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THANK YOU to GOTHPANDAOTAKU for being my awesome beta
Fields Of Jasmine
Chapter 3 ~ Disturbia
Dean blew out a strangled breath, shifting the prone body in his arms as he stood.
"Fucking freaks," he muttered.
"You need any help?" Joshua asked as he came to his side.
"Fuck no," Dean muttered, "Just ... take the lead. Don't wanna trip." He pointed down at the gravel where his machete was lying.
Caleb nodded, picked up the hunter's weapon and marched forward, showing the way back to Bobby's house.
They weren't even halfway there when Bobby appeared before them, his sawed off in his hands.
"Got him," Josh called out.
There was a faint grunt hearable and Bobby stopped in his tracks, adjusting his ball cap. "He hurt?"
The deputy glanced back at Dean. "Nah. Only out for the count," he said, when they were right up with Bobby.
Actually, the omega wasn't as heavy as Dean had thought. Besides, he didn't feel a whole lot of flesh on those bones either. Actually it looked like the guy wasn't as muscular as he had thought at first. At least his strength while he was struggling had made him think that the omega had to be at least a bit muscular.
Sorry ass bastard.
They were back in the house minutes later. Dean dumped the omega back on the couch, not very careful either. He took a couple of steps back and looked down on his shirt, feeling a slight burn on his neck.
"Gotcha good," Bobby muttered as he passed him on his way to the couch to check on the young man. "Drugged him?" He didn't look up.
Josh cleared his throat and tipped his head up. "I'll be back outside," he said.
Dean gave him a nod.
Pastor Jim greeted the deputy as he reentered the living room, rubbing the back of his head absently.
Dean looked up at him with a smirk. "Should've used the sedative before, buddy."
Jim glared at him. "I'd rather prefered him not drugged. - Looks like he's been through enough," he grumbled. "What'd you think he'll think about what we've done to him when he wakes up in different clothes, cleaned up and in a bed instead the couch?Without a memory about what happened, Dean."
The ex-hunter cocked his head to the side, looking at the pastor bored. "He'll be grateful for all the work we're putting into him." He paused, taking in Jim's pissed features. "I'm not sorry, if you mean that. I'd do it again. - If you'd done it in the first place, he wouldn't have knocked the both of you out, huh?" His grin turned smug as he looked over at Bobby, who looked aside with a huff, obviously avoiding the ex-hunter. "How come a hurt omega can possibly knock down two seasoned hunters anyway?"
"Aw, shut up, boy," Bobby huffed out.
Dean chuckled. "He's gonna be out for a couple of hours anyway. Better you both hurry up." He pursed his lips gleefully. "BEFORE he jumps you again."
"You know you're a real bitch when you're not gettin' enough sleep?" Bobby asked.
Jim grinned.
Dean glared, then looked at the clock on the wall. He sighed. "Close to six. - guess I'm crashing in my own bed for an hour or so." He smacked his lips. "You guys sure you'll be okay with him? All by yourselves?"
Jim ignored him.
Bobby gave him a look, which warned him not to tease too much.
Chuckling, the ex-hunter waved at them and left.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Dean left both grizzled hunters with an unconcsious, hurt omega on their own. And he didn't feel sorry or like he had to be there at all. NOT at all.
So, Bobby started to clean up the room upstairs, while Pastor Jim cut the omega's jeans loose. Jim blew out a breath through his nose, as his gaze fell on the young man's bruised legs and dirty, cut feet. His features became grim, when he cut the clean boxers open. Ever so carefully he moved further up to remove the omega's former plaid shirt, peeling away the sticky material from torn skin.
The Pastor hissed at the sight, when he was done and leaned back to get the greater picture of the man's injuries. Sure, there was a whole lot of dried blood and dirt, but there also were old scars visible ... Scars that looked like a pattern ... a sign ...
Jim frowned, staring intently as if though he was capable of looking through all that grime. After a long time, he got up and pulled a blanket over the young man, before he went to get a basin and washcloths.
Jim reentered the living room again on silent feet as if he would wake the omega if he'd be too loud. He muttered something under his breath, putting the basin on the table beside his medical kit and wringed the first washcloth out.
