into a neatly painted room with gilded wall-boarders and a
seriously decent looking bed with the added extra of horrified omega and a
sick-as-fuck, rapey alpha. A family-home type room, you know. Balthazar stays
at the door for Gabriel to do his job. Gabriel smirks and waits for the alphas
attention because he’s bored and this could be fun. Every tiny grunt and cry
from the omega beneath him sends an unusual jolt through Gabriel but he ignores
it. He can deal with him later.
As it stands, the alpha is red in the face with effort and the harsh punch of
hips to ass. He’s bent crookedly over a scrawnier, trembling frame, hands
grabbing at narrow hips hard enough to leave already blossoming bruises and
sweating chest draped over a flushed back. The omega’s fucking young, mid-to-
late-teens, maybe. His wrists are bound to the headboard on iron rungs and his
hands are clinging to the metal with white-knuckle force. Shaggy brown hair
hangs over teary, clenched eyes as he jolts forward with every snap of dirty
hips.
He’s gagged.
Gabriel finally decides to intervene when it’s clear the alpha asshole is too
enraptured in his kill to notice (and totally not because every pained whine
slicing the air is sickening him into action). He clears his throat and waits
with his arms folded.
The alpha, grey haired and harsh eyed, swings to him, cock still buried in the
boy, eyes wild. They narrow when they notice Gabriel, and then Balthazar, stood
behind in the doorway, hands slung in his pockets without a care. Ah, trust
Balthazar to know how to play properly.
“Aw, don’t stop on my account,” Gabriel says, smirking. He notes idly
(totally not with trained enrapture) that the boy doesn’t look up but shuffles
on the mattress, as far away from the alpha as physically possible in the tiny
space granted to him. He’s bruised to many places and it angers Gabriel in some
primal place he hasn't acknowledged in years before he decides to step it up a
notch of only to get this show further along the road.
“What the fu–”
“Oh, I’m here to kill you,” Gabriel supplies, speaking as though he’s giving
the days specials at some brunch bar. “Yeah, I know, real fucking messy
business. You know man, I’m wearing my nice jacket, and I really don’t want
your blood staining it, I'm sure a guy like you understands. So you know, be a
doll and toddle on over here so I can snap your neck, nice and clean like.”
The man gapes at him, scowls at the boy – who’s huddled in a shivering ball
beside the headboard – and goggles at his own, slightly knotted, dick. Fucking
idiot. Gabriel rolls his eyes.
“No fucking way, you can't just - this is Alastair's house, you have no
goddamn...you want someone go after him, I'm not…” he tries, bumbling over his
words.
“Yeah, Alastair Gray, right? Well, I’d say right about now,” he looks at his
watch, “he’ll be bleeding out on that nice Persian rug. Well, if baby bro has
anything to do with it. And he totally does. Real stick up his ass about that
one, you know. Wouldn’t let it drop no matter how many times no-one paid
attention…”
By the time Gabriel stops talking he’s walked up to stand right next to the
bed.
“Nice way to rat out a friend, though, jackass.”
And he snaps his hands out, places them on the alphas sweaty, fucking
disgusting head and twists. The body falls to the bed behind him the same
second Gabriel brushes his hands together and smiles. Good job well done, he
thinks. He turns to the boy.
“Hey, there, cutie,” he says, smiling as sweetly as his face will allow.
The boy smells terrified and abused (still pretty fucking awesome, though) but
omega slick still permeates the air. The usual heat scent surrounding places
like Alastair's doesn't exude from him though, so Gabriel's gonna guess they
drugged him up. At least they didn’t go in dry, is all he'll say. Gabriel
gently moves the cloth from his mouth.
“Please…” the boy sobs once the gag is removed, flinching away when Gabriel
reaches for his bound wrists.
“Hey buddy, you're all good, I'm not gonna hurt you,” Gabriel hushes him
gently. He turns to Balthazar. “Check this floor. Tell Cas we’ll be down in a
minute.”
Balthazar nods with a wink to the kid and walks out. Gabriel turns back to the
boy, who now sits flush against the headboard, wide eyes pinned on the dead
alpha who was just inside him. He smells more terrified than he did before.
Figures, Gabriel thinks, and before he can think anything more, his hand is out
and stroking hazel hair from hazel eyes. The same eyes snap to him with
thousands of questions Gabriel has no patience to even consider answering right
now, so instead he makes quick work of the fabric – a tie – around his wrists
and lets him up off the bed.
“Names Gabriel, by the way,” Gabriel says, when the boys stood beside him on
quivering legs (Jesus Christ, he's seriously edging on the 'having to look up
to a kid omega' line here). “How ‘bout you, champ?”
Sudden, amusing-yet-surprisingly-threatening death glares are what Gabriel
receives, until after a beat, a quiet, unsure voice directing itself at the
carpet offers a, “Sam. My name’s Sam.”
“Sam. Perfect. So I’m sure you’re kinda freaking out right about now, huh?”
“Where’s my brother?” Sam asks, purpling eyes narrowed. Gabriel smiles slightly
and moves away from the bed to collect the jeans and hoodie from the floor and
hand it back to the kid, taking it upon himself to assume the suit jacket and
pants aren't his. Sam shimmies into them with sickening practiced efficiency,
if not slight clumsiness, and goes back to glaring. It lights something
somewhere inside Gabriel that he didn’t even know existed. It’s not an entirely
unpleasant feeling.
“That would be omega number two, right?” Gabriel says cheerfully. “Downstairs I
‘spect. Which is where we're going. Come along, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam.” But he follows Gabriel out the room anyway.
They’re silent on their little trek through the mansion. Sam stumbles a bit,
still leaking slick and blood through openings in his slight body, but he’s a
trooper. Gabriel has an inkling that if he turned to try and help the kid he’d
end up like the jackass corpse upstairs anyway, so he doesn't bother. The same,
strange thing flares at the thought. For the first time since he was a kid,
Gabriel has to remind himself that this hot little omega is, in fact, still a
kid. Alpha or not, he’s just seen the little guy get viciously raped and walk
it off like it was nothing, and Gabriel might be a murderer but he is not a
molester. If he acts on anything right now or anytime soon, he’ll shun Sam out
before he can say, ‘So about my raging knot…’
They arrive in the stupidly huge entryway within minutes.
“Sammy,” someone breaths, and the boy beside him is swooped up in a crushing
hug. Ah, omega number two. This one is fairly taller but with shorter, lighter
hair, almost cropped, piercing green eyes and lips fuller than both Anna and
Jo’s put together. The older brother, then. “You okay, little brother?”
“Well, you can tell they’re brothers, huh?” Gabriel mutters, leaving the two
near the stairs. He stands beside a stony faced Cas - though it's not like
there’s many other faced Cas's. Gabriel nudges his crossed arms with his elbow.
“Pretty smooth job, huh Cas?”
“It was very…efficient.” Cas’ voice is taut, stranger and deeper than usual.
His azure eyes are on the brother omegas, specifically big bro. Gabriel quirks
a brow.
“Yeah…pretty good.” Gabriel smirks at Cas’ sidelong glance. “So what are we
doing with the, uh, bro’s over there.”
“We’ll take them to the hospital for a check-up, Gabriel, as we do with all the
others.” Yeah, voice definitely tense. He practically growls, “What else would
we do?”
***** Sammy in the Sky with Diamonds *****
Chapter Summary
     Yaaaay! Chapter 2 is up and running, bitches!
     No warnings for this chapter really, just some love...kinda :)
Sam’s pretty sure if he breathes in any deeper he’ll drown in Dean’s angst.
His brother’s hand is gripping a toe over the line of painfully on his arm, Sam
crushed against his ribs for purchase. To be fair to him, if Sam weren’t
drugged out of his head and still slick from his temporary heat, he’d be
swimming in his own horror. As it stands, though, Dean’s apprehension is
stinking the car out.
“How you boys holdin’ out back there?” someone says from the front seat. When a
grin and single quirked eyebrow on a pale face turn to meet Sam in the eye he
blinks up at the alpha, eyes filming through the drug haze. Gabriel has about
five left eyes for a few seconds.
“Fine,” Sam tries, but the word leaves his mouth in a blur, slurred and strange
tasting. He narrows his eyes and frowns. Did ‘fine’ always feel so weird?
“You sure there, kiddo?” Gabriel asks, his voice tilted at an odd pitch that
has Sam slumping gratefully into his brother’s firm shoulder. Not a
particularly satisfying pillow, but he figures he’ll deal with it.
“He’ll be okay,” Dean says for him, increasing his vice-like hold. “It’s just
when the drugs they use wear off…he, uh, he’ll just have to sleep it off.”
Sleep.
Now there’s a word.
A pretty good word, actually.
“Looks like a bad-ass hit, if you ask me.” Gabriel’s white face disappears in
the dark of the car’s interior but Sam can still make out the outline, a
glowing oval of…glow with streaks leading to the back of his head. He must have
moved pretty fast. Looks like warp speed.
Dean huffs a humourless noise beside him and the car turns silent again. Even
Sam can feel the tension.
After a few minutes in silence, Sam notices lights above them, hanging off
metal poles, the trees dissipating around them to reveal flat fields, darkened
by the late night. Something in the back of his mind fights to supply
‘lamppost’ but by the time he registers it his eyes have moved on. They settle
on the two front seats, occupied by two alphas sitting stonily with their
attentions forward.
After another moment, Sam decides one thing. Boring.
He peeks to Dean instead, his hand moving clumsily to Dean’s t-shirt, the one
with the blood stains on the bottom corner and a small tear at the shoulder
seem. His brother jumps at the touch but when his eyes turn to Sam’s they’re
nothing but tired, relieved and maybe a little overwhelmed but they won’t
mention that.
“Heya, Sammy,” he whispers, snuggling Sam’s body in even (impossibly) further.
Dean’s warm and he smells about as close to ‘home’ as anything can get for Sam
so he’s utterly perfect. Sam serves him a lop-sided smile.
“Hi, Dean,” Sam replies.
“He always like this, then?”
Sam watches the considering, doubtful look Dean awards the alpha before he
sighs and raps his fingers over Sam's shirt, answering quickly, “Only after
Azazel. That’s pretty much the only time they drug ‘im up so much.”
Sam can hear them talking. Later on, he will probably remember them talking.
But right now Dean’s lips look so odd moving around the words, so different and
strange to Sam that he can’t help but stare at them. Absently, he hears the
shift of leather as probably Gabriel moves on the seat, turning to face one way
or the other, but Sam doesn’t care all that much. He just watches Dean.
His brother coughs slightly and the lips move again. “Where, uh, where are we
going?”
“We’re taking you to a hospital, Dean,” comes another voice, alpha number two
out in the front. Castiel, was it? He’d introduced himself to Sam right about
the same time the drugs began to do their thing and in reply Sam had just
nodded. Gabriel had introduced him back. Sam didn’t think anything of it, even
after his splitting – slightly Dean-like – shit-eating grin. They all got in
two cars, the blonde guy and redhead with Jo in the other…Jo. Why was she
coming?
Sam snaps his attention up the few inches to Dean’s eyes when he smells another
wave exude from his brother. Fear. Apprehension. Sam isn’t sure, but either way
the men in the front smelt it too.
“You okay, there, bucko?” Gabriel.
“We can’t…um,” Dean begins. Sam wonders why he’s talking so strangely; Dean’s
never unsure. Or he wasn’t. Okay, Dean’s always unsure with Alastair. Sam’s
head hurts. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, uh…”
“That’s alright, Dean,” Castiel says. “It’s common practice. The facility is
fully equipped for omegas, so you’ll both be in safe hands.”
That isn’t what Dean’s worried about, though. They don’t like doctors. Doctors
are very, very bad and when Alastair had to call on one for either of them,
things never turned out well. Dean should know. Dean should tell Castiel so
they won’t have to see one.
But Dean is silent, his lips steeled, breathing harsh and brow lowered. If he’s
trying to contain something he isn’t doing a very good job. The whole car can
smell him.
Sam decides to step in.
“Doctors are bad.”
That should clear it up, should let the two know that whenever doctors are
involved, someone gets hurt. It’s obvious, really. Doesn’t stop narrowed eyes
directed at him from Dean’s end and a strange, wide-eyed expression exchange
from the front seats. It’s not that hard to grasp, surely?
“Why are doctors bad, Sam?” Castiel asks, his voice unsure.
Sam wants to roll his eyes but he isn’t sure how right now, so he settles for
an impatient huff.
“Because they hurt us.” Sam looks to meet Dean’s scowl with confused eyes.
“Right, Dean?”
“What do you mean, they hurt you?” Gabriel turns to look at them, his eyes
strangely slanted, already unusual on his spritely face. When Sam just stares
he prompts, “Sam?”
“They–”
“Nothing.” Dean steps in with his nails digging into Sam’s flesh. Sam scowls at
his fingertips but stays silent. “It’s nothing, it’s fine.” He adds, “Really,”
when Gabriel doesn’t turn back round.
“You don’t wanna go to a hospital, then?” Gabriel asks.
Sam shakes his head fervently, his bangs flopping into his eyes until he shoves
them away with one aggressive hand. He hears Dean gulp beside him. His brother
shakes his head with his eyes on Sam’s other hand, the one not still wound in
his t-shirt but the one rested on his own knee. Sam seems to be the only one to
notice Gabriel’s slightly feral look to his companion in the seat beside him.
“They might be injured, Gabriel,” Castiel mutters, a slight growl to his voice
as his knuckles tighten to white on the steering wheel.
“We’re fine,” Dean supplies quickly, recovering almost instantly from his
slight flinch at Castiel's harsh voice. “Honestly, we’ve been through worse.”
“Dean…” Castiel begins, seemingly unwilling to continue. When he does it’s
after a long, painful breath. “Your brother was just raped. He’s highly
inebriated with drugs we aren’t sure of…You’ve both had unprotected sex a
number of times, there’s no telling what infections you might have contracted.
I really think it’s best if…”
“You have no idea where we’ve been.” Dean’s chest rumbles as he mutters the
words, vibrating along Sam’s jawline. He’s upset and, by the smell and set of
his body, uncomfortably embarrassed. Sam nuzzles along his upper arm and twists
the fingers in his shirt closer to his abs in an attempt at comfort. The smell
doesn’t change, though.
“You’re right, Dean, I haven’t the slightest. But believe it or not, we have
done this before and we’ve met omegas in similar positions to you and Sam. The
doctors at the clinic are well trained with trauma cases and abuse. Please just
talk to them. I promise, if you don’t like it we will leave straight away. You
have my word.”
Although Dean bristles at the words ‘trauma cases and abuse’, he does seem to
decide on something and with a minuscule, furrow-browed glance at Sam he even
offers a tiny nod. As for Sam, there isn’t much that could happen right now to
faze him, what with Dean by his side and enough toxins in his system to knock
out a rhino.
                                      ***
The hospital isn’t quite as bad as Dean had feared.
They’re both sat on a gurney in an empty room, Sam nuzzled so far into his side
that Dean’s actually worried about some kind of permanent damage. His brother
keeps drooping, eyes fluttering shut and every time they do Dean has to prod
him slightly or shake his shoulder to keep him awake. The drugs do need to be
slept off, it’s the best - and pretty much only - way, but Castiel had said the
doctor will need to talk to them after they’ve finished all the tests. Both of
them.
Dean fucking hates doctors.
Even before Alastair’s, before that grizzly man with too-hard fingers and
scalpels for every tiny thing, Dean had never liked them. Probably some deep
rooted, psychological, childhood issue, but Dean just couldn’t stand them. He’s
never had any trouble looking after himself, and his baby brother. Or, at the
very least, doing the best with what they have.
And then there’s Castiel.
And Gabriel, come to think of it.
He’d just watched the man snap another humans neck, not the slightest flinch or
expression given, he’d just done it like that. And then Sam came flouncing down
the stairs behind the other guy, absolutely reeking of that motherfucker but
safe and actually walking. Dean would bet his life on Azazel being brown-bread
up in that room, and Dean could hug Gabriel for it. Dean had promised to
himself years ago that he would kill the both of them, pretty much directly
after Sam’s first night with the alpha. But now they’re both dead and a ton a
weight has lifted so far from his chest he’s pretty sure he’s reached heaven.
It’s fucking refreshing, actually.
“Morning there, boys,” someone says from the door, and when Dean looks over he
sees a tall woman, long brunette hair, kind eyes, beta. Looks like she could
probably take him in a fight. She smiles at them.
“Hi,” Dean murmurs, stroking Sam’s hair when his brother blinks up at her
blearily. He doesn’t say anything, just lets his mop of shaggy hair flop back
onto Dean’s shoulder.
“You two look like you need a week’s sleep,” she says, though Dean’s pretty
sure it’s mostly to herself. “It’s good to meet you, I’m Dr Pamela Barnes. You
can call me Pam or whatever the hell you want.”
