Hey, folks! THIS ONE is a KILLERchapter.
I've decided to make this one extra-long to show y'all my appreciation about your reviews & follows & favorites :)
Fields Of Jasmine
Chapter 4 ~ The Window
Jim had come downstairs a couple of minutes ago, not looking left or right. He went into the kitchen. He poured himself some coffee into a mug from the cupboard, added sugar and milk, and went into the living room where he sat down heavily onto the couch.
Bobby and Dean followed him, staring at their friend in a mixture of curiousity and being plain shocked about the man's behaviour. He kinda looked like he had seen a ghost. Well, more like a unicorn since Pastor Murphy had – for sure – seen a buttload of ghosts in his life. A ghost wouldn't do that to a hunter.
Though, the two of them didn't say anything. They just stared at their friend with risen eyebrows and quizzical gazes.
Jim took a sip of his coffee and closed his eyes for a moment.
There was a knock on the door and Bobby went to check on it. He led Sheriff Mills into the living room and cleared his throat.
Jody was carrying two plastic bags and placed them on the coffee table, before she picked up on the uncomfortable silence. She gazed at Bobby, who gazed at Dean, who gazed at Jim.
Jim didn't look at anyone. He only stared at the cold ashes in the fireplace and took another sip of coffee, before he seemed to tear himself out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat and looked up.
Jody cocked an eyebrow at the Pastor and pointed at the bags. Then she looked at the other two.
"Brought lunch," she said and bowed over the bags, getting one of the chinese take-out menus out. She picked a plastic fork too and sat down in the recliner, opening it up. The sheriff sniffed curiously at the ingredients before she took a tentative fork full of a rice-vegetable-meat-mixture.
"So ..." She eyed the pastor for a moment, while she was still chewing. "How's he doing? Did he talk?"
Dean huffed out a breath and opened his mouth to say something, but Bobby glared at him warningly.
"We were waitin' for you ..." Bobby explained, "Jim found some interesting things about ..." He thought for a moment, obviously searchng for the right words. "... about the omega."
Jim put the mug aside and rubbed over his face. He then trained his attention at the bags with food and pulled one of them out, including a plastic fork. The Pastor leaned back and popped the small luciously smelling paper-bag open. Then he buried the fork inside.
"You guys might wanna sit down," he murmured, not quite meeting their gazes.
Curiously, Bobby and Dean obeyed instantly and found themselves somewhere to sit down.
Jim's gaze swept through the room, checking if everyone was sitting. Then he cleared his throat.
"His name is Sam - At least ... he said he thinks so. He doesn't remember a lot though. He can't tell where and when they took him and he doesn't know how long he stayed with the vamps," he started, then stopped.
Dean swallowed down a huff. Bobby was too close. The old man could smack him over the head from where he was sitting.
"He ... he won't remember either." The Pastor's voice grew thin. "He says he can remember a white room. Nurses."
"The room in which Henry kept him wasn't white," Dean threw in curiously. "There were wooden panels."
Jim rose his hand, showing the Winchester that he should let conintue him. "I think he was in a hospital. There are these scars ..." He had to clear his throat again. "Scars which let on, that Sam got a Lobotomy ..."
Everyone's mouths fell open.
"A WHAT?" Jody asked in disbelief. "You sure?"
Jim shrugged. "It looks like it and ... since I had to discover some other things ... I think it's possible. Though, I've to say that ... that something like that ... with something like HIM ... has been done quite some time back. In the sixties. So ..."
Dean sighed annoyed. "Call it by the name, Jim. Please?"
Of course Dean Winchester wasn't always that impatient. Except when he was.
Jim looked up at him and nodded. "Back in the sixties, hermaphrodites who wouldn't decide which gender they'd wanted to be got a Lobotomy – and not that thing you see on TV, you know? Some doctor from Chicago found a way with which the patients wouldn't go completely insane. At least not as much of them as before. True, they had seizures after their surgery, but that wasn't quite the problem back then. Those people got CURED. Anyway. Ususally I'd say it's nonsense. But as we see ... it's not. The scars aren't that old. Maybe a year, up or down two months. I can't tell for sure." Jim cleared his throat. "I didn't notice at first, even if I should have. His scent is unique in a special way. May because he ain't either male nor female." He had to clear his throat again. "That is ... He's definitely got more of male than female genes, that's for sure. So ... maybe his family brought him to some doctor. There are still people out there that think that it is not okay to be ... the way he is. Actually he should've went into surgery right after the lobotomy. But as far as I can tell, he didn't. He is definitely hermaphrodite. So I think that those vamps got him out of there before they could put him through even more shit."
Dean huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Why would they do such a thing?" He shook his head. "Why cut off a man's ... JUNK, dammit?"
Jim shrugged. "It was that way back then. Usually they would've done it as long as the kids were small and such ... without lobotomy of course ... Though, it's a fatal thing to do."
Bobby rose. "If he really got brought there to get to ... you know ... turned ... Oh, shit. I don't know either." He murmured some gruff curses. "There are still people out there who make omegas and betas do that? What the hell?"
Jim sighed.