"Lets get you cleaned up then ..." the pastor murmured, as he started with the man's face.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Dean Winchester didn't sleep. He didn't even doze. He lay in his small house behind Bobby's in his bedroom, on his bed, on top of the covers, showered and dressed in fresh clothes, staring at the ceiling in the darkness.
He glanced over at the red numbers of his clock, reading 06:49, while massaging his right thigh up and down from the hip to his knee.
He groaned and let his eyes slide shut for another couple of minutes. He knew he shouldn't have carried the giant guy back to the house. Not only because his clothes were drenched in the omega's scent now. His old injury was hurting like a bitch.
Dean had stuffed his worn clothes into a plastic bag and dumped all of it in the trash. Except for his leather jacket. This one was in a seperate bag, tied up and resting on the couch in the living room. He'd take it to the cleaners when he was in town to check out the club. Hopefully they'd be able to get the omega's stench out of the leather.
Somehow he did feel sorry for that guy. The way he had fought him, had tried to get away. So desperate. So afraid. It nearly had gotten to him. Stupid idiot that he was.
Of course – deep down – he knew that this one wasn't the guilty one. This omega was a victim. He also knew that this one might not deserve his anger and rage. That this omega wasn't Cooper.
But he couldn't change what he felt, right? He couldn't just forget about what an omega had done to his family – what they all were doing and how they were acting. The way they wiggled others around their little fingers just to get what they wanted.
Omegas were a whole new kind of evil even if they might not even notice it themselves. But they were.
So no. He didn't need to feel sorry for that guy. There was no need to show pity or feel challenged to protect this being. That omega would find his way through the aftermath. They all did.
Dean could show him, that not every alpha or beta lay at his feet, running after him like a horny dog. He'd show him, that he wasn't affected by what he was. That he didn't need the affection of an omega to feel like a man.
After all he was Dean Winchester. He could have anyone at any time. No matter if woman or man. Just not an omega.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Hidden in the darkness of the ongoing night, Bobby's pick up was parked right behind Dean's black baby, far off from everyone's attention. It was misted in complete darkness though ...
Something in the cocoon of a whoolen blanket twitched. It moved. Then there was nothing.
Another twitch and wiggle and thick fingers curled around the corner at the upper side of it.
At it's feet, the blanket shifted and tented and the next moment, someting big and heavy rolled out from under it. The ball-like thing was blocked by the door of the loadbed, revealing a pair of black eyes, gleaming at the very moment the clouds tore apart and revealed a perfect full moon.
Henry Savanger's eyes blinked, his mouth twitched and eventually curled up into a sly grin.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
It was already past seven when he entered Bobby's house witha plastic bag in his left hand.
The sun wasn't even up and it wouldn't be for another hour probably. Dean dumped the bag beside the front door and moved into the kitchen silently, searching for either Bobby or Jim to ask how the omega was doing and when they thought he'd be able to answer his questions.
God forbid he'd name it an interogation.
After all the both of them didn't see the guy from last night as a threat at all – obviously. Otherwise they wouldn't have let their guards down.
Bobby startled him, as he appeared behind him in the kitchen door, rubbing over his tired face.
"Hey boy."
Dean spun around and gave him a smug grin. He hadn't seen the old man that tired in ... well, in an eternity. "Mornin'."
"Jody here already?" Bobby sauntered over to the counter and poured himself a mug of coffee. Black. With five spoons of sugar.
The ex-hunter sniffed. "Nope."
Bobby huffed out a breath. He didn't look at his younger friend. It kind of looked like he TRIED not to look at him. And the silence between them seemed rather awkward.
"So ... about the omega ..." Dean began, eyeing Bobby from the corner of his eyes.
"Didn't talk to Jim yet. - I've let him crash on my bed when whe were done with the boy." He merely looked at Dean, catching a curious glimpse into his direction. Bobby's face screwed up at the bitter cold liquid and he put the mug aside.
Dean continued to stare at him from the corners of his eyes.
Bobby – for the seasoned hunter he was – sensed that he was watched and tried not to stare back, or try to steal glimpses at his younger friend at all.
"Don' lie to me. Jim told you somethin'," Dean said calmly.
"Yeah well. Jim told me not to tell anyone about it, so I'll keep my mouth shut." And that was that. Bobby wouldn't say another word about it, Dean knew him that good.
