May 25, 1999
The alleyway beside the diner was dark and nearly abandoned; plumes of smoke rose from Gordon Walker's cigarette. Shadows flickered in the dying streetlight, stretching themselves forlornly up the graffiti-littered walls. A single female alpha came into the alley, laughing drunkenly. He could practically smell the alcohol on her breath. She dragged a young woman in with her, the sleeve of her flouncy blouse tearing as they did so.
Omega, if her scent was anything to go by. When an omega senses that they're in danger, the scent glands on their wrist and junctures on the neck go into a frenzy, alerting any nearby alpha that they're in danger. Gordon, a beta, knows that if he doesn't intervene soon, she'll do what most omegas are prone to do when it's apparent another alpha isn't going to show up – Submit.
"Come here, pretty lady," The alpha said, adjusting her skintight skirt as she pulled the omega closer, "You don't wanna be leavin' just yet."
The woman was crying; pleading, "Please, please. Don't hurt me. I-I'll do anything," He heard a gentle shushing and her cries became hysterical sobs," God, please, no... Please. Please! Don't do this..."
The woman puts a hand over her mouth and shushes her once more. "Don't make a sound, not a damn sound," She hisses softly," I'm going to remove my hand, and when I do, I want you to do as I say. You tilt your head to the side, open your legs, and submit like the omega bitch you are. Do you understand?"
The woman nods tearfully, and the hand pulls away from her mouth. She takes a shaking breath, before tilting her neck to the side and closing her eyes tightly. Having heard enough, Gordon came out of the shadows. He brought his foot to the alpha's neck, just below the chin. She sputtered and stumbled back. The beta then balled his free hand into a fist and struck her in the stomach. That did it. Half-conscious, she fell against the wall and breathed heavily.
An exit was now provided for the young woman. Gordon quickly helped her to her feet, which was like hauling a statue into place. She was frozen, staring at him in fear and shock. She reeked of burning toast as she begins crying again, her scent responding to the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling.
She was leaning her neck to the side in submission, even as he began to push her forward.
"Go!" Gordon barks.
She hesitated, but when he gave her a rough shove, she took off running. He smiled inwardly. Now it was all simple, really. He turned to look at the alpha who was beginning to shakily stand.
The alpha woman was dressed casually, but smartly wore jeans, a hipster jacket, and a neck scarf. Her face was made up, but not over done and her long black hair was pulled back into a pony-tail. In one hand she still held a nearly empty bottle of beer, which she downed in a second as she fully stood. She wiped her mouth on the corner of her sleeve, then dropped her arm down to her side exposing her mouth. That little rise in the corner of her mouth, combined with the cool detachment in her eyes sealed her fate. Not only had she attempted to rape an omega in the back of some damn alley, but it was giving her inner delight. She was savoring the moment.
She popped her knuckles and her neck at the same time. "Listen, asshole," She says," You have no idea who the hell you're messing with. So, I suggest you take a big step back, and go fuck yourself! Or…I'll simply tell you to, and then you will!"
A grin tugged at one side of the beta's mouth," Trust me, I know who you are. I've been looking for you a long time," He smirked, and a blade flashed in the moonlight, the top pointing towards the alpha," And your powers won't work on me, so don't even try it."
She threw her head back and cackled; not taking him seriously at all. In any normal situation, Gordon wouldn't have cared. All these psychics were the same. But something was different now. A dark grin passed across his lips. The handle of the blade was bound with black leather, the hilt decorated yet understated, and the blade was short. The hilt had a single symbol on it; the African Adinkra symbol of mind.
With a yelp, she was slammed against the wall. "Hey, what are you doin', asshole?" In the dark, she couldn't see his face, but no fear at all was visible on her features," Look, how about you let me go and I stay out of that pretty head of yours, okay?"
It meant nothing to him. "How about you get on your knees and pray for mercy," He suggested," I think that in your situation, that would be the wisest thing to do."
"What," She snorted," Oh, you have got to be smokin' some kind of nasty shit, pal, if you think I'll be doing that," The beta brought his knife into the light as a warning. And she cackled again, her spittle landing in his face," What are ya gonna do with that? Make a sandwich? How about this — Get that knife and drive it through your own stomach."
Gordon's eyes narrowed, while hers widened.
"H-how in the hell did you do that...? Are you fuckin' deaf, pal? Drive that knife through your fuckin' stomach! Do it, now!" She's breathing heavily, and her eyes are wide as saucers as she chokes out," No one… No one can do that. No one can just fuckin' ignore me. You have to – "She begins to struggle and tries to pull away.
Before she could get a toe out into the light of the streets, the beta grabbed her shirt and pulled her back in, shoving her harder against the wall while snapping her wrist. Crying out, she ceased her struggling. He covered her mouth and brought his cold brown eyes inches from hers. Now she was silent. His appearance was startling, but he could tell she still had other thoughts.
"I gave you an option," Gordon snarls, "You should've taken it. But if you will not pray for your damned soul, I will. Lord Jesus Christ, you have taught us to be merciful like the heavenly Father and have told us that whoever sees you sees Him. Show us your face and we will be saved. Your loving gaze freed Zacchaeus and Matthew from being enslaved by money — "
Her mouth moved beneath his hand but was unable to utter a sound higher than that of a cat playing in the garbage. He grinned darkly and moved his mouth next to her ear. "Has anyone ever told you that the choices you make determine the outcome of your life? That you better start making the right ones or something bad will happen to you," He whispered," This is what they mean, Devil's scum. You had the Lord's power, and you used it for evil, rather than good. Now you will pay."
And with one thrust, he drove his knife through her abdomen. She screamed, but he gripped her face tighter, drowning it out. She clawed at his hand and he took the blade out and slammed her head against the wall, disorienting her. And he held her like that in the dark, careful of anyone who might pass by, waiting until her breath stopped and her pulse grew silent beneath his fingertips. Stepping away, he held her limp form for a moment.
He continued to pray, for the damned soul in his arms,"—the adulteress and Magdalene from seeking happiness only in created things; made Peter weep after his betrayal, and assured Paradise to the repentant thief. Let us hear, as if addressed to each one of us, the words that you spoke to the Samaritan woman:'If you knew the gift of God!'"
May 27, 1999
The traffic snaked up the hill, two lines of steel and tire, all bathed in their own putrid fumes a hundred hands reached forwards in unison to turn their air-flow to internal circulation only. In each self-contained world a radio told stories, sung, or sold products to the citizens, some talked on cell phones or texted. In the upscale minivans the children gaped at movies barely noticing the scream of sirens from behind and the ambulance driving rapidly into the oncoming traffic which veered to the curb. It was just another day on the road.
Dean Winchester emits a sigh of relief as the traffic moves, pressing in a cassette as a celebratory gesture. Tears For Fears "Head Over Heels" blasts through the 1967 Chevy Impala's speakers as he mouths the words with much gusto. He drums his hands against the steering wheel as his neck cranes forwards and backwards to the rhythm; John Winchester would no doubt be seething if he'd been riding shotgun, emitting ridiculous claims of "reckless driving" or "endangerment of civilians".
As he continues driving, he takes notice of a medium seized black charger, the hood was up and billows of silver-grey smoke curled and danced through the thick, heated summer air. A white cloth on the car's hood strut flutters violently in the wind. It was cute on the city streets but here on the highway it moves so quickly and noisily that Dean wonders if it might break away from it. His mind made up, he turns the steering wheel and parks in front of the car, ready to aid the owner with his years of experience dealing with car engines.
Dean smoothed his leather jacket down and tugged on his collar to pop it up a little. "Hey, man, having car issues?" Dean offers to the owner's backside, only seeing the back of a pair of faded jeans. The car owner sits up from the car's hood, extending his body to a staggering height that made Dean straighten his back to try and measure up to him.
From the behind, it was a young man in faded blue jeans and a tight white v-neck shirt that showed off his muscular back. He was running a dirty cloth over his hands, a wrench under his arm, apparently attempting to work at the smoking engine. However, he seemed to be having more difficulty with the task than one would expect. His skin was pale and glistening with sweat.
Then, abruptly, the breeze shifted. The scent of full, ripe omega hit the hunter hard. His nostrils flared, and he felt his whole body stiffen involuntarily. As a full-blooded alpha, he wasn't used to losing control of himself like that; it scared him, the few times it happened. The omega turned and looked at Dean, and absent mindedly the alpha noted that he smelled of pine and sweet spearmint.
"Oh," The young man said, offering a shy smile," Sorry. I didn't realize there was any one here."
This young man of staggering height had a lean, yet muscular frame. Against his tan skin, his hair was a deep brown that reached his mid neck, yet on any other it would be middling-to-fair height. Dean stares at the young man indecrously. Never before he he seen such a masculine male omega, most were stereotypically petite, light-weighted. The stranger's smile started to waver, obviously unsettled by all the staring the hunter was doing.
An alpha giving an unmated omega heart-eyes was never a good sign. At least not for the omega if they chose to remain unmated. The mouthwatering scent of pine and sweet spearmint waivered, and another smell began to seep into his nostrils. The young man suddenly reeked of burning leaves, signaling that he was likely drawing that very conclusion. The omega looks into his eyes, but instead of a soft gaze, his eyes glared with an intensity that tightened the alpha's chest. Then, just like that, his eyes softened once more, and his former scent returned.
"You didn't have to pull over like that. It was nice of you, don't get me wrong, but I've got this hand- "The engine clanged, a sound resembling a toddler banging a wooden spoon over pots and pans escaping it, and another plume of smoke seeped out,"-led."
Dean cleared his throat and replied," It's fine, really. I can see it was more than necessary. Do you, uh, need any help or…" He clears his throat again, offering his own friendly smile as he offers a hand," I'm Dean, uh, Dean Winchester by the way."
The latter took his hand in a firm grip and shook it," I'm Sam Singer. And yes, I would really appreciate some help," He laughs running a hand through his hair," In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly handy with cars."
"Not everyone is. Hell, it took me years to get any good," Dean affirms taking a spot at the hood. Reaching over, Dean extracted the wrench from Sam's grasp, and before the young man's heart had time to drop out of his chest, he had slid closer to the car and was going through an open tool box on top.
"So, are you?" Sam questions with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Am I what?"
"Any good?"
Dean chuckles lightly and sits up from the hood," Tell you what, Sam Singer," He holds up a roll of exhaust tape, shaking it for emphasis," If I can fix your car in less than five minutes, you have to treat me to lunch. Seeing as I'm new to Sioux Falls, I haven't had the chance to try any of the town's fine cuisine."
"The local diner has the best pie in town, hands down," Sam brags," Do you like pie?"
Dean sends a wink Sam's way before setting to work. He locates the exhaust leak and starts scrubbing the area with a square of sand paper. He wipes the sanded area down with a rag soaked in acetone, before determining that the hole needs to be sealed with a patch. Tearing off a piece of exhaust tape with his teeth, he wraps it tightly around the hole and turns to Sam with a smirk.
"Start the engine," The hunter orders, pointing at the driver-side of the car.
Sam nods and puts his keys in the ignition, turning them and the engine sputters to life. The omega leans his head out the window, and gawks at the alpha in front of him—No smoke in sight. Dean grins as he waltzes towards the open window, he leans down propping his elbows on the sides as he leans in close to the latter's face.
"I do believe you owe me lunch," Dean points at the young man as he grins," And we're definitely going to get me some pie, a tribute for my demanding work, Sammy."
"Sammy?" Sam said, ducking his head down with an embarrassed blush.
"Is it okay? For me to call you that?" Dean asked.
"A bit weird," Sam responded honestly, "Sounds like a chubby twelve-year-old, but it's fine, I guess," He exits his vehicle and goes to stand beside the alpha, crossing his arms over his chest as he does so," I may get my old man to come tow my car. I don't trust a stranger's work enough to drive it again, no offense, not until he checks it out."
Dean shrugs," None taken. If some stranger laid a hand on Baby, I wouldn't exactly be trusting either," He smiles as he says," We can take her for a spin, and you can show me this pie joint you keep bragging about. Maybe, just maybe, we won't be strangers anymore, huh?"
"Alright," The omega agrees, "Do you mind if I put my tool box in the trunk?"
"Not at all," Dean states opening the trunk for him, before stiffening on the spot. The Impala's trunk contains a massive arsenal of weapons, all customized for fighting things that go 'bump' in the night. There are diverse types of: Handguns, shotguns, rifles, knives, stakes, holy water, gasoline, and a shit ton of salt. There are also several types of ammunition including silver, iron, and rock salt shells as well as standard bullets for every weapon. All of this was normal, to Dean, who was hunter. But to a young man who also happened to be an unmated omega this had to look very, unbelievably bad.
"Okay, so this looks bad, but just let me – "
"You're a hunter," Sam states nonchalantly, and sets his tool box on top of the arsenal.
"Wait, are you – "Dean motions to the trunk.
"Me? Uh, no," The omega denies with a shake of his head, "You do realize that this town, is a hunting town, right?" Seeing the alpha's blank look, he sighs and explains, "A hunting town is pretty much like it sounds – Nearly everyone in town is either a hunter, is the kid of hunter, knows a hunter, knows about hunting, etc. And seeing as you're a hunter, too, I'm guessing you're here for the same reason everyone else is."
Dean nods in understanding, and states, "The manhunt for Gordon Walker. My dad and I came together; neither of us have ever been his biggest fan, so we're all too happy to help."
"You and every other hunter in this damn town," Sam says with a nod, "I've never actually met the guy, so I can't say the same thing. I've only heard rumors, but what he's doing now…Come on, I still owe you lunch. The meeting isn't for another three hours, so we've still got time."
"Meeting? You know about the meeting," The alpha gives him a shit-eating grin, and chatters on, "Maybe we could sit next to one another – Hold hands? Play a little footsie?"
"You come on pretty strong, even for an alpha," The omega replies with a cheeky smile.
"What can I say? It's in my nature."
There is a sign posted on the front door of the small diner. Originally called Double D's Diner, it went out of business in the early 80's and sat there until the second owners rolled in, and it was renamed: Harvelle's Diner. The sign's chipping royal blue paint glistening in the golden rays of the afternoon. Dean can still see the early morning rain drops that cling, jewel-like to the name. And taped to the window: 'Best Pie in North Dakota!'. Dean would be the one to test that.
It was 12:03 in the afternoon, so the two were far from first to arrive. This diner had the classical checkered floor pattern and the walls were a pale blue with booths and tables that matched it. It was a small place, but it looked well-cleaned and the plates from the customers they passed looked above-average to your usual small-town diner meal. The lunch rush had just begun so they had few options for sitting. For privacy's sake Dean sat at a booth in the back, and Sam sat across from him.
Their waitress is an older woman with dish-water blonde hair that's greying at the parting. She greets Sam with a friendly smile and leans over to whisper something in his ear. The omega smiles ever so slightly, and nods patting her arm as she pulls away. She straightens up, takes out her ticket book from her apron, and asks for both of their drink orders.
"Um, a Diet Coke, Pam," Sam states.
Pam scribbles that down and turns to Dean. "And for you, sweetie?"
"Coffee. Black," Dean grunts.
"Coffee in the afternoon?"
Dean shrugged nonchalantly," It's that kinda day."
"Whatever just give me a few minutes to brew a fresh pot," The waitress replies with a shrug.
With that Pam left and went through the door opposite them, which led to the kitchen. Dean settled for looking at a taped off spot in the alleyway across the street as he waited for his coffee. From here he could actually see where the latest psychic had died. The area was still taped off seeing as the forensic investigators had not thoroughly combed the place for evidence. That's how it appeared to the average person, at least.
Sam followed the alpha's gaze and murmurs, "Say what you will about Gordon Walker, but killing a psychic in a hunting town," He shakes his head and begins fidgeting with his silverware, "That's a challenge right there."
"Yeah," Dean agrees.
"So, did you ever meet him? Gordon, I mean."
"We did a job together once," The alpha confirms, glancing over the menu, "Let's just say there's a reason there's a hell of a lot of people that aren't willing to work with him. That guy, there's always been something off about him, but – I don't think anyone saw this coming."
The omega places his silverware back down on his napkin and he lets out a deep sigh. His gaze returns to the taped off area outside, and his lips part ever so slightly, before he closes them again. Then, just as his scent begins take on a smokier smell the light over their table begins to flicker. Dean doesn't just see the bulb flicker, he hears it too. As the two of them are cast into brief spells of partial darkness, it crackles, or perhaps it's more of a buzz.
Pam comes over with the drinks, and hastily sets Dean's drink in front of him, before gently patting Sam's hand to get his attention. The light overhead stops flickering, and Sam tears his gaze away from the window with a grunt. The waitress places his soda in front of him, and then sets a folded-up newspaper beside him. She points at the very front page, her mouth a thin line, and then pulls out her ticket book to take their food orders.
"I'm guessing that it'll be the usual for you, Sam. And what about you, sweetie?"
"He'll have the bacon cheeseburger, extra bacon if you don't mind, with fries, a vanilla milkshake and a slice of apple pie," Sam answers with a friendly smile, passing back their menus," Oh, and on that pie just a dollop of whipped cream."
Dean stared at the latter in awe, and after a second or two, he nods to confirm his order. Pam scribbles it down and leaves with nothing else but a smirk. Then the alpha feels his lips stretch wide into a gaping grin and his eyebrows arch for the sky. Sam saw the giddy astonishment register on his face before he could hide it. A small smile played on the omega's lips, he guesses he gets that a lot.
"How in the hell did you do that?"
"Talent."
Dean chuckles, and leans closer as he says, "I'll say so," He wraps his fingers around his coffee mug, enjoying the heat that spreads through his hands, "So, what next? Are you going to whip out a deck of cards? Maybe pull a rabbit from your ass?"
"Shut up," Sam says, taking a sip from his soda, before flipping open the newspaper. The omega's eyes skim over the front page, before he slaps it back down on the table with a paler face and a frown. Then he proceeds to change the subject, before the alpha can question him, "So, do you do anything besides hunting or…is it a full-time gig for you?"
"Mostly, but sometimes when we stop in towns for longer than a few weeks, I'll take a mechanic job or any kind of handy work that's open. I can always use the extra cash," Dean replies, "What about you? You say that you don't hunt, but you seem to at least know what's going in the hunting community."
The omega sighs, and explains, "My dad is a hunter, and he raised me to hunt from an early age, but it didn't work out. I still try and keep up to date with what's going on, and I still help other hunters research their cases, but- "He licks his lips, and continues,"-I'm going off to college soon, so I can't exactly…you know? I graduated early this year, and I got accepted to Stanford."
"Stanford?" The alpha questions in surprise, "Not to be rude or anything, but isn't that an alpha dominate college? Sam, you do realize that as an unmated omega – "
"I know," Sam says, "It's pretty damn stupid on my part. But this is my dream college, and the fact that I got accepted at all, despite my biology…I can't quit and go to some other damn 'proper' omega school. I mean what would that say about me?"
"I get it, I do," Dean starts.
"But?"
"Nothing. Nothing, its none of my business, anyway," The alpha utters at last, "But I think it's pretty damn awesome that you want to go to a high-up college like that. I say if that's what you want to do, then you do it, and not give a damn what anyone else thinks. As long as you don't be an idiot, okay?"
The omega stares at the latter for a second, his eyes reading the alpha like a thick novel. "I'll try not to be, but I can't promise anything," He says softly after a moment.
"That's all I ask."
Their waitress is back, but not with Dean's warm reception, seeing as she does not have his food. She sets down a plastic cup full of greens and a small container of blue-cheese dressing. Sam was pouring the dressing into the plastic cup, before putting the top back on and shaking it. After a good twenty seconds he takes off the top and stabs his fork into the greens. Dean stares at the him in disbelief, and the latter caught his gaze. Fork still in his mouth, the omega raised a brow.
"You come to a diner," Dean motions to the cup, and then jabs his finger against the plastic label for emphasis," And order a health quake shake? What the hell is that anyway?"
Sam laughs, swallowing his mouthful of food," It's a fast and convenient way to eat salad," He laughs again, pointing to a middle-aged woman behind the counter," Mrs. Harvelle orders them special for me. I'm kind of a health-nut."
Dean grins, and pulls a pen from his jacket, presses the tip against his tongue, and then he begins scribbling on his napkin. "Here," He skids it across the table, his lips drawn into a smirk," Read it."
"It says…it's a prescription for a pair of testicles," Sam rolls his eyes, and balls up the napkin, before tossing it at the latter," Ha, ha, ha. Real mature, jerk."
"Bitch." Dean had somehow managed to lean in closer, so close that he's practically laying over the table. Sam's cheeks redden every so slightly, and he glances away. The alpha inches his hand forward, about to settle it on the omega's on the table. But just as his fingers barely graze the latter's, their waitress is back again with a tray full of food.
"Bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon, fries, and a vanilla milkshake. Oh, and a slice of apple pie with just a dollop of whipped cream," Pam lists off as she lowers down the tray.
Dean pulls away his hand, and clears his throat awkwardly as he utters a reply,"Yeah, right here, ma'am," As soon as his food is settled on the table he grabs the bottle of ketchup and gives it a few slaps on the bottom, shaking it roughly, before he squirts a hefty amount on his plate,"See, Sammy, I can teach you a few things about good eating. This here is a cheeseburger. A sizzling whole beef patty nestled in crunchy green lettuce, a large, ripe tomato slice, a piece of tasty American cheese and two soft buns. All topped off with just the right amount of grease that seeps on your fingers as you take a mouthful – Do you want a broken jaw?"
Sam looked up with an innocent expression on his face, but his fingers still have a few fries pinched between them. Almost as if challenging the alpha, he slowly raised the fries to his mouth, and slid them inside tantalizingly slow. And after a moment he began to chew them in slow motion, before swallowing them with an exaggerated 'gulp' and letting out a loud, appreciative moan. Then the omega takes another fry and sticks half of it in his mouth, letting the rest dangle out teasingly. Dean surges forward, taking the rest of the fry with a single bite, but as he does so their dry lips brush for a brief moment.
Sam was mortified, frozen to the spot. He couldn't believe that had happened, and in front of everybody too. Dean hadn't quite meant for it to go that way; the omega could tell by the look of mild shock on his face and by his cheeks that flushed the lightest shade of pink. The alpha gave him an apologetic smile and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he plucked another straw from the dispenser on the far side of the table and stuck it in on the opposite side of where his straw was in his milkshake.
"Truce," Dean questions, sliding the glass to the middle of the table. He leans forward and takes a sip from his straw, tempting the latter.
Sam rolls his eyes playfully, and takes his own straw, to take a tiny sip. "Truce."
The glass door swung open, and three young men stepped in, the one in the front's eyes searching the diner, before they settle on Sam. The young man that's front and center has dirty-blonde hair and eyes that are light blue, framed by graceful brows. His skin is slightly tanned, and he has prominent cheekbones and a well-defined chin and nose. Under his many layers, muscles ripple across his body. Dean takes a cautionary sniff, and his assumptions are confirmed: Alpha.
The young man motions for the other two to stay behind, and they obey stepping outside. Neither of the two emitted any kind of scent, so he assumed that they were betas. The alpha makes his way towards their table, until he's standing right in front of them. His face moved a little too slowly, as he were taking in the surroundings more than anyone else. Then he grinned. As he did so it felt as if the temperature of the room fell a little.
"Sam," The alpha greets, his hand settling in the table a few inches from the omega's hand.
"Hi, Brady," Sam says in return, his face a neutral expression," Back from that hunt in Dickinson so soon?"
The alpha, Brady, shrugs as he states," It ended up being almost too easy. It was just a a low-powered witch that didn't know how to cover her damn tracks. A couple of witch-killing bullets and it was over," He licks his lips, and his smile broadens," So, have you thought about my offer?"
"O-offer," Sam stutters out," Oh, that. Brady, I already told you – Your offer is kind, but I can handle myself. I have no wish to be mated right now."
Brady chuckles deeply as he replies," I hate to tell you, sugar, but Stanford is an alpha dominant college. If you go up there unmated, well, eventually you're going to end up drugged and hog tied by some fucking horny alpha. And we don't want that, do we?"
"Brady," The omega hisses," I told you, I can take care of myself. And besides if I remember correctly, you're the one who ended things between us in the first place. Now back off!"
The alpha snorts, and grits out," Or what? You think your new boy-toy is going to stand up for you? Does he even know what he's committing himself to, mating something like you," His lips slip into an easy grin," He ain't going to have no interest in knotting you, when he figures that out. He can't protect you, sugar. And no one else is willing to, accept me, of course. So, I'd rethink that if I were you."
Dean is rising from the booth, teeth bared in warning as a low growl rises from his throat. Sam glances over at him, his eyes pleading. The alpha stays standing, but he doesn't make any move to attack. The omega shoots him a brief grateful smile, before turning to the other alpha.
"I've said it over and over again, but I'll say it once last time. And maybe this time it'll go through your thick skull," Sam responds coolly, his eyes narrowing dangerously," I don't need your protection or anyone else's. I can take care of myself. Now, back the fuck off, knothead!"
Brady ignores Sam's warning, and lets out a low chuckle. "Wow, Sammy. You keep saying that, even with Gordon running around with a few screws loose," He states, swooping in close to him, so close that the omega can feel his hot breath against his neck," If you want to end up a rotting, bloated corpse in the back of an alleyway just like the rest of them… that's your deal. See if I'll give a damn, see if anyone will. You're just another omega, another thing to knot, to breed – There's plenty of you."
"Go!" Dean barks out, slamming his fist against their table," Get the hell out now!"
Brady disregards him, doesn't even look in his direction as he stretches his hand out. His fingers barely graze the omega's cheek, but before the alpha can even let out the breath he was holding, nearly every single man and woman in the diner was standing. Most of them had raised their shirts or pulled aside their jackets to reveal some form of a weapon tucked safely. Even the owner, Ellen Harvelle, slapped down a shotgun on the glass pie display case.
"Every single grunt in here is a damn hunter, all friends of his daddy's. You sure that's the smartest thing to do," Ellen snarls, keeping a hand on her shotgun," If you lay another finger on that boy, we'll kill you dead and make it look like a fucking accident! You hear me Tyson Brady?"
Brady scoffs, and growls out," So that's how it is, huh? Fine then, I'll back off," He backs a few feet away, his hands held mockingly in the air," But, that damn fucker is going to end up gutted in the alleyway, just like the rest of those freaks. You'll see. Ol' Gordon will take care of him, far before I can get my hands on him." And then he goes outside, the door slamming behind him.
Sam lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, his eyes wide. Dean is still standing, his jawline taut and his eyes flashing with indignance and anger, much like lightning on a pitch-black night. The omega slowly turned to the alpha in front him, and he saw his curling fists, he felt the heat that radiated from his skin. The omega opened his mouth to say something, but the latter was already far beyond reasoning. A low growl built in the alpha's throat and he slammed his fist onto the table, before practically stomping outside.