Dean wonders if she has a car. He misses his baby; she looks like a muscle car
kind of woman, his kind of gal…
Wait, doctor?
Dean turns to place narrowed eyes on the woman. This is the doctor? Huh. She
doesn’t look like a doctor.
“What?” she says, smiling when she notices his gaze. “Not what you were
expecting, huh?”
                                      ***
Castiel leaves the brothers in the examination room begrudgingly. He knows
Pamela, he likes Pamela. But just the idea of Dean sat in that room with a
doctor he’s so clearly terrified of, of him trembling and holding onto his
brother for comfort and to reign protection has Castiel quietly fuming in his
plastic chair. Something strange, new, odd, unusual, not entirely unwelcome
stirs in his chest at the bare idea of Dean anywhere, doing anything, saying
whatever he wants that Castiel has never experienced before. He’s saved omegas,
he’s sat in this waiting room countless times for them to finish up so he can
rally them off to the omega house a few towns away and leave them there. He’s
never sat with his leg bouncing with impatience and his eyes darting for
dangers, sticking to the closed door and wondering a few times a minute whether
if he just charged in and demanded to stay if Pamela would hit him for it.
Probably. She’s good like that.
“’Sup, little brother.”
Castiel turns to Gabriel as he waltzes back into the waiting room, two steaming
cups of coffee held in each hand. Castiel takes one and looks back at the door
barely ten metres away without a word. He nods his thanks, absently.
“So, you still pining over Deany-boy, huh?” Gabriel asks, kicking his ankles
into a crossed position when he drops heavily into the chair at Castiel’s side.
Castiel turns an impatient scowl at his brother. “And what are you doing here,
Gabriel? The hospital isn’t usually your ‘scene’. I hadn't realized they'd
started selling whiskey.”
His brother offers a sarcastic sneer before socking him in the arm.
“Now that would be the day. Maybe I should recommend it to Pamela.”
“Only if you wanted to be slapped.” Castiel slowly returns his eyes to the
door, like a magnetic force.
“By Pam?” Gabriel makes a sound of thought before shrugging and once again
punching an arm into Castiel’s shoulder with a practically audible grin. “Hey,
I’ll try anything once.”
“Mmm,” is all Castiel replies.
They wait in silence for a few more moments, the air disrupted every now and
then by an impatient blow from Gabriel’s lips or his fingers tapping the
polystyrene cup. Castiel manages to ignore it only because the brothers are
just on the other side of that door and they’ll be out soon (hopefully). And
Castiel can take them to the compound. And he won’t have to see them again.
Ever. Huh.
“So, that was a smooth run, huh?” Gabriel says.
“Yes.”
“Ganking Alastair Grey as awesome as you dreamed, Cassy?”
“It was a job, Gabriel, nothing more.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.”
                                      ***
Gabriel’s not the biggest fan of the hospital.
Sure, it does its job and all; very fucking well, actually. But he avoids it
like the plague whenever he possibly can and generally, that turns out to be a
lot. He invented the ploy of leaving early to get to the facility to help set
up years ago to avoid the place; Cas doesn’t buy it but Cas is like a goddamn
blood hound. He hadn’t really expected to trick baby-bro anyways.
So why the hell he’s sat in the stupid plastic seat next to said dog-like
brother he really does not freaking know…aw fuck, he so does. And it comes in
the delicately cut shape of one underage omega…
                                      ***
“Yep, that should be good…”
Dean wants to like Pamela, if he’s being honest. But the whole job title Dr
Pamela Barnes is the door stopper to it all and every time he remembers it, he
reverts back to hating again. He doesn’t care how nice the doctor is, doctors
are bastards, end of. And if anyone knows that for bitter certainty, it’s Dean.
“And, sweetie, any idea what they gave you for the slick?”
Sam stiffens up at Dean’s side where they’re perched on the gurney and turns
that mop head back into Dean’s shoulder.
“No,” he yawns, the same second Dean says, in an irritated, clipped voice:
“He already told you that.”
“Okay, that’s okay,” she says, nodding and offering Dean a small smirk that’s
just on the line friendly and soothing and it pisses Dean off more than a slap
would. He fucking hates games. “Should come up in the blood tests at any rate.”
She scribbles something down on her clipboard before smiling back up at them
again. Dean pulls on the arm around his brother.
To Dean’s total surprise, Sam asks in a sloppy sort of just-about-to-sleep-
after-a-week-awake voice,
“Can we go now?”
He chalks it off to the drugs making his reactions totally dumb, but something
flares inside of Dean akin to pride mixed in amusement and he smirks to
himself. Mouthy little shit he is. Alastair always tries to beat Sam’s mind out
of him and letting the kid into a library was the dumbest decision he ever…
Tries.
Okay, tried.
Dean guesses he has Castiel to thank for that.
“Not just yet, kiddo,” Pamela says, and Dean feels the blood pump through his
hand on Sam’s shoulder as his heart beat quickens to a mile a minute. Yeah, not
just yet, and isn’t that how it always goes,
“Please, stop, fuck…”
“Aw, not just yet, baby.”
“Now, I don’t want any trouble here kids, alright?” She says, her chin tilted
up. Dean snarls deep in his throat. Did she lock the door? He doesn’t think so…
“We need to check you both over properly, okay? If you just cooperate, we won’t
need to involve anyone else, not if you don’t want to. The second you feel
uncomfortable with it, we’ll stop and have a break, but this needs to be done
one way or another.”
Dean growls. “We feel uncomfortable with it.”
Pamela smiles and winks. “Hey, gimme a chance, kiddo.”
“No.”
“We can do this smoothly with one me or I can drag the two alphas in from
outside that door.” She nods in its direction. “Your call, boys.”
“We don’t--”
The doctor stands up in one fluid motion and cracks the door open to poke her
head through the gap for a few seconds before returning proudly to her swivel
chair in the centre of the room. Dean scowls and decides he doesn’t like her,
officially.
In a second the door opens again and Castiel walks in, his black trench coat
thing off and left somewhere out in the hospital, it’s absence revealing a
dark, skin tight t-shirt and black cargo pants; all very military looking. He
smiles tightly when Dean catches his eye.
“Ah, Castiel,” the woman says, flicking through some notes on a clipboard, not
even looking up at the alpha.
“Dr Barnes,” Castiel says in way of greeting, even if they did just speak like,
an hour ago. He leans against the door way with his arms folded and his eyes on
Dean, the door shut behind him.
It’s almost eerie, the way those fucking glowing, azure orbs eyes are trained
to Dean’s face.
“I gave fair warning, did I not?” Pamela asks, looking at Dean expectantly, as
if he’s actually going to answer with him here. The crease between his brows
deepens and he bows his head into his high-as-a-kite brother in protest.
Someone chuckles shortly in a gravelly voice and if Dean wasn’t so awkwardly
terrified of the guy he’s pretty sure is an assassin, he’d flip him the bird.
But he likes his middle finger so he keeps it in.
“I did,” she reiterates to Castiel, who quirks one side of his stupid lips up
before ducking his head in what should be an innocent gesture but comes
off…just stupid. “So, how d’you boys wanna do this, huh? Two options: the easy
way or the hard way.”
Dean just snarls up at her with both his arms wrapped tightly around his
brother and makes a point of ignoring Castiel, who now stands like a marble
statue by the door, all spy-looking and slightly terrifying.
“Dean…”
“We didn’t ask for your help,” Dean spits, and suddenly what the man did, him
saving them and being nice and killing that monster doesn’t account for this.
Dean’s tired and his brother’s about to keel over from exhaustion and a drug
induced haze for Christ’s sake. He cannot be dealing with assholes today; if
they don’t want him, they should just let them go. Dean thinks they should be
excused, it’s been a long-ass day, after all. Fuck them all, he says.
“No, you didn’t. I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean doesn’t want to look
at him. He wants to curl up against his brother and sleep for at least a week
and at least Alastair let them do that. “But this needs to be done, please,
Dean. We need to ensure your safety, both of you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s what we do.”
                                      ***
Sam doesn’t pay much attention when Castiel helps Dean roll him to lay down on
the gurney. And if they really don’t want him falling asleep, why are they
possibly letting him lay down? Surely that’s just plain torture, expecting him
to stay awake when the tissue paper laid across the plastic is just so damn
comfortable…
“Come on, Sam, stay with me, kiddo,” a woman says, beta, Pamela. She seems
nice. Dean should like her. “Not too much longer, okay?”
An irritated, “Mm,” is all Sam is willing to offer.
If he were any more conscious, the second something travelled down to remove
his jeans and pants, or Dean snarling his forbiddance he might have done more
than blink blearily. But then Castiel talks and Dean doesn’t smell so bitter
and a comfortable hand suspiciously similar in size and weight and colour to
Dean’s comes to rest on Sam’s forehead. He snuggles into it. Fingers reach
along his hole but Sam doesn’t bother acknowledging them. They’re not hard or
painful or insistent, they’re just there so Sam lets the doctor do her job.
She’s not a bad one, he thinks.
In a minute or so, Dean whispering memories into his ear in an attempt to keep
him conscious and the fingers checking all over his pelvic regions, Pamela
snaps some gloves off, Dean pulls Sam’s pants up and Castiel leaves through the
door. Probably after something snappy Dean just shot at him that Sam didn’t
catch.
Sleep. Jesus, who’d have thought it would be so hard to get some around here?
Sam watches instead when Dean lies next to Sam and Sam can smell the
humiliation radiating in tides from his brother when he pulls down his own
pants. Sam reaches out a hand and squeezes his.
“Sleep,” he mutters, smiling slightly. Dean’ll understand. Think of sleep.
Don’t think of the fingers, Dean, think of sleep.
“Yeah, Sammy,” he says, because Dean’s the best. “Sleep.”
It takes Pamela a similar amount of time to finish Dean and after about five
hours they are both helped up (or Dean’s helped to help Sam up) and escorted
from the room. Castiel and Gabriel stand like soldiers on parade, which is
fitting, because they both look like soldiers in black or special ops or spies
or ninjas or…
“Woah, woah, hey,” Gabriel says, and he’s suddenly right there with his hands
on Sam’s arm. Oh, Sam’s legs gave out. Right.
“I got it,” Dean says.
“You can’t carry him to the car, kid,” Gabriel says.
“Yes, I can,” Dean says.
“Lemme give you a hand, okay?” Gabriel says.
“Dean,” Sam whines before his brother can protest more. The car means driving
and driving means the next destination and the next destination might mean
sleep. Fuck, Dean, shut up, let’s run to the car.
His brother huffs. “Fucking...fine.”
And in another surprise, Sam’s completely lifted from the ground and hauled
upwards into the air for a few seconds, only to land snuggly against Gabriel’s
firm chest. Only it’s not too hard and Sam can get behind sleeping on it, no
problem. He wraps his arms around the alpha’s shoulders and his legs move to
join behind at the small of his back. He realises he’s not wearing shoes and it
makes him smile.
Dean splutters in protest but Sam reaches out a sloppy hand to drag over his
face and he shuts up. Sam can’t be hard on him at all; he’s pretty sure himself
when he’s a little more coherent this whole situation is going to be utterly
mortifying. Castiel walks beside Dean and after a few more minutes of bright,
artificial lights, they appear in the early morning dawn. Car, car, car…
“I’ll drive, Cas,” Gabriel says, and Sam can feel the words rumble on his
chest.
“Why?”
“Give you a break, why else?” Gabriel slides Sam into the back with Dean and he
jumps in the driver’s seat.
They drive for a while, Sam’s head on Dean’s lap when he lies down along the
backseat. He wonders if the doctors gave him more drugs. Would explain the
pills, lack of pain, light-headedness…
“Gabriel…” Castiel’s voice is a warning. “What are you doing?”
“What? The kids are pooped, and our house is closer than the facility. Thought
they’d prefer it, is all.”
“For God’s sake…”
***** Home and Away *****
Dean watches the two alphas with narrowed eyes.
His brain’s de-fogging, he’s seeing the situation for what it really is and
he's seriously beginning to not like it. So far, they’ve been re-kidnapped,
taken to a hospital against their own will and now they’re hauling ass over to
the guys’ house in their stupid plastic shit-mobile. If they think for one
goddamn second either one of them is laying another finger on Sammy, especially
in his current state, they’ve got another fucking thing coming. Dean’s tired,
he’s pissed, he’s confused, and he just wants out. He wants to grab Sam, leap
out the car and hide in the ditch they’re driving beside. He wants to raise Sam
the way he deserves to be raised and not a word less or a rape more. It’s the
freaking least the little genius deserves.
Sam shuffles on his lap, eyelids drifting heavily to brush those dark lashes
over his blushed cheek, and Dean pushes thin tendrils of hair off a damp
forehead. Even as drugged as the kid is, Dean hasn’t seen him so peaceful
looking in a long-ass time. And he’s not even asleep, though not from lack of
trying. He’s like one of those painted people-statue things that Dean freaking
hates, breathing so softly it’s almost impossible to notice, his fingers
compulsively flexing over Dean’s jeans to keep himself conscious. If they lay
one measly little murderous hand on this kid, they will seriously not know
what’s hit them.
“Do you really think this is a good idea, Gabriel?” Castiel hisses from the
front seat, though it’s not really a question, more a declaration of Gabriel’s
stupidity. Dean agrees. Nothing says just-like-every-other-bastard-alpha-out-
there quite like dragging two abused omegas to your home without their say so.
Dean’s starting to think this ‘facility’ thing was a load of old bullshit
anyway. Maybe they just visited with Alastair once, liked the look of Dean and
Sam, came back to kill Alastair and take their fancy, checked the omegas over
so they don’t catch anything nasty, and now their being trolleyed off to become
some kinky fantasy in the middle of BFN, wherever.
Well, fuck them. This time, Dean will not be giving in so easily.
“Oh, what?” Gabriel snaps, turning to face the other alpha. “It’s closer,
Castiel. And think of it this way, they won’t be spending the rest of the night
on some cruddy, little excuse for a bed, separate. They can stay together if
they want, sleep on an actual bed, with sheets and everything, and eat a real
meal. But, hey, you want them to go join the system first chance we get, let
their lives be on your hands. ‘Cause you know as well as I do, they’ll be split
up. They don’t like omegas sleeping together, and they won’t tolerate them
demanding to stay together. So, you want them unhappy the rest of their lives,
you go ahead.”
“I’m not leaving Sam,” Dean growls, and even he can hear the tremor in his own
voice, smell his sudden, cut-throat fear. Separated was just about the only
word he caught from that and now it’s swimming his head, highlighted and
fucking glowing like Hollywood lights, and maybe their house doesn’t sound like
such a bad idea. And, if they need a quick fuck or whatever, Dean can still
supply. They aren’t going near Sammy, but if that’s what it takes too stay
together, Dean’ll do what he has to. Doesn’t mean he’ll like it, but whatever.
He hasn’t liked his life so far, did he really think he would suddenly begin to
now?
“Dean,” Sam mewls, fingers like little kitten claws, pawing at Dean’s thigh.
Dean keeps up his rhythmic stroking, distracting Sam as he tries to reign in
his stench. There’s no point being scared; what happens, happens and Dean will
just have to deal with it when it does. But he is not leaving his brother
anywhere.
Castiel sighs. “We’re not asking you to. And, Dean, I understand what it might
look like, us taking you both to our home. But, I need you to know, we won’t go
near either you or your brother without your explicit consent, okay?” Dean
balks at the choice of explicit. How is that not gonna sound weird? “It’s
common practice to take you to the facility, but it is probably true that you
will be separated and placed in different rehabilitation sites. Obviously, you
do not want that to happen, so...God, you may stay with us for as long as you
need.”
Dean’s not particularly sure what to say to that. Obviously, he doesn’t want
Sam to be taken away from him, but that doesn’t even mean this Castiel guy’s
even telling the truth. They could have concocted this whole facility theory in
their warped little minds, and convincing them to come willingly is a total
trick. That doesn’t exactly explain why they’re trying to convince them so
much, but Dean doesn’t trust them. And, honestly, he can’t imagine he ever
will.
They drive on in tense silence for a few more minutes, and when they pull into
a long drive and park beside a house slightly smaller than Alastair's and
holding a slightly more modern edge, Dean’s heart begins to pulse like a
mother-fucker. But he forces everything he has into not reeking of fear or
whatever the hell else is gonna embarrass him tomorrow.
If he lives that long.
Gabriel hops out, moves around, and opens the door on Sam’s side first. The kid
just shivers slightly from the brisk night air, clumps himself into a ball
along Dean’s side and doesn’t make any move to get out. Gabriel meets Dean’s
eyes with a quirked, amused eyebrow, and Dean rolls his eyes.
“Sammy, come on, kiddo,” he tries, nudging at the dead weight of his brother
towards the door. “I’m not staying in here all night, Sam, get a move on.”
Dean’s not sure if maybe he would, but then Sam mewls like a little lost puppy
and hauls himself up and over towards Gabriel.