"He ain't mute. Is he deaf?" Of course the older hunter had to count on Dean guessing his way through if he didn't get an answer.
"Don't ask me. I won't tell," Bobby gave back and pushed himself away from the counter, his cheeks slightly flushed – what was actually visible even through the thick beard covering his face.
"Fine. So not deaf ..." The ex-hunter smirked. "Did they ..." He thought for a moment, his eyes rolling up. "... Did they castrate him?" Dean didn't really mean it. He just went along and since he saw the old man hardly blush it had to be something he wouldn't want to talk about.
So since Bobby wasn't the guy who wouldn't take the word "rape" in his mouth, it had to be something of the latter.
The seasoned hunter turned bright red.
"Dean!" he hissed and stalked out of the kitchen, crossed the hall and went into the living room.
Dean stayed where he was – shell-shocked. His smug grin draining from his face slowly as a shudder coursed through his body.
The left corner of his mouth turned upwards, while the right one didn't seem to know what to do. The skin on his forehead creased in utter disbelief and somewhat like disgust.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
The omega became aware of the surrounding warmth and comfortable, soft surface he was resting on. He felt the warmth of the sun prickle on his face and the light shining through his eyelids as he clawed his way out of the deepest sleep he thought ever had.
Whatever it was that was covering him, it felt as soft as the ground beneath. The only thing that seemed to be even softer was the unbelievable fluffy pillow his head was resting on.
All that might have made him forget about the stab wound in his side and bruises all over his body if it hadn't been for the pain they caused.
He winced.
The omega gave himself another couple of minutes. Thinking. Trying to remember what had happened.
Was he dead?
No, he wasn't. Because there had been those men, killing Henry.
Those men.
The alpha.
A beta. Actually three of them ...
Though, the alpha's scent was the only one he could recall properly – besides, it was still on him. The musky smell of old wood and aftershave and oil. What brought him close to the memory about what happened after he had knocked both the old men down ... and then he felt himself run.
Nothing after that though.
Obviously he didn't make it and they got the drop on him.
The omega's face darkened.
They had gotten the drop on him.
He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. He tried to move his arms, but they felt too heavy. Though, he wouldn't give up. He couldn't. He'd fight this. He'd fight them.
A groan fell from his lips. "Get a grip Sam," he murmured to himself hoarsely, "Don't let them get to you." Though, his bottom lip quivered at the very thought of finding himself in the same situation he had been before.
Well, he didn't know that for sure, but he could guess. He had gotten good at guessing during those past months anyway.
Before he could stop himself, thick hot tears were rolling down the line of his lower eyelids and down his cheeks, soaking his hair and the pillow under his head. Sam choked back a sob and closed his eyes tightly for a moment, before he opened them again.
That was about the moment he noticed, that his own scent and the one of the two older betas weren't the only ones in this room. There was also the smell of food.
Toast. Eggs. Pancakes. Coffee. COFFEE.
Sam swallowed, saliva gathering in his mouth.
He hadn't had coffee in ... hell, he didn't know in how long. And Pancakes ... Oh god, Pancakes.
He turned his head to the side slowly, blinking his wet long lashes at the nightstand, on which a tray was. A tray with a mug. A glass with yellow liquid. A plate with what looked like eggs, pancakes and maybe even toast. - Fresh toast.
There was a small smile tugging on Sam's lips and he made a sound between a sob and a laugh. For a long moment he didn't know what to think ... what to DO.
There could be roofies mixed into one of them or everything. Which actually dazed his anticipation about fresh food.
Eventually he decided to screw it and started an attempt to get himself up into a sitting position.
But failed. Miserably.
His vision started to swim. Sam's heart sped up until it jackhammered against his ribcage and his side gave a protesting stab of pain. He let himself sink back into the soft mattress and pillow.
Sam gave himself another couple of minutes, overthinking his possiblities and decided that he'd rather try to shove himself backwards and up against the headboard of the bed.
Of course he managed to shove himself back against the headboard and lift the tablet into his lap. Once done, he eyed the food before him once again. This time noticing a white small pill between the mug and the glass with orange juice.
His forehead creased and his eyebrows furrowed.
Of course he knew what pills were. But he also remembered that they could either be something good, or something bad.
