THIS CHAPTER YOU GUISE. THIS FUCKING CHAPTER. I JUST WROTE THIS IN LIKE THREE HOURS.

THIS FUCKING CHAPTER.

This fucking chapter is dedicated to the lovely Mems who gripped me tight and raised me from Perdition.

Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, and Repo! The Genetic Opera belongs to Terrence Zdunich, Darren Smith, and Darren Lynn Bousman.

Castiel woke up around nine when Gabriel accidentally jostled him as he stood up to go to the bathroom. His eyes opened and he watched as his brother silently exited the room, trying to avoid waking Castiel and Sam.

Castiel glanced to his side to confirm what he suspected: Sam was dead to the world.

He waited until the door closed with a soft, definite click before sliding out from underneath Sam's arm. He knew he couldn't be here when the repo man came for him. He couldn't endanger his brother and Sam like that. This would be the only chance he had to keep them from getting involved.

As quietly as possible, he crept to the door, opened it, and ducked outside. He closed it quickly and dashed down the hallway to the stairs. He took the stairs down to the main floor two at a time and didn't stop running until he was halfway down the street. His lungs burned in his chest when he finally slowed to a walk and slunk down the next few blocks. Finally, he collapsed into an empty alley and waited.

Forgive me, Gabriel. It's easier this way. I know there's no hope for me, but you can't accept it. I hope you'll be able to forgive me eventually. He tilted his face up to the night sky, pulled his knees up to his chest, and closed his eyes.

Gabriel stretched and yawned softly before padding back toward the sofa. He froze in the doorway between the hallway and the living room and stared.

Sam was slumped over on the sofa, snoring softly. He'd completely flopped to his left, his face pressed to the cushion where Castiel had just been sitting. Gabriel felt his heart stutter as he tried to assure himself that his brother had gone to his bedroom or to the kitchen or something. "Cas?" he rasped.

When he didn't get an answer, he shook Sam awake. The taller man jumped a bit and looked around wildly. "Wha's goin' on?" he asked sleepily.

"Where's Cas?" Gabriel asked, feeling panic bordering on hysteria bubbling up in his chest.

"I…" Sam looked around again. "I don't know."

"Cas?" Gabriel called loudly, standing up and starting to circle the room. "Castiel?" This can't be happening. This can't be happening! "Cas?"

He practically flew to Castiel's bedroom and threw the door open. The room was empty. "No-no-no-no-no," he whispered. "Cas!"

He probably would have shouted loudly enough to wake the whole building, but Sam appeared and pulled Gabriel to his chest. The shorter man let himself be held and for a moment, he just breathed. Then he was sobbing, clinging to Sam with his shoulders shaking.

Castiel had gone to face his execution alone.

Castiel opened his eyes and turned his face to the mouth of the alley. He heard the footsteps from a good block away, and within moments, a figure appeared. For the first time, a chill ran through him and he felt genuinely afraid. In a few minutes, he would be dead, bleeding, and his heart would be in that bag in the repo man's hand.

"Castiel Novak."

Another tremor of fear wracked his body and he climbed to his feet, turning to face his killer. "Yes," he said, his voice stronger than he expected.

The repo man started toward him. Before he'd taken a single step, Castiel had whipped around and started running in the opposite direction, his trench coat billowing out behind him.

The serenity with which he'd approached his death mere hours ago was now gone. All he felt was terror and only one thought went through his head. I don't want to die!

The sound of the repo man's footfalls pounded in his ears. It sounded like he was gaining on him. Fortunately, he had the element of surprise. He ducked quickly to the right, following a fork in the alley. Up ahead was another turn and he took a deep breath, but his lungs were burning again. Adrenaline could only take him so far, and he was slowing now. And this repo man, he must have been conditioned to run. Still, he pushed himself, turning left now, and he took a quick glance behind him.

The fifty feet between him and the repo man was now barely thirty. In the thirty or so seconds since he'd started running, the repo man had nearly caught up with him. Fuck!

And then, when he turned to watch where he was going, he knew he was dead. He slowed to a walk, staring at the solid wall in front of him. He turned and saw, heart hammering and hands shaking, that the repo man had also slowed to a leisurely stroll. A shiny blade appeared in his right hand as he approached and Castiel continued backing up until his back hit the wall. The light over his head flickered and he knew that all he could do was pray for a quick end.

The repo man was close now. He'd heard whispers, rumors of some repo men and realized this was the one they called Omega. His mask was lighted on the inside and he was close enough that Castiel could see that his eyes were green. What a crazy thought. I'm about to die and all I can see is his green eyes. He inhaled sharply, knowing it would be one of the last times he did so.

Omega's eyes locked with Castiel's, and suddenly the world shifted.

Four years. That's how long it had been since Dean had felt anything besides numb loneliness or vague fear. He couldn't explain why he felt anything other than utter apathy for what he was about to do to this boy. After all, he'd killed a lot of people younger than Castiel Novak and hadn't felt a damn thing. But one good look into his eyes—Jesus, they couldn't be any bluer, could they?—had him questioning everything.

And what a difference the intervening seven years made. His eyes were still bright and blue, his hair still dark and messy, but his face was fuller and right now, his cheeks were flushed. He looked less sickly and more… Well, his assumption from earlier in the night was correct. When he appeared less breakable, he was extremely attractive.

Dean had no idea why he suddenly felt the desire to not kill this boy. It wasn't as if he hadn't executed attractive men and women before. Maybe it was those wide blue eyes he had, fixed on him with a mixture of fear and apprehension. Maybe it was because he could have had contact with Sam. Maybe it was just because Dean was back in his old neighborhood, a place he hadn't seen since the night he supposedly died, and he just couldn't take a resident of this place.

I can't. Almost of its own accord, he dropped the bag in his left hand. He raised his hand to the bottom of his mask and swiftly pulled it off. Without the light from the mask in his eyes, he could see better. The mask was really just to keep their identities a secret, but right now, Dean couldn't bring him to care.

If possible, Castiel looked even better without the layer of pale blue light and tempered plastic in the way. His eyes went wider and raked over his face, his lips parting the barest amount and his tongue sweeping across his lips.

That tiny motion broke the trance he'd set over Dean. Before he could stop himself, before he had time to process I am so dead if I do this, he dropped his mask, wrapped his arm around his waist, tugged the younger man to him, and crushed Castiel's mouth with his.

This is definitely not normal. Castiel wasn't an idiot—he'd never heard of a repo man taking his mask off before an execution. But Omega was, reaching up and pulling his mask off. And then he couldn't stop staring.

He'd never given any thought to what his repo man would look like beneath the mask. He wasn't quite sure what he'd expected, even if he had, he certainly wouldn't have picked this man as the most likely repo man in a crowd.

He couldn't even be the same age as Gabriel. He looked far too young, only a year or two older than him at the most. His eyes were a deeper green than he'd originally thought. He had short, sandy-blond hair that practically invited him to run his fingers through it. But the thing that struck him the most was how absolutely beautiful his lips were, full and obviously made for nothing except kissing and sucking dick. The streetwalker part of him was relieved that he'd never had to compete with this man, because he wouldn't have made a dollar with Omega standing next to him.

Then the mask dropped from his hand and in one fluid motion, he was suddenly drawing him close and those amazing lips were pressed to his. His heart, still very much in his chest, pounded as he relaxed into the repo man's embrace and even dared to slide his arms around him. There was a clatter as the blade in Omega's other hand fell to the ground and then his other arm was around him too and Castiel felt Omega's lips moving against his and he deepened the kiss, spreading his lips. Their tongues met and he moaned softly, tightening his arms.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been kissed. Alastair certainly never kissed him and he was grateful for it suddenly. No, Omega was the first person to actually kiss him in years and it was shockingly sweet. His head spun pleasantly and all he could think was, Well, at least I get to experience some decent human contact before I die. He felt himself taking one step backward until his body was leaning against the wall again and Omega was still pressed against him, his tongue running over his teeth, against the roof of his mouth, over his tongue, and Castiel moaned again at the slick heat.

One of Omega's hands was pushing past Castiel's trench coat, under his shirt, and up the bare skin over his ribs. Castiel shivered at the touch, his brain short-circuiting. He'd been a whore for so long that he forgot how it felt to actually be wanted—and as crazy as it seemed, he just knew that Omega actually wanted him. He could feel it in the way the repo man's lips moved against his, and he couldn't help but reach up and thread his fingers through Omega's hair.

And then a beeping sounded from the watch on Omega's wrist. A strange voice barked out, "Apprehend the repo man Nathan Wallace at once!" Omega quickly pulled away, his face flushing. "Shit," he muttered.

"Nathan Wallace?" Castiel asked, eyeing Omega suspiciously.

The repo man shook his head, stooping to gather his mask, his bag, and his blade. "No, that's another repo man." Without the mask, his voice was surprisingly soft and as sweet as cherry pie. He looked at Castiel for a moment. "You're a very lucky person, Castiel Novak. I have to take care of Wallace, so…" He looked around, as if worried about being overheard. "Run. Take Gabriel and leave this city." The look in his eyes shifted from cool and detached to nearly frantic. "If you get more than a hundred miles from the city, we won't be able to find you anymore. You have to leave tonight, okay? Just go. I don't want to have to kill you."

"Wha—?" How does he know about Gabriel? What's happening?

"Just go!" Omega begged. "Please. Leave tonight—tomorrow, he'll just send me back to kill you."

Numbly, Castiel nodded. "Okay. Don't worry—we'll get out."

"Good." Omega smiled with relief. A moment later, he pressed another kiss to Castiel's lips for the briefest of moments. Before Castiel could really register that it'd happened, Omega was pulling his mask back on, stashing his blade again, and dashing back down the alley.

Without stopping to think about how strange the evening had been, Castiel slowly started back toward home.

So if you've seen Repo! The Genetic Opera, you know what happens next in the Repo! universe. And I plan to stay true to that vision in the final three chapters.

YOU GUISE THIS FUCKING CHAPTER I JUST CANNOT OKAY.