And then Dean’s too late in scrambling out of the car, because Sam is in the
air in seconds, looking ridiculous carried like a princess in Gabriel’s alpha
strengthened arms. Dean scowls, but doesn’t say anything, especially not when
his brother snuffles into the dude’s assassin jacket and actually fucking
scents the guy. Oh, he’s so not living that down when his brain comes back to
him.
“After you, Dean-o,” Gabriel says, nodding in the direction of the front door.
Front gate more like. And Dean only goes, one eye still firmly on Gabriel and
his sloth-adjacent brother, because Castiel is holding it open for him.
                                      ***
Castiel leads Dean into the house, Gabriel trailing after, holding up Sam.
Castiel is pretty sure he’s either doing it to annoy the hell out of Dean
(which wouldn’t be particularly surprising, considering the ass he can
generally manifest into), or he’s developed a soft spot for the young boy,
which is one hundred percent less likely, but is probably what is happening.
Usually, Gabriel takes the other car, leaves the omegas with Castiel and maybe
Anna, and departs with some snarky remark or another. And he never sticks
around at the hospital. Until Sam came along.
“Would you like anything to eat?” Castiel turns and meets Dean, pausing in
their kitchen, Dean halts as though startled and looks toward him with wide
eyes. 
Dean blinks a few times, then looks over at the incoherent brother nestled in
Castiel’s own brother’s arms, and the smug little look on his face annoys even
Castiel, so what it must be doing to Dean is another thing entirely. Castiel
shakes his head. Idiot.
“Or maybe you’d prefer going to bed?” Castiel offers, and at the sharp sting of
fear from Dean, he quickly adds, “To sleep. We have a spare room you and Sam
can share, if that’s what you want? Or we could make up the other guest bed, if
you’d rather sleep separately-”
“That’s fine,” Dean says, before Castiel can even finish. He’s not even sure
why he wasted his breath offering another room, Dean can barely take his eyes
from his brother, let alone allow him to sleep in a separate space.
Castiel offers a tight smile and a nod.
“The kid needs some meat on his bones, that’s for sure, but I wouldn’t mind
putting him down right about now,” Gabriel says, shifting the weight of Sam in
his arms with a laboured huff.
Castiel nods again. “Yes. Dean, Gabriel will show you to your room. Good night,
to both of you. Whenever you decide to rise, there will be food prepared, but
take your time. Rest well, boys.”
He watches when Dean nods with a sombre face and trails behind Gabriel out of
the kitchen, through the living room and out of sight up the stairs. He lets
out a breath he didn’t know he’d been carrying as he watches the ghost of the
two omegas leave his sight, over and over again in his mind. It’s never been
like this before. They’ve never taken an omega home, let alone two, and they
never ever told anyone they could stay for an indefinite amount of time.
Castiel and Gabriel enjoy their space. It’s why they have a big house and three
sections; Gabriel’s side, Castiel’s side and the guest/communal area where they
entertain or integrate with one another. And both are so rare, Castiel’s pretty
sure he should get Ellen to clean it and dust it like never before. There’s
probably bats hiding out in the living room.
Castiel should call Anna, let them know the two omegas won’t be headed to the
facility, not tonight, and probably not for a while, at least until they become
settled in normal life again.
She picks up on the third ring.
“Castiel? Where are you, we were expecting you an hour-”
“We won’t be at the compound tonight.”
“What?” she asks, clearly tired and impatient, he waits for her to finish a
yawn.
“The omegas, Sam and Dean, will be residing with us for the night,” he explains
calmly, roaming over to flick on the coffee machine. It hisses at him before
popping into life.
“What do you mean, they’re staying with you? Why?”
“Because…” Castiel isn’t particularly sure how to word it without sounding
completely off-hinged, so, like an idiot, he says, “We have...grown fond of
them.”
He can practically hear the Gabriel-grin form on her face. The smile is
apparent when she says, “You dog, you! Gabriel, too? Really? I mean, you get
one of them is, like, sixteen, right?”
“Sam, yes,” Castiel says, rolling his eyes. “Gabriel has-”
“Ha! Oh, I’m so not surprised. So you got the big one, huh?” All hint of
exhaustion has now disappeared.
“I don’t…”
“Yeah, yeah. But listen, the only way they can legally kick back with you two
is if I sign them over. You know, ‘till they both get cleared for reintegration
and the little one turns eighteen.”
“But…” But Castiel doesn’t know, but. He’s never paid attention to those rules,
he was the attack dog, he killed, rallied the omegas to the facility and left
them there, job well done. He’s never really considered what would really
happen to them afterwards, guardian wise. He supposed they were adopted or
something, but he’s never been involved, and he doesn’t know what to do now.
“Can’t you sign them over to us for a week or something?”
“Sorry, bro, doesn’t work like that. You want ‘em, you have ‘em. Until they’re
legal to leave.”
Dammit.
Castiel sighs and runs a hand through his already ruffled hair. “I suppose…”
“Great! I’ll write the papers up and have them to you by Monday. See you
around, Cas!”
The line goes dead. Crap.
“So, Cassy, how much shit am I in?”
Gabriel would choose now to come flouncing back, jacket now discarded somewhere
in the house, regular snarky grin plastered on his face. For someone expecting
to be shouted at, he seems far too happy about it. He nods to the phone at the
same second he lands in one of the kitchen-islands chair.
“Who was that?”
“Anna,” Castiel answers, turning away to the coffee machine and pouring them
both a cup. “I was informing her of the situation.”
“Ahh,” Gabriel hums, nodding when Castiel hands him his sugary concoction.
Honestly, how anyone can eat anything with four spoonful’s of sugar is beyond
Castiel. He prompts, “And?”
Damn. Castiel had hoped his brother would drop it, and maybe Castiel could
inform him the next time he got blindly drunk, that way Castiel could pretend
he’d known all along, he’d just forgotten. Trust the idiot to register now.
Castiel leans on the counter, across from him.
“And…we may now be the official guardians of two omegas.” He squints his eyes
in expectation of the retort. Instead, a giddy howl fills the room, so high-
pitched Castiel has to cover his ears and scowl at the goddamned baboon before
him.
“Wow, I knew you had a think for Dean-o, but really? Jeese, Cas, you kinky son
of a bitch…”
“I didn’t intend for this to happen! Anna said the only way we could hold them
for a few nights was to hold them for at least another year…Crap. What are we
going to do with two omegas? What about when they go into heat? What-”
“Woah, hold your horses there, compadre. Dude, you worry too much, anyone ever
tell you that?” He shakes his head in good nature at Castiel’s sulking
expression. “Look, this is a good thing. This way, we can keep an eye on them,
keep ‘em safe and supported, together. It’s better, actually. Hey, you know
what, you quit worrying about the details and leave them to me.”
Castiel scoffs.
“Oh, yes, of course…”
“Hey, I mean it. You worry too much, man, I got this one. I’m not completely
useless, you know, I am capable of serious things, you just don’t allow me to
be.”
Right. Because Castiel is just going to palm off the lives of two abused humans
just because he supposedly worries too much. Well, Castiel worrying too much
has gotten them out of more life or death situations than either can count, so
Gabriel can just—
“What?”
Gabriel smirks again.
“Oh, nothing. Just, uh, you really like these two, huh?”
Of course Castiel does.
“So do you,” he accuses, glaring childishly.
“Well, duh. So, you get Dean, I get Sammy, right?”
“Maybe they would be more comfortable under the aid of one…”
“No can do, kiddo." Castiel eyes him. "What? Hey, I spend more time at that
freaking facility than you do, 'scuse me if I know more rules. Anyways, first
time guardians aren't allowed to be at the aid of more than one omega at a
time, dems the rules, buddy. Dibs Sam, by the way. Besides, we live together,
what difference does it make? And either way, whatever happens, we can babysit,
right?” Gabriel downs the bottom of his mug and yawns like a foghorn. “Well,
I’m beat.”
“Go to bed. We can all discuss this better in the morning, anyway.” Gabriel
quirks an eyebrow and Castiel sighs. “Or whenever we arise. Did you show them
the bathroom?”
“It’s in their room, Cas, I don’t think they can miss it.”
“Okay. Did you give them anymore clothes?”
“Yup. Few tee’s and such until we can grab ‘em some more.”
“Okay, good. Well, goodnight, then,” Castiel says, spinning the still-full
coffee cup in his hands.
“Night, baby-bro.”
***
Gabriel gave them two t-shirts, three pairs of boxer shorts and a pair of
jogging-pants, each.
He’s in the shower now, Sam’s scent still bathing with him, all over his hands
and along his neck, straight from the kid’s perfect little nose. He’d scented
Gabriel, and, dammit, if that wasn’t enough for Gabriel to pop a serious knot,
then he doesn’t know what would be. God, he’s like a fresh cheesecake, still
stinking up the kitchen with his sweet and perfect flavour, floating in the air
so dense, Gabriel can almost taste it.
And, hey, he’s not knocking one out to the kid, per say, and it’s so not his
fault Sam smells like freshly boiled sweets, is it? It’s purely genetics and
not Gabriel’s fault at all, so why should he deny himself?
Honestly, it’s not like he has much of a choice, the way his now seriously
interested dick is lighting up like Christmas, knot already firmly in place.
Ah, crap. He’s going all teen-alpha again, isn’t he? He should have grown out
of that fucking years ago, but no. And there’s only one way to solve it…
Gabriel returns to his bedroom completely satiated, if not a little damp. His
own knot is hidden beneath the knot of the towel, but he flings it off and all
but leaps, butt naked, onto the sheets of his bed. He claps the light off,
crawls under the sheets, and closes his eyes on the angelic features of his
omega. Today has been fucking awesome.
 
When Gabriel wakes up again, it’s to the phone.
It’s light outside, he can feel it bask the lower half of the bed, but by the
time on the nightstand, nowhere fucking near waking time. He snatches the phone
up, swearing all the way, and croaks a,
“What?”
“Good to hear from you too, Gabe.”
Pamela. What the fucking hell?
“Pam? I swear to God, this better be important, sweetheart, I was in the middle
of a very interesting dream.”
“’S I in it?” she says, humor in her voice not suitable for this time with so
little sleep. He just growls and she chuckles, but continues. “Listen, I got
some results back from the boys’ tests.”
Gabriel pauses the hand over his face. He asks, voice diffident, “Oh, yeah? And
this couldn’t wait ‘till morning, because…?”
“I don’t think you’re gonna like it. I tried phoning Cas, but his phone’s off.”
“Smart man.”
“Gabriel…”
“Spit it out, dude, I don’t got all day.”
“It’s Sam. He’s, uh, he’s pregnant.”
Oh, fuck.
***** Papa Don't Preach *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning for underage pregnancy and implied forced incest.
     Phew, that was a bitch.
     Enjoy :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When Sam wakes up, it’s to Dean’s relentless snoring. And Sam, as is their
pattern, nudges an arm out to the offending noise, flicks a few fingers at his
brothers face until one final snort sounds and Dean blinks open, dazed and
confused. Sam laughs and scuffles closer.
“Morning, princess,” he greets, slapping a hand to Dean’s cheek a few times and
revelling in the disoriented frown.
A grumble sounds; a noise suspiciously close tofuck off, but it’s pretty much
impossible to tell under all the groaning, so Sam just waits patiently for the
coin to drop. It takes less time than he originally imagined.
Dean jerks upright, blinking his eyes clear and swinging them round the room;
over the chest of drawers opposite them, to the bathroom door over the way and
finally gawping silently at the band t-shirts they both don. Dean’s proudly
proclaims PARAMORE with a bulb beneath it apparently on fire (Sam is pretty
sure he will never not find that funny) – and his displays the face of every
band member with a small and relatively discreet The Beatles just underneath
their colourful faces. Sam approves of both, actually, though he hasn’t really
listened to much of either-
“We have to get out of here.”
It’s Sam’s turn to blink up.
“What? Why?” he asks, his dazed and comfortable smirk replaced quickly with a
confused frown at Dean’s steadfast face.
Dean just turns his incredulous expression at him, the one that always says,
‘okay, I know you’re a smart kid, but really? Are you that dumb?’ and Sam rolls
his eyes.
“Why the hell d’you think, Sam?” he asks, already moving out of the bed. “There
is no way we’re staying here, I’m not ditching one whore house to wind up at
another.”
Sam clambers after him but pauses at the end of the soft comforter, kneeling so
their eyes can meet where Dean stands. Sam can smell the fear, but he doesn’t
mention it.
“Okay, one? We didn’t ditch Alastair’s, they killed him and saved us. And two,
why would they go through all the trouble in making sure we’re okay just to
screw us up again? That doesn’t make any sense…”
Dean grabs his shoulders, halting his speech, and peers into his eyes.
“Sam,” he sighs harshly. “Look, I know you wanna trust someone again, and I get
that, I do - and sure, it’d be great to have people around we didn’t have to be
terrified of. But these alphas are not them.” He spits the word and shakes his
head. “We can’t trust them. End of.”
“But Gabriel-”
“You know you don’t actually mean whatever you’re about to say, right? Your
brain’s all messed up, dude, you freaking scented the guy. See, they’re already
getting into your head.” He jabs one pointy finger at Sam’s temple right until
he has to bat it off. Sam glares, offended.
“Yeah, last night, excuse me if I wasn’t thinking clearly, asshole.” Dean
deflates slightly. “But my brain’s fine now, thank you, and all I was going to
say was that Gabriel and Castiel would have probably done something by now, if
that’s what they were planning to do.”
“Like shit. No way, they want to lull us into a full sense of security, and
then when we least expect it, they’ll lock us in some dungeon and keep us as
sex slaves.”
It takes pretty much everything in Sam’s power not to slap his brother right
across the face, but he manages it and simply gives an exaggerated sigh. Dean
scowls.
“Well, we’ve already tried that one. And what have we got to lose, seriously,
what, our virginity? Well, sorry bro, that ship sailed a while back.” Dean
looks like he’s about to snap again so Sam slaps a quick hand over his mouth.
“Why can’t we just give them a go? Please? If anything weird happens, anything
at all, we’ll run, I swear. I promise. Dean? Come on, please?” He drops the
hand to his brother’s tense shoulder.
“You’re a freaking-”
“What if we do run? We’re we gonna be then, Dean, two unmated omegas, one
underage, roaming the streets like nothing’s wrong. We’re in more danger out
there than in here, you know that. And if we do run and these guys turn out to
be the best thing we could ever imagine and we missed it. All because you’re an
idiot.”
Dean hasn’t moved the scowl, but it does appear to lighten at Sam’s speech and
when he sighs with his eyes rolling to the ceiling, Sam knows he’s won. He just
hopes he’s not wrong.
“Fucking fine.” Sam grins. “Trial run. One thing we don’t like and we’re out of
here, understood?” Sam nods eagerly and Dean rolls his eyes for the thousandth
time and shakes his head in exasperation. “But I’m blaming this on you if they
decide to murder us in the night.”
Sam chuckles slightly and tilts his head until both their foreheads collide
with a comforting thud. “Yeah, I’ll blame me too.”
They stay there for a few seconds, breathing in the other's scent and stabling
themselves that home is right here, wherever the hell they are, the stillness
around them a relaxing change and Sam just breaths it all in for a second…all
up until Dean has to ruin it. He moves off and eyes Sam suspiciously, a glint
of ‘I’m about to rip you a new one’ twinkling in his oak-green eyes.
“So…how you feeling right now?” he asks, growing one mammoth sized shit-eating
grin, to which Sam narrows his own eyes.
“I’m fine,” he tries, eyeing his brother.
“Oh, really? Not, uh, itching for your little boyfriend out there, huh? ‘Cause
I know how much you like scenting him…”
Dick. “I hate you, you know that? Like, I actually really kinda hate you a
little bit…Ow!” And then Sam’s tumbling to the sheets beneath the weight of one
stupidly heavy omega, pinned beneath his stupid hands and stupid legs, digging
his goddamn claws in until Sam’s left a heap of child-like bones. He tries to
struggle out of it, he really does, but ever since the first time Dean leapt on
him as toddlers, Sam’s been totally useless under the power. He hopes by some
awesome brotherly karma that by the time he stops growing he’s at least inches
above this jerk. “You’re an idiot!” he cries, laughing hysterically when Dean’s
lethal fingers go in for his hips, jerking away. “Dean, get off, you freak,
dude!”
They stop instantly in perfect unison when they both hear the knock at the
door. Dean climbs off of him with a face like he’s just been caught stealing
the last cookie and Sam sits up, eyes flickering from the offending door to his
suddenly shy big brother.
Then it opens and Castiel’s stood there, stance tentative. He looks nice, Sam
thinks, good in the jeans and blue button down, better in the casual look than
the assassin one. He smiles and Sam offers one of his own, however small. It’s
still a smile, right?
