Chapter 1

"Sam, it's Garth. I found 'em—they're at the Bel-Air Motel in Okmulgee, Oklahoma, 'bout an hour south of the Tulsa Airport. Your old man checked in there a coupla hours ago. I just emailed you the pictures I took for confirmation."

I put the phone on speaker and clicked on the message, then took a deep breath before opening the attachment. The first image was of John's ridiculously over-compensating pickup parked outside a seedy two-story motel. The next few shots were of him getting out of the truck and pulling a duffel bag from the back. He was a little leaner and grayer and his hair and beard a little shorter but otherwise looked much the same as in the last set of pictures I'd received of him. The last couple photos were of him dragging someone else from the truck and into the motel room, but all that could be made out of the other person was long, tangled tawny hair and the pale, freckled skin of their bare shoulder and back.

"That's definitely my father. As for the other—the coloring looks right, but it still could be anyone. I've had people come to me with false leads before—John's a damn tricky bastard. Do you have proof this is my brother?" I asked.

"I hear ya, and yeah, I do. John ordered pizza a little while back, and I waylaid the delivery guy and gave him forty bucks to lemme borrow his uniform. I took the pie to the door myself and managed to get a look inside the room while John was getting the money. He had Dean chained to the radiator by the window—I recognized him from the pic you gave me." Garth paused for a moment. "I hope you can get here quick . . . the kid didn't look in good shape."

"I can be there in a few hours. I need you to keep an eye on them and do whatever you can to keep John from taking Dean anywhere. I'll call you when I'm close. Thanks, man." I hung up and closed my eyes, trying to remain calm.

Ten years. Ten years since I'd last seen my little brother in anything other than grainy photographs taken by hunter friends or private investigators. Ten years since the morning of my eighteenth birthday when I'd woken up to find both of them gone, with the Stanford acceptance letter I'd thought was well-hidden displayed on the dinette table as a mocking farewell gesture. Ten years of searching, of red herrings and dead-end trails, of false hope and thwarted dreams.

I quickly got up, left my office, and went to my executive assistant's desk. "Madison, please book me on the first flight to Tulsa immediately—do whatever it takes to get me on that plane. Use my personal card, not the company account."

Her eyes widened. "Does that mean . . . ? Oh Sam, I hope you find him this time!"

"I hope so too. Don't worry about a return flight though—I won't subject Dean to one of those shitty omega compartments, so we'll drive back. Get me a rental car at the airport and a hotel room in the city—somewhere omega-friendly, of course. I'll also need an appointment within the next day or two with the best omega-rights attorney there—again, pull whatever strings you have to so that I'm on his or her schedule as soon as possible," I ordered briskly.

As our intern wandered by, I called out, "Hey Kevin, can you do me a huge favor? Take an Uber over to my house and pack a bag for me with enough for at least a week, including one of my good suits—and I need you back within a half-hour. Also, do you think you can stay at my place for a few days and watch Sirius until I get back?"

He grinned at me. "Sure thing, boss man. It'll give me a chance to study for finals without my mom breathing down my neck." He hurried off after I gave him money for the driver.

My next stop was my partner's office. "Charlie, I've got to head out. Sorry for the lack of notice, but I just received a very credible lead for my brother's whereabouts."

"Of course, dude—family always comes first! I'll keep my fingers crossed that this one pans out," she said, patting my arm. "Fortunately we're pretty much in between deadlines, so it's not a big deal to take some personal time right now."

"You can still reach me by phone or email if something comes up, and I'll try to log in remotely when I can," I offered.

She shook her head. "Honestly Sam, don't even sweat it! We can survive on our own for a few days, so you focus on your brother. All I wanna hear from you until you get back is how the two of you are doing. Just try to make it back before Madison's 'time of the month' if you can. Now scram!"

I gave her a grateful smile and returned to my office, where I pulled out my cellphone and hit one of the speed dial buttons. While it rang, I put it on speaker and started to gather the files I was going to need.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation, Special Agent Henriksen speaking."

"Hey Victor, it's Sam Winchester. I found him—he's staying at the Bel-Air Motel in Okmulgee, just south of Tulsa," I told him. "I've got someone keeping an eye on him right now."

