This one comes with a smut warning. Smut to start. Hope you enjoy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dean wakes to his name being uttered low and husky. He keeps his eyes closed, yields to the hot breath ghosting the back of his neck, and sidles back flush to Benny's body.

Benny is hard, hot, and alpha large, grinding against Dean's crack.

It is not unwelcome. Muzzy headed and in the luxury of slow wakefulness, Dean twists round gingerly, not dislodging Benny's arm that wrapped over his side during the night.

"Benny," he whispers, hand reaching up from the warmth of blanket layers to rub the alpha's cheek and beard. "Alpha."

A barely intelligible grumble tells Dean to "G'way, I'm busy sexy busy."

Dean snickers. He slips out of his sleep shorts, kicking them under the sheets. Wrestling off his top in the confined space, he is finally naked and able to work open the buttons of his alpha's sleep shirt. He plants kisses to Benny's jaw, lets his hip slide along the length of Benny's impressive cock, and mutters morning endearments. Benny rouses when Dean nuzzles into his chest hair, ghosting his own morning breath over the alpha's sensitive nubs.

There is a moment when Dean sees desire and more in Benny's opening blue eyes, before shock takes over. Benny pushes Dean's shoulder, backing away to the edge of the lumpy mattress. Head hitting the pillow, Dean sees the wood paneled ceiling. A sudden hurt breaks like a wave, rejection and a kick in the teeth. Was he wrong to take the initiative? Did Benny want him submissive and obedient?

"Sorry. Sorry, Dean," Benny exclaims to his puzzled omega who has ducked his head, not wanting to be further dismissed. "I ain't in control… was dreamin'… mated… you and me."

Benny smacks his own forehead, leaving his hand covering his heavy brow and shading his eyes from Dean, whose brain catches up with what has happened. Benny was having a sex dream, a knotting dream of them both. That's all sorts of peachy with Dean, but his alpha seems to think he should be horrified.

"Alpha," Dean coaxes the older man to peek out between his fingers, "I liked it. I mean I loved it. What a way to wake? Right? Your mate wanting you even in his sleep. I mean, that's all kinds of good. Better than good. I got with the program, look."

Dean suggestively demonstrates his bare state with a hand running down his chest.

Benny's brain has a slow morning reboot. A grin breaks over his features. He doesn't speak but his hand slides along the few inches between them to curl fingers around Dean's wrist. The motion, the drop in tension, the musky spice ratcheting up, all shows the omega that his alpha craves him just as much as he does.

Dean pants with want. His alpha is mega-attractive when he smiles. Taking a look towards where only a single blanket covers, Benny's half hard. It wouldn't take much. Dean moistens his lips and gives his best 'come hither' gaze.

A deep throated sexy rumble makes Dean's groin flex. His dick is twitching. His muscles roll releasing slick. Alpha musk and omega taffy sweetness light up the air with complementary pheromones.

"I want…" Dean's throat narrows. He sucks oxygen. His pulse is racing. Blood floods south, sparing a little to pink his cheeks, and darken his bitten lips.

Benny's thumb traces over Dean's cheekbone, touching feather light the flush and the pattern of freckles. The pad of his digit barely touches the tip of Dean's lashes as the omega closes his eyes, soaking in the simple caress.

"Darlin'," Benny pauses. His thumb journeys over Dean's soft new hair by his ear, along his jaw, tipping tenderly the corner of his bottom lip. "Are you sure? It has only been a few days since…"

Dean's shallow breath hitches. He reaches up to still Benny's fingertip caressing. Blinking for composure he replies firmly, "I am not a fragile flower. I am omega, but I know my own mind and I want. I want this. I want you."

Benny needs no extra invitation. He launches forward, arms coming under and around Dean's chest, flipping him onto his back, so he is looking up at his alpha totally onboard with his own sentiments. They share a brief low chuckle before Dean surges upwards as Benny tilts his head to meet him. The kiss is messy and urgent. Dean is in a sea of sensations. He is wet and needy. Benny's rock hard length is trapped between them, heavy and on the verge of overwhelming. He doesn't have time to worry about size or fit, because there is kissing and touching and parts of Benny to hold, scratch, nip and gasp into.

"Can I?" Benny's voice comes from another dimension. One where they exist together, wrapped up in each other, excluding all the crap of the world.

Dean breaks from where he is busy marking Benny's jugular with a purpling hickey. He is not sure what he is agreeing to, but everything is golden.

"Hell yeah." He gushes.

The alpha loses his nightwear before his wide grip finds Dean's neglected cock.

"Oh," Dean gasps. That's what Benny wanted. The alpha has taken control and Dean is more than okay with that.

Benny's strips his oversensitive member until Dean is arching upwards, incapable of anything other than a moan, leaking slick onto the sheet below and then coming harder and more mindblowingly than any other time in his existence.

Limp and languid, mind blissed out, Dean is easily and gently placed back into little spoon. Benny's arm is a comforting weight, holding him afloat. Benny's knee pushes against the back of his upper leg. Dean shifts. If his alpha gives him a moment, he'll have no problem presenting for him, but Benny doesn't seek anything so traditional. The alpha grinds, flush and hot against Dean's crack. He moans his omega's name, uses the glide of Dean's own wetness, increases his pace until Dean's arousal builds again.

Dean urges, "Come on, Come on, Benny. Knot me."

He wants to feel Benny enter him, take him, join them together. He craves the completion of knotting. He wants Benny to claim him.

As if it is killing Benny to deny his omega, he hisses through gritted teeth, "Can't knot. Got work."

An alpha's knot and an omega's locking muscles can take hours to slacken enough for release. Dean knows this, but he doesn't care. He doesn't give a flying fuck about Mac's or Benny's double shift.

"Want our mating to be special, ours, no obligations, nothing stopping…"

"Shuddup," Dean moans plaintively, "I get it. It's all good. Keep moving, Alpha, Good God, do that again."

Benny's head catches Dean's rim. It spikes something primal, primitive, possessive. For want of his alpha's neck, Dean bites down on his own arm. He surges back, hips rising, cheeks smacking against his alpha's body. Benny's fingers grip Dean's hips, holding him steady. Although he wants to move, to coax his alpha to enter him, the vice like grip has Dean shallow breathing, arousal coiling, and desire pooling deep inside.

The slow continuous glide against his crack is driving Dean crazy. Small mewls escape his lips. Benny is uttering words of praise and worship that float like fortune cookie papers to Dean's brain stem.

Lost in the feel of Dean's body, Benny comes copiously with a roaring declaration.

"Dean, my omega, my perfect mate."

Dean drops his hand down to beat off for a second almost dry coming, while Benny holds him close, plants kisses on his spine and into his hair. Snuggling together, hearts and pulses syncing into a less frantic pace, Dean is flattered and almost disbelieving at how hard Benny came, and they didn't even mate.

The bed is warm, stinky and sticky. Between Dean's legs, it's like Lake Superior, if freshwater was actually slick and come. The younger man grins at the turn of his own thoughts. He ignores the need to shower, noses into his alpha's collar bone, and wallows in the moment. He permits himself to relish the way Benny's sturdy arms envelop him, to enjoy the rumble of happiness that comes from his alpha. The open palm of Benny's hand rubs his shoulder blade. If Dean was feline, he'd be purring. Any noise resembling such is purely co-incidental, more the hum of a great rock song, or the purr of a 275 horsepower Chevy Impala engine.

Slowly Benny sits up against tossed pillows. He pulls Dean in, so the omega's back is leaning against his chest.

"You good?"

"Peachy," Dean answers honestly. "That was…"

"Stellar."

Dean sniggers softly at the unusual word choice, "I was gonna say awesome, but stellar works."

With a dry laugh Benny says over Dean's shoulder, "Y'know, Darlin', I fretted about telling you about my failed business and all, about my history of not being a good provider."

Dean can hear bitter regret in Benny's tone. He doesn't want to mar what has been a stand out start to the day.

"Told ya last night, Alpha, 's not what I see. You did your best and I love that."

Benny's arm snakes round to rub Dean's side. "I've been thinking. You are not private investigators. Doubt there's much gold in ghost hunting. How do you get money to live?"

Dean hisses an inhalation. Looks like the afterglow was destined to be short lived. The criminal element of hunting had been glossed over in his recitation of the life. With his chin resting on his chest Dean grinds his teeth and answers, "Credit card scams, pool hustling, card tricks… if times are bad, stealing."

"Goddamnit. Dean, you could have been beaten up, killed, arrested…"

Dean coughs, "I've been arrested. B&E for hunts… impersonating an officer… and when I was sixteen I was caught stealing food for Sammy."

"What?"

Dean winces, expecting censure.

"Where was your Alpha father?"

"He was hunting. Okay? He was putting his life on the line, and it took longer than he thought, and I was down to the last of the housekeeping money, and tried a card con on the wrong guy, and then we had no food…"

Benny is actually growling. It shudders through their joined skin. Dean tries to calm his breathing, to pass soothing energy towards his alpha. "Benny, it's okay. It was all good. I got sent to this home for delinquent omegas, but it wasn't like one of those god-awful Dickensian places. It was way cool. I wish I coulda stayed longer, but my family needed me."

"If that's the worst…"

Dean trembles. It tries to avoid it, but this is his alpha, hopefully soon to be mate.

"It's not?" Benny's voice is low and pregnant with restrained concern.

"It's just, y'know, a few times, IGotOnMyKneesInBackAlleysToFeedSammy, but it wasn't like a lot, and I only blew guys or let 'em grope me, y'know, they never, and I'm clean and all," he gulps hard, "I don't want you thinking I went into The Lookout for that, 'cause I didn't, Benny, I swear, I wasn't, didn't ask…"

"Good God, Dean." Benny's voice calls Dean back, "My omega, Mon Cher, I didn't believe that for an instant. I do not think it now. There ain't nothing you've said that changes what I feel, save to make me more determined that you will never… Never have to do that again."

Dean finds arms around his torso, pulling him closer, a hushed whisper in his ear tells him that Benny is sorry that Dean lived like that, that it wasn't his fault, and that Dean did the best he could.

"No more, Sugar. I'm here now."

"No more, Alpha." Dean vows, mind almost in white out at his mate's acceptance and protectiveness.

They have to rise, to shower, to breakfast. After stacks of Dean's pancakes which he flips while Benny dresses, the alpha leaves for Mac's. There is a two week pattern to his shifts. If Dean had come this week, Benny wouldn't have been working the weekend nights. It's a sobering thought. Of course, if Benny's ex- Andrea hadn't given him this cabin to live, and if John hadn't shoved Dean onto this hunt, then they might never have met. Dean was never a believer in fate or kismet. We make our own futures, but he remembers some paper Sam wrote on chaos theory and beat of a butterfly's wings changing everything. How do mates meet each other? What draws them across miles and years? The topic has Dean's head spinning. He abandons it in favor of choosing between Pastor Jim Murphy and Bobby Singer as go to lore master.

He mulls over who'd be his best source of knowledge as he slip slides on an icy path over the hill to the phone booth. Dean buys some gum and lighter fuel to get change for his calls. Hands in pockets, he vacillates between Jim and Bobby. Jim is the expert on demon lore, but Dean's feeling fairly sure that he saw the toddler-shaped monster illustrations in a Japanese book that Sam had plucked off Bobby's shelves.

"Singer Salvage."

"Hey, Bobby. It's Dean."

"You in trouble, son?" Bobby's gruff voice makes Dean smile. The older beta hunter has been like a surrogate uncle. Simply hearing him lifts Dean's spirits.

"No, Sir."

"Guess your knuckle-headed Pa isn't about? You hunting on your own again?" Bobby sighs, "Wish you'd let me partner you up with someone in my network, Dean."

He almost tells Bobby that he's got back up but that's a whole other story and he needs to get the low down on their target. Avoiding Bobby's concerns, Dean launches into an edited version of the events on Gauntlet. Bobby makes huh noises, makes him wait a moment to get a pen and paper, and calls him back when he is almost disconnected.

"Sounds to me like a creature of the elements." Bobby muses.

"Like an elemental? A changeling?" Dean racks his brain on how to kill the fae. Something about fire beating water. Maybe he'll have to torch the isle.

"Could be. There are other nasty sons of bitches who take the guise of a pup. You sure the unfortunate child or his poor Papa aren't planted on the island?"

"Pretty sure, Bobby." Dean sighs. "No bones. Pup Emery was washed away, but I got a gut feeling about the little one's tragic end. Maybe a monster who takes the form of lost babies?"

"Couldn't be a frigging straightforward salt and burn with you?" Bobby grumbles fondly.

"Wouldn't have needed to call you then." Dean points out with a huffed affectionate laugh.

"Undine, water wraith, one of those souls sucking siren merpeople, maybe an Angiak changeling…"

"How do I kill it?"

"Geez, Dean. You think I can pull that sort of information out of my ass on command?"

Dean shakes the image out of his brain.

The sigh is audible. "Call back in a couple hours." The beta wearily adds, "And Dean, don't be reckless in the meanwhile and go poke at this thing with a stick."

"I won't, Uncle Bobby."

"Good boy. Can't believe your Daddy left you chasing an undine or a water wraith all on your own, Son…."

Dean bites back a retort.

"But if anyone can take one on solo, it's you."

Now he's blushing, forehead pressed against the glass. "Ahem, thanks Bobby, but I'm sure you or Dad…"

"Shuddup, Dean and take praise when it's offered."

"Yes, Bobby."

"Give me until three."

"Yessir."

Knowing Bobby's got his back on this, even if he is in Sioux Falls, Dean heads up hill to Mac's Bar. It's barely noon. There are a few early lunchers or brunchers in. Benny comes out for a minute, wiping his hands on his white apron.

"Hey Sugar?" A kiss accompanies the query of his presence.

Dean kisses back. "Hey, Alpha."

"You hungry?"

Dean shakes his head. "Soon, not yet. I'd like to stay for lunch. What'd' you recommend?"

"I got a special of jumbo sausage, gravy, and biscuits. No cranberries."

Saliva floods Dean's mouth at the thought. "Save me some?"

"For you, anything." Benny quirks his lips, "Guess you'll want a slice of the pecan pie put aside too."

Dean's chest inflates. Benny knows his love of pie and he'll keep him some. "You're awesome."

Benny grins and indulgently chuckles, "Anything else I can do you, Sugar?"

Dean thins his lips and nods. "You think Mac'll let me use his computer?"

"So long as you're not downloading crap," Benny rolls his eyes, "June's got a penchant for file sharing and Mac's on a limited plan."

"Just research," Dean mutters.

Benny's eyes widen. He nods slowly. "I'll clear it. Did you call the other hunters? Did you want to use Mac's phone?"

"I called Bobby. He's a friend, family really, often took in me and Sammy for a spell. He's got a few leads." Dean explains in a hushed tone. The place is still quiet but they are on the way to the restrooms, anyone could pass by. "He said to give him a few hours. I need to do my check in with Dad."

"You talk to him yet? Or just his message and beep?"

Dean snorts "Bleep more like. Or will be when I reach him."

Benny's brow draws tight. He narrows his eyes.

After a bite down on the corner of his lip, Dean ventures, "Haven't ganked anything yet, might have deliberately called his spare cell phone, haven't run back begging to be put on sups so I can be his beta-hunting-partner… I don't think Dad's going be handing out any son of the year awards."

Somehow Dean ends up swamped, his spine being rubbed and his cheek pressed against a damp mark that might be a splash of chowder or a fish based sauce. As if Benny Lafitte is hyper aware that a thin line has to be tread between supporting his omega and deriding John Winchester, the chef swallows audibly before uttering one sentence.

"Any father would be proud to have as brave, honorable and valiant a son as you, Dean."

It's too much, too chick flick and bordering on issues that Dean has compressed over many years. He shrugs and aims for nonchalant, "Shucks, Alpha. Ya'haven't seen me wrecked from my heat, with a hangover from Hell, or after I've eaten all the extra onions yet."

"Extra onions, huh?" Benny smirks, going with the change of mood. "I'll remember that." He ticks off an imaginary list with his pointer finger, "Pie, pancake stacks, a good omelet, extra onions, micro-brewery beer, salty chips, and a great homemade cheese burger."

"Bacon cheese burger." Dean corrects with a shit faced grin and a poke at Benny's chest.

"Lafitte, I got orders for ya!" A new voice calls from the bar.

"Crap. Got to work, Darlin'." Benny sighs. "Tim! Stick a hot chocolate on my tab, would ya? And I'll be serving my mate lunch too."

"Sure thing, Chef."

Benny retreats to the kitchen. Dean takes a corner table and sips his winter warming drink. He goes over his conversation with Bobby while he waits. Mac appears. He'd been to Mount Desert for supplies. Dean using his office is not a problem.

Snagging another hot chocolate, Dean takes over the office desktop. He jumps from one link to another, dismissing undines, selkies and mermaids from his hunt. There is a Scottish based site claiming that the ghost hunters who make some sort of reality TV show had encountered a water wraith, but the artist's impression is of an ancient wizened female beta.

The alpha proprietor pops his head in suggesting Dean might like lunch. The hunter clears his browser history and gives way to Mac. He perches on a bar stool, making small talk with lanky beta Tim, who slices lemons and wipes down the shelves between taking a few orders for food and serving mostly dry sodas, coffees and hot tea.

Benny wasn't lying about the special. Dean gets extra onions in his gravy which is amazingly rich with flavor. The pecan pie makes Dean's eyelids flicker, as he indulges in open mouthed chewing and lip smacking goodness. The chef appears, beaming at his omega's empty dish, just as Dean is fumbling discreetly to open the button above his jeans' fly. Benny gets captured for a deep sucking kiss. There are a few whoops and wolf whistles from the patrons. Dean doesn't give a damn. Benny deserves every sort of praise.

When Tim sits down to his staff lunch, Mac emerges offering Dean the use of the computer again. Benny's gone to start evening prep and cook the few late lunch orders. In front of the monitor, Dean's hand hovers over the mouse. He decided to get his check in out of the way first. After leaving a super quick wham bam greeting, making progress, will call tomorrow, on the voicemail for John's spare cell, Dean dials Sioux Falls.

"I got two front runners." Bobby says in lieu of hello.

"Yeah?" Dean pops his tongue in his cheek, "You got a favorite?"

"You don't ask much do ya?" Bobby chides fondly. "Water wraiths wrap their victims in hallucinations, some use nightmares, and they feed on the distress. Catch is they appear as creepy old nags, not pups in diapers."

That tallies with the Scottish account. Dean hums, "Could be an illusion, the pup thing?"

"Kicker is that I've never heard of a wraith that didn't kill."

"What's the other contender?"

"Angiak." Bobby pauses. Paper rustles. "They feed but don't kill until powered up. But a hundred fifty years is a helluva long time, Son."

"The boys only vanish once a year," Dean muses, "maybe it never gets to that stage. What's the deal?"

"They're vampiric revenants. Eskimo origin but similar stories pop up across the world. Tale is that in times of famine, newborns were left to die in the snow of exposure."

Dean shudders. It matches what happened to Pup Emery.

Bobby continues, "Vengeful spirit animates the unbaptized abandoned pup's body. It rises, seeks the birth parent, and suckles from them in the dead of night while they sleep. The birth parent is plagued by nightmares and they die a slow death from the energy drain. Finally the Angiak gets strong enough to shapeshift and kill the whole tribe, village, whatever."

"Y'see, the start of that is bang on, Bobby. My witness had months of nightmares and loss of vitality, but he hadn't pupped back then, and he is very much alive."

"I don't think they actually breastfeed, y'idjit."

Dean can almost hear Bobby's eyes rolling as the beta expounds, "They draw on the life source, soul suckers. Nasty things. They are drawn to warmth and comfort. Said to be deadly as a rabid rat if cornered. You sure it hasn't killed?"

"It's possible." Dean ponders if there had been an occasional unknown casualty over the decades. He asks the pertinent question. "How do I to kill it?"

"If you got a water wraith, silver blade. If it's an Angiak, you gotta salt'n'burn the bones, which I guessed was a problem what with the tale you told me. So I dug deeper." Bobby confides with a measure of researcher pride, "You'll have to trap it."

"Trap it?" Dean echoes.

"Uh-huh, trap it and baptize it."

"Baptize it? I gotta get Jim Murphy here?" Dean gapes.

"Holy water, idjit!" Bobby gives a lengthy put upon sigh, "Get it to follow you onto Holy Ground."

"How do I get to manifest?"

"What am I? The encyclopedia of Angiak knowledge? I dunno. What did the other omegas do?" Bobby bites.

Dean hums. He wonders if being out at night was enough, maybe walking the cliff path, or did some paranormal urge draw the omegas from their beds.

Bobby clears his throat, "You want me to come?"

Lost in his train of thought, Dean speaks, "No. No I have help."

"Ya'do?"

Dean wrinkles his nose. He didn't mean to say anything.

"Civilian help?" Bobby probes.

"We were all civilians once, Bobby."

There is a gruff harrumph. "Trustworthy help?"

"Yeah." Dean scrubs the back of his neck, "Kinda met my alpha."

"Come again, Dean Winchester. I thought you said you met your mate?"

"Uh-huh."

"And this alpha guy or gal wasn't newsworthy enough to be the banner headline?"

A laugh catches Dean's throat. "Ahem, yeah. I mean no. I mean, he's cool. Like awesome and cool."

Bobby's belly laugh turns up the corner of Dean's lips.

"You're not winning any public speaking prizes here. You told him then?"

"Yeah."

"And he is 'cool'?" Bobby asks with concern.

"Straight up? I think he wants to believe me, but it's gonna take hunting this thing as a team to convince him that I'm not loop-the-loop."

"Son, if he's still there, he's probably a keeper, so long as he's treating you right?"

"Hey, I wouldn't give him the time of day if he was one of those alphas, and I'm not an innocent pup."

"I know. I know you're not." Bobby says with a touch of sadness. He asks, "You tell John?"

"No."

Bobby makes a pensive hum. "This alpha got a name?"

Dean snorts. "I'm calling him Alpha. Getting a kind of perverse pleasure out of it, cause he asked me to call him Benny."

"Goddamn it, Dean. Only you'd try riling up your new alpha." Bobby huffs. "Guess you wouldn't be you if…"

From the corner of his eye, Dean sees the door handle move. He interrupts. "I gotta run, Bobby. I got company."

"I hear ya. Dean, be safe, and I want to meet this Benny."

"10-4" Dean utters quickly, "And thanks, Bobby."

It's Benny at the door, still in his cook's whites and bearing two steaming mugs in one hand.

"Hey, Darlin'. I got a break. Thought I'd spend it in here with you."

Dean welcomes him with a broad grin.

"You made any progress?" Benny asks as he puts down the coffees and gestures to the computer.

"I think I know what we are dealing with."

Dean notices the peak of pleased sweet spice that he included Benny.

"You wanna share?"

Over the hot brews, Dean outlines Bobby's lore and links it in with his own research. Running through everything clarifies it in the hunter's mind. He'd forgotten how helpful talking things through with Sammy was. As he ends with Bobby's advice on killing their target, Dean is 100% that they are dealing with an Angiak.

Benny nods and listens attentively. Even if this whole world is alien to the alpha, he treats Dean seriously and offers his opinion on the mofos who lived on Gauntlet in 1857.

"How do we entice this ghost pup to the Chapel of St. Nicholas?"

Dean doesn't correct his alpha calling it a ghost. It's a good question.

"I don't think we're gonna have to summon it with a spell or try communicating with a planchette." Dean rubs his hand over his mouth and jaw. "What did the others do? They went out at night, before the moon was totally full, probably along the cliff path, or the stream."

"Are you suggesting that you go out alone? At night?" Benny's eyes widen. His voice rises. "With those shits from The Lookout about? To be bait for something I thought only existed in horror movies?"

"Ahem. Yeah?" Dean tries.

"No way." Benny's closed fist slams onto the desk.

Dean gulps. He jolts back in his seat. His stupid eyes fill with water. Are these Benny's true colors? Could Dean have been so wrong about him? Is he to be banned, not only from hunting but from going out unaccompanied? It is not happening. Dean Winchester will not live like that for anyone.

+++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Apologies for the abrupt end….. Sorry? But it seemed a 'good' place to stop.

Thanks to all of you who are reading. Special thanks with cherries on top to those who have favourited, followed or reviewed. You rock!