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says. He takes one step in, just one, but
Dean’s already moving himself, a sort of shuffle back but to the side as well,
until he slides off the bed completely and stands facing the alpha. Sam just
stays where he is, testing the waters of his own theory and hoping more than
anything he isn’t wrong with this. Castiel seems to notice the small exchange
and pauses, standing right back where he was and smiling reassuringly. Sam
sighs inwardly. It’s gonna take more than that to get Dean on his side. “I
heard noise, I thought maybe I should check in on you both, just in case
something was wrong.”
“We’re fine,” Dean snaps, shoving his chest out in a chauvinistic move
suspiciously alpha-like, and for the first time in what feels like years, Sam
thinks just how good of one he’d be.
“Yes, I can see,” Castiel says, nodding slightly with the smile. He motions to
the corridor. “Well, if we’re all up, we might as well get breakfast? I’m sure
you’re both hungry.”
Sam’s up and off the bed then before his brain and feet can even catch up,
because his stomach is definitely taking this one. He pauses half way over to
Cas to look back at Dean, eyes wide and pleading because seriously the hunger
is intense they haven’t eaten in like a whole day come on dude don’t be an
idiot and Dean rolls his eyes up again, like Sam just keeps ruining his big
plans, such as running and staying food-abstinent. Yeah, well, they can stay
abstinent for something else because Sam is eating and they can’t eat if
they’re running, sosuck it up Dean.
“You seem in better health today, Sam,” Castiel says, just about the moment
they all enter the kitchen, and Sam can feel his face heat up with late
embarrassment. He’d snuggled into Gabriel. They pulled down his pants and he
just laid there and let them fondle him…Oh god.
“Yeah,” he says slowly, looking up to Dean for some kind of support, but the
jerk just looks down at him, a giant smirk running his features. Sam grimaces.
“Uh, sorry about that, I guess.”
“God, no, it wasn’t your fault, don’t apologise. Anyway, it’s not like you did
anything wrong at all, I’m just glad to see you’re in better health, that’s
all.” He smiles and it’s kind and Sam doesn’t know what to do so he just gulps
and looks away. And if he shrinks slightly behind Dean, then it’s because
Dean’s made him shy and he’s bigger…or whatever.
And Sam won’t admit it, but Gabriel (victim of said shuffling and scenting) not
being here is one of the biggest reliefs he’s ever felt in his entire life. He
doesn’t even want to think about the awkward surfacing from that conversation.
“Please, sit,” Castiel offers, motioning to the high-table and stools. Dean
sits first and Sam follows slowly, peering around and so not obviously
breathing in the scent of Gabriel surrounding his seat. He must have sat here
recently. It’s strong and – in the most ignorant way – comforting, but Sam
ignores that and moves as close to Dean as the chair will let him to breath in
omegafamilyhome in one perfect scent. “Is eggs okay?”
Dean nods and Sam shrugs, and they both watch Castiel bustle the kitchen so
intently, Sam’s worried about eye damage or something; but after a few minutes
of watching the blue shirt zip around in his vision, once Sam blacks out for a
second, he gives in. Besides, if he was planning to drug their food without
their knowledge, Sam’s pretty sure he’d find a way.
Six cracked eggs in, Castiel turns to them and asks, “Is it alright if I turn
on the radio?” and Sam looks at Dean so sharply, it nearly cracks his neck.
Olive eyes stare back and they watch as the other tries not to grin. Cas,
however, seems to catch the wrong end of the stick and he shifts in their
peripheral vision and says, “It’s fine if you’d rather not, I don’t mind.”
Sam answers first, a quick, “No, it’s fine, please,” with wide eyes just in
case he decided not to in that short space. Then Castiel smiles and flicks it
on, tuning it with his eggy fingers, until, of all songs, Sweet Child O’ Mine
comes crooning in with the instrumental Dean always has to air-guitar rock out
to, and Sam can feel his relaxing at his side, aura lifting slightly fromI-
hate-everything.
“Classic rock good?” and they both nod furiously.
The nine eggs don’t take long, but with each one that went in, Sam’s gut
dropped with the idea that Gabriel might be joining them. He felt his own scent
shift slightly, watched Dean out of the corner of his eye as his brother
sniffed the air and turned a quizzical look to Sam, which he ignored, silently
willing the stench to back the fuck off.
When the plate of eggs and sliced up toast is placed before him, though, Sam
forgets his trepidation. The brothers share a look, one that says, no freaking
way, and they both pick up the forks with the same hand, both prod shyly at one
piece before taking it to their mouths and tasting it quickly. And they both
grin giddily at each other before diving in and forgetting they were worried
about drugs in the first place. Oh well, if it’s drugged it’s drugged, no use
wasting a good plate of food.
They never ate like this with Alastair. Every now and then Jo might sneak them
something nice, but generally Ruby would be sniffing around like the dog she
was and they’d have it snatched away before the first bite. The only time they
had real meals (or anything similar) was when Alastair had guests and they were
allowed to finish off any left overs in the kitchen for being good. Otherwise,
random snacks or tubes would generally do.
And they’ve finished their food - literally scraped their plates clean, all
three of them - by the time Gabriel makes his star appearance. Sam shrinks as
far down into his seat as physically possible and tries to stay there,
clutching his glass of orange juice and avoiding anyone’s gaze. The others
apparently notice at a slower rate, Castiel turning in greeting and then Dean,
sniffing up and frowning before turning his eyes to Sam – and then down to
where Sam’s slumped, as realisation dawns. He smirks because he’s an idiot and
if this was his position, he’d be trying to bury too.
“Mornin’,” he greets once he’s cornered the table, grinning the grin of a
Cheshire cat that somehow doesn’t reach his eyes, the golden orbs Sam remembers
floating around in his skull. Sam doesn’t know if the alpha even looks at him
once, his eyes go so intently focused on his clear glass and numbering all the
bits of orange stuck to the sides because it's suddenly the most interesting
thing in the world. “Say, Cas, can I have a word with you please? Like now.”
Castiel lifts an eyebrow at him, observing the bed-head mess of his hair and
the seemingly thrown on jeans and tee (If I agreed with you we’d both be wrong
written on the front) and the arch of his eyebrows before nodding slightly and
moving off with him. Sam and Dean both watch them disappear round the wall of
the kitchen before turning back to each other.
“What do you suppose that’s about?” Sam asks, craning his head slightly to get
a better view, though the most he’s allowed is Gabriel with one hand on his hip
and the other on his hair, just before he feels like he’s gonna fall and look
like a moron so he straightens up and looks curiously back to Dean.
“Dunno, don’t care,” he says, sighing and leaning back against the chair in a
feline-like stretch. He peeks down at Sam with one eye. “Dude, if it’s
important, I’m sure we’ll find out sooner or later.”
“Right,” Sam agrees. He doesn’t know if he imagines it, but he thinks he can
smell a waft of something sharp enter the kitchen, maybe surprise or something,
though not quite fear. And it’s not Dean. Sam sighs to himself and shakes his
head. He’ll worry about anything if his brain lets him, seriously, just let it
go, everything’s fine.
But then that ‘imaginary’ scent drifts near again, accompanied by Castiel
calling tightly, “Dean, will you come here for a second?” and Sam feels his
heart meet his throat.
Dean looks startled for a brief moment, blinking down at Sam before apparently
shaking out of it and sliding down from the stool. He slinks away, “Wait here,
Sammy,” and Sam doesn’t say ‘tell me what happens’ because he knows Dean will,
they don’t keep secrets for anything. But when Dean leaves his sight around
that wall, Sam knows something bad has happened, he just doesn’t know what. Is
Dean ill or something? Did his test results come back weird or has something
come up concerning Dad, maybe they found out where he is-
“What? How the hell do you know?” Dean’s voice is rough and raw, tempered and
angry and Sam’s heart picks up to a speed he hates and he tries to remember his
breathing, in-out-in-out, slow and steady, like Dean always says. His outburst
is followed by shushes and comforting sounds, bordered swiftly with Dean’s
scent and finally that other mystery one makes sense. Shock, because now that’s
what Dean’s feeling, horror and pure fear and Sam’s eyes are wide again and he
can smell them mixing now, his own fear and Dean’s, like some horrible perfume
filling up Sam’s head.
Sam can’t hear any more talking after that, but after a minute or so Dean
returns back round the corner. His face is sheet-white, Sam remembers the last
time it was that pallid, Alastair had made them fuck and whatever the hell is
that bad, Sam doesn’t know. He isn’t sure he wants to find out.
“Dean?” he says, shifting on the chair but not leaving it because Dean had told
him to “wait here”, but then Dean lifts his lips into a grimace that’s probably
meant to resemble a smile and motions for Sam to go to him. And Sam goes as
quickly as his feet will carry him. “Dean, what’s going on, what’s wrong? Dean,
please, what the hell?” They stand together, Sam’s hands gripping tightly at
Dean, staring wildly at each other until Dean peeks a glance back and Sam
notices the alphas in the doorway. Gabriel’s looking at Sam’s feet and Castiel
catches his eye with a reassuring smile. “Dean?”
“Shit,” Dean says, dipping his eyes again. When he looks back up, the
intentness is physical and Sam feels his insides drop like he’s just fallen on
the big dipper. “Sam…I need you to try and remember to not freak out, alright?
Please?”
“Just tell me, for God’s sake…”
“Okay, okay,” he sighs heavily. “And I’m here for you. No matter what the hell
happens, I swear to God, I’m never leaving you for anything, okay?”
Sam nods.
Dean takes a giant breath in and, with raised eyebrows, says, “You’re
pregnant.”
                                     ****
The second Sam dips to the floor, Gabriel’s on him. There’s not much he can do
but stand there awkwardly with his hands out, because the boy sits down
smoothly, crunched into himself on the floor with his legs pinned beneath him
and his brother swiftly with him, whispering things into his ear that makes the
blank look on his face regain some sort of emotion and he blinks. But then he
can’t catch his breath and his eyes turn wildly to Dean’s face with something
akin to pure and physical horror, and Castiel moves to Gabriel’s side.
“Sam-” he tries, moving a step too close to the pair until Dean swings a look
up at him from the tiles, a threatening snarl purely from animalistic instinct
pushed out before snapping back to his hyperventilating brother.
“Sammy,” Dean starts, gripping Sam’s shaggy hair between his hands and holding
his eyes until they have no choice but to focus in on him, intent and strong.
“Breath, Sam, come on little brother, you’re okay, Sammy, everything’s okay, I
promise you, alright, I swear to you we’ll make it through this, just like we
do everything, huh? The Winchester’s can handle anything, ain’t that right?”
The display looks sickeningly practiced somehow, Gabriel wonders how many times
they’ve actually performed it. Too fucking many, clearly. He meets Cas’ eyes
across the tops of the brothers’ heads, his own breath heavy in that usual
poise of preparation he takes in battle. It’s a pregnant omega for Christ’s
sake, not exactly breaking news, but dammit if they don’t want to fucking sob
along with the pathetic little boys on their kitchen floor.
It reeks now, the kitchen. A horrific concoction of fear and panic and
protection all stirred to create one thick, pungent stench that will probably
never wash out of the walls. Damn, Gabriel likes this shirt.
“I can’t, Dean,” Sam says, in a horribly deadpanned voice, his eyes on Dean’s
chest and his hands not gripping, just propped lax on Dean’s thighs. “Not this,
Dean, I can’t, please, Dean, please don’t make me do this…”
The voice slowly disintegrates into sobs (which is somehow sadistically better
than nothing), and hysterics joins the mix of smells in the air until they both
move together, Dean pulling Sam right onto him until the boy all but straddles
his lap, Sam’s head buried in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean pets his hair
gently and coos.
“It’s okay, Sammy, I’m here, baby brother, I’m here, shh, baby, we’re okay,
everything’s okay.”
And the sobs that erupt the room, unadulterated sobs of pain and bewilderment,
all pent up from the last few days, has tears in Gabriel’s own eyes. But he
blinks them away because he’s an alpha, dammit, and Castiel isn’t crying, get a
fucking grip, Gabriel, Jesus.
Everything’s almost still for a few minutes, stuck fast in one frame of time as
they all test the waters of what the others are going to do, before finally
Gabriel gives in and ducks down to his haunches, a fair metre away from Dean
the Animal.
“Dean,” he starts, drawing the beast-like eyes over to him before continuing.
He offers his palms in surrender. “You wanna take him to the living room? I
think the couch might be a bit more comfortable than ceramic tiles, huh?”
He doesn’t think Dean will reply at first, his eyes glazing over slightly even
as the hand still moves over Sam’s hair, but after a few seconds he shifts
slightly and nods. Gabriel smiles and backs off with his hands still raised,
moving slowly out towards the living room with one eye still on them in case
they need help. Teasing is one thing, but if Gabriel even attempted to put his
hands on the kid now, Dean would flip out, and Sam would be alone, and that
will not happen.
Castiel leaves around the other side of the wall.
Gabriel watches them, sees Dean coax his brother into moving until they’re both
begrudgingly on their feet, Sam latched to Dean’s side and Dean latched to
Sam’s shoulders. They move as one being, Dean maneuvering and directing,
whispering into Sam’s ear until they finally make it to the couch furthest from
the one Castiel’s perched on, and slump down into it. Sam’s immediately curled
so far into Dean his cries are almost inaudible. Gabriel parks down next to his
own brother.
Silent minutes pass, ten, twenty, thirty until Sam’s dried himself out enough
to just sit there, nestled into Dean’s now damp tee shirt. And another few go
by before Dean finally looks up with the eyes of a man twice his age and asks
timidly, voice dry,
“What should we do now?”
Castiel sighs beside Gabriel, contemplating, before nodding when he says, “We
should go back to Pamela. Uh, Dr Barnes? She’ll let us know from there, anytime
today, if that’s alright.”
Dean nods back. “Okay.” He angles his head until he can see Sam’s, offering a
tiny smile when Sam comes up with red, tear-stained cheeks from his ribs.
“There, you feel better now?”
“No,” Sam grumbles, and Gabriel can’t help the freaking relieved huff/laugh
that leaves him. He’s just glad the kid didn’t cry himself into muteness or
pass out from dehydration.
“Sure you do,” Dean says, shifting them both until Sam’s just sat beside him
rather than on top of him. “Did you at least think this all through a little
better? Now you know it’s not actually that bad, it could be worse, right?”
“You know you always say that and it always gets worse. I think you jinx it.”
Sam sniffs and peers those gigantic puppy eyes up at his brother before swiping
a hand over them. “I don’t see how it could get worse.”
“Now who’s jinxing it, huh?” Dean flicks Sam’s forehead. “Trust me, it could a
whole lot worse than this. For starters, you could be pregnant with a demon
baby. You ever thought of that, huh?”
Sam growls. “Same thing.”
“Nah, it’s not.” He tucks Sam into him comfortably and rests his chin on top of
his mop head. “Some sleaze-ball alpha, sure, but most of ‘em don’t know their
rights from their lefts, let alone how to control hell.”
“You don’t know your rights from your lefts,” Sam says, finally smiling,
however the hell small it might be. Still a smile, right?
“Yeah, well, I’m not getting anybody pregnant, am I, so it’s fine…”
They go on for a few more minutes until Dean finally says they’re ready to go
whenever and Sam doesn’t look anyone in the eye other than Dean.
It isn’t until Gabriel sees two traumatised omegas bantering with one another
not even an hour after a hysterical fit that he realises just how fascinating
these two beings are.
And how much he suddenly wants to rip this sleaze-ball alphas dick off and feed
it to him.
Chapter End Notes
     Please comment and kudos if you enjoyed :)
     Follow me on tumblr: http://one-life-should-be-enough.tumblr.com/
***** Brick *****
Chapter Notes
     This is a long one, but i knew where it had to end, it was just that
     getting there took longer than I imagined. Anywho, enjoy! Also, that
     was a seriously quick update! That never happens!
     Bit more love in this chapter, though not between who you think!
     Comment if you enjoy pleeeeasse :) Or any tips with where this can
     go, I love hearing those.
     Warnings for: forced incest, rape, torture (kind of). Make me aware
     of anymore please.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Dean finds himself sat on a
hospital gurney being gawped at by Dr Barnes. Sam, curled like a beetle at his
side, cheeks still pudgy from all the crying and Castiel, stood like a statue
of to the side with his arms folded, not convincing anyone he’s anything less
than deadly. The only thing at all different is the room – now apparently the
doctor’s office – and Gabriel with his new, concerned face. Dean isn’t sure
which one he hates more.
“At least you’re coherent, huh, Sam?” the doctor jokes, smiling shortly before
looking over to Castiel and lifting her eyebrows. Sam doesn’t answer, or even
lift his head. Dean just pats along his hair soothingly.
“How did you know?” Dean asks, clutching tighter when Sam curls closer. “About
the pregnancy, I mean,” because nothing in this world could force Dean to say
pup.
“Blood work,” she nods. “Garth mentioned it to me, thought I should check up on
it. Urine tests came back positive, there’s no maybe’s here, kiddo. Pup’s in
there.”