Jody shook her head, eying the food in her hand warily and put it aside. "Okay, so. Means I'm going to look up cases from omegas who vanished from a private clinic, since a usual hospital wouldn't dare to do something like that anymore. I'm gonna look into cases where omegas had been reported as missed during the last three years and see if I can find something. I'll have Jo call Agent Morgan. He's a Fed. Maybe he'll be capable of finding out some more about private clinics and their shady businesses," she sighed. "I'll may get the FBI involved too. That's quite a bit too big for a small-town's police department like ours. Specially when he got abducted in another state, or when this clinic is somewhere outside of South Dakota." She muttered something to herself. Then she took her paper-bag with food and sat down beside Jim on the couch. "What about the vampires?"
"Gone. God knows where," Bobby answered thoughtfully. "I'll call Garth later on, let him spread the word about a nest of vamps."
She shook her head and her forehead creased in a way that meant that she wasn't quite okay with what was going on and that this case already pissed her off.
Dean bit the insides of his lips. He may not show it to the outside world, but he – SOMEHOW – felt sorry for the guy upstairs. He's been through a buttload of shit ... and he had given him some more for not remembering.
He had truly become a dick over the years.
Jim rubbed over his face. "He's pretty upset though." He didn't look directly at Dean, but grazed him with a ruefull look. "I can't tell for sure for why they kept him, or why they took him ... but I'm sure it wasn't just for shits and giggles." Jim stabbed his fork into the rice-mixture. "Other than that he's gonna heal up real nice I guess. Nothing fatal ... A bunch of bruises and lacerations. A superficial stab wound in his side. His feet are torn up a bit though. Gonna hurt to walk for a while."
Jody leaned back. She looked at least as tired as Dean and Bobby did. "I guess I can leave him with you guys? - At least until I know more?"
Bobby gave her a nod. "Of course. Not a problem."
Dean didn't even listen. He stared at the wooden floor, his gaze directed at nothing in particular as the wheels in his mind were turning furiously.
"I'll ask Missouri if she'd like to stop by. Maybe he needs someone to talk to," Jody said after a long while. Still she hadn't touched her food again. She just stared at it. The woman stole a glance at Dean. "Someone who's not male and who's a bit more sensitive."
One thing was for sure: As soon as the Feds were involved, the clinic which had attempted to turn the omega either into male or female without his consent (the Lobotomy was proof enough for it, which high likely hadn't been in consent either) would pay a high price for offering services like that. On top of that, whoever had taken the omega there and had signed his papers to do that ridiculously insane kind of surgery, would definitely end up in prision.
Oh, they did not know how wrong they were with their assumptions.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
A full bladder forced Sam out of bed and into the bathroom. First he felt dizzy and his vision was blurry, but after the first couple of steps the sensation subsided and ebbed away into nausea.
His bandaged feet stung like crazy with every step he took, the lacerations on his soles burning when the skin stretched tightly and when he put weight onto them.
Sam searched the insides of the bathroom for the light-switch, since the room had no windows to spare any light. He didn't look right or left when he went straight for the toilet. Just when he sat down, he took in the small bathroom, the shower stall. There was a stack of fresh clothes beside the sink on a narrow cupboard and a stack of towels and a washcloth.
Sam took in the creme-colored tiles and brownish ones on the floor.
It actually looked pretty nice. Nicer than the one Henry had.
He held his side as the muscles in his stomach relaxed to empty his full bladder and he sighed a breath of relief. When he was done, he went to the sink and examined the clothes curiously. They weren't new ones, but they were okay. No holes, no stains - Well, besides the boxers. They were definitely new ones.
His gaze flickered up into the mirror and caught on a pair of dull hazel-eyes, though vividly sparkling in the dim light. Sam stared at himself in the mirror, his attention drawn to the scar on his face. His hand moved up unconciously and traced the line of healed skin over his face, the corners of his mouth wandering downwards in the process.
Unable to bear to look at himself any longer, he cast his eyes aside which got caught on the shower stall.
Sam sniffed himself and the corners of his lips turned downwards some more. He stunk.
So shower it was.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Jody was gone by the time the others unpacked their boxes and started to eat the cold chinese food slowly.
Dean had found a more comfortable place beside Jim on the couch and was more or less turning the food over in the small bag.
"You really think that's what they wanted to do?" Dean asked warily and blinked up at Bobby in the recliner. "Castrate him? Make him ... normal?" Though, Dean doubted that someone could make someone CHANGE through a surgery. "Why would a bunch of vamps take someone like him and KEEP him?"
It just didn't fit.
"I don't know, kid. But we'll find out," the gruff hunter answered.
"There's something wrong about this ..." Dean could tell. Something was nagging at him. "It just stinks." Dean frowned and shook his head.
"I guess the only one who could tell's Sam himself." Jim pursed his lips. "If he'd remember."
"You think, that after a Lobotomy he'll be able to remember?" the ex-hunter asked.
Jim shrugged and shook his head. "Nah. Don't think so. Maybe bits and pieces but surely not everything."
They finished their take out meals. While Dean headed into the garage to open her up, Bobby stayed in the house, not wanting to leave the omega alone.
Jim decided to go out and burn the vampire's corpse since they hadn't done that yet. At least the Pastor had thought so. Though, when he found the loadbed of Bobby's Pick Up empty, he headed back inside, a bit confused.
He found his old friend in the kitchen, dumping the empty boxes in the trash.