Those people didn't give him food for not wanting something in exchange.
Sam pursed his lips, eyeing the contents on the tray warily.
His stomach gave a protesting grumble as he thought about not touching the food. He was – in fact – hungry. More than that. He felt like starving.
Yeah, so screw it.
With that, and before he could think of not even attempting to taste the food, he shoved his hand into the heap of eggs and stuffed it into his mouth. Sam didn't bother chewing it properly. He dug in, swallowing handfull after handfull of the luke-warm food.
When nothing was left on the plate, Sam gulped down the coffee without even tasting it's bitter-sweet taste.
The omega sighed. His gaze landed on the pill. Maybe it was a painkiller? Henry gave him medications sometimes. Like ... when he had been sick for the first time.
He had a bad fever and stomach cramps and felt like shit.
Sam took the small little pill between his sticky fingers and popped it in, gulping it down with the glass of orange juice.
When he was all done, he leaned back against the headboard, let his head sink back against the hard wood and closed his eyes.
He burped.
His stomach gave a satisfied noise.
Sam sighed contently.
Who knew when he'd get something to eat again. Who knew how long they'd let him have the bed and comforter.
Minutes later, when he opened his eyes again, he noticed that the pain in his side started to subside ... so did his bruised ribs and jaw. Besides that, he started to feel a bit loopey, though not in the bad way.
It was a very good way ...
Sam grinned.
Slowly, things didn't seem so bad anymore. He didn't feel as bothered as he had been before too. And that felt good.
Real good.
As if he didn't need to care ... to feel like he had to care.
Which felt good too.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam didn't know how long he had been sitting in bed like this. He even might have dozed off again.
Right then he couldn't even tell what had woken him – or what had taken him back into the present. Until he took a deep inhale ... and the scent of an alpha. His eyes snapped open and catapulted his senses into overdrive.
Sam's head snapped around towards the door.
It was open.
And the alpha who smelled like oil and old wood leaned in the threshold, his arms crossed in front of his chest, staring at the omega intently.
Sam's pupils were blown wide, the hazel barely visible. His jaw was set and the muscles in his neck were working furiously as his throat closed up on him.
"You're awake," Dean said, pushing away from the doorframe. He sauntered over to the lonely chair at the wall oposite of the bed and took it, dragging it over right beside the bed.
He was limping slightly.
Sam pressed himself tighter into the pillow, when the alpha leaned over, reaching into his direction. The omega's heart leaped up at the sudden closeness and intoxicating scent of an alpha so close to him.
He made a small sound, eying the man wearily, as he reached for the tray and put it back on the nightstand before he slumped down in the chair. Dean rested his lower arms on the armrests, his head tilted to the side slightly as his gaze was trained at the frightened being.
He could smell it the very moment he straightened up in his chair again. The unbelievably intesnse fear and utter terror.
"I have some questions. And you need to answer," Dean said calmly.
Sam swallowed. Hard.
"You know what Henry was?" Dean asked casually.
Sam nodded.
"How many have been in the nest?" the ex-hunter asked. Dean leaned back again, taking the strain from his hip.
Sam cast his look down, blinking up through long lashes and dark bangs.
Dean pursed his lips. The omega was quite a looker – well, despite the lack of meat on his bones and too long, shaggy chestnut-brown hair. Actually, if it wouldn't have been for his scent and the fact that he WAS an omega, this guy would've seemed like any other victim to him.
The omega whispered something – so softly, Dean didn't catch it.
"How many?" he asked again, keeping his voice casual.
Sam looked up again, catching the ex-hunter's gaze. "I don't know," he whispered and looked away again.
Dean huffed out a breath. Of course the guy wouldn't cooperate. There was no way he didn't know how many of them were there. NO way. "C'mon, buddy. You're tellin' me that you don't know how many there were?" He rose both eyebrows. The alpha's voice was sharp and stung. "That's ... not true."
Sam's mind was a turmoil of emotions – mostly negative ones. And all of them were so loud, he couldn't get a handle of a single one of his thoughts right now.
Dean leaned forward a bit, knowing that it had to be uncomfortable for the man on the bed. He did it anyway.
"How many? And don't lie to me. I know that you know." His voice was low, dangerously husky, as if it was meant as a threat rather than a question. "I can make you tell me the truth. I'm not all soft when it comes to omegas. Not like the others. So you better spill, kid." THAT was definitely a threat.