Dean nods because yeah, damn, that was what he was thinking. He’s not in the
mood to glare right now because if he does that he’ll lose it. If even the
slightest negative emotion along those lines enters his mind he’ll drop his
shit and freak the fuck out, and he won’t do that to Sammy. He can’t, not right
now.
“Can you find the alpha?”
Dr Barnes smiles softly. “Not without his blood.”
“That’s not a problem,” Dean growls, but shoves a stopper into that emotion
before it goes any further. Don’t Dean, it’s not worth it.
Pamela laughs. “I’m sure. I don’t think it matters at this point, honestly.
Right now, we’ll go over options, let you both know what choices Sam here has
to make-”
“There are no options,” Sam mutters into Dean’s tee-shirt, his fingers taking
on the rhythmic pattern of clenching and unclenching as he sieves through his
thoughts. Dean pauses.
“Sam…sure there are. You got tons of options,” he says, ducking his head to try
for Sam’s eyes. They don’t appear. “Sammy-”
“I know what you’re trying to say Dean, but I can’t. Mom wouldn’t like it,” Sam
relays, his voice taking on that horrible blasé quality again. Dean flinches.
“Yeah, well mom’s dead. Okay? And that’s not true, she would not want you
having a kid at sixteen, Sam. You’re still a kid, you can’t raise one, man, you
can’t have one, what about the rest of your life? You’re so young, dude, come
on…”
Sam huffs a bitter, awful laugh and lifts his head to look Dean straight in the
eye. “What life?”
Dean sighs. “Sam…”
“No, really Dean, what life? An hour ago, you wanted to run away and live on
the streets, what kind of a life is that? We’re used Dean, no one wants us; we
never lived a life and we never will. At least this way I can give one to
someone else.”
And Dean doesn’t know what to say.
“…you’re a kid,” he tries, but his voice is weak and pitiful and even Dean
doesn’t believe it, even if it is the truest thing he's even spoken. “Please
just think this through.”
“There’s nothing to think through. It’s my decision and my body and I get to
decide. I know you enjoy thinking otherwise, but you’re wrong, especially about
this. I don’t need to think anything through Dean, I’m not getting rid of it.”
He shrugs from Dean’s grip then, peering down at his own stomach with a knot to
his face Dean fucking hates being there. He lays a hand on the flat surface.
“Mum wouldn’t want me to.”
And Dean wants to go crazy, he wants to flip out and throw shit and punch
things because Sam’s just sitting there, ignoring the fact that some monster
left seeds in his stomach for another monster to grow. Genes carry for fuck’s
sake and Dean wants to scream it, wants to shake his stupid baby brother for
ever thinking their mom would want Sam to have a pup at fifteen for Christ’s
sake, it’s not fucking fair!
But Dean doesn’t because that’s not what Sam needs. Sam needs support and
stability and intelligence.
“Please, Sam, please,” Dean begs instead, moving to grasp the sides of that
dead-panned face. “She wouldn’t want you to do this. I know it seems like crap
right now, the whole thing is fucking bullshit, but you have to listen to me,
please. Mom, Dad, they would hate the shit you’ve been through, it’d kill them.
They wouldn’t want a grandkid born from that.”
Sam snaps and aims his narrowed eyes on Dean, shoving at his hands. “Dad?
Really? Dad would care at all what’s happened to us?”
“Of course he would-”
“God, you’re a hypocrite, you know that? Last week you couldn’t hate the man
more but now you love the guy, you actually think he cares? Well then where is
he Dean? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t see him around here; where was he when you
came limping down the stairs from Alastair’s fists every two weeks or that time
I got raped so many times I couldn’t feel my own legs, huh?”
Dean opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Sam scoffs at him and turns away.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t you dare talk to me about Dad. If he gave a
crap he’d be here right now and I wouldn’t have to talk to you.”
Dean recoils physically at that, backs off with a stupid frown on his face and
water welling up in his eyes at Sam’s stubborn form. He doesn’t really mean
that, Sam loves Dean, he needs Dean, he would never wish for Dean to be
anywhere else but right here…right?
“Dean,” Castiel starts, and Dean gives the alpha his bewildered gaze because he
can’t bear the betrayed look marring Sam’s face. “I’m stepping outside for some
air, will you come with me?”
“I can’t-” he tries, but with the bitter look Sam purposely aims at him, he
just nods. He just nods. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll come.”
When he stands, Sam doesn’t look at him; and when he leaves when Castiel holds
open the door, Sam just sits there, eyes narrowed down and scowl still
apparent, so Dean looks up at Gabriel. I’ll kill you if you touch him, is what
his scowl says.
Castiel’s silent on the walk outside, trailing the hospital floors expertly
until they finally come to what looks like a back entrance and they both step
into the cool midday air. Dean heads straight to the curb and sits down quickly
before his legs can give way and the dumb alpha would have to catch him or
something else equally embarrassing. At least this way it looks like his idea.
To his surprise, Castiel lowers himself to Dean’s side and sits comfortably,
the safe distance of a metre or so between them.
“He doesn’t mean it, you know,” he says. “He’s just-”
“If you say ‘hormonal’, so help me God I will punch you.”
Castiel chuckles. “Actually, that too. But what I was going to say was that
this is all…surreal. It’ll take some time to get used to or to make his real
decision, if keeping the pup isn’t already it.”
“Don’t call it that,” Dean snaps.
“Why not, Dean? That’s what it is, isn’t it?”
“No it’s not. It’s the fucking devil, man, and it’s inside my brother.” Dean
feels the knot in his stomach tighten.
“I thought you said it wasn’t a demon baby?” When Dean looks up at him, he
actually has the gall to be smiling. Dean just snarls as lightly as he can and
everything just...comes out.
“Those guys…all of them, every single one. They were all evil. I mean, to do
what they did…they knew exactly how old he was but they did it anyway. First
time I saw it, he was eleven, cried the whole time. First time they made me do
it…fuck. And Alastair. I mean he was a sick son of a bitch, trust me, I know,
but at least with him we generally knew where we stood. We acted out, we got
punished, we put a toe wrong, we got punished. But if he ever wanted something
outta me I didn’t wanna give, he’d hurt him. Sam took everything and he took it
willingly to save my hide. He’s my fucking hero, Cas, and he doesn’t want me
around. I don’t think I know what to do with that.”
“That’s not true Dean,” a hand appears on Dean’s arm, tanned fingers and soft
skinned – and Dean realises the alpha’s close, barely centimetres away and he
wonders which one of them did the moving. Not that it matters. He’s close and
that’s all that does. Dean leans into him because he’s a weak piece of shit
asshole who can’t even look after one person, one kid. “He wants you around so
much, I don’t think he knows how to express it. The way he looks it you, it’s
as though you lassoed the moon and gave it to him wrapped up in a pretty pink
bow.” Dean eyes him, but Cas continues. “And you look at him like he’s a
precious diamond that you need to protect at all cost. It’s unhealthy, but it’s
beautiful, watching you two. Like yin and yang.”
Dean smiles the smallest one he can manage because he feels like he owes Cas
something. His head moves to the blue-clad shoulder almost of its own accord
and Dean can feel his warmth radiate along his side and down his arm. It’s
nice. Dean doesn’t deserve it, but he can’t force himself away.
“You’re not used.”
The way it’s said - so optimistic and sure - Dean lifts his head and frowns at
the alpha, disbelieving, and laughs.
“Of course we are,” he says, because aren’t they? That’s not purposely
degrading or anything, it’s just the truth, they are used up and unwanted.
“We’ve been whores for a long time dude, I think if anyone is, we qualify.”
“Trust me, Dean, you are not used. That was just one time in your lives, and
now here’s a new one. You’re safe and wanted and neither I nor Gabriel will
ever find you used.”
Dean just stares at him for a second, peers into those beautiful, crystal blue
eyes so sure and intense Dean would look away if he could. But he’s held there
like magnetic force and he doesn’t move.
“Why are you doing this?” he whispers.
Castiel smiles and Dean thinks for the first time how stunning this man is
(alpha, he's an alpha, Dean, we don't trust those, remember?). This,
everything, it’s too good to be true.
“Because we want to. And we like you, both you and Sam. We want to help you, so
please don’t run away,” he says, knowingly. Right. Sam said.
“Have you ever taken in omegas before?”
The eye contact never breaks even for a second.
“No. But as I said, we like you. And we don’t want to see you split up or
saddened, ever again. And I will say it again, no move whatsoever will ever be
taken towards either you or your brother without your explicit consent. If
there is anything in this world I can promise you Dean, that is it.”
“So you do want us to fuck you?”
And Dean mentally shoves himself off a cliff because those eyes leave his and
he’s left feeling empty and cold and alone and without Sam…
“That’s out of the question, but personally speaking, I do hold a certain
attraction for you, yes. I won’t lie Dean, but I don’t want you to feel
uncomfortable whilst in our home, alright? I will never make any sort of move
of that nature, I swear it.”
Dean nestles his head back to the shoulder because at least that offered some
warmth in his mind besides the blue-hot eyes.
“It’s okay, Cas. Most people do.” He feels the shoulder lower slightly as its
owner exhales, so Dean just nuzzles closer and okay, maybe he does scent the
guy, but Sam did it first and yeah, he smells really nice. And maybe when Dean
isn’t so wounded he’ll regret the obvious weakness, but right now it’s
comforting. Even if it makes him feel like shit for leaving Sam with those
strangers and seeking comfort without him and...
“I know they do. But most people shouldn’t force it.”
A hand, the one that used to be on Dean’s arm, still tanned and still soft,
finds its way to his hair, stroking the strands down flat where Dean hasn’t
brushed it out from the morning, grooming him. Yep, tomorrow, he’ll regret
this. Now, though, he’s perfectly content.
“Has any other omega been pregnant? You know, from the ones you’ve saved. Have
you ever had to do this before?”
“Once, a long time ago. Anna was with me, the red-headed beta you met?” Dean
nods that he remembers her. “We brought the girl to the hospital and she was
going crazy, calling us murderers, screaming for help. When we’d found her she
was bleeding from every opening in her body from this pup’s father, in so much
pain but she still screamed for help from us. That was before Pamela worked
here, though. She’d probably know what to do. But as far as I know, most omegas
have operations when they first arrive at their house, with their pimps. They
don’t like having their playthings pregnant.” Dean might get offended at the
term but the word is said with so much malice and so much anger, Dean knows he
doesn’t mean it derogatively. He remembers all too clearly the Castiel from
that night (last night dude, last night).
“We had them,” Dean says. “First week we arrived there, the ‘doctor’ came round
and carved into us right on the kitchen counter. I don’t think he knew what he
was doing, just took a scalpel and started cutting, me first, then Sam, they
only gave us painkillers afterwards, but it was enough to knock us out for
days, which was good, I guess. Alastair fucked me the second I woke up. He
would have done Sam, too, but Sam was still bleeding. They’d stitched us up, I
think, but he just wouldn’t stop. Azazel liked that, the raw pain in his eyes
every time he pushed in, got him off quickly.”
Castiel shakes his head and Dean can feel the waves of hatred pouring off of
him, sinking them both inside a puddle of anger and rage, but somehow, Dean
still feels safe. He still huddles closer.
“I’m sorry,” he supplies, stroking a hand up and down the alphas arm, calming
the torrents. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you this, I’m sorry; it’s
disgusting, I get it. I’ll stop.”
The hand stills in Dean’s hair until it’s moving, cupping the back of his skull
and forcing his head back and up, right to Cas’ fiery eyes.
“Don’t do that,” he says, Dean frowns. “Don’t you ever apologise for that
again, do you understand me?” Dean nods with wide eyes. “This is not your fault
and you will never apologise again. I mean it Dean, never.”
Dean nods and smiles and frowns all at the same time, breathing in that scent
and savouring it for as long as he can. Fuck, who knows, maybe it is time to
trust again.
****
Gabriel watches Sam with narrowed, severe eyes as the kid picks at his nails
and every now and then rubs an idle hand over his flat stomach. Fuck-shit, it’s
like a fucking nightmare. Gabriel wants to go mad and storm straight out of the
hospital, dig up those pathetic, snivelling excuses for alphas, tie them down
to chairs and peel each layer of skin from their fuck-ugly bones until they
give him every name of every alpha ever to fuck this child. He can’t do that:
one, because he hasn’t quite mastered the knack of reviving the dead, and two,
because that isn’t what Sam wants, and right now, that’s all Gabriel’s about.
Dammit.
“It’s a little early for any scans just yet, Sam, but I’ll let you know when I
think it’s a good idea,” Pam says, eyeing Sam softly when he just nods and
gulps, picking viciously at his thumb.
“Hey Sam?” He looks up shyly. “How are you feeling, right now? The truth,
please.”
He flickers his eyes down, then back up, this time to Gabriel and they stay
there, as if stuck, so Gabriel smiles and winks in the kindest way he knows. He
waits for a few seconds, expecting to be released from the hold but when Sam’s
somewhat desperate eyes stay pinned to his and Gabriel watches his chest expand
and relax too rapidly for his liking, he sighs and smiles. Bully to the kid,
because when Gabriel walks tentatively over to his side, he doesn’t flinch. He
moves back, edging away slightly, but when Gabriel sits down beside him and
tugs him in with one arm, he just melts and buries his face again. Gabriel pets
his hair, just like Dean had.
“Dean hates me,” he wails, and Gabriel would laugh if it wasn’t so goddamn
depressing. He shushes into his hair.
“No, sweetheart, he doesn’t hate you,” he hushes, rocking him back and forth,
noting Pamela’s soulful gaze. “He could never hate you, even I know that.”
“How could you know that?” Sam accuses, clutching Gabriel’s shirt so tightly,
he’s pretty sure they’ll be finger imprints. “You don’t know anything about
us.”
“I know because I have eyes, dopey. That kid loves you the same amount as you
love him, it’s pretty obvious, trust me. You hurt his feelings, sure,” Sam sobs
and Gabriel can feel dampness at his shoulder. “But that’s what brothers do.
It’s our job, right? Piss the other off, hate each other, but that doesn’t mean
we love each other any less. Cas and I fight like cats and dogs, but we’d be
there till the end. It’s the same with you and Dean, especially with what you
two’ve been through.”
“I was horrible,” he says, hiccuping like a little lost lamb and damn if
Gabriel doesn’t pull him in impossibly tighter. “He doesn’t deserve any of what
I said, he’s the best brother ever. He deserves better than me.”
“He knows you didn’t mean it, baby, it’s okay. He dotes on you like a stripper
loves glitter, kiddo, trust me on this one,” Gabriel watches Pam’s smirk grow
with one of his own. “Okay?”
Sam doesn’t respond for a good few seconds but his fingers do unpeel slightly
from Gabriel’s shirt and he moves his head until just the crown, covered in
fluffy, chestnut hair, is pressed into Gabriel’s peck. He strokes the flyways
at the omegas neck until they resemble something like order, all the way up
until Sam rises and swipes a stubborn hand over his face. Gabriel smirks when
he finally opens his eyes.
“Howdy,” he greets, and Sam blinks in reply.
“Sorry,” he says, but Gabriel just rolls his eyes and tucks a strand of hair
behind his ear. The kid leans guiltily into his palm.
“None of that, sweetheart. It’s my job to protect you,” he says, and Sam looks
up suspiciously but doesn’t say anything so neither does Gabriel. “I’m ecstatic
to do it.”
Pamela coughs and they both look over to her in her swivel-chair, leaned back
and knowing eyed. Gabriel narrows his at her.
“Well, from these results, Sam, I’d say you were… four weeks along? Four, five
weeks. As I say, no scans until you’re at least eight weeks, maybe sooner,
considering your circumstances.” Sam looks down and gulps. “It’s just a
precaution, Sam, don’t worry, so far everything seems perfectly fine and
normal. But I’ll be checking up every few days, just in case. I’m sure Gabe can
give me the run down.” Sam looks between both smiles a few times before
nodding. “Great. Here,” she leans back into her desk draw and pulls out a small
stack of paper, “are some leaflets. Now, I know you’re planning on keeping it,
but before you make any rash decisions, I want you to read over them. Having a
pup at such a young age is a serious health risk, kiddo, especially with your
background…”
“I don’t care what happens to me.” Gabriel does. Gabriel does so fucking much
it hurts. He pulls Sam closer with a hand on his waist. “And people gave birth
at younger than sixteen years ago, they managed just fine.”
“I know, kiddo. I’m just worried about your body’s reactions, is all. So many
drugs and heats isn’t healthy, Sam, I don’t want you-”
“I don’t care about me.”
Pamela just smiles sadly and nods anyway. There’s no arguing right now, not
really.
“I’ll be in touch. Now though, you’re free to go.”
Gabriel stands and reaches a hand to Sam, grasping his shoulders when he hops
clean off the bed.
“I’ll see you around, Pam, okay?” he calls from the door, and they leave with
a,
“Not too soon, I hope.”