"You ... you didn't burn the vamp, did you?" he asked curiously.
Bobby's eyebrows arched up at the question and he turned around. He took in the white-haired man's face, which looked a bit pleadingly as if he wanted to hear that he did. The grizzled hunter shook his head.
"Nope. When on god's earth should I've done that, Jim?" he asked, realization dawning on him and showing on his face.
The Pastor sighed and swallowed, growing a bit pale.
"What is it?" the gruff man asked, dropped the dish towel in the sink and took a step towards his old friend.
"Gone. The body's gone," he breathed, his face blank.
"Can't be." Bobby's forehead creased in terror. Had they managed to overlook something? He knew he'd been still there when he left. "You sure?"
"Except you put him somewhere else than the bed of the truck. Tell me you stored the body somewhere else ..." It was a hidden plea behind his words.
"I didn't." Bobby swallowed thickly.
Robert Singer gathered his jacket and a scarf, got dressed and headed outside, flanked by the Pastor. Both men carrying machetes as they went deep into the junk yard.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
They didn't find anything. Not even after a week.
The vampire nest had just vanished. As if swallowed by hell itself. No tracks. No traces. No nothing.
Henry Savanger's corpse was gone. Only hell knew how and who had taken it ... and for what purposes. Who'd steal a dead man's body? A vampire's dead body?
It just didn't make any sense. None of it.
Dean Winchester was at a loss of ideas – which didn't happen very often.
It had started a couple of days ago, when he came home after his work at the garage, showered and dressed in more comfortable clothes, that he sat on the couch by the big window of his living room, facing towards a huge flat-screen TV installed on the opposite side of the room on the wall.
After he had been zapping through the channels without hope of finding a half-way decent movie or series, he had turned it off and half-laid, half-sat on the couch, staring out of the window. It had been night and the only thing that caught his attention was the window on the first floor, where a figure sat behind it.
Of course he had known who it was. Sam, the omega.
The distance between the buildings wasn't close enough to make out details about faces though – but he had figured it was him. The outlines of that shaggy mop of hair had been proof enough to the ex hunter.
Dean had stared up there. He had got the feeling as if the omega was staring back down at him too. At least it felt like he'd been watched. Usually something like that would've challenged his hunter-senses and was supposed to make him feel uneasy. But it didn't. If something, it felt rather comfortable.
Soon it became a ritual.
Sitting there by the window and staring out into the night for hours. Watching the motionless figure by the window.
Tonight though, it was different. Somehow it felt different.
The whole day, ever since opening his eyes in the morning, Dean had longed for the very moment he'd come home from the garage and settle back down on the couch.
Instead of even thinking about turning on the TV tonight, Dean sat down on the couch and pulled a blanket over his feet and lap, massaging his aching thigh and calf through the thin whoolen fabric and sweatpants while he stared out of the window and up to the first floor of Bobby's house.
Since the omega was here, Bobby only went to the garage in the mornings and back home about noon. So, Dean had a whole lot of more work to do than before. Surprisingly it didn't bother him that much.
At least he didn't need to watch over Sam ... or whatever Bobby was doing if he wasn't at the garage with him.
They didn't even talk about Sam – except on their way there in the mornings. Bobby gave him short recounts about how the omega was doing.
Dean hadn't entered his older friend's house a single time since they had first brought Sam there. Though, something deep down inside of him started to feel as if he should go and check on the man himself.
Then again ... Jody'd stop by Saturday morning (what was tomorrow anyway) and would fill them in on the informations she was able to gather about the man. An opportunity, Dean felt kind of excited about, since he couldn't think about any other excuse to come over without it seeming suspicious.
So he sat there on the couch and stared up at the second window from the right, waiting for the lights to go on. Eventually they did, and Sam took his place by the window, facing it.
Dean sighed and leaned back a bit, thinking about nothing in particular as the tension of his aching muscles eased away slowly. He tilted his head to the side as he watched the omega get comfortable on the other side of the window and he imagined how Sam'd arrange a blanket over his lap, throw one leg over the other and snuggle into the recliner which Dean knew had been stored in the room eons ago.
Though. Tonight was different.
The omega didn't seem as motionless as usual. He shifted more often, changing his position in the seat. Dean's forehead furrowed at that curiously. Somehow the omega's agitation agitated him too and he found himself moving every now and then.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn't help but shift again, trying to get more comfortable in the dark-brown recliner he sat in. He pulled the brown fluffy blanket higher up his waist as he shuddered.
Usually he didn't feel cold at all. If anything he thought of himself like a freaking furnace. Though the urge to get in bed and stretch out tonight, he had decided otherwise.
The alpha was surely waiting for him already, since he was plenty late for their unconventional staring-session. He'd been busy with helping Bobby with the dishes and dinner, after Jim removed the stitches from his already healed wound in his side.
It wasn't a lot those betas let him do at all. They rather prefered to see him on the couch and in front of the TV as it seemed. Those men didn't pry, but there was always one of them there. The Pastor in the morning, and Bobby – a gruff but actually nice guy – in the afternoons.
He didn't see the alpha at all, except for their staring-sessions at night.
Sam asked himself if that was a thing. Why he needed to sit there in the recliner while he felt a bit crappy and as if he was going to become sick. It wasn't like this man meant anything to him. At least he didn't yet.