The alpha's message was pretty clear.
"I don't know," Sam repeated stuttering. "I really don't." He blinked up, his eyes burning as he pulled his legs up towards his chest. He turned his head to the side and flinched, when Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face.
"Look at me," the alpha demanded. "You don't get to get out of this that easy, boy. - You're tellin' me everything you know about them. Where their nest is. How many there are. And since when you've been with them. You get to tell me how they got to you and where you're from. I wanna know your name and theirs. Specially theirs."
Sam swallowed, looking back at the older man as he sniffed, trying to blink away tears. But failed. Instead they were running down his flushed cheeks.
"I only know of four. Three men, one woman," Sam said, his voice wet.
"Bullshit," Dean snapped. "There have to be more. Aren't there?"
"I don't KNOW. There was Henry. Michael. Rebecca. And Carlos. I don't know any other names. I don't know when they took me, or from where. I can't tell you where their nest is, or from which town they moved me here. I don't know how long I've been with them. I know, that I can't remember. I know my name is Sam, even when they didn't call me that," Sam told him desperately. "I ... I ..." He sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut as the constrictions of his muscles tore at his ribs. He sucked in a deep breath.
"What the hell?!" came a gruff voice from the doorway, where a bearded older man with a blue ballcap was standing. His eyes were wide and his expression shocked. "Dean?! What do you think you're doing?"
"Questioning our vic, Bobby. That's what I'm doing." Dean stood up, shoving the chair backwards. "Besides ... He can't tell us anything useful anyway," he ground out, staring down at the omega disparaging.
Sam stared up at the man as he stood above him. So much hate and anger burning in his emerald-green eyes. Disgust written on his face without an attempt of hiding his emotions from the omega.
"I'm sorry," Sam hiccuped. "So sorry. I don't know ... I don't know." he buried his face between his legs and drew in another shaky breath, drying his face on the comforter.
Before Bobby could even get the idea to send him out of the room, Dean left anyway.
On his way downstairs, Dean bumped into Pastor Jim who was already on his way upstairs, staring at Dean wide- eyed as he passed him.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Dean was in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee in his hand and took sip after sip.
Bobby was entering right then, muttering something under his breath, before he spoke out loud. "What the hell were you thinkin', boy? You got any idea what you did back there? Scaring the living shit outta that kid?" The old man was flat-out furious. Obviously. He huffed out a breath. "He's traumatized, Dean. - You dealt with shit like that all the time back in the day. And I can't remember you acting like such a dick before." Bobby muttered something. Again. He cast his look down shortly and then back back, nailing his younger friend with his gaze to the counter. "I know you've got quite some issues when it comes to omegas. But this? - I told you to wait for Jim. I told you he'd need to tell us something ... to ..." He sighed. And suddenly he didn't seem as pissed anymore. Rather lost. "You know that he's the vic here, right? He's the one who's fucked up six days from sunday? 'cause that ain't 'bout you and ya issues."
Dean glanced up at his firend. He knew he should feel sorry, but he didn't. Well maybe a little bit. But not entirely. "He doesn't know anything," he grumbled. "Pointless to ask him stuff."
"Yeah well. Thanks to you, idjit, he seems pretty off now." Bobby sighed again und rubbed over his face. Then he shook his head. "You could've waited, you know?"
Dean glanced up under his lashes and blinked. "There was a hidden room in the back of the club. Henry must've kept him there for quite some time. Wasn't much besides a bed in there ... and a table with a chair. Clothes. The Miller's farm is abandoned. They're dead since weeks. - Probably. No traces where they could've gone, or how many they were." He sighed, his lips formed into a tight line. "And mister-I'm-too-precious-for-this-world ain't no help either. Says he doesn't remember anything."
Bobby shrugged. "Well. Ain't the first time, boy, huh? Mabe he'll remember." He paused. "But high likely he won't remember anything before the abduction. Before ... everything."
"I don't care. - He's playin' the poor lill' guy who was in the fangs of a pack of vamps. There've been others like him," Dean's voice hitched in dismay. "I don't buy a single word of what he says."
A beat of silence.