They find Castiel and Dean out on the curb a few minutes later, Sam pushes
further into Gabriel’s side at the sight of them melded into one. Huh.
Castiel’s getting further than he is, the sly dog. They start when they smell
them and Dean shoves so far away from Castiel, it’s like repelling magnets, all
but twirling on one foot back to his brother.
“Sam,” he tries, but Sam just glances up, blinks a few times at his gaping
brother before looking guiltily away and replacing the grip on Gabriel’s shirt
with a fresher one.
They all head to the car in silence and once everyone’s in, the two omegas
further from each other than Gabriel’s ever seen them in the backseat, Cas
starts the car and they’re on their way. It’s a long, quiet ride.
“Sammy, please,” Dean says once they’re safely in the living room, but Sam just
separates from the rest of them and darts off towards the stairs. Dean moves to
follow him but the hand Castiel places on his shoulder halts him and he turns
back to share a long, meaningful gaze until Dean nods and Castiel smiles. Okay,
what the fuck?
“He’ll come around, Dean,” Cas says, patting the shoulder softly. “Just give
him some time.”
“He thinks you’re mad at him,” Gabriel offers, landing solidly in the couch he
had to vacate an hour ago. “Cas is right, give him some space for an hour or so
and you’ll both be right as rain again in no time.”
Dean eyes him as though he’s about to snap but apparently something inside of
him reasons with that option and he just closes his eyes and nods. He sits down
in the exact same spot, which looks oddly empty now without the sloth-boy
clinging onto him.
“Would you like something to eat, Dean? Or drink?” Castiel asks on the way to
the kitchen. Dean just shakes his head, so Cas says, “I’ll bring you some
water, if that’s okay?” And he’s gone.
“Dean?” Gabriel starts, waiting for the green-eyes before continuing. “I’m
sorry. About all of this, about everything. And if you’re pissed off about
anything I’m doing, I wanna apologise for that as well. I’m not gonna touch
your brother, I swear it.”
“You seemed pretty cozy a minute ago,” he hisses.
“Hark who’s talking,” he smiles. “You’re right, though, I like him. Probably
the same way Cas likes you. And, in the same way, Cas won’t touch you without
your consent, and I won’t touch Sam without his. If I do, I hereby allow
Castiel to snap my neck. With you as my witness.”
Dean smiles the tiniest smile, but Gabriel feels like he’s gotten somewhere. He
grins back, just as Castiel returns with a glass of water and a coffee, which
he hands to Gabriel, then Dean, until he finally sits down on the center
armchair, playing middle ground. They both watch as Dean sips at the water.
“How long can we stay here?” he asks, wincing before the whole question is even
out.
Castiel blinks. “For as long as you want, Dean, we told you that. You and Sam
are free to reside here for as long as you’d like. At the very least until
Sam’s eighteen, and especially if he has a pup with him, you should really
stick around a stable environment…”
Something visibly seems to snap in Dean’s head, his face tightens harshly and
his throat erupts in a deep growl until he shoves up to his feet and the glass
is over the room and smashing into a wall in nanoseconds, water flying
everywhere in its wake. Gabriel and Castiel are one their feet in another few
seconds, Castiel making it first with his hands crushing Dean’s head, staring
deep into his eyes until Gabriel makes it over, grabbing the omega’s arms to
hold behind his back. He’s fucking strong for what he is and Gabriel uses force
he hasn’t had to in years. After a few seconds of crying and sobbing and crazed
flailing, Castiel finally says the combination of words that halt him in his
tracks: “Sam will hear you.” Even though Gabriel’s pretty sure he already has,
‘cause this dude can freak.
They lower him into Cas’ armchair, practically perched on top of his lap so
Gabriel kneels down beside it and keeps up the rhythmic stroking through his
hair. Apparently he’s pretty decent at doing that.
“Ssh, Dean, hush, you’re okay,” Cas says, rocking him back and forth as Dean
nuzzles his tears into his alpha’s neck. “Sam’s alive and he’s safe, okay? He’s
safe, Dean, you’re both safe and together and no-one is allowed to hurt you
ever again, you understand? I promise Dean, we’ll take care of you.”
Dean’s chants pause Cas though, just so they can both listen to him. “It’s not
fair on him, it’s not fair, why couldn’t it have been me? Sam doesn’t deserve
any of this, he always gets the shitty end of the stick and I always come out
on top, it’s not fair, he doesn’t deserve it, I love him, why did this have to
happen to him?”
“I think you’ve both had a pretty rough deal, kiddo,” Gabriel sooths, petting
and grooming his hair. It’s nothing sexual, not at all, just calming and
family-like, soothing. “But he’s gonna be okay. You’re both gonna be okay,
because now you’ve got me and Cas and nothing bad’ll happen to either of you,
not while we’re around. And we’ll be around for a good long while yet,
sweetheart, don’t you worry.”
A few more minutes pass, Dean cries his now silent tears into Cas’ shirt until
there’s a whole wet-patch, his scent narrows down from fucking cutthroat to
something softer and breathable and they stop panicking that he might have a
panic attack. Even later after that, he seems to realise exactly what he’s
doing and straightens up completely, embarrassment flooding his scent, until he
climbs quickly off Cas’ lap and shrugs himself out.
“Sorry,” he says. He looks over at the broken glass, and down at the two alphas
on their knees for him. Well, one on his knees, the other’s sat on a chair, but
same difference. “Fuck. I’m really sorry, dammit, I didn’t mean to do it, I
just…”
Cas is up in seconds and by his side. “What did I say about apologizing? Dean,
it’s okay. Everything’s okay, I promise you. Now go and see your brother, we’ll
clear this up.”
Dean shuffles on the spot for a second, glancing, caught between both of them
before nodding and setting off. “Thank you.” It carries a lot.
****
Sam scents Dean before he sees him because it’s that freaking strong. He looks
up and waits for his brother to find it in himself to open the door. He prompts
with, “Dean?” and the door creaks open to his brothers face; tear-streaked and
puffy as he walks in, shuffling and visibly trembling.
“Crap. Dean, are you okay? What happened?” Dean crawls onto the bed and lays
down at Sam’s side. He nuzzles his head into Sam’s ribs and Sam strokes his
hair instantly, feeling his skull shiver along with his shaking. “Dean?”
A humourless chuckle sounds, vibrating Sam’s bones. “Shouldn’t I be the one
asking you that? Sam…I’m so sorry. It’s your choice, all of it, everything, you
need to make the decision and it’s not my place to tell you what to do. And
you’re right. Dad’s a useless piece of shit.”
Sam huffs a laugh of his own and keeps stroking, pulling his six foot brother
tight along his side, hoping the shaking will stop soon because it’s beginning
to really freak him out. “I’m sorry I said what I did. I never want you to
leave me, please? Please don’t ever leave me Dean, I’m really sorry.”
Dean just curls in tight and lays his head on Sam’s stomach, stuffing his nose
beside his belly-button underneath his shirt. “I’m never leaving you, Sammy, I
promise. I love you, baby boy.”
Sam smiles. “I love you too. Dean?”
“Yeah, Sam?”
“Can I have the pup?”
He stills for a second, draws in one giant breath, and, on the exhale, says,
“If that’s what you want, Sammy. I’ll be here every step of the way. Even when
you get fat.”
Sam laughs. “Thanks Dean.”
***** Rambling On *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings for sad stuff, panic attacks, poor Sammy...again. Brotherly
     feeeeeels on both sides!
     This chapter was hell to write, I've been starting and re-starting
     for over five days now and I just got back from the beach and FINALLY
     this all just happened. And I can sleep now, so yayy! Anywho, enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Castiel…”
The smell’s worse now, it fills the room with every one of his mother’s
heartbeats, every second she moves towards her final breath.
“Mommy,” he sniffles, and oh, he can scent his own fear; mixing with the blood
and the sick, the room’s natural essence of musk and old, rotting wood. He
clutches at her trembling hand and holds it close to his heart like he used to
with his teddy bear,so close, but she’s slipping away from him, every draw of
breath inching towards her last…she lays a hand on Castiel’s cheek and it’s
warm and wet with blood. He leans into it anyway.
“I’m…I’m not angry, sweetheart…you did…what – what you had to do,” she breathes
out finally, gulping in ragged lungs full of air in between her words. Castiel
knows what she’s talking about. The alpha on the floor only a little way off,
bleeding out beside Gabriel’s unconscious frame…the one that Castiel killed
with his beta daddy’s shotgun. She should be angry, he saved Gabriel and Anna,
he saved his siblings, but he didn’t save her or beta dad. He should’ve saved
them.
“I’m sorry, mommy, I tried to save you,” he wails, clutching her hand even
tighter, shuffling on his busted knees even closer to her side. He’s covered in
blood; beta daddy’s, omega mommy’s, Anna’s, his own. Gabriel’s lucky, he was
out of the fight before it even began.
“Hush, precious child,” she croons, a wavering smile touching her lips before
it drops away like it was all just too much effort. “This isn’t your fault
little one, promise me you understand that?” Castiel nods because he knows she
wants him to. She smiles that tiny smile again. “Good boy. You’re my good boy,
Castiel, such a good boy…” Her head lulls to the side and Castiel sobs, inhales
so loudly it all but echoes through the cabin, his tears mingle onto her blood
stained dressing gown. But her eyes stay open and they keep blinking up at him,
she’s just lost the battle with her spine muscles, so Castiel keeps holding on.
“Tell Anna and Gabriel…tell them I love them, baby. Tell them I love them…just
as much as I love you. How – how much do I love you, Castiel?”
Castiel sobs in his breath and hisses out a, “To the moon and back, mommy.”
She forces out a painful, awful laugh. “Good boy, baby.”
“I love you, mommy,” he cries, his knees crowding so far forwards they stick
with the blood on her ribs, drying already from the knife wounds dotting along
her sides. “When…when you see beta daddy, tell him I love him, too? When you’re
up in heaven with him, please tell him to be happy. Tell him not to worry
anymore, okay? Please, mommy, don’t worry about us. I’ll take care of everyone,
I promise you, mommy, I promise.”
A trembling hand rises to his face. “I know you will, honey, I know. But you
have to promise me something, okay?” Castiel nods fervently with wide eyes.
“Don’t…don’t go looking for r-revenge, don’t go after the alpha. Forgiveness,
Castiel, just like God tells us to, we must f-forgive. Promise me you’ll move
on.”
Castiel frowns and he’s seconds from babbling, from screaming that the man
won’t get away with this, that Castiel can’t just let him get away with
murdering his parents…but his mom’s eyes close and she drifts, lets out one
long breath and her hand falters, she loses the grip and Castiel…Castiel does
scream then. He screams long and hard and he rocks into her, he buries himself
in her pink, fluffy dressing gown just like he does every night when he gets
lonely up in his room, when he sneaks down to the living room and watches Judge
Judy snuggled up beside his moms.
It’s almost thirty minutes before Gabriel opens his eyes, another five before
he musters the strength to actually face the room, to see his dead parents, to
uncurl his baby brother from the body of omega-mommy – ten minutes even after
that when Castiel splashes water on Anna’s bloodied face.
And all three of them walk out to the woods like limpets attached to each
other, finally hearing the sirens of the police long no longer needed in the
vast distance…
Castiel forces his eyes open before the dream can progress anymore. Well, not
dream, not really; that was a flashback. It was a memory, an awful, terrible
memory that’s been haunting his mind since the very day it happened all those
years ago, the night of his eighth birthday.
He could recite every instance now, if he wanted to.
God, they were cutting the cake. Beta-dad was holding the knife, they were all
singing happy birthday, wearing party hats, all wrapped in their pajamas like
they do every night out at the cabin – when the knife moved from being held
aloft in the air to being delved straight into Castiel’s father’s chest. He
died instantly, Gabriel leapt forwards, he was knocked out. The man in black
came out from behind the body and moved in on omega-mom, crooning filthy
phrases at her, “little omega whore, thought you could run, huh?” and, “I knew
I would find you eventually, you little slut. I’ll kill you family in front of
you, shall I? Make you suffer?” Castiel didn’t understand them back then, but
he does now. He’d ran to the wall, pulled of the shotgun beta-dad always used
to brag about, and he shot the alpha once in the stomach, twice in the chest
and another time in his face. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but the man
needed to die and he needed to save his family, it was basic, early-alpha
instinct. He turned back to his mother for a well needed hug and she was on the
floor. Castiel shot at the second man, but he got away with barely a scratch.
He didn’t keep his mother’s promise. In his mind, he never actually promised
anyway, so it was never so bad. Castiel, Anna and Gabriel tracked the bastard
down and slit his throat. It was the first man Castiel ever killed and he was
ten – well, the first man he ever sought out to kill. Naomi found them a few
years later and they were all trained properly. It was good. Castiel did and
still does enjoy exacting revenge; especially in place of omegas without their
rights or undergoing violent abuse.
Gabriel had told him the truth about their mother when Castiel was fifteen. She
was raised in a whore house, prostituted onto alphas paying good money until
she managed to run and heir father found her out by the lake near his cabin.
They mated, they ran, and they lived happily ever after with three kids. Until
her past caught up with her.
They found said whore-house and torched it with more gasoline than strictly
necessary, but it went up beautifully.
Castiel’s shaking. God damn it. He hasn’t so much as spared a single thought
for those years in a very long time. He doesn’t appreciate his mind bringing it
up at its own accord…
And then Castiel hears the screaming.
At first he thinks it’s just in his head still, an echo of Anna’s cries before
she was knocked to the floor, but he rubs a hand over his head, sits up in bed
and listens. It’s not in his head and it sounds distinctly like
Samomegaprotect, so he’s up and out of his covers like lightening, not even
bothering to slip on a tee. If those boys are in danger, he’d run in their
butt-naked covered in killer-bees.
He swings himself round corners, darts down one flight of stairs with his legs
pumping the entire way until he manages to swing the door open and flat out
sprint into the room.
Two blurs of blue and navy dart somewhere in his vision before he can focus
down, the screaming switching to crying and he stumbles back from the stench of
cutthroat fear.
“Dean?” he pants, scanning the room. “What’s going on, are you okay?”
He locates them quickly and his feet drag him over there of their own accord,
over to the small wall gap beside the bathroom door, the two nestled like one
entity on the floor beside each other. And like Castiel’s grown accustomed to
seeing over the past four weeks, Sam’s buried himself on his brothers lap,
crowding in like a terrified animal and Castiel’s strides have taken him to
barely a metre away and he’s already bending down, reaching for them to hold
and stroke and calm because they’re omegas in his home, they smell like his
home and he needs to protectprotectprotect.
But Dean sucks in a ragged, desperate breath and pushes it out in an almost
timid, vicious scream, like he has to force it with every threat he has, “Don’t
touch him!”
And Castiel recoils with sheer will alone because he wants to hug them both,
scent them both and care for them both, but he can’t because Dean's told him
not to. He’s to do what Dean says, he’s learnt that so far. So he trips a step
back and holds his hands in a placating surrender, physically fighting the itch
to crawl onto the floor with the both of them - especially when Sam sucks in a
raging sob that racks both their bodies.
“Sam…” Castiel tries, but the boy just cries quickly again, his voice rising to
strong, loud hysterics until Dean tugs him in ridiculously tighter towards his
ribs, rocking him with his eyes like stones on Castiel. “What happened?”
Castiel asks him instead. “Are you hurt? You need to tell me if you’re hurt,
Dean, I can help,” he steps forward again without even thinking about it. Dean
trips over his breath for the second time and hiccups, before growling a
seriously fuck-off growl Castiel wouldn’t be unaccustomed to hearing from an
alpha.
Castiel backs off, impressed.
Then the thunder of footsteps sounds up the corridor and a half naked Gabriel
charges into the room wielding the Rock Island TAC he's probably been sleeping
with, waving it out in front of him. Castiel halts the bombarding form with a
stern hand to his bare chest and a serious, don’t-be-an-idiot expression.
“What the fucks going on?” he shouts with the adrenaline, his eyes wide looking
from the boys to Castiel and back to the boys again. “I heard screaming, who’s
hurt?”
He pushes on Castiel’s hand, advancing, so the alpha shoves his older brother
slightly away, sternly taking his wrist and lowering the gun to the floor.
“Calm down,” Castiel hisses, deciding that taking the loaded gun from his
freaked out brother is probably the best thing, so he pries it from his hands,
flicks on the safety and throws it gently onto the bed.
Castiel turns back to the brothers.
Dean’s eyes are leaking now, too, and Castiel snaps back into alphaprotectsafe
mode to demand what the hell is going one here. So he kneels down as gently as
he possibly can, as far away as that alpha instincts will let him, and he looks
into Dean’s eyes at the same level. He lifts a hand as a placating gesture.
“Dean…we won’t touch you, I promise. But you need to tell me if either one of
you is hurt, right now. Dean? Are you or your brother injured in anyway?”
A few seconds pass and Castiel thinks the omega won’t answer, the brother in
his arms seriously bordering on hyperventilating, but with Gabriel’s impatient
huff, he sniffs and shakes his head. Castiel sighs in bitter relief. “Good,
okay, that’s good. Would…would you mind telling us what exactly happened?”
And with Castiel’s words, Sam sounds as though he’s choking on the air, his
breath leaving and entering his body so harshly, it sounds painful, he sobs
through it all and Dean’s scent of outright fear turns to total terror. “Fuck,”
He swings his brother out from beside him and props him against the wall,
brushing his fingers through the boys freshly cut hair and stroking a quick
hand along his arm.
“Sammy, baby, come on,” he wheezes, all but straddling his little brother’s lap
and peering into those fucking petrified hazel eyes. “Shh, Sam, come on, you’re
okay, I’m here, you’re okay, you’re okay.”
Castiel can recognise a panic attack when he sees one; Anna used to get them
all the time when they were teenagers, so he scoots past the omega pair,
sticking closer to the bed than them, and dodges into the bathroom. He emerges
just seconds later with a cool, damp flannel and lowers to Dean’s side, holding
the thing as a peace offering. Dean looks down at it, looks up at Castiel’s
hopefully sincere face, before waiting a second or so until he timidly takes
the soggy thing. He dabs it to Sam’s forehead.
“Sammy?” he tries, his voice raw and timid. Christ, he was crying. “Hey, kiddo,
you okay?”
Sam just sucks in one huge breath, holds in the sob that wants to come out as
well as his breathing, his entire body trembling like a mad man, but Dean just
smiles softly and shakes his head. “Come on now, Sam, don’t hold it in, you
need to breath. Shh, baby-brother, you gotta breathe, come on, let it out,
kiddo, come on, in, out, in, out…”
Sam lets out the breath – jagged and harsh, but sucks in another one when Dean
asks him to, inoutinout just like Dean says, his eyes sticking to those oak-
leaf green like their the centre of the earth, though to Sam, Castiel supposes,
they kind of are.
Gabriel steps up beside him, and Castiel can smell his apprehension. He can
feel his slight trembling.
“He’ll be okay,” Castiel reassures the room, a quarter for Sam, a quarter for
Dean, a quarter for Gabriel and the last for himself. He’ll be fine in a few
minutes.
Dean just ignores him, still chanting and reassuring his brother with an open,
kind, bewildered smile as he strokes down the bed-head hair. “There you go,
Sammy, there you go, kiddo, you’re okay, everything’s okay, baby, come on now,
shh, little one, we’re both okay…”
Castiel looks to his own big brother with wide, knowing eyes. Gabriel just pats
an awkward hand to his bare back without taking his eyes from the scene and
they both stand like that for long minutes, side by side, touching like two
alpha brothers are allowed to and watching with immature curiosity as Sam’s
cutthroat terror dissipates to something even slightly softer.
“Maybe you should take him for a walk, Dean,” Castiel offers, he remembers
doing it with Anna. “A change of scenery might be good, what about the study?”
They feel comfortable in the study, Castiel knows. He’s watched them in there
hundreds of times over the last four weeks, they’re happy up there. Most nights
the alphas join them, to sieve through records or read or (on one fantastic
night) play tons of board games the omegas always won despite their insistence
on the alphas cheating. Honestly, Castiel never let them win once.
Dean waits for a few seconds, as though he’s completely blanking Castiel, but
then he just nods, once Sam seems to have stopped quaking quite so badly, and
helps his brother into standing. Castiel has to hold himself back from helping
and he knows Gabriel does, too, they both just lead the silent way out of the
door, along the corridor a way, up a flight of short stairs, past Castiel’s
bedroom (which stinks of worry in its own right, Gabriel gives him a raised-
eyebrow look), and into the study.
They watch with twitching hands when Dean perches Sam on the leather couch,
sits beside him without crowding him, and laces their fingers together. They’re
like two angels, Castiel thinks. Two angels with tear streaked cheeks,
trembling fingers and horrified scents to counter even that first horrific
night.
“Hey, Sam?” Dean asks, ducking his head to catch Sam’s eye. Sam looks up at him
tiredly, blinking slowly like an owl before aiming his gaze over to the alphas
in the doorway.
Castiel coughs under the heavy gaze of omega, “I don’t think I feel comfortable
leaving you both right now,” he says, though he still hovers awkwardly and
switches his weight slowly from foot to foot.
“Just pretend like we’re not here,” Gabriel says, offering a grin until both
brothers just appear bored and turn back to each other like magnets. The alphas
walk over quietly and take the large step up to the next floor with the floor-
ceiling window, maybe a metre off the ground. They sit a fair few metres away,
completely naked from the waist up, and watch the pair with baited breath.
“You doing better, baby?” Dean asks, releasing one hand and sweeping it over
Sam’s forehead.
“Don’t call me that,” Sam grumbles half-heartedly, his speaking voice rough and
harsh, croaked from all the crying. Dean smiles back at him.
“Right, sorry, Sammy. You’re not a baby, I forget,” he says, looping another
hand back over his brother’s shoulder and pulling him into his ribs tighter.
“So, you doing better, Sam?”
“’M’fine,” he whispers, his body racking in a double yawn, so cute and
childlike, Castiel wants to just wrap him up in a woollen blanket and stroke
him like a puppy in front of a huge fireplace. “Just Alastair again.”
Again. Yes, again is right, really, though it’s never been this bad before, at
least to Castiel’s knowledge. Over the previous few weeks, Castiel’s woken up a
number of times to one of the two sobbing and crying, until he can hear
muttered words outside of their door when he goes to check, relief flooding the
fear. It’s never been panic-attack bad before.
“Sure it is,” Dean sighs, tugging him closer. “Always is, right? Although,
actually, last week I had that creepy Edgar dude, so that shook things up a
bit, I guess.”
It always fascinates Castiel how the two manage to talk themselves through
anything. Like Dean when Sam was incoherent from the drugs, or when he found
out about the baby, Sam talking Dean through the ultrasound scan with a
childish grin on his face as though Dean was completely overreacting. They
really are equals to the other, one pushes, the other pulls and so on and so
on. They’re soul mates.
Sam snorts and yawns again, though this time when he finishes he looks up to
Dean with a new found fear in his eyes. Dean just tucks the boys head into his
shoulder and continues his rhythmic stroking. “S’ok, Sammy, you can go back to
sleep. It won’t happen again in one night, trust me, baby-brother, you’ll be
fine, I’ve got you.” He turns his head tentatively to Castiel, his eyes
narrowed to the floor. “Can…uh, can we put a record on? Just to, uh, to
calm…everything. Please?” His voice is timid and pleading and Castiel all but
darts over to the record player at those words.
“Of course, Dean, that’s perfectly fine. What would you like?” he says, already
sifting through for the one he just knows Dean’s gonna say. The pair have been
listening to it none-stop for the last ten days, ever since they plucked up the
courage to ask if they can use the vinyl’s in the cupboard rather than just the
one’s beside the player. They put it back every evening with such precision and
care, it’s as though they never touched it to begin with.
“I-I don’t mind.” Castiel blinks. “Whatever you feel cool with is fine.”
Castiel hates him like this. It’s rare really, only after a nightmare night do
either of them get so irrefutably terrified around the alphas, but every time
Dean avoids his gaze like it’s made of the sun, he wants to weep at the omega’s
feet and beg on his knees.
Castiel slides Led Zep’s Physical Graffiti album into the player and places the
needle at the black surface. He just catches Dean’s pleased smile before he
hides his face in Sam’s head, tugs Sam’s face into his chest.
The record doesn’t have‘Rambling On’ on it (Dean’s favourite), but it does have
‘Kashmir’, and both boys enjoy that one. The low sounds of ‘Custard Pie’ fill
the room, and Castiel goes back to sit with Gabriel.
“You can go to sleep, you know,” Gabriel says, meeting Dean’s timidly
suspicious gaze with a quick, easy smile. “We’ll be here the whole time, you’ll
do great.”
Dean just blinks sloppily up at him, his eyes and face drooping until he just
nods, pulls Sam down with him until they both lay as big-brother, big spoon,
little-brother, little spoon, both letting out a tired yawn in unison. They
both just look finished and resigned and it just breaks Castiel’s heart into a
thousand million pieces.
And when Dean blinks up blearily at them, whispers an incoherent, “Please don’t
hurt him; we like it here,” that he’ll probably forget he’s said in the
morning, Castiel is just done.
----
Sam waking up again is a slow process, but he fights on with it like a trooper.
His eyes open first, blinking into the early morning sun at the un-blinded
windows of the study, before the rest of his body manages to react and he
shields his tender morning eyes with an arm.
Dean’s still snoring behind him, his hefty breathes tickling Sam’s neck,
pushing at the small hairs there. His hand is a vice around Sam’s middle, but
it feels safe and secure, so Sam doesn’t do anything other than snuggles back
in deeper, suck in the scent of the real Dean and not the terrified one he had
to smell last night.
Last night. Not good. Sam remembers it like a tide, rushing into his mind and
reminding him just how pathetic and immature he is, making Dean cry with him
because he freaked out monumentally, Gabriel and Castiel charging into their
room because they thought someone was being murdered, but no, it was just poor
little Sammy, poor little toddler Sammy with stupid pregnancy hormones and a
chubby belly and a tiny pain thresh-hold. They even stayed with them in the
study, but…
Sam looks up to the step on the other side of the room, over by the offending
window with the desk and even more bookshelves…
Gabriel pauses in mid-stretch at Sam’s gaze, lets out his breath from where
he’s sitting, topless, with an amused huff and gives Sam a wave. He looks nice
like that; hair ruffled from sleep, face tinged red from the rude awakening and
his soft but firm torso all perfect with sparsely haired golden…
“Take a picture, Sammy,” he says amusedly, his voice hushed for their still
slumbering brothers, but Sam’s face lights up like a Christmas tree
nonetheless. He ducks his head back down and feels out his beating heart.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, turning back into the couch cushion and scenting his
brother there, sucking in that perfect smell for as long as he can before he
hears Gabriel start to move again. Crap.
“You feeling better, kiddo?” he asks, trotting down the two stairs and stalking
over in an exaggeratedly casual manor when Sam glances back up at him. Sam
blinks, avoiding the navy boxers from his vision altogether and deciding the
smirking face is better grounds. Kind of.
“’M’fine,” he grumbles back.
“Good,” Gabriel sings. “You certainly smell better, I’ll give you that. How
‘bout you and me leave the two sleeping werewolves here to their beauty sleep
and go grab some coffee and hot chocolate, huh? I have it one good authority
Ellen picked up some more Reese’s cups, too, how ‘bout a good, old fashioned
heart-disease breakfast?” Sam pauses. “Come on, a sugar rush’ll do you good,
what d’ya say?”
“Okay,” Sam says tentatively, blinking up and smiling slightly because his mind
answered before he’d even really thought about it – or maybe it was his heart?
The idea just seems immature and naïve now though, so head it is. He tries to
shift, but the hand’s firmly in place, holding him flat. “Ah,” he says. He
looks up at Gabriel’s apparently highly amused face and returns it with a small
smile of his own before lowering himself and going down that way.
“Sammy?” Dean says blearily, and Sam takes that as his queue and just shoves
out the rest of the way out, leaving behind one softly growling Dean and a
grabby hand reaching out for him.
Sam leans down and pets his brother’s cheek. “Go back to sleep, Dean, I’m fine.
Go to sleep, big-brother, okay? I’ll be just downstairs, I swear, come find me
when you and Cas wake up.”
Dean just grumbles something nonsensical and turns round the other way, pulling
the blanket that was draped over them (when did that happen?) and cuddling onto
it like a teddy-bear. Or like a lighter, tinier version of Sam.
Sam looks up at Gabriel with an I’m prepared and ready to face the worldface,
shoving his omega chest out to look strong. He probably just looks like an
idiot, especially when Gabriel simply chuckles, reaches out a hand to touch
before thinking better of it and drawing it back. Sam smiles weakly. Of course
he doesn’t want to touch, not after last night. Sure, Sam wants him to, Sam
likes that soft alpha touch, it reminds him that they’re not all so bad, but
it’s not up to Sam. And last night was the cherry on the cake; Gabriel once
said he likes Sam but how can that possibly be true? Sam’s gross.
The hot chocolate isn’t though. Sam clutches the warm cup in both hands,
coveting the heat and sniffing it in, drawing the soft tendrils of steam into
his nose. Gabriel sits beside him, blowing slowly on his own cup of coffee
before deciding something in his mind and dolloping another sugar cube in. Sam
smiles up at him.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” Sam offers, even though he knows it’s pretty
useless. The three deserve more than a dumb apology for a full blown panic
attack – Sam had smelt all their fear and he’s the one that did it to them,
they had to watch him have a meltdown like a baby girl.
Gabriel tuts at him and rolls his eyes. “You know, I wish you’d stop
apologising for everything. ‘I’m sorry I’m pregnant’, ‘I’m sorry alphas raped
me’, ‘I’m sorry for having a panic attack that’s beyond my control’.” Okay, Sam
does not sound like that; he grimaces at the alpha. “Seriously, dude, chill
out. This – none of this is any of your fault, okay? I swear to the good lord
above, you apologise for something you didn’t mean to do again, I will spank
you over my knee like a baby. Unless you willingly defile my laptop.”
Sam grins at the words for the first time in a while; he’s always grinning with
Gabriel. Gabriel’s funny.
“Speaking of my laptop…” Sam’s eyes widen. Shit, he didn’t give it a virus, did
he? He’d been careful, he only went on sites that looked okay – “I saw an
adoption site in the history. You wanna tell me about that?” No virus. It’s
worse. Why the hell didn’t he think to delete the history, really, Sam? “Hey,
there’s nothing wrong with it, kiddo, I actually think it’s a swell idea,” Sam
lifts an eyebrow at ‘swell’ and Gabriel winks cockily back. “Why didn’t you
tell anyone?” he takes a sip of his coffee and eyes Sam over the rim until Sam
does the same.
“I’m not sure what I want to do yet, I guess I just didn’t wanna say anything
until I’m sure.” Sam draws in a deep breath. “Can – can I tell you something?”
Gabriel rolls his eyes and grins. “You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”
Sam nods and whispers it, “I…I don’t wanna keep it. I know it’s pointless
having it and everything if I don’t want to raise it and stuff, I just…I dunno.
I want it to be my choice, I guess. And at least this way I can help someone
else start a new life, I mean, or give them one. I’m…sorry for using your
laptop for that without telling you.”
Gabriel huffs out a pleased laugh and claps a hand to Sam’s shoulder without
thinking about it, the touch perfect and electrifying, “Use my laptop for
anything, dude, porn if you have to. Just don’t get it all messed up, will you,
‘cause lemme tell ya, jizz is a bitch to clean of keys… Anyways, I digress.” He
smiles and his hand stays put, massaging the taught muscle. “I think you’re the
bravest kid I’ve ever met, you know that? You and Dean, but he’s not really a
kid anymore, so… I couldn’t do what you’re doing, Sammy, and I admire your
decision more than I can tell you. You’re an amazing little man-”
And then before Sam has a chance to decide why he’s such an idiot, he’s leaning
over in his seat, grabbing Gabriel’s perfect face in his hands and pressing his
lips to the alpha’s. It’s perfect. Gabriel’s perfect, he feels perfect, he
smells perfect…but he’s not moving back, and when Sam hears him gulp against
him, he swings open his eyes to two golden orbs glaring back at him, pissed
that Sam would even dare go near him, and fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,
Sam leaps away as quickly as he can, darting straight of the chair and into the
next one, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes, landing in a heap like
the stupid little bastard he is; first he’s forced into it, now he’s forcing
it, he’s every bit as bad as all those alphas back at Alastair’s…
Gabriel stands above him and Sam crawls into sitting, leaning back on his hands
and waiting patiently (trembling) for the inevitable punishment about to come
his way – “I’m sorry, please, I’m really sorry, I swear, I won’t do it again, I
didn’t mean to…”
“Sammy, kiddo,” the alphas says, stepping forwards and Sam doesn’t mean to
flinch, but he does because he’s a stupid little omega bitch, just like they
always said, he is begging for it, clearly, “Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry –”
“Sam?” And that’s Castiel’s voice, Castiel watching his slut actions this time,
standing with his hands on his hips and glaring down at him too. He huffs out a
disappointed breath. “Uh, Sam? Dean's upstairs in the study, he said to go up
for him...are you okay?”
Right, Dean. Dean Sam can deal with and he scrambles up without another glance
at either of them, darting from the room like a bashful whore at a brothel…
The last thing he hears before scarpering back up the stairs is Castiel’s
raised voice hissing, “What the fuck did you do?”
Chapter End Notes
     If anyone notices or wonders or anything, I have changed this chapter
     slightly in that Dean no longer goes into heat at the end of it. I
     haven't been able to continue this fic for aaaaages but today I'm
     giving it a strong ass go before college so wish me luck!!
     *I promise Dean's heat will make an appearance as soon as. :)
***** Settle Down It'll All Be Clear *****
Chapter Notes
     I am...sooooooooo sorry this took that long!!! But it's here to stay
     now and I'll be updating my others in time to come :) enjoy.
      
     Oh, plus, I changed it so Dena's not going into heat yet, but don't
     worry, he will be soon. ;)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Music makes everything better—that’s just a fact.
So music is good, but Led Zeppelin? Led Zep is the fucking messiah of making
shit better. And with the notes of Rambling On filling the study and the
hypnotic cocktail of alpha-omega combined (when the fuck did that even
happen?), who the fuck cares what happens later? Or what the hell’s happened
since—Sam’s actually happy (after that colossal fuck-up earlier), Dean has his
music and his baby brother and there’s a scent of two alphas swarming the room
that doesn’t make him want to barf up the rest of last night’s grub. So, yeah.
Dean’s feeling pretty optimistic today.
Shocker there that it’s Sam’s cutthroat scent that fuck’s it all up the ass
then, huh?
Dean’s on his feet and darting to the door before his baby bro can even slide
the thing open and rush his way through. But he manages to catch Sam’s
shoulders in a tight grip before either can make another move—he crushes the
kid to his chest and holds him close and steady, letting them scent at each
other before moving off and dealing with the inevitable problem. Fuck.
Everything was going so well.
“Hey, Sammy, you’re good, man, you’re good,” he hushes into the fluff of sleep
hair (Cas all but strapped him down to have it cut—not literally, of course,
Cas would never do that) and strokes a soothing palm down the length of his
brother’s back, hushing breaths in his hair until that scent—still carrying
last night’s horror—reverts back to something like normal. Dean presses a kiss
to one blush-tinted ear. “You wanna clue me in on what’s going on?”
Sam sniffs, but his head makes no sign of moving back and he just loops his
arms around Dean’s waist and holds on for dear life. Dean lets him.
“Sam. You know I can’t do anything if you don’t gimme a hint here. S’this about
last night?” Wait a fucking second…“Did Gabriel do something?” Now he moves his
brother off. “Sam? Sammy, you tell me right the fuck now, did that bastard
touch you? I swear to fucking God, Sam, tell me.”
But that head just ducks and hides itself in Dean’s chest (how the hell it’s
not indented with his face by now, Dean has no idea) and laces his fingers into
the back of Dean’s Star Wars tee. Oh, fuck this shit…
Sam’s mouth moves against his collarbone, but Dean doesn’t catch it.
“Come again?”
Sam moves his mouth to Dean’s neck and sucks in a breath before saying, voice
wet, “We should leave.”
Well that’s fucking it.
Dean’s out that goddamn door before another word is said between them and
charging down the dumbass amount of stairs because that dick fucking promised.
Christ, Dean sounds like a chick but this is seriously not fucking fair, the
guy gave his goddamn word and he tries something now? Seriously? He just saw
the kid (he’s a fucking kid, that bastard) hyperventilate from memories of
alphas raping him and he tries it on with him now? Oh, fuck him. Fuck all of
them; no one touches Dean’s brother and lives to tell the tale.
Dean storms into the kitchen once he’s scented them out and shoves Gabriel
(fucking lying bastard, Sam’s pregnant what are they gonna do now?) until his
spine collides heavily with the island in the centre of the kitchen, his
thieving hand knocking over a mug of hot chocolate. Dean wraps his own into the
molester’s collar and growls in his face.
Growling at an alpha. He’s been practising that particular skill a lot lately,
what’s up with that? Maybe he’s just revelling in the fact that he’s allowed
to…
“You fucking promised,” he hisses, shoving him back. “You promised you wouldn’t
touch him, you bastard, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Dean…” he starts, eyes rolling and hands coming up to gently touch with his
own. ‘Gently’ Dean’s ass. He’s not some wilting flower, he’s not pregnant, he’s
not some puppy in a stroller that needs his help. He’s twenty years old, for
Christ’s sake, no one treats him like a kid anymore. Especially not
manipulating, cocky, lying, brother molester’s like this joker. Fuck him. Fuck
him.
“Fuck you,” he snarls, curling a lip to bare his teeth.
Yeah, Gabriel pauses at that, and so he should. Fucking messing with Dean’s
brother, no one messes with Sam.
“Dean, calm down,” and that’s Castiel (he’s just as bad, he didn’t stop it, he
didn’t keep his promise either). And then those are Cas’s hands on him, the
same hands that make them food without expectations, the same hands that brush
across his back in passing and run through his hair when he’s not thinking
about it. The same hands that, just a month ago, Dean buried into for solace
when he didn’t have his baby brother. Dean shrugs them off and growls at him as
well.
Fuck, they shouldn’t have gotten comfortable; Sam should have listened to him
from the get-go—the only people they can trust are each other, no one else
because they just shit on you or rape you or torture you because that’s what
Sam and Dean are. They’re wasted fucking whores.
“God, I told him not to trust you. I warned him we should have left weeks ago
but he didn’t want to listen because he wanted to trust again. Do you get that?
We’ve never had anyone to trust and the one person he decides to believe in
again tries to hurt him. Fuck you, Gabriel. He’s pregnant. He’s fucking
pregnant, you bastard, we can’t live on the streets, not now, where the hell
are we supposed to run to?” Dean barks out a humourless sound. “You’ve killed
him, you get that? And you’ve killed that goddamn pup, too.”
“Dean.”
And that’s it.
That one, wet, whispered, devastated little word and it’s all over because
Sammy sounds distraught. Shit.
Gabriel’s eyes are wide when Dean leaves them—but his fists stay bunched with
fabric at his throat. Sam’s stood a few metres off; half hidden behind Castiel
(fuck him, getting in the way of Dean’s family) the edges of his body fuzzy
from trembling so hard, his cheeks wet with tear tracks. Goddamn it, this
bastard’s gonna pay.
Dean growls back to Gabriel again, whose hands are now beside his head in calm
placation. Yeah, well, too little too late. He should have kept them to his
fucking self in the first place. “I’m gonna kill you, I swear—”
“Dean.” It’s barked this time. Dean glances round for the second time to scan
over his brother, now stepped out from behind Cas’ dark form, toeing closer as
they connect. “Stop it. Please.”
Dean stops. Dean steps back with another glare at the molester before his
retreat and takes his own hands from his shirt—Gabriel pulls it back down
straight but his eyes don’t leave him. Dean wants to snarl but Sammy told him
to stop.
“Sam…” he starts but fuck if he knows how to finish that sentence. He moves
away from Gabriel and over to his brother (Christ, he’s literally barefoot and
pregnant, his tee rucked slightly from the slowly growing curve of his stomach,
his jeans too big on a scrawny frame and his hair messed completely from
running his hands through it. He looks terrified. He looks like Sam).
“He didn’t,” Sam says, gulping in breaths, his eyes specifically avoiding
Gabriel’s at apparently all cost. “He didn’t do anything. Don’t be mad at him,
it’s not his fault.”
Gabriel sighs from behind Dean, “Kiddo, it’s not anyone’s fault—”
“You don’t talk to him,” Dean hisses, glaring.
“Dean, please. I just…I mean. I, uh.”
“Sam.” Dean’s beside him then, his hands on the sides of that face, peering
into those big owl eyes. “What happened?”
Sam glances at Castiel, peering round Dean to peek at Gabriel before looking
back up at his brother and visibly gulping. He sucks in a breath.
He mutters again.
Dean huffs, “What?”
“I kissed him.”
Manipulating bastard twisted it round in Sam’s head, that’s what they all did,
made him think he wanted it, made him think he needs it like some helpless pup…
“He didn’t touch me, Dean. I kissed him.”
“Sammy…”
Dean whirls, letting his brother go in the process. “I told you not to talk to
him!”
Gabriel’s jaw snaps shut.
“Dean,” Alpha says, Castiel, using his fucking alpha voice on him. That
bastard…
“Don’t you da—”
“Dean, you need to calm down now. For yourself and your brother, it’s not good
for you, please. Calm down.”
Shit. Dick move.
“Thank you. Sam, do you want to explain what’s going on here? I think it might
be best for everyone.” Sam turns wild eyes up at the alpha. “It’s okay. You’re
safe Sam.”
Christ, Dean wants to throw up watching Sam deflate with that alpha authority;
all the tension draining out until he’s just blinking around at everyone,
exhaustion setting in. Dean grimaces against his own relaxation, but he’s too
fucking tired to fight it right now. Castiel’s gonna pay for this one.
And then Sam just bursts. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I shouldn’t
have…it was so dumb and I know it was wrong, I just…I’m sorry. I get it if you
want us to leave. I-I won’t blame you or anything…”
Fuck this kid. God, Dean needs to wrap him up in his arms and hold him tight,
curl around him and keep him away from those bastards in his head, away from
Gabriel. This shouldn’t even be happening.
Gabriel sighs behind them.
“Sam,” he starts, and Dean can hear him moving closer before (hopefully)
thinking the better of it and keeping Dean a firm titanium wall between them.
Yeah, now he won’t take advantage, not with Dean here. “Kiddo, I don’t blame
you for anything. Jesus, Sam, it’s not like you pinned me down and…right, let’s
not go there. What I mean is, you only kissed me. It’s not the end of the
world, bucko, I already told you weeks ago I like you. I’m not angry. I don’t
want you to leave. Okay?”
But Sam just blinks. “You were angry,” he whispers. “You were angry with me.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Gabriel’s scent changes and Dean flinches on instinct, zipping
over to Sam’s side in an instant and just being an entity beside him, familiar
and warm. Home. “I told you before. It would take a hell of a lot more than a
kiss to get me angry with you Sam. I promise you that.”
Sam curls into Dean’s body and that’s the highlight of this whole shitfest.
Dean bows into him gratefully, all the while pinning Gabriel in a steadfast
gaze, glaring in warning: that’s close enough.
“Dean. I did promise and I still do. I won’t lay a finger on your brother until
he wants me to--outrightly and not just on instinct. I promise you Dean. You
don’t have to leave. You’re as safe here as you were four weeks ago, I can
assure you of that. Me and Castiel…we’re gonna take care of you—both of you.”
Dean glares and opens his mouth to resist but Gabriel lifts a hand and beats
him to it, if not only shocking Dean into compliance with his out of character
seriousness. “Not like that.” He smirks. “I know you don’t want carers or
anything, and I know you don’t need it. But we want to, right Cas? If only to
satisfy our alpha neediness.” He sobers up quickly. “I’m sorry for letting this
happen. But you’re both safe and looked after here. I vow.” He winks with a
hand on his heart.
Well…crap.
Dean nudges into Sam’s grip then, ducking his head down beside his baby
brothers but keeping his eyes locked to the ‘promising alpha’ ahead of him. He
feels more than hears Castiel shift up beside them, feels a warm hand connect
with his arm but he doesn’t pull away. Not even when another body slots beside
his and his brother’s does he protest, all the way until he’s wrapped tight in
a strong alpha grip with another nose in his hair, nudging it aside for easy
access to the scent.
And, damn him, he doesn’t even complain when Gabriel joins them. How screwed up
is that?
But it only takes a few more minutes of scenting (like a real fucking family)
and nuzzling in one tight ball of alphaomegafamilyhome before Dean sighs into
the conjoined air and rolls his eyes.
“You know, this is really sappy.”
***
Gabriel’s pretty sure he got off real easy with the whole Dean thing. Yeah,
okay, sure, he could’ve snapped the dudes neck in the exact same time it took
him to pin Gabriel to the worktop, but where would that lead them? One
eternally depressed little omega with the softest fucking lips in the world and
a dead dude Gabriel was starting to seriously like. Sure they bicker but it’s
banter really. And Gabriel does. He likes him.
Christ, he likes him even more now, how fucked is that? But he protected
Gabriel’s omega like that and who the hell could ask for more? Growly little
shit he is.
Dammit he needs to piss. He’s been holding it in for the last forty minutes for
the sake of their little bundle of protection on the carpet and the scent of
omegaalphafamily is like a freaking toxin, he couldn’t have left the space if
he tried. But he’s pretty sure peeing on them would be a step too far down the
canine route than he’s willing to take right now, so fuck it, this needs to be
done.
A litany of groans escapes the mound of bodies pilled around him when he nudges
Sam’s head from his thigh, Dean’s shoulder from his own and Cas’s legs from
over him and he can’t distinguish one from the other. God, why does he have to
leave now?
“Trust me, I’ll be right back,” he grins, running a quick hand through Sam’s
hair and eliciting another purr (four in just over an hour and holy fuck that’s
a world record) before shooting off to the nearest bathroom.
Christ, he should’ve just kissed him back. If Dean was going to go apeshit
anyway, he might as well have given him something to go apeshit for, right? And
Gabe just totally wasted what could’ve been the best kiss of his entire life on
nothing.
Damn, but that’s not true, is it? Well, the best kiss so far, damn straight,
but Gabriel’s saving The Best Kiss for when they’re curled together, by
themselves and perfect, Sam slick with want and Gabriel producing the biggest
knot the world’s ever seen. Yeah. Perfect.
For now though, he slinks back out into the living room and onto the cream
carpet, observing the patch where the coffee table used to be before they
somehow shoved it aside in the struggle and ended up tied there. He finds Sam’s
beautiful little body in the framework and aims for that, tugging Dean’s hand
to weave through his own on the way and launching Cas’s legs back over him
before gently cupping Sam’s cheek and uplifting him onto his chest. Sam blinks
big eyes up at him and Gabe smiles, stroking his free hand through the mess of
hair. Gabe likes it like this: messy and out of control. It makes it easier to
ruffle. And tugging it slightly brings out a purr that sends Gabriel’s alpha
into an overdrive he’s pretty sure he’s never felt before. He doesn’t exactly
want to consider what that might mean.
Gabriel doesn’t fall asleep but the others do. Sam goes first, his big eyes
sinking lower and lower until he just drops from the world, his head tilting
until his ear is nudged against Gabriel’s breastplate and vibrating with sleepy
hums. Next goes Dean, begrudgingly so, his hand clenching and unclenching in
Gabriel’s before Gabe squeezes it for attention, winks at that suspicious green
gaze, presses his lips to Dean’s forehead before the omega nuzzles closer and
tugs Cas with him. Cas goes when Dean does, wrapping him up in his arms with
his head to Dean’s neck in a permanent scent that probably just lulls him to
sleep. Gabe gets that.
Gabriel doesn’t sleep, but he doesn’t try to. He’s too busy with his family
surrounding him, watching them and studying them (okay, so that’s creepy, but
what they don’t know can’t hurt them) stroking over Sam’s face and head like
it’s made of the most precious substance in all of creation, and fuck, it
pretty much is. Somewhere around the three hour mark, Gabriel just pulls him up
to lay across him fully, filling Sam’s leftover gap with his own body and
nudging it against Dean.
Well, this was a quick fucking turnaround, huh?
Less than, what, twelve hours ago, Gabriel had stormed into their bedroom
wielding his gun because he was convinced his boys were being tortured right
there in their bed, in his house. Sam was a fucking mess and Gabriel didn’t
know what to do, there was nothing he could do aside from stand and watch, let
Dean deal with it or risk fucking his omega up for life with some brand new
pushy alpha.
And then he’d woken up all shy and soft like the sweetest thing that ever
fucking walked the earth and he smiled like he was worried he’d be hit and he
got embarrassed and he cringed and Gabriel loved him more with every single
one…
Until he’d kissed him. Gabriel’s not entirely sure why he froze, besides the
previous reasoning of ‘waiting for the right time’ and all that crap. Sam
felt…so freaking good, Gabriel should have swept him into his arms and legged
it up to his bedroom, strung his baby out on the bed and knotted him like no
tomorrow. And he probably would have done if he’d complied to instincts.
That…would not have been good.
Next, he nearly got murdered by a furious, betrayed Dean with his hands all but
around his throat and crying, and the next second he’s holding his hand,
kissing his forehead and nuzzling into his hairline.
Christ, this was a weird one.
“Gabe?”
Gabriel blinks down at the voice—like dripping chocolate and candy canes. He
smiles at him. “Yeah, Sammy?”
“Thanks,” he says, scooting up and sticking his nose to Gabe’s throat. “For,
uh…for everything. Thank you.”
And Gabriel smiles. “It was nothing, don’t mention it,” with a wink, “go back
to sleep, baby.”
Sam nods and drops his eyes closed, lashes dancing over Gabriel’s skin.
Gabriel waits until he’s asleep before he goes on.
“And Sam? I love you, sweetheart. Don’t you ever leave me, you hear? I love
you.”
Chapter End Notes
     I have rewritten this story!!!!!!! Go, read that one!!!!
  Works inspired by this one
      This_Unfamiliar_Road by J3_(CaseMatthews)
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