Other than being a dick and calling him a freak and not useful, nothing had happened.
Sam felt a bit stupid about it when he thought about the why's. It wasn't as if he owed the alpha anything. Then again ... This man was an ALPHA.
Another sigh fell from the omega's lips and wiggled again and leaned back a bit, training his gaze at the big window of the small cabin. He couldn't make out the man's features, but he surely knew that this was the alpha. Call it a sixth sense maybe.
Sam thought. The muscles in his jaw worked and his right hand brushed absently up and down over the soft fabric of the blanket of his thigh.
His fingers curled into a loose fist, as he lifted his hand, so that it had to be visible from the other window. Sam couldn't tell why he did it. Why he extended his fingers again and moved his hand in a waving sign. Maybe he needed proof that the alpha was watching him, as he was watching the alpha. Maybe he needed to know that this wasn't just his imagination.
So he waved. Slowly. Just a single wink and then his hand was back in his lap while his eyes stayed at the cabin's window.
It took some agonizing long seconds, but eventually there appeared a hand in the window which waved back at him. Only once, before it disappeared again.
Sam couldn't help the upwards-pull of the corners of his lips as he saw the small gesture from the distance.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
They sat at their windows long past midnight.
Both of them weren't rested at all. First off Dean, because – miraculously – kind of bothered his subconcsious mind that if Jody had found the omega's family, that Sam would leave the salvage. And with him the staring-sessions and the possibility for Dean to apologize to him for being such a dick. And the opportunity of getting to know the taller man a bit better than just at the worst of their sets of minds.
Second off, because Bobby had told Sam that Jody'd come by the next morning to tell them what she found out. So Sam was somehow relieved that the female beta had obviously found SOMETHING. But he also felt sad about what that something could possibly be. After all, the chances were high that his family had given him away because of what he actually was. A freak.
And maybe even because – just a little bit – he'd kind of miss his nightly sessions at the window.
Anyhow. That was how it actually was. He couldn't stay with these people for the rest of his life, no matter how nice they were.
Sam also thought, that he should be more curious about them and not believe everything they told him. But then again ... What did he have to lose? It wasn't like he remembered anything before Henry. Somehow he didn't really care either. And that felt weird. Because he had the feeling that he was supposed to care about what happened to him.
Or maybe it was because he thought it couldn't get any worse after the vampires. At least not at all. He had watched a whole lot of TV and had listened to the radio. Everything they were saying made sense and it matched with the things those people had told him.
Maybe his subconcsious mind knew already what was right and what was wrong and that was why he wasn't as afraid of those people as he should've been.
Well. Here he was anyway. Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom he curently called his own. Sam wetted his hands and ran them through his hair to smooth it back and behind his ears, taking in his face. The scar. The sharpness of his jaw and cheekbones and the way his bony fingers furled through his hair.
Sam's head snapped towards the door of the open bathroom as he heard the front-door open and close again and two voices, then three. None of them actually female, so he figured that it had to be the alpha who just came in.
He took a deep breath to steady his raw nerves. It was true. Sam was anxious, even when he couldn't tell why exactly. He sucked in another deep breath. He couldn't deny that it was something to do with strangers and that there'd be more than just two people uncomfortably close to him. Even when it was about a yard or even more.
Sam suddenly felt a rising panic deep down in his stomach.
He hated the feeling of being vulnerable and not able to control the upcoming situation he'd find himself in in only a couple of minutes.
Sam couldn't remember when he last was in the company of more than just one person at a time. Hell, he didn't know if he had been a lone wolf or a party-guy, or if he prefered the usual social contacts. Not that he had any clue what exactly normal social contacts were.
He hurried up to shave and put on his jeans, when he heard the front door again. This time it had to be the sheriff. The voice echoing up the stairs and down the corridor outside of the room he currently occupied was definitely female.
Sam felt his knees wobbling under his weight as he checked himself in the mirror again before he left the bathroom and his bedroom, trying to not think too much about what was to come. So he made his way down the corridor and over the stairs into the hall.
Jim had explained everything to him. Step by step. He had let Sam choose the place and he had promised the young man, that no one would come too close to him.
Sam hoped it was true. What they didn't talk about was, that all of them would be already in the living room.
Which felt like a giant problem to Sam all of a sudden. He froze in the doorway as his look caught Bobby, Jim and the alpha – Dean – by the grizzled hunter's desk and Jody with two other uniformed people on the couch. Neither did the recliner look as the perfect place for him to sit, not mattering that he had chosen the chair before.
His heart jackhammered in his chest and his breaths turned into short little puffs through his nose.
All eyes were on him.
Sam would love to turn around and RUN. Get back into the room and onto the bed. But he knew he couldn't.
This was important.
"Hey, Sam," Sheriff Mills greeted him nicely and smiled.
Sam gave her a nod. He couldn't help but look aside and then down, bangs of chestnut-brown hair falling into his face, hiding it from the others view.
Dean cleared his throat gingerly and sighed.
Sam flinched, chewing his lower lip, as his hands found themselves wrapped behind his back to hide their shaking.
The sharp tang of fear crawled up the alpha's nostrils and his nose scrunched up instantly. Dean pushed away from the table and took off slowly towards the omega who seemed to shrink into himself each passing second.