"Because he's an omega?" Bobby asked quietly. "Do I have to remind you, that Mary was an omega too?" There was honest anger mirroring in his voice.
"Bobby," Dean pressed out through gritted teeth.
"No, son. We're gonna talk about this, Dean." Bobby blocked Dean's way by getting before him as he tried to leave. "You will listen." Dean opened his mouth to protest. "And you'll keep your mouth shut. That ain't no fun."
Bobby put his hand on Dean's chest as he tried to walk past the old man again. "No." Bobby held his gaze sternly and pushed a bit to show that he meant it. "Your mother was an omega. You remember her? Of course you do. She was the nicest person you've known, right?"
"You didn't even know her, Bobby. So-" He cast his look down as he got silenced by the older man with a glare.
"No I don't. But your father told me about her. Plenty. There was nothing John rather talked about than you and your mom." The grizzled hunter's voice was soft, though demanding. "So I kind of know her. I also know, that she wouldn't have hurt a fly, Dean. AND she was an omega. So is the kid upstairs." He paused. "What'd you think if someone'd try to treat your mother the way you treat him?"
Dean grumbled something.
"What was that?"
"I'd rip the other one's throat out. With my teeth," Dean murmured softly. "That's what I said."
"He may be an omega. He may be traumatized. And he may not remember anything. He may have tried to flee. But he sure as hell didn't do it because he thinks he did something wrong - he was scared, Dean. This boy up there ..." Bobby sighed, gesturing towards the stairs, "He's like you and me. And I want you to treat him like you'd treat every other vic."
The ex-hunter didn't look up, if anything he ducked his head further down in shame. Because he knew that Bobby was right. He knew. But he couldn't change how it felt. How HE felt.
And that was that.
"Maybe you manage to be nicer than to the others. Even if it's a lot to ask from you, okay?" Bobby asked.
"When's Jim gonna fill us in?" He needed to change the subject right the fuck now.
Bobby sighed and shook his head. "Guess as soon as he's back downstairs."
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam pulled away from the hand attempting to reach for his shoulder. He pressed his face into his knees, hiccuping.
"It's okay ..." Jim murmured. "Dean's just a bit ... unseasoned ... when it comes to talk to victims and witnesses. If they are ..." He sighed and took a deep breath. "He's wary when it comes to omegas. He doesn't mean it that way."
Sam sniffed. His shoulders shook, as he looked up warily. "Why apologize?" He caught the beta's gaze. "WHY? You've got me. What are you gonna do now? Sell me? Give me to someone else? Are you going to ... to lock me down?" He sniffed, blinking red-rimmed eyes at the older man. "You're givin' me breakfast ... you've givin' me a bed ... That's mighty nice of you and your friends. But what do you want for it? What's the price I'm gonna pay for your hospitality? I can't tell you anything about the vampires – nothing you haven't seen on me already when you undressed me, cleaned me up and did whatever you were doing with me ... I'm not stupid, Mister." he took a deep breath. "When I'm not needed anymore you're gonna dump me. Or do other stuff."
The Pastor frowned at him and found himself at a lack of words for a couple of long minutes.
He cleared his throat.
"You won't pay for anything. I don't know who you think we are, but we sure as hell aren't what you seem to believe." He looked aside for a moment, searching for words. "Did they ... take you when you were still a kid?" Jim asked calmly.
Sam sniffed and stared at him. "Don't think so," he muttered. "I can't remember." He nestled the comforter in between his fingers absently. "I ... I think it's been a couple of months." he added softly. "Maybe a year."
"That's a start. You've any parents or siblings we can call? They could pick you up. Get you home. You could pick up where you left off ..." Pastor Jim watched the younger man intently for any kind of positive emotions crossing his face. But there were none.
"I don't know," Sam muttered and shook his head. "I can't remember."
"Huh." Pastor Jim leaned back in the chair and pulled his lower lip over the upper one.
There was silence again. Though not as uncomfortable as it had been before.
Sam was thinking.
"What do you remember?" he finally asked.
Sam continued to think for a long time. Then he blinked up, pressing his lips together. "I remember white walls. Light blue sheets. A doctor ... I remember one of the male nurses. I think he was Henry's friend too. I remember not feeling right and that I had a headache. A real bad one ... And that my head is bandaged with gauze," he explained calmly. Somehow it didn't even feel like his own memories at all. They were just there. Floating through his mind sometimes. "I remember waking up in a bed and Henry sitting beside me." He choked back a sob.
"And before that?"
Sam shook his head. "Nothing."
"Can I have a look at your head? See if I can find hints about what had happened?"
First he shrugged. Though he felt curious too – something he couldn't deny. Even when these people may or may not hurt him.
"Why?" Sam asked then.
"Because I want you to help find your family. Maybe you were married to someone. Or have kids. Maybe you've family out there looking for you," The Pastor answered with a soft smile.
Sam chewed his bottom-lip and frowned at that. "You'd let me go? Just like that?"
Jim nodded surprised. "Of course we'd let you go. This is a free land, boy. You can make your own decisions." His smile widened a bit.
"How can I be sure that this isn't another lie?" He licked over his split lower lip, his frown deepening while he stared at his fingers.
"Because whatever happened to you ... it's not how it's supposed to be, kid. Trust me." The Pastor ran his fingers through his short ashen-white hair and leaned forward again.
Sam nodded, trying to wrap his mind around the possibility that this man was telling the truth.
"Can I?" the older man inched forward on his chair and pointed at Sam's head.
Obviously uncomfortable – but still curious – he nodded, though wouldn't look at the man.
The Pastor rose slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed.
First Sam flinched away when a pair of creased hands reached for his head, but then dared himself to let it happen.
Pastor Jim lifted the long bangs of dark hair and his eyes narrowed at a small scar that looked dangerously close to a puncture wound. His eyes widened when he found another one on the far corner where hair met forehead. He swore silently, not able to process that he found what he thought he'd find.
Sam withdrew immediately and pulled his arms close to his body. "Sometimes I have the feeling that ... that I'm ..." He sighed. "They did something to make me forget, didn't they?"
Jim's jaw was set, his eyes filled with anger and sadness.
Of course – he as an ex-military-doc – knew what those scars were. At least he had an idea what that could mean. That and the fact that this man ... wasn't quite male at all. Usually THIS procedure wasn't used anymore. No one did things like that since ... well, since the late sixties.
Lobotomy.
One of the worst things ever.
But the omega was about 30 years old and if it truly had been a year ago that this had happened ... well ... then someone had to justify this.
These days no one would get a lobotomy because he wasn't ... well ... either female nor male – No matter if their mind were set at a particular gender or not – or even both ...
Some hermaphordites liked to switch in-between genders too.
"Yeah," the Pastor muttered hoarsely. Still not quite able to believe what he was seeing – what he was thinking that could have possibly had happened to that man.
For the omega's sake he put on a soft smile again. "You know why they did it?"
Sam blinked up and shook his head. "It's all pretty blurry."
The Pastor huffed out a breath. "You know what, kid?" His smile brightened a bit more. "I'll call Jody. Our sheriff in town. She'll find your people and call them. Tell them that you're with us and safe, that you've been found."
The omega bit the insides of his lip and opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. "What ..." He cleared his throat. "What if THEY gave me to them? I don't want back if they did that ..."
The Pastor frowned at that. How could he possibly think ... He sighed. "We'll wait and see, okay?"
Samm nodded thoughfully. "The ... the other man ... the alpha ... he wanted to know about the vampires. He ... he thinks I know something. But I don't. I don't I really don't. I don't know where they are, or how many. I only saw five of them – including Henry."
He swallowed thickly.
Jim nodded. "Don't you worry. Dean's an ex-hunter. Me? I'm a hunter too ... but this here? That's about you gettin' back home, knowing you're safe. That's what we do. So don't you worry about him or anyone else." He winked at him as he stood up. "No one's gonna harm you."
Sam nodded again – trying to believe real hard what the man was telling him.
"If you like you can come downstairs later?" he sugested. "There's the bathroom." Jim gestured towards the door beside which he had been coming through. "Towels and clothes are in there too ... If you're not coming downstairs, me or Bobby are gonna check on you later, 'kay?"
"'kay." Sam answered.
He so hoped that this one was telling the truth ... he prayed that he did. After all ... after all those things that had happened. After all the things Henry had promised and never held ... It was hard to believe that those people really wanted to help him.
... to be continued