"You sure this time? Because your crazyass father has sent us on a wild-goose chase before," Henriksen replied.

"I've positively ID'ed John and his truckzilla from the photos my contact sent me. I'm forwarding them to you now."

There was a short pause, and then he exclaimed, "Well, hot damn! Alright, my team and I should be able to get there in about five hours, six tops. Can your guy hold the old man there until then?"

"Garth may be a bit weird, but Bobby says he's dependable. He'll figure something out. I should be there at about the same time. You'll wait until I get there before going after John, right? I don't give a rat's ass what you do with him, but I'm not letting my baby brother go into anyone else's custody, not even yours—no offense," I stated.

"None taken. Sure, we can hold off a bit if we arrive on-site before you. We'll need time to coordinate with the local LEOs anyway," he said. "Give me your guy's info so I can get in touch with him, and call me when you land in Tulsa. See you in a few."

Once the other alpha hung up, I finished packing the paperwork and my laptop. As much as I wanted to, I didn't call Bobby or anyone else, just in case this turned out to be another bust. Madison came in shortly with the plane, car, and hotel reservations, and Kevin showed up not long after with my bags. Charlie, Madison, and a couple others gave me hugs for good luck, and then I caught an Uber to the airport.

I forced myself to sleep on the flight from San Francisco to Tulsa, since I suspected the long night to come would offer little opportunity for rest. Past experience had taught me to not let myself get too worked up, in case John managed to slip away again. I still offered up a small prayer as we took off that this time would be different.

Upon arriving in Tulsa and picking up my rental car, a green Chevy Tahoe, I first gave Garth a call. "Hey man, I'm leaving the Tulsa airport now and should be at the motel in less than an hour. Are they still there?"

"Hey Sam! Yeah, he's still there—hasn't left the room since I delivered the pizza. Just to be sure though, I punched a hole in both of his back tires, so he ain't going nowhere." There was a brief pause and the sound of liquid being swallowed. "Listen, you need to get here as fast as you can. There . . . there's been a whole string of dudes coming in and outta that room in the past coupla hours. I—I assume you can guess what that means."

I growled softly, my vision flashing red for a moment. "I do. I'll be there as soon as possible. Has someone from the FBI contacted you yet?"

"Yep, a Special Agent Henriksen called a bit ago and said they'd be here in 'bout half an hour. I told him he should make sure the people he's bringing are either betas or alphas with real good self-control. I didn't mention this before 'cause I didn't want you to freak, but . . . when I dropped off the pizza, I could smell that your brother's in heat," Garth admitted. "And if even I can tell, then you know it's pretty darn strong."

"Fuck! Alright, call me if anything changes. I'll see you soon." I hung up, made a quick call to Henriksen to give him my ETA, and then put pedal to the metal.

Just under forty minutes later, I pulled into the lot of the cellular store located next to the motel and parked behind the building. Victor was there, along with a half-dozen agents clustered around three black Suburbans. Alongside the SUVs were two cruisers from the Okmulgee PD. The agents were conferring with the sheriff and two deputies over a rough sketch of the motel and its surroundings as I walked up.

The motel itself was a two-story, flat-roofed building whose cinder-block walls were painted dull orange and doors a dark maroon. Across the parking lot was a newer stucco building, which presumably housed the lobby and manager's quarters, attached to another row of rooms, and other smaller buildings could be seen to the side. John's black Sierra was parked in front of the far corner room of the first building.

"Excellent timing, Sam! We're pretty much ready to go. Your friend Garth is watching the front of the motel from that used car dealership across the street, and we've been keeping an eye on the back. There appear to be two . . . customers in the room, along with John and your brother," Henriksen explained. "Two of my guys and one of the deputies are going to continue casing the back of the building, while the rest of us are gonna kick in the front door. You stay back and wait until we have the perps secured before coming in."

I nodded my understanding and followed as everyone moved into position. Nevertheless, I maneuvered until I was standing just behind Victor as he gave a silent countdown. When his third finger folded down, two of the men literally kicked the door off its hinges and burst into the room, weapons aimed at those inside. I rushed in right on Victor's heels and froze.