Bobby lunged for his shoulder and gripped him hard, attempting to hold him back. But Dean twisted out of his grasp and gave him a look.
Bobby gave him a look back, warning him without words to not do something he'd regret later on.
Dean sauntered over towards Sam and stopped in front of him, taking in the omega's intense scent.
"Where do you wanna sit?" Dean asked quietly, his voice low and soft – empathetic.
Sam inhaled a deep breath of old wood and oil and metal lingering at its edges. He bit his lower lip harder, feeling the man before him close. So close. He kept staring at his own shoes for a while. Then a hand appeared in his line of vision. A hand, which was – not very surprisingly – attached to an arm. A bicep. A strong looking chest ...
Sam's eyes wandered upwards to a pair of emerald-green bright eyes, pouty soft looking lips and freckles. A face covered in freckles, specially around the man's nose and all over his cheeks.
"C'mon," Dean whispered. "Wanna sit down?"
Their gazes locked over the short distance and Sam exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. He blinked at the shorter man.
Sam untangled his fingers and ever so slowly guided it into the offered one before him – never looking away from Dean's eyes while he did so.
The alpha smiled softly at him.
Sam didn't smile. He couldn't. All he was capable of were his instincts, since his mind was a turmoil of thoughts and ideas and PANIC. He just wanted to get this over with and go back to the room they provided for him ... or somewhere else. Whatever the sheriff'd tell him would be okay. He'd take it. No matter what. Main Point was he'd get out of there and away from all these people again.
Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam's hand and tugged him towards the recliner. Sam let himself be led there. His chest heaved heavily, breathing in the mixture of six different scents of betas and alphas in the same room. In the same room.
Dean pushed him gently into the recliner and let go of those thin fingers before he walked back to where he had been standing before, not wanting to mess up the Pastor's plan of who had to stand or sit. After all, Jim had explained that Sam was pretty uncomfotable in the company of people he didn't know at least a bit.
So yeah. Dean could imagine that. It wasn't like he was that much of a dick ... and after those nights of staring at each other over a rather wide distance ... He felt somehow connected to the omega.
Still. Sam was an omega after all. Though maybe deserved a table-spoon of pity and even a bit of gentleness.
"So," Jody spoke up, facing the younger man as she sat down on the coffee table about two yards away from the the recliner. "She held a folder in her lap. "I found some interesting things, Sam." Her expression was unreadable. "First off. I found you. I did find your parents too."
Sam looked up, meeting her gace as a wave of exitement, relief and worry washed over him. There was a but at the end of her sentence.
She sighed heavily. "You don't have any living siblings, Sam. Your parents died fifteen years ago in a house fire. So did Adam. Your younger brother." Jody paused, giving Sam time to digest.
The omega didn't know if he should feel sad or sorry. Actually he didn't know those people even if they had been his family. What hit him hard though was the fact that it seemed as if he was on his own. Completely on his own.
"For ... for the reasons you forgot about your past." She looked up briefly, her features growing grim. Everyone in the room straightened up slightly, straining their ears so not to miss out on something important. "You commited yourself into a psychiatric facility. Shutter's Home in Lawrence, Kansas. That was about one and a half years ago." She flipped the folder open and pulled out a file, which she scattered open. She turned the file, so that Sam could see it and handed it to him.
The omega took it with shaky hands and took in the document before him. It read: Samuel Tristan Harvelle, May 2., 1983. Below, there was an agreement between him and the facility. His signature.
Sam swallowed thickly. His breath shuddered.
"Why'd I do that?" the omega's voice was thin and shaky.
She motioned him to skip further.
He did.
Again, he found a document with his name, date of birth and an agreement. For a Lobotomy. Sam's forehead creased. The document was dated with November 17th, 2010 and his signature.
He huffed out a breath in disbelieve. "I really did this?" he asked, his voice on the brink of breaking. "I ... TOLD them to do this to me?"
Jody nodded.
Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breaths.
"This is a copy of the original file about your case," she spoke softly. "I got the file checked from a specialist. It's not faked. For the reasons ..." She cleared her throat and looked into the round meaningfully. "For the reasons you let them do that. It's written in there, very specifically. I don't think we need to talk about this with so many people around." The sheriff gave him a warm smile.
There was a long silence. All looks on the omega in the recliner, who held the file like he was holding onto a lifeline. His lifeline.
"Okay," he breathed.
Jody nodded. "Okay," she repeated, her smile strained. "So for the other things ... There's ... There ARE possibilities for you, since you can't stay here."
Sam couldn't stop a lump forming in his throat, nor could he stop the tears. Or anything else right now.
He had thought there'd be at least a single member of his family who'd take him in for a couple of weeks or something. But now? Now he had nothing. NOTHING. There was nothing he'd be able to hold onto. It felt like the ground underneath his feet was crumbling.
Sam's face was pale. The dark circles under his eyes standing out even more now.
"Look - It's not the end, son," Bobby spoke up. "The state's gonna provide an apartment for you. They're gonna make sure that you're safe. That you'll get what you need."
Sam didn't look up. Unable to meet anyone's eyes. So he just nodded, tears falling onto the file in his hands.
Something inside Dean's gut twisted painfully at the sight before him. The scent and feelings which radiated from the omega. The despair and fear of the uncertain future he had. Without family. Without memories.
Damn, since when did he feel that crappy because of someone else's loss? He wasn't supposed to pity others. This was his job. He'd seen this all so many times – at least similiar stuff. It wasn't any different. But it was.
"You'll get a counselor. Someone who'll help you find your way, Sam." Jody tried to sooth him. Though she knew that this was just partly true. Counselors were a rare thing and hardly paid enough for their working schedule. These people would stop by once or twice a week, check if the omega had enough food ... Maybe talk a bit before they'd take off towards their next client.
It wasn't all cupcakes and rosebushes.
Dean swallowed, the muscles in his jaw and neck working furiously.
Jody looked at Bobby. "I'll phone them this afternoon. Maybe they'll have a place for him by Friday next week."
Bobby nodded. "Of course. We're not in a hurry." The older man didn't seem very fond of the idea to practically throw the omega out too. Shoving him into an apartment, where twenty or even more others were living. Sam'd have to deal with whole new impressions. Impressions he couldn't quite understand, nor handle at the moment. And he knew that.
But he couldn't keep the man at the salvage either. Jim had to go back home at some point and he couldn't stay at the house like he had done so far. Dean'd chop his head off soon, besides they were already behind with the cars and things. He needed every hand at the garage.
"Missoury was already here?" Jody asked.
Bobby shook his head. "nope. 'S helpin' out someone who knows someone. Besides, it's quite a journey from Kansas to here. She'll come over next week. Tuesday or Wednesday she said."
The sheriff nodded. "Good. I'll see what I can do about a counselor for you," now she talked to Sam, who hardly paid her any attention.
The omega just stared at the shut file in his hands. "Can I go now?" he asked, his voice beaten and shaky. He didn't look up though.
"Sure thing, Sam." Jody leaned back a bit as if to give the man more space.
Without looking up or saying goodbye, he left and all that was heard of him where heavy footfalls on thick wood as he made his way up the stairs.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
That night, Sam didn't sit at the window.
That night, Dean waited for him without avail and fell asleep on the couch until the late morning-sun woke him the next day.
Days passed and the ex-hunter was about to give up his pathetic attempts to get in contact with the omega like the nights before. Since his pride and other internal wars won atop of his mind telling him to go over to Bobby's and check on the younger man.
Until Tuesday.
Dean kept telling himself that it was no use. That there wasn't a single thing he could do about the fact that Sam would be leaving soon and that he thought it was better that way. After all the man was an omega and Dean was supposed to at least dislike him.
But he actually did. It kind of amazed him, how sane Sam T. Harvelle had stayed despite whatever those vamps had did to him.
Something was telling him, that it wasn't a wise decision to let the man move out just yet. After all, there was still the vanished vampire-nest and the missing corpse of Henry Savanger. Something about this jigsaw just didn't seem to fit. Something kept nagging at the ex-hunter's mind about it.
When Dean lurked out of the window – still in thoughts and a sleepless night - on a rather sunny tuesday morning, he saw the outlines of a figure in Sam's window.
Sam.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam sighed, looking from his place in the recliner by the window over to the bed, on which the file's pages were scattered all over. He'd read it. All of it. He'd tried to remember. WHY he'd do something like that to himself.
Well, he'd gotten his answers. He had been insane. He had hallucinations with massive headaches and migraines before and in the afterglow. So it was written in the doctor's report on the day of his admission. Since they hadn't found any physical cause, they had suggested a couple of drugs he could try out for starters and if that wouldn't work there'd be the possibility of a surgery.
Sam had signed that.
Maybe he had known back then that he wouldn't believe it afterwards ... So, at least, there was his signature.
Thinking about signatures. He wasn't stupid. He'd scribbled half a dozen sheets of papers full with his name. Those matched the ones in the files perfectly.
In his defense, it hadn't been a lobotomy. Sure they had performed a surgical procedure, but not quite the same as a lobotomy was nonetheless.
Sam started to think that he really had those hallucinations. He could imagine, that he'd became so desperate to stop them, that he truly agreed to do this.
Well – that at least – took a lot to digest.
He'd been feeling sick the past couple of days, though just in the mornings. Today hadn't been any different, but he needed to see if the alpha'd be there – again. So he went after another food-less dinner into his room and sat down in the recliner, pulled the blanket up over his legs and lap and leaned back, sinking into the soft leather.
Sam rubbed his side absently as his gaze got caught on the window of the small cabin. He knew that Dean wouldn't be there in the mornings and during the days. But he surely'd come back tonight. He hoped he would.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Dean's lips tugged upwards at the sight. He rose his hand and made a maving motion. The figure up there waved back at him. The smile on the ex-hunter's lips widened a bit at that. Though, he didn't have a lot of time to waste. He was late after all.
Sam stayed in the recliner for the whole day. Dozing in and out and only getting up to drink or visit the bathroom. Alone the thought that he had to leave the safe room and move into an apartment made his stomach churn in protest.
Those complexes – he knew it, since he googled it – were filled with people. Too many people. And YES, he had googled it. Obviously he had quite a talent for computers and laptops. Though, his file told him that he hadn't held a regular job so far.
That surprised him. After all he was 27 years old, turning 28 in a couple of months. Obviously he had started to study law, but dropped out of Stanford after six months.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Bobby and Dean took the car to the garage, despite the fact that it wasn't more than five-hundred yards across the scrap yard, but the harsh cold wind and coldness made it close to unbearable to walk there. Besides, Dean's leg was giving him trouble even when he'd taken a double dose of Vicodin already.
The bigger part of the morning went down without a whole lot of talk, dominated by a strained silence. It was about noon, when they called in a break and settled down inside Bobby's small office to sip a beer and have their lunch.
Though, neither of them seemed hungry.
"You know," Dean spoke up. "Isn't it weird that the nest just vanished? ... not to mention Savanger's corpse?" He glanced up at his friend. "I mean ... maybe it's not a good idea to let the omega go just yet."
Bobby huffed out a breath. "Dean."
Then there was a pause.
"I'm not comfortable with it either. But Sam's ... he's traumatized. He needs someone to look after him and I sure as hell am not capable to cover that. He needs someone who understands him and who he can talk with." Not even Bobby seemed to believe his own words.
"Once a week? By a counselor who's got another thirty of them to check on all over the town? - Maybe not even here in Sioux Falls?" Dean said. "You sure that's a good idea?"
"Dean ... I didn't say that I wouldn't want to. But ... it's a great responsibility, kid. If I'd mess this up, I'd mess Sam up. Jim's leaving tomorrow too ..." He paused, taking in Dean's appearance closely. His younger friend definitely seemed troubled. "And you won't – CAN'T – help me with this. He'll be among other people and maybe that's good for him. He'll NEED to get out and get food for himself and such. He needs to relearn those things."
The older man's words sounded reasonable. "Yeah, sure. You're right." ... He was so fucking not right.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
The upcoming weekend, Dean came over to Bobby for breakfast. For lunch. And for dinner. On Saturday. And on Sunday.
Feeling the omega close to him. Being able to smell him ...
He'd never admit it to anyone or himself. But it smelled like heaven. Dean even tried to talk to Sam, but the omega seemed to hardly register him at all – at least he didn't look at the ex-hunter even when he answered simple questions.
Bobby stole curious glances at his younger friend every now and then, what Dean thought was like waiting for him to slip up or something. But he didn't. Simply because he rarely thought of the man as "the oemga" anymore. He thought about him as Sam. As a person. Which he hadn't done in a while when it came to omegas. Hell, he hadn't even tried to remember their names before.
But this here? With this one? It was different. It FELT different. Somehow he was starting to think that something was off about it though. Sam didn't talk a lot and kept his responses short and to the point.
He couldn't blame him for that either.
So here he found himself, sitting on the couch, watching Sam in the recliner closely, while he watched TV. While he tried to pry his gaze away from him every now and then, he thought about possibilities to keep the man on the salvage.
He thought of how chances were if he'd let him live in his cabin, when it wasn't quite possible for Bobby to take him in. He also started to plan on how to split the bedroom into two bedrooms, so that they had all their own one. So Dean wouldn't get too close to Sam – so not to pry or something. After all he was an alpha.
God knew what Sam would think of him, when he'd offer to stay.
Yes, Dean Winchester knew how ridiculous his thoughts were, right?
Anyway.
Th ex-hunter sighed contently, as he continued watching the omega. Well, until a hand brushed over his shoulder and he looked up to meet a bearded hunter standing there. Right beside him. Heavy hand on Dean's shoulder.
His look said as much as c'mon, boy, we need to talk.
Dean gave his older friend a curious look and a short nod. Neither of them noticed Sam shift in the comforter and glance over his shoulder, watching Dean leave with the older man.
Inside the kitchen, Dean stopped and turned around to face his friend.
"Yeah? What is it?" he asked as casual as ever. Though he knew exactly what the old man was high likely bothering.
"Dean." Bobby rubbed over his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What are you trying to do?"
He pulled his head back and made a face, as if Bobby was about to talk him up about bullshit. About a forbidden girl he met secretly. About the weed under his mattress (which he totally wouldn't touch .. like EVER.). Like the porn under a teenage-boy's mattress.
"What?" he snapped.
"I'm talkin' about Sam, Dean. What is this supposed to be?" Surely Bobby didn't understand. Couldn't possibly understand. Because THIS? Despite of how ridiculous this was? How bad he didn't want to feel the draw towards this man?
He totally did.
And it was changing him - Somehow. It was changing his thinking. As if the things he thought before weren't as bad anymore. As if – the more contact he had with the omega – he was getting intoxicated.
A slow, but sure death – like poison.
"I'm just being nice," the ex-hunter retorted. "You said yourself that I shouldn't be such a dick. Now I'm acting nice and I'm gettin' pissed at again, Bobby. Could you please make up your mind?" His voice sounded much too whiney.
Bobby shook his head, gaping at him. His mouth opened and closed again. "I told you about a hundred times before to play nice with omegas. You never listened. Why'd you do it now? 'S there somethin' I don't know, boy?" He kept his voice deliberately calm and soft, making sure the omega wouldn't hear a single word of it.
Dean rolled his eyes and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, huffing out a frustrated breath, covering the hurt he felt perfectly.
Bobby was right. He had never paid attention to the older man's attempts of getting some sense into his brain. So why would he listen now?
He'd never been affected by an omega like that. Not that he'd know. Which made it pretty clear that there was something different about SAM. Sometimes – like when they were sitting by their windows – it felt like an invisible bond between the both of them.
Yes. A bond. No matter how cheesy or insane it may sound. After all, Dean couldn't change what he felt, right?
"Dean?"
The ex-hunter cleared his throat gingerly. "Everything's fine, man. Look." He sighed. "I'm just being nice, okay? Nothing more, nothing less." Big honest emerald-green eyes stared right into blue elderly ones.
He stared for a pretty long time, before Bobby seemed to give in and cast his look aside. "Fine," he huffed. Something like disbelief stressing the syllable.
Satisfied, Dean smiled at the older man. "Good. Can I go back to watch the movie?"
"Series." Bobby muttered.
"What?"
"He ain't watchin' a movie, boy."
Dean rose an eyebrow. Well, he hadn't exactly paid attention to the TV. He gave the older man a quizzical look.
"Didn't think you'd be the type of guy watching Knight Rider on a sunday afternoon. That's all." A smug grin plastered the seasoned hunter's face, well hidden behind his beard.
"KIT's a classic, Bobby." He winked at him before he sauntered back to his rightous place on the couch.
Dean slumped down on it and threw his legs on the coffee table as he glanced past the recliner and Sam towards the TV.
The omega was watching McGiver anyway. Smug old bastard got him good.
Sam caught the hunter's gaze for a milli-second before he looked back at the TV with a heavy sigh.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Monday morning came the call ...
A counselor and an apartment had been found for Sam. In Columbus, Nebraska. A three hour's drive. In a different town. A different State.
Amelia Richards would pick the omega up on thursday at noon and help him to get settled in the apartment. She'd check in on him each day for the first week and a half. Then only once each week. Just because Jody had her connections and had convinced the authorities that this was the best solution.
That they couldn't put him into an apartment and think it'd be okay. Because it wouldn't. So the best they could organize was, that Amelia'd be there each day. At least in the beginning.
Without Dean knowing, Bobby had told Jody to let him know if it worked or not. And if it didn't work that he'd want Sam to come back to the salvage.
Without Bobby knowing, Dean had told Jody the exact same thing – just at six o'clock in the morning instead of shy before ten like Bobby did.
They kept the garage closed that day.
Dean didn't feel like working at all despite that he loved his job.
Bobby didn't feel like working either, since he had been watching Sam pack his spare belongings into a pack back. Sam had looked beyond miserable and as if he hadn't slept the past two nights.
He hadn't. He'd been sitting in his recliner by the window and had stared outside.
Somehow he felt like he needed to leave. To save those people. It wouldn't do any good if he'd stay there. After all he KNEW why those vampires – HENRY – had taken him. May the "hallucinations" were gone, but the rest? Damn. He so wished it all'd stay gone and wouldn't come back. If only it'd be true. What he saw in those "visions" (how he called them) or "hallucinations" (how the doctors called them) – he completely understood why he'd let them do the surgery. Why he wanted this. If those visions were anything similar to his dreams ... He couldn't imagine. He didn't want to imagine what it had been like before.
Now he was here. Standing on the porch of Bobby's house, a back pack in his right hand, since his left side still stung at the wrong movement or when he'd put strain on his still sore muscles.
There wasn't more than a toothbrush, toothpaste, a pair of jeans, sweatpants, two shirts and a ten-pack of new boxers in them anyway.
Sam whipped his head around, looking at Bobby, who somehow looked kind of miserable too. The omega gave him a little smile.
"Thanks for everything," he said softly. "I ... When I can ... I mean ... When I've a job ... then I'll .. I'll pay you."
The older man's beard twitched. "You're welcome boy. Don't you worry. Might as well look after your own, kid." He patted his shoulder.
Sam let him, though couldn't stop the shudder which coursed through his body at the – for him – sudden contact.
He turned towards Dean. Meeting his gaze for the first time when they were that close. Actually only a yard apart. His smile brightened a bit at the strong scent of the alpha so close to him. His hazel-green eyes sparkled in the warm winter sun, showing off all of their shades between green and brown.
Dean didn't say anything. He just looked up at the taller man, not able to say a single word. Not needing to say anything. The corners of his lips turned up slightly and gave a twitch.
The ex-hunter locked his gaze with Sam's. They didn't need to say a single thing. They didn't need to say anything at all.
For the glimpse of a moment the both of them knew exactly what the other one was thinking. Or rather feeling. Though, the moment ended abruptly, when the distant noise of an approaching car was heard.
A black Sedan. The back windows tinted darkly.
Sam looked towards the arriving vehicle over his shoulder and then back at Dean. Somewhat like a hopeful expression in his eyes.
He wanted to stay. But it was not HIS place to decide wherever he was allowed to or not. Hell, he'd sleep on the floor if it'd be nessasary. He just didn't want to move into a town where hundreds, maybe thousands, of people lived. With no one he actually knew.
Without the alpha ...
Dean blinked, his face suddenly blank.
When the black Sedan stopped mere yards away from the porch, and a small black-haired woman emerged, smoothing silken curls back behind her hears, Sam's guts tightened.
Dean's did too.
"Sam?" she called out as he walked up the porch. Of course she wore a friendly smile and nice big brown eyes shone at him. "Amelia." The woