I Want to Break Free

Singer & Sons sits on the very end of Main Street, tucked between a used car lot and an old warehouse. The sign out front displays the name and logo, which is a ‘67 Impala in front a star encircled with flames, Dean’s own design. The cramped parking lot is packed and Dean could see Bobby shouting orders from the bay. On the end sits his Baby, the very Impala illustrated in their logo. As soon as Gabriel parked, Dean jumps out and jogs towards the office.

The scent of many Alphas swirl round Dean, fire and herbs and wood and all other sorts of Alpha-typical scents that make Dean whine. Gabriel is there in an instant, his clay and cherry scent enfolding Dean and his hand protectively on his shoulder, “I got you, Dean-o,” he says quietly.

Dean let him comfort him, nodding and trying very hard not to collapse with terror and uneasiness. Bobby spies him from where he is and stopped mid-scream to stride over. His eyes were trained on Gabriel and his adoptive father hefted a crowbar as he made his way over. Gabe stood his ground but let out a grateful huff of air when Dean shook his head and put his hands up to halt the man, “Bobby, this is Gabriel Novak. He saved me last night.”

Bobby stopped and looked at the short Alpha a moment before the crowbar clattered to the asphalt and the Beta yanked Gabriel in for hug, “thanks, son. That was real heroic of you.”

Gabriel cleared his throat and stepped back, nose slightly wrinkled at Bobby’s smell, and shrugged, “it was nothing, just being a decent human.”

Bobby seemed to appreciate that and turned his attention back to Dean, “here for your car?”

Dean nodded, “did Rufus finish her up?”

“‘Course he did,” he flicked the keys to the Omega and adjusted the trucker cap on his head, “alright, I’m going back to work. You relax today, hear me?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah, bye old man.”

Bobby hesitated another moment, no doubt remembering their goodbye here last night, did he blame himself for Dean’s attack? Before Dean could think to voice the question, the man was gone.

The annoying sound of metal on asphalt got Dean’s attention and her turned to see Gabriel picking the crowbar up, “cool, we’ll use this for extra muscle today.” Dean snorted and led the way to the Impala, closely followed by the Alpha wielding a giant piece of metal.

The Impala has black leather seats and a light brown interior, it’s meticulously spotless and it earns a whistle of approval from Gabe. “Nice car, Dean-o.”

Dean knows of course, but grins anyway. “Damn right it is, now get in and we’ll go grab lunch.”

Obediently, the Alpha climbs in and shut the door, laying the crowbar on the floor of the back seat and promptly forgetting it, instead reaching out to fiddle with the radio. Dean cranks the car up and slaps Gabe’s hand away, “driver picks the music.”

“What about me?”

“Shotgun shuts his cakehole,” he finishes, breathing in the Alpha, aside from Gabe, free air and pulling cleanly out of the lot of Singer & Sons. Gabriel looks out the window and tries to keep conversation going, though Dean doesn’t seem to be particularly chatty.

Main Street is mostly empty, save for the occasional car that Dean usually proclaims in ugly. Led Zeppelin’s Ramble On play softly through the speakers and Dean feels much more relaxed than he did outside in the parking lot. “Thinking about Cajun Cafe for lunch, sound good?”

“Sure,” Gabriel answers, “never been there, but my brother likes it. Is it okay if we stop by the bookstore next to it after?”

Dean shrugs uncaringly, “yeah whatever.” Two stop lights down and they pull cleanly into a spot right in front of the door (with a “fuck yeah” from Dean).

The interior of the restaurant is quaint, with brick red walls and dark wood booths. It’s well lit using intricate glass blown lamps in yellow, red, and orange and a soft jazz plays overhead. And it smells fantastic, like seafood and spices and rice and about a hundred other things Dean wants to sink his teeth into. They chose a booth in the back, facing the door, and consult the brightly colored menu.

“What’s good here?” Gabriel asks, just as a perky waitress bounces up.

“I’m Anna, can I get you boys anything to drink?” Her hair is redder even than Charlie’s, which is shocking to Dean, and her voice has that flimsy just-tip-me cheeriness that is slightly nauseating, but she seems nice enough and her Omega scent doesn’t make Dean’s skin crawl.

“I’ll have a water, and could you tell Benny that Dean is here?”

“Sure thing, angel, and for you sir?”

Gabriel considers a moment before answering, “large coffee, a whole sugar shaker, and eight little creamers please. Oh, and a cherry coke.”

Anna doesn’t even bat an eyelid as she takes off to fulfill their drink order and alert Benny.

“Anyway, what’s good here?” Gabriel repeats, looking at the menu as through it were in a completely different language.

“I always get the crawfish etouffee, but Sam enjoys the jambalaya and Charlie likes the gumbo.”

Gabriel nods and consults the menu once more before setting it down. “I think I’ll try the muffuletta with a cup of gumbo.”

Anna deposits their drinks then, grabs their order, and disappears again. Alpha and Omega sit awkwardly for a minute before Dean steels his nerves and asks, “so... about last night. I was in heat...” he leaves it open ended like that.

“Mhm,” Gabriel replies, looking sheepish, “I uh... I know. I’m an Alpha.”

“So why did you not... partake?”

A second ticks by and Gabriel’s features go from nervous to pissed-all-to-hell, “perhaps because I’m not a rapist, Dean. I mean, was that a fucking problem for you?”

The disgusting stink of turpentine clogs up the Alpha’s clay and cherries and Dean flinches, neck bared without him stopping to think about it. “No, no, I just... I’m sorry.”

Another second. Another tick. And the scent leaks away, Dean looks at Gabriel again and the Alpha is taking a deep breath, “it’s okay, Dean-o, I’m sorry I got so pissed. It’s just... Would you think your brother could ever rape an Omega, heat or not?”

Dean shook his head immediately, “no, never.”

“Well, then I like to think I’m like your brother,” Gabriel answered, “and besides... my brother is an Omega too, so it wasn’t even like it was a hard decision to make. It could have easily been him.” He looked towards the front door, “it could have so easily been him.”

Dean doesn’t quite understand Gabriel’s pensiveness at that, but he nods. “Well, thanks man. For being such a good guy.”

Gabriel doesn’t respond because the food arrives then, the fragrant spices muting the scent of Gabriel and the salt and lime scent of Anna. Before she leaves Gabriel orders an okra creole to go and turns his attention to his coffee. Dean watches in dismay as the Alpha pours a quarter of the tall sugar shaker into the coffee, followed by every single little cup of creamer. “Dude,” Dean grumbles, “I need to brush my teeth just looking at that shit.”

Gabe laughs and takes a sip, making the obnoxious slurping sound and everything. He then digs into his food, which looks to Dean like an awesome roast pork sandwich. He takes a bite of his own food, which is basically onions, crawfish, and rice, and makes a slightly obscene moaning sound around his fork.

Gabriel pauses, looking slightly scandalized, “what the hell, Dean?”

“S’orry,” he slurs, chewing happily and swallowing, “but Benny makes the good shit.”

“Well thanks, brother,” a deep southern drawl interrupts. Dean jumps but Benny’s sandalwood and lemon scent doesn’t do much to frighten him. The burly Alpha slides into the booth bench opposite him and Gabriel, appraising their food with an approving nod before his eyes flicker to Dean. Shock registers on his face when he takes in Dean’s busted nose, but he doesn’t comment. Most likely he’ll chalk it up to Dean getting into a fight, he’s been known to before. Only when he hears a slight growl from Gabriel does the Alpha look at Dean’s companion. “Oh, you must be Dean’s date.”

“Gabriel, relax,” Dean chides reassuringly, “this is Benny Lafitte, Benny this is Gabriel Novak. He’s not my mate, just a friend.”

“Pleasure,” Benny said, holding a hand out for Gabriel to shake. Gabriel stared a him for another moment before stiffly taking his hand. Dean looked between the Alphas and rolled his eyes. Benny noticed and plastered an easy smile on his face before sliding out of the booth. “Enjoy yall’s lunch, and it’s on me, all right? And Dean, call me later okay? I wanna hear what happened to your pretty nose.”

Dean feels warm as he looks back down at his food. Gabriel watches him a moment before laughing, “you like Mr. Plaid Shirt?”

“Shut up,” Dean retorts, “maybe a little. He’s hot.”

Gabriel laughs and lets the subject drop, tearing into his sandwich like a starving wolf. Dean finishes his own lunch with slightly more dignity. When Anna drops the to-go food Dean asks for the check but she smiles and shakes her head, “sorry, Mr. Lafitte already told me to get rid of it.”

Dean sighs, tries to hide a smile, and leaves a twenty on the table as he drags Gabriel from the restaurant. Outside, Dean offers to let Gabriel deposit the food in the Impala before they walk to the bookstore. “No need,” the Alpha answers, fidgeting nervously. Dean knows why. The walk along the edge of the restaurants rough brick wall, Dean trailing his calloused fingers across it, but they both stop at the mouth of the alley.

This was where it happened, Dean thinks. And if the faint scent of anger is anything to go by, Gabriel is thinking it too.  Dean puts a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder and Gabriel calms minutely. Then, as though there was another Omega in distress, Gabriel takes off to the bookstore. Dean has no choice but to follow but the alley opens before him and reminds him of a picture he saw one time of a deep-sea diver swimming over an abyss, something about had scared him shitless and it’s the exact feeling he has now as he darts across the alley. Like something might grab him and drag him down, down, down.

The sign reading Chapter Three Books is a bright blue with what looks like a pen-sketched book open with a quill poised over it. It’s quite charming actually. The inside of the shop is stuffed full of books. They are shoved three deep on large mahogany shelves, stacked on crates and small tables, overflowing off the small counter top and the few squashy armchairs crammed into the well-lit space. The air smells like old books, tea, and honey, somehow exactly what Dean figured a tiny book shop would smell like. As Dean takes a look around he notices that not one single book has collected dust. Each one looks lovingly placed in it’s spot, be it shelf or table, and everyone has a well-worn but charming quality to them. Dean finds himself smiling as he runs his pointer finger along the spines of a shelf by the counter. The Book Thief, Naked Lunch, Secret Life of Bees, The Bell Jar, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Mosquitoland, and so on. Most of these he’s never even heard of. But this place makes him want to read them all.

Gabriel, Dean notices, seems completely unconcerned with the books. Instead he makes a beeline for the counter. Dean follows with some reluctance and notices another room going deeper into the shop, as well as a small spindly staircase ascending to a second floor. “Oi,” Gabriel calls, “Castiel!”

“One moment!” A deep voice snaps, and there is the sound a light scuffle before a man appears from the other room holding a truly enormous pile of books that he lovingly sets on a plain old dining chair crammed behind the counter.

And holy shit, if he isn’t gorgeous. Castiel, weird friggin’ name, is as tall as he is, save for maybe an inch. He’s wearing black jeans and a hunter green button down, the shirt tight enough to show the well-formed abs underneath. His hair is pitch black, like a raven, and his eyes are such a brilliant blue that Dean can’t even describe them to himself at first. But they look like the blue of the sky just as a storm rolls in, shadowed but blue nonetheless. And his scent! It wasn’t the book shop Dean scented, not entirely, because this man smells like old books and chamomile tea. His face is lined but mostly it seems like laughter lines, proven when his eyes light up and a smile breaks over his face upon spying Gabriel. What's more, he’s an Omega, Dean can smell it. The first male Omega besides himself that Dean has ever met. Gabriel’s mate perhaps?

But Gabriel doesn’t seem very twitterpated. He unceremoniously dumps the food on the counter and shoves it at Castiel, assessing him with careful eyes before seeming satisfied with his appearance.

“Thanks,” Castiel says, inspecting the clear container of food with careful interest before his eyes flicked to Dean. In the span of a heartbeat he watches Castiel’s eyes widen and his nose twitch, no doubt scenting that he is an Omega like him.

Gabriel clears his throat, “Castiel, this is Dean Winchester, Dean this is my brother, Castiel.”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel rumbles, offering him a smile that Dean eats up. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Um, yeah, you too,” Dean manages, shaking off the shock and awe. “Nice place you work at.”

“Own,” Castiel corrects, though the shy nature of his voice doesn’t make the words seem the least bit arrogant.

“You own it?” There is wonder there again in Dean’s voice. Omegas didn’t usually own anything. He owns half of Singer & Sons, but that’s mostly because he had an in with the previous owner, seeing as he was raised by him.

Castiel nods, looking just like Gabriel when the Alpha is feeling nervous. Dean looks at the shop with new eyes, more wonderstruck eyes if you can believe it. How had he never been here before?

He hears Gabriel talking quietly to Castiel, something about the alley, and Dean whirls around. “You’re an Omega,” he half-shouts.

Castiel jumps but doesn’t seem offended, “yes, I know.”

“No,” Dean strides forward and leans over the counter, just a few inches from Castiel now, “you don’t understand. I was attacked in the alley outside last night.”

Castiel goes still and assesses him again, taking in the bruise over his cheek and the bandage on his nose. Fear leaks into the book and tea scent and he looks at Gabriel with wide eyes. Gabriel clears his throat, “I... drove the other Alpha off.”

With a soft whimper, Castiel plops down on a barstool behind the counter and looks between Dean and Gabriel. After a moment, he finds his voice again, “I’m sorry that happened to you, Dean. I trust you are well?” At Dean’s careful nod, he turns to his brother, “Gabriel, I assure you, I will be diligent. No going out at night. No unnecessary risks, I’ll be fine.”

Gabriel seems to want to argue but obviously decides against it, instead just nodding, “thanks, Cassie.”

Birds chirping irritatingly close to his window is what him up the next morning. The sun slanting through the blinds across from his face made the dancing dust motes visible as Dean sat and stretched, popping his neck and wincing when his movement made his nose twinge.

Sam’s house had a nice guest room, Dean had to admit. The walls were a dusty light green, like the color fresh-cut grass trimmings were. The bed, a queen, had a thick white down comforter and more pillows than strictly necessary. And the air smelled faintly like ink, like brother, mixed with the harsh scent of cleaning chemicals.

Today he would have to deal with the fallout of last night. Would Bobby and Charlie forgive him? The possibility that they wouldn’t had Dean hiccuping and crying quietly, staring out the window uncomprehensively and choking on his sobs. His nose throbbed from the crying but Dean knew he deserved it, deserved the bruises and aches too.

A knock on the door sent Dean scrambling to clean himself up, wiping his eyes and hoping the sadness had vanished from his scent. “Come in, Sam,” he called tiredly. But when his giant brother entered the smell of Alpha sent his brain into a panic. It seemed to chant unsafeunsafeunsafe and it made Dean back away, the bed knocking his knees out and he causing him to fall onto the fluffy mattress with a distressed whine.

Sam, bless him, froze immediately and put his hands up. “Dean,” he whispered, voice practically oozing peace and serenity and family, “it’s just me.”

The fog of fear eased slightly and Dean took a deep breath, shaking so hard his teeth chattered, “Sam. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Dean. I’m going to close the door but I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast if you want?” Without waiting for an answer Sam gently closed the door.

Dean sat up and took a deep breath, taking in the ink and leather of his brother and trying to clear his head. He was safe. Alastair wasn’t here. And Dean needed to be strong. Eyeing a neatly folded change of clothes, Dean stood and robotically dressed, hardly noticing that Sam had brought his favorite AC/DC shirt and worn stonewashed jeans with a hole in the left knee. Even that bitchin’ outfit couldn’t really crush down Dean’s anxiety. He sat on the bed when he was done and stared at the door, he was able to notice a scrap that revealed a weird yellow paint underneath the white. And there was a ding in the wood by the soft tan carpet that revealed the dark color of wood the door had originally been. The minutes ticked by and his manic microanalysis of the door started feeling ridiculous, even to him. So he stood and walked out of the room, back straight, and his best don’t-fuck-with-me face plastered on his features.

Downstairs Sam bustled around his brightly lit kitchen with a light blue apron on and a look of immense pain on his face. Seated at the breakfast bar were Charlie and Bobby, each with cups on coffee, and twin carefully uninterested looks on their faces. Dean sighed and treaded from the stairs and to the kitchen with a petulant air about him. He stopped before his family and crossed his arms, waiting.

Charlie looked at him first. The red-headed Alpha only managed a quick glance before she squeaked and leaped up, looking ready to launch herself at him. At the last second she stopped and instead fluttered around him, “oh Dean!”

That made Bobby look up. Just a quick flick of his eyes and he was grunting and glaring at the marble countertop like it was to blame, “you okay, boy?”

Sam, for his part, was busily burning pancakes and trying to keep his long hair from being incinerated by the flames from his stove. When Bobby spoke Sam signed softly and twisted the knob on the stove to the ‘off’ position, instead grabbing frozen waffles and popping them into his toaster.

Dean’s chest tightened and he stepped away from Charlie. The Alpha seemed hurt for a moment before understanding flared in her eyes and she retreated to the other end of the kitchen, back to her seat. He felt horrible about the pained look she gave him and mumbled, “sorry, Charlie. I’m just-”

“Don’t apologize to me,” she said in a rush, her usual pleasant voice now colored with concern. “I wasn’t thinking. How are you? You nose looks...um, on the mend.”

Dean shrugged, “s’okay, I guess. Doesn’t hurt. I’m good, I’m just sorry I went and got myself attacked.”

The sudden scrape of a chair made Dean jump, eyes trained on Bobby as the older man stood abruptly. “It ain’t your fault, ya idjit. That man is to blame. You should walk where you please.”

Really Dean shouldn’t have been surprised about their reaction. Other than John his family had never shown anything but understanding and love towards him. Of course, he’d also never been the victim of an attempted rape before, so perhaps he couldn’t have really known.

Still, there was no anger in their scents and Dean felt himself relax completely. They wouldn’t hurt him or cast him out. His fear of them seemed to evaporate and he took a seat in the barstool on the end of the counter. “Thanks, you guys.” Charlie grinned, Bobby sat back down with a huff, and Sam slid a plate of unappetizing toaster waffles to him with a sheepish smile. He really was lucky to have them.

Charlie, with her coffee and white chocolate scent, was perhaps the most un-Alpha Alpha there had ever been. There was never any aggression from her and she was a bigger nerd than he was. Just as much as his wardrobe comprised of band t-shirts, her’s had graphic tees of just about any show, movie, or book in existence. Today, he noticed, she’d warn her Harry Potter shirt. It was his favorite because they’d both been sorted into Slytherin together from a quiz online and she’d immediately ordered over a hundred bucks in Slytherin gear, including two matching shirts for the two of them. He grinned at her and she smiled back, taking her own plate of waffles from Sam unenthusiastically.

“Boy,” Bobby began, clearing his throat, “I was thinking about giving you some time off at the shop. Give you a chance to catch up in school and maybe relax some.”

“What? Bobby, no! I’ve gotta work, what about rent?”

“I ain’t going to let you go broke,” the older Beta barked, “it’ll be a paid leave. You can make up the hours later if you want.”

Sam interrupted diplomatically, handing a final plate of waffles to Bobby, “it might be a good idea, just until your nose heals up a little and you can be around Alphas again.”

It was a blunt statement but it got the point across to Dean. He sighed and bit into this waffle to stall the conversation, chewing slowly. “Alright,” he grumbled finally, “alright. But just until I can be around Alphas again.”

Bobby nodded in agreement, sliding his plate of waffles back to Sam without touching them, “you eat ‘em, son. I’m not touching your sad little waffles.”

Sam laughed and snatched the plate up, seemingly unbothered by the unpleasant packaged taste of his Eggos. Dean studied Bobby, trying to see if he really meant what he said about coming back to work. Bobby Singer was like his father, better even, because John Winchester had been about the worst father in the world to him and Sam. Only the presence of Bobby had helped shape the boys into something more than their father, something healthier. His engine grease and sour milk scent went unchanged from what it had transitioned to after the death of his wife, Karen Singer. The boys had grown up with Bobby’s scent and the sour milk went almost completely unnoticed now. But Dean never stopped hoping to smell it switched back to its previous fragrance.

Sour milk scent accompanied the break of a scent bond, usually in death, as in Karen and Bobby’s case. If they’d been a regular couple Bobby’s sour scent likely would have faded as he moved on from the relationship. But Karen and Bobby had been soul bonded, basically soul mates, and that made it harder to move on. In all the years since Karen died, Bobby’s scent had never changed back. And it might never. John Winchester had smelled of sour milk too, though Dean wonders if the anger had kept the scent there instead of soul bonding.

He chewed his gross breakfast and let his mind wonder along it’s own path, content to just watch his family without really seeing anything. He watched Charlie slide chunks of waffle into a napkin without eating them and Sam wolf his down without seeming to care about the flavor. Watched Bobby looking just as checked out as he was.

When breakfast was done and the dishes washed, the family took their leave. Sam was off to teach his law studies class, which reminded Dean he needed to email professors about missing school today, Charlie had a brunch date, and Bobby went to open up the shop. One-by-one, his family embraced him or clapped him on the shoulder, and departed Sam’s house.

The sudden stillness was slightly unnerving to Dean. It took him about five minutes of tiptoeing around the house to know he wouldn’t be able to spend the whole day here. But the thought of going outside alone made him just as jumpy. In the end, the doorbell saved him.

Cautiously, he went to answer his brother’s door. Peering through the peephole he caught a glimpse of a man with medium length light brown hair and crisp brown eyes, like whisky with ice in it. Dean swung the door open and regarded Gabriel warily. “Hey there, Gabe.”

If Gabriel objected to the nickname he didn’t show it, instead smiling brightly, “Dean-o! I’m glad to see you up and about, your nose even looks better!”

“Thanks,” he replied uncertainly, “why are you here? Sam’s not home.”

“I know, he mentioned he taught at the college. I actually came to see how you were.” The Alpha looked slightly uncomfortable now, as though waiting for Dean to tell him to beat it. But Dean owed Gabe a lot and the Alpha, who he could now tell smelled of clay and cherries, didn’t make his skin crawl like he thought it would. It seemed his head found no reason to fear the shorter Alpha.

“Oh, I’m good. Tired, I guess, and I’m wondering if I should risk it to spend the day running some errands.”

Gabriel nodded seriously, “if you want company, I’d be happy to ditch work.”

“Where do you work?”

The Alpha took that as an affirmative and sailed passed Dean, snatching up his brother’s house phone and dialing a number. “I’m a Kindergarten teacher, and boy let me tell you I needed a break from those booger-lovers. Oh, hello Ms. Rosen, just wanted to let you know I won’t be attending school today. Sorry about the short notice, family emergency.”

A faint high pitched voice rattled on the other side and Gabriel laughed winningly, “thanks, Becky. I’ll see you tomorrow. Mmhm, okay, yeah. Bye Beck!”

He hung up and placed the phone back in it’s cradle, turning to Dean with his arms spread out, “alright, where to first?”

“The auto shop,” Dean decided, “I’ve gotta get Baby picked up. Hopefully Bobby has Rufus finishing her.”

Gabe nodded and gestured grandly to the door, “after you, my boy.”

The aches and pain were what he noticed first upon regaining consciousness. Before he even opened his eyes, Dean knew he must look rough. A movement to his left made him aware he was not alone. Tensing up automatically, Dean waited. “Mr. Novak,” a carefully polite voice was saying, “you don’t need to wait here, you are not family.”

A lighter voice answered, all snark, “Dr. Milton, this man was just assaulted and his family isn’t here yet so I’m staying right here, thank you very much. And have Meg bring in some more lollipops, would you?”

Grinding teeth, probably from the doctor, accompanied the retreat of steps and the gentle click as the door swung shut. Dean’s eyes flew open and he squinted against the too-bright lights of the hospital room. His nose hurt like a bitch and the itching under his skin and slick-feeling in his charming hospital gown told him he was still in heat. There was one of those stupid finger things that tracked your pulse on him, but he was otherwise unviolated by hospital equipment. An Alpha sat close to him, though very clearly giving him space, and stared at him with eyes like sun shining through a tumbler of sweet tea. Dean was surprised again by his short stature, which didn’t seem to match the strange... bigness of the man. Like he managed to fill out any room he was in. At the moment, Dean couldn’t find it very impressive.

“You’re awake!” the Alpha half-shouted, acting like he wanted to hug him, which made Dean flinch. The man stilled and raised his palms in a placating manner, just as he’d done in the alley, “sorry, sorry. My name is Gabriel, if you remember.”

Dean nodded, ignoring the throbbing pain in his face as he opened his mouth to speak, “Dean.” His voice was mangled and nasally, not at all the smooth voice he usually was so proud of. His broken nose meant he could really only smell blood, but he thought he could get a whiff of cherry as he regarded Gabriel.

“I know,” Gabriel answered, nodding absent-mindedly and not mentioned the stuffy sound of the Omegas voice, “they already identified you, apparently one of the nurses - Garth was his name - knows you. He called your brother a few minutes ago.”

Sam. Oh god, what was Sam going to think? His Alpha brother was his best friend, but he was still an Alpha, and still prone to anger. Would he blame Dean for this? Dean couldn’t think of a reason why he wouldn’t. He should. A tear rolled down his cheek as he looked down at his hands.

It didn’t take long for Sam to arrive, he must have floored it over here. Dean’s incredibly tall brother burst into the room like the man who assaulted Dean was still there, all Alpha rage and clenched fists. The way he exploded through the door would have been comical in another situation. Angry eyes immediately found Gabriel and a feral snarl ripped through his teeth. Gabriel stood and backed up, all submissive and carely, “whoa there, I’m not him!”

His words didn’t do anything and the tree of a man before him advanced, teeth bared. Gabriel tilted his head and showed his neck, stopping Sam in his tracks. Alphas didn’t just bare their necks to Alphas or anyone for that matter. It surprised Sam enough to let Dean break through the Alpha rage.

“Sammy,” Dean spoke, wrecked voice making his brother flinch, “it really wasn’t him. He, uh, he saved me.” Instantly deflated Sam Winchester backed down, the angry turpentine scent draining out of his ink and leather scent. Though Dean couldn’t quite smell it, the relief in Gabriel’s face confirmed as much. Dean watched Gabriel frown and sniff in Sam’s direction but ignored it, instead baring his neck to his brother and mumbling, “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“No Dean,” Sam said, the wobbling in his words betraying him a moment before the tears did, “I’m sorry. I should have been there!”

Dean only shook his head, tears falling again. Sam seemed to pick up on the fact that he wasn’t helped and instead sat in the chair Gabriel had abandoned, wiping the tears and taking a large breath. Without looking at the other Alpha Sam addressed him, “thanks man. For, uh, for protecting him. And then... getting him here.”

There was a question in his words and Gabriel shrugged, “it’s Gabriel Novak. My brother is an Omega and I... it’s easy to ignore the heat scent if you think of your kid brother, you know?”

Sam nodded, surprised to hear another male Omega mentioned. Omegas were the least common secondary gender and out of every 5000 of them born only about five were male Omegas. He was suddenly incredibly grateful for this short Alpha, without him Dean would be a broken mess in an alley. Or worse. Sam shuddered involuntarily and glanced at the door, “the doctor better hurry up. I want to get you back to my house so you can actually sleep.”

Fat chance, Dean thought. It would be a miracle if he ever managed to sleep again. The news of another male Omega didn’t even interest him. Nor did the doctor. He just wanted to leave. Bobby and Charlie hadn’t shown up yet, so obviously Sam was keeping them at bay. Tomorrow he’d have to see them. To explain. Their reactions somehow freaked him out more than Sam’s, Charlie was emotional and Bobby would no doubt feel guilty.

The doctor entering pulled him from his thoughts. He was young and good looking, with dark hair and green eyes. If Dean hadn’t been so distracted he may have thought he was attractive. Through the blood scent in his nose, he picked up saline and cotton, overly clean scents that made the doctor less attractive at once. With him was Sheriff Jody Mills, looking all business and obviously trying to seem unassuming. Dean groaned and it made his brother and Gabriel growl, both moving in front of him defensively. Dr. Milton and Sheriff Mills each stopped warily. When both of his Alphas relaxed, apparently not deeming either person a threat, the doctor stepped forward and cleared his throat, “Mr. Winchester,” Dr. Milton began, consulting the chart in his hands, “all your tests came back okay, except for the Fervothyl and Rohypnol in your system. Your medically triggered heat isn’t nearly as intense as your normal one, if you’ve noticed your lack of sexual drive.”

Dean nodded, unsurprised by the drugs found in his blood. Fervothyl was the heat drug popular among Omega traffickers because it triggered an unnatural heat and made the Omegas weaker, more likely to just bend over for them. He’d never before been drugged with it and the heat it triggered felt medical and wrong.

Dr. Milton watched his reaction carefully before continuing, “Sheriff Mills is here to get your statement and then, if you’d like, you can be discharged.”

The Omega nodded and Dr. Milton took his leave, prompting Sheriff Mills forward. “Dean,” she began, “we just need to know what you can remember.”

The Beta’s voice was all sympathy as she spoke and the maternal note in it almost made Dean cry again. He knew her distantly, but the respect and warmth he felt for her made it seem like she was family. That thought made his stomach turn, he didn’t want to talk about this with someone he was that close to, “can we, uh, do this alone?” He asked, cutting a glance at Sam nervously.

Gabriel stood immediately, followed by a much more hesitant Sam. As they made to exit Sheriff Mills addressed them, “don’t leave the hospital yet Mr. Novak, we’ll need your statement too.” Gabriel nodded and left the room, sitting down on a bench across from the door with Sam beside him. The sheriff looked at Dean again and sat in the chair beside his bed, which seemed to be where people felt least threatening to him.

“Okay, Sheriff Mills,” he began quietly, nodding when she softly reminded him to call her by her first name. “Jody. I left Singer & Sons at a little after 7, when we closed. I was walking to the Roadhouse and cut through the alley between the bookstore and Cajun Cafe, I didn’t even notice the man until he grabbed me.”

Jody was busy scribbling notes in her little notepad but interrupted softly, “can you tell me about him?”

“He was taller than me, like 6’4” of 5”,” Dean began shakily, “with a scent like really sour dirt and blood, or maybe it was rust. He was dark haired with dark eyes, and an Alpha, that’s all I know. He held me down and threatened me, but Gabriel attacked him before he could... um, penetrate me.”

With a frown and nod she closed her notepad, “Alastair,” she sighed. “He’s an Omega trafficker, you were fortunate Mr. Novak was there. We’ve been chasing him for years, but it’s been almost 3 years since he was last reported to be here.”

Dean shuddered, “are you going to be able to catch him?”

Jody stood and handed the Omega a card before heading to the door, “honestly? I don’t know. But we’ll be doing everything we can, I promise you that. Get better soon, Dean, and call me if you ever need me.”

She left with that super not helpful statement and before the door swung closed a nurse squeezed through. His sense of smell was getting slightly stronger and he grimaced at the cough syrup and mint smell that accompanied a small Beta nurse.

“I’m Meg,” she held the chart from Dr. Milton but didn’t bother looking at it, “I’m here for your discharge, Mr. Winchester.” Meg didn’t seem to eager for small talk as she handed him a clear vacuumed sealed bag with what looked like beige scrubs in it, along with a small bag containing his wallet and keys. “The police kept your clothes, so we have these for you.”

Dean took the bags and pulled the blankets off of him, ignoring the bruises blooming over his skin and the ache that seemed bone-deep in his body. “Thanks, Meg,” he managed, hoping she’d get the hint and leave.

“After you’re dressed, you’re good to go,” she responded dully, “your bother handled the paperwork. Feel better, Mr. Winchester.” And then she was gone.

The ugly scrubs were at least soft and thick, hopefully they’d be able to contain all the slick coming out of him until he could get home. Already his temperature was returning to normal, it seemed as though he hadn’t been given enough drugs to trigger a full-blown heat. Without another look at the hospital bed, he opened the door and met a pacing Sam.

His brother held out his jacket for him, “I begged Jody for it back, and since you’d only been carrying it she obliged.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean sighed, tucking it under his arm. “Let’s go.”

They walked out side by side, Sam glaring at every person who passed and Dean keeping his head down. He was so tired and he hadn’t even let himself really fall apart yet.

The street lights flickered on as the last car pulled out of Singer & Sons Auto. Inky darkness spread its tendrils through the orange and pink of the sunset. A crispness hung in the twilight air, cool but not biting. October always brought cooler evenings with it, something Dean Winchester was thankful for as he slammed the bay doors down on his mechanic shop. The dark grey t-shirt with the shops name on it was sticking to his skin as he tugged on it, fanning himself to try and dry the sweat from his chest. He flipped off the light and stepped back in the the air conditioned office, locking the door before wiping the grease of his hands.

“Bobby,” Dean called, picking dirt from under his nails and flicking it to the floor distractedly, “I’m headed to the Roadhouse, do you wanna join?”

An older guy in a trucker cap peeked his head out from his office, phone smashed against one of his ears and an annoyed look on his face. The gruffness of his words held no sting when you caught the loving gleam in his eyes, “I’m on the phone, boy. Go on ahead, I’ll meet you and Sam there later. You okay to walk?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “I’m good, old man. I’ll have Baby finished up tomorrow and one more day of walking won’t kill me.” And it would give him an awesome excuse to eat a second slice of pie at dinner. Bobby just waved him off and Dean grinned as he grabbed his leather jacket and headed out the front door, the lock clicking behind him with a sense of finality.

The chilly air was welcome to him, it meant he wouldn’t have to leave work drenched in sweat for much longer. It also meant he wasn’t miserable walking the mile to the Roadhouse. Of course he could have called Sam, later he would wish so much he had. Dean had never worried about being an Omega, not with the way he looked.

His father used to say he looked like an Alpha but he was weak like an Omega. But Dean Winchester wasn’t weak. He smelled like motor oil and pine, two burly scents that would usually be associated with Alphas, which meant he could blend into a crowd easily. His 6’1” height meant he towered over many Alphas effortlessly and his classic don’t-fuck-with-me look that seemed to permanently reside in his pear green eyes was enough to intimidate anyone, regardless of their designation. To top it off, he could fight. And Dean wasn’t afraid to show it.

So there wasn’t an ounce of uneasiness in his body or scent as he strode down the sidewalk, whistling “Heat of the Moment” tunelessly and looking forward to his weekly dinner with Sam. Dean didn’t even hear the footsteps as he turned down the alley between Chapter Three Books and Cajun Cafe. A car roared by on the street ahead of him, momentarily obscuring his view of the street beyond and making him jump involuntarily. That’s when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He swung around as the scent hit him, a rusty smell like blood mixed with acidic dirt. He gagged and that’s when the weight of the Alpha slammed into him. Shock was the only thing that put him on the ground.

***

As he recovered and tried to stand there was sharp stabbing pain in his neck and he saw the Alpha retract his hand. Saw the gleam of the needle and felt the sudden rush of stimulants in his system. Felt the automatic fogginess that settled over him.

“You’re mine now, Omega bitch,” a grating voice hissed, followed by the slimy feeling of someone licking the inside of his ear. Despite the onslaught of drugs Dean tried to shove the man away, gasping as his motor oil and pine scent amped up, now touched with the cinnamon scent that accompanied his heat. Seeing as how he wasn’t due for two more weeks Dean knew he’d been with a trigger drug. The man that drugged him scent his neck and growled appreciatively.

The situation hit Dean then, finally really sunk in. He tried to scream but before his mouth was even open the Alpha clapped a hand over his mouth and leaned in, “scream and I will gut you like a fucking fish.”

Dean’s eyes met his and he nodded, suddenly feeling much more like an Omega than he ever had before. Especially when his heat really kicked in, making him whine as slick slid out of him, soaking through his boxers and jeans in record time.

The Alpha’s pupils dilated and a growl rumbled deep in his chest as he stood and removed his hand from Dean’s mouth. Without a moment’s pause he stuffed a foul smelling rag into Dean’s mouth and secured it with a piece of duct tape he tore from a roll in his filthy jacket pocket. Dean could have - should have - resisted, but the shock and the heat seemed to petrify him. He looked at the man with round eyes and noticed the Alpha was slim, but taller than him, probably about 6’4”. Though the drug-induced heat and whatever else had been in the cocktail made it impossible for him to fight, he tried to commit every detail to memory.

Strong hands tangled themselves in Dean’s hair and yanked down, pulling Dean’s head to the cement. The awkward position lasted only a moment before the Alpha grabbed his hips and moved him so he was presenting. When he struggled a hand found his hair again and yanked so hard he cried out. Still fully dressed, Dean peeked up at the man as he circled him like a lion before the kill. When he shifted the man snarled, freezing Dean in place.

“Beautiful,” the man cooed, voice almost inhuman. He reached a hand down to cup himself through his pants, eyes on Dean’s ass as he moved. Fast as a viper, he grabbed Dean’s pants and tugged, tearing a hole in them as he pulled them down to the Omega’s knees.

That was when Dean found his voice. Through the gag he screamed, terrified when the sound barely echoed through the alley, muffled as it was by the tape and incredibly disgusting gag. The man snarled and kicked him in the face, breaking his nose with a sharp click and causing blood to soak the rag and block out Dean’s sense of smell. “I said be quiet,” Alpha ground out, holding a knife against Dean’s neck and flexing so he could feel the threatening scrape of the cool metal against Dean’s neck.

Just as quickly as the knife was there, it was gone, and the Alpha was circling again. There was a thoughtful chuckle that unnerved the Omega on the ground. Dean tried to track his with his eyes, knowing the man was seeing the slick leaking from his hole and the flush of his skin as his heat drove his temperature up.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” the Alpha hummed, the metallic and unwelcome sound of a zipper alerting Dean to what was coming next. “And when I’m done, I’m going to take you to a place where others can knot you like the filthy slut you are.” The man circled one more time, allowing Dean to see his cock as he stroked it, the tip already leaking pre-cum. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, blood now mixing with the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. There was suddenly hands on his hips and the man above him dug his grubby nails in harshly before the tip of a cock nudged against Dean’s hole. He sobbed through the gag and tried to shut his mind down.

A snarl from the end of the alley he’d entered made his eyes snap open. He spotted another Alpha, significantly shorter, barrelling towards the Alpha on top of him. With a slam that also made Dean crumble the assaulting Alpha was brought to the ground. Dean took his chance and scrambled up, pressing himself against the wall as he yanked his ruined pants up and frantically tried to tear the tape from his mouth.

***

On the ground the shorter Alpha wrestled with the bigger Alpha, both of them baring teeth and obviously looking for a moment to sink their teeth into the other’s jugular. Dean knew he should run, but his hand were shaking so bad he couldn’t even get the damn tape off.

His assailant shoved the shorter Alpha off and took off running, disappearing from the alley without so much as glancing back at Dean. The rust and dirt smell faded somewhat and Dean felt more tears flow. The shorter Alpha stood, palms raised in a pacifying gesture, and bared his neck to Dean submissively. “I’m Gabriel Novak,” he spoke, voice calm and inviting, “and I will not hurt you.”