The scene in the motel room was like something from my worst nightmare. My baby brother was naked and on his knees on one of the double beds in the room, his hands tied behind his back and his head pushed down into the mattress. His face was turned towards the door, so that the ball gag forcing his mouth open and the tears leaking from his closed eyes were clearly visible. A chain led from the pronged choke-collar around his neck to the headboard of the bed. The whole room reeked of a distressed omega in heat, the scent punching several of us straight in the gut.

A burly, well-groomed man was kneeling behind him, his pants around his ankles, his hips still pumping and a riding crop in his raised hand. Another man, skinnier but just as well-dressed, and John were sitting at the dinette table with their flies open and cocks out, stroking themselves as they avidly watched the rape. They all stopped as more agents streamed into the room.

"All you motherfuckers, FREEZE!" Henriksen roared. "You two scumbags are under arrest for rape, prostitution, and abetting in the abuse of an omega. Someone get these two outta here and read them their rights. John Winchester, you're under arrest for multiple counts of first-degree murder, assault, kidnapping, rape, abuse of an omega, solicitation, and generally being a goddamn pain in my ass. And put that thing away, man—nobody wants to see your pale, scrawny dick! You have the right to remain silent . . ."

While Victor read them their rights and his agents pulled the johns away and cuffed them, I pushed past everyone else and made a beeline for Dean. I shoved aside the comforter and sheets, which were soiled with blood, semen, and other fluids, sat down, and pulled him into my lap. The first order of business was unbuckling the gag and tossing it aside, then undoing the rope binding his wrists. I forced my body to disregard the effects of the pheromone-laden air, though I noticed a couple of the agents shifting and adjusting themselves uncomfortably.

As I worked, I crooned soothingly, "Hey little brother, it's Sammy. I'm so sorry it's taken so long to find you! But you're safe now—I won't let anyone hurt you ever again!"

He continued to cry while I gently massaged feeling back into his arms and shoulders. His wrists and ankles were chafed with rope burns, his back and buttocks were covered in raised, bleeding welts, and the skin over his too-prominent ribs was littered with bruises. His thighs were smeared with blood, his face sported a fat lower lip and swelling over one cheekbone and eye, and his complexion looked like it hadn't seen the sun in years. His pupils when he opened his eyes were pinpricks despite the low lighting, suggesting he'd been drugged, though there were no signs of track marks that I could see.

"Sammy? Is—is this really you? This . . . this ain't just a dream?" he choked out, looking up at me unsteadily.

"Oh, Dee!" I hugged him tightly. "This is real—your long nightmare is over. I'll get you out of this place as soon as I can."

I then studied the collar, which seemed to be locked in place, and the chain lead, which in turn was padlocked to the slats of the headboard. Before I could figure out what to do, Garth hurried up with a pair of bolt cutters. I carefully loosened the collar as much as I could and held it away from Dean's skin, allowing Garth to snip through a couple of links. As I threw the remnants to the ground in disgust, the sheriff came over and handed me a clean blanket.

"Here, get the poor boy covered up. I assume you're taking custody of this omega?" she asked.

"Thanks. Yes, I'm his older brother, and I'm taking him away from this shithole," I replied, tenderly tucking the blanket around my trembling brother. "But first he needs medical attention."

"Here then—this is the address and phone number of the best omega clinic in the area. They treat their patients like people, at least to the best of their ability, and they're open twenty-four hours. It's the only place my family takes their omegas to." The sheriff held out a business card. "Let me have your keys, and one of my deputies will bring your car up front."

I exchanged the rental's fob for the card and thanked her. She moved away, and Henriksen came over.

"Damn, that bastard really did a number on the kid!" he commented, studying Dean. "Listen, we're going to be here a while processing this dump and questioning witnesses, then interrogating the perps at the police station, but you don't need to stick around for all that. Just have the clinic take photos of your brother's injuries and send them and their medical report to me. I'll touch base with you tomorrow."

"Sounds good. Victor, I can't thank you enough for your help," I said.

"No need to thank me—bringing down a major douchebag like John Winchester is going to make my year, not to mention make my superiors real happy too! Besides, you did most of the legwork," he pointed out. "Now go take care of your kid brother."

Another agent joined us and scanned Dean's chip before having me fill out and sign a form taking responsibility for him. Once the paperwork was taken care of, I made sure my brother was properly covered in the blanket before standing, cradling him against my chest. Henriksen accompanied us as we left the motel room. Outside, the Tahoe was waiting a few feet from the door, Garth leaning by the passenger door. A little further away, John was shouting and struggling as the agents tried to load him into the back of one of their Suburbans.

"—hell do you think you're doing? I never murdered anyone—those were monsters, and they all deserved to die! Let me go so I can do my goddamn job!" he demanded, doing his best to elbow, kick, and head-butt the men holding him. His frenzied gaze then fell on me and Dean. "And where do you think you're going with my fucking property? That worthless piece of omega trash is mine, and I can do whatever I damn well please with it!"

As Dean whimpered and shrank against my chest and I struggled against the urge to beat John to a pulp, Victor headed over to the other vehicle and snapped, "Shut the hell up! Assholes like you give the rest of us alphas a bad name! For those of us not still living in the nineteenth century, those 'monsters' are people too, with all the same rights as us humans—including the right to a fair trial if they did something wrong. You're not even a licensed hunter, just a nutjob vigilante who's finally going to pay for your crimes. And Johnny-boy, you better enjoy your last taste of freedom, 'cause the other lowlifes where you're going don't look kindly on rapists and child abusers."

I got myself back under control and carried my brother to the rental. Garth opened the passenger door and helped me settle Dean in the seat. As much as I was tempted to go over to the other vehicle and slug John, I knew that if I started I wouldn't be able to stop—and my brother needed me here, not under arrest for patricide. Then I looked at Dean's battered face and went, Fuck it.

I stalked over to where the agents were still trying to subdue John and tapped Henriksen on the shoulder. "Victor, could I have a moment alone with him?"

Henriksen eyed me briefly and then shrugged. "Normally this would be a bad idea, but in this dickhead's case . . . Hey fellas, does that look like a flying pig to you?"

While the agents made a show of turning their backs and looking upward, I stepped up into John's grille, the edges of my vision going red. Before he could say anything, I cocked a fist back and punched his gut as hard as I could. As he bent over and wheezed, I growled, "That was for hurting my baby brother, you cowardly cunt!"

He straightened a bit and sneered, "Big words now, Sammy, but let's see what you'd do if I wasn't in cuffs!"

"Unlike someone with a 'pale, scrawny dick,' I don't have anything to prove. And it's Sam." I kneed him in the groin as a parting shot and spat on him for good measure before turning and walking away.

I went back to my rental and leaned inside to see if Dean was alright. His panicked expression calmed when he saw me, and I mentally kicked myself for leaving him to indulge in a bit of petty vengeance. I rubbed a soothing hand over his head in silent apology and gently closed the passenger door, then turned to the skinny hunter still nearby.

"Thanks man, I really owe you one! Finally having Dean with me again means everything to me, and it couldn't have happened without your help. So here, this is for you." I handed the beta a thick envelope.

Garth opened it and whistled when he saw the stack of fifty- and hundred-dollar bills. "Whoa, dude! I dunno if I can take this—I didn't help you two for the money."

"You more than earned that, alright? My brother being safe is worth so much more to me than that. And I'm serious about owing you a favor, and a big one at that," I insisted.

"Well, okay. C'mere then." To my surprise, he suddenly enveloped me in a hug. "You're alright, Sam Winchester. Gimme a call if you or Dean needs any other help. I'm gonna stick around here for a few days in case you or Mr. G-man needs my testimony, and I can come meet you wherever any time after that."

I walked around the SUV, got in, and cranked the heat up when I noticed Dean shivering. I then asked, "How are you feeling, kiddo?"

"Wh—what is Dad . . . is he gon—gonna . . ." He was clearly stuttering from more than just the cold.

I reached over and gently tugged him across the bench seat until I could wrap a reassuring arm around him. "John won't be able to do anything to you anymore, okay? With Agent Henriksen's help, he's going to be locked up for a very long time. And before that happens, I'm going to make sure he has no legal ability to get close to you, let alone hurt you."

He took a deep breath. "O—okay, Sam. Now what?"

"First we're going to a clinic to get your injuries tended, then we'll go to my hotel to rest. We'll take it step-by-step from there together." I gave him another hug and buried my face in his hair, truly taking in his sweet scent for the first time in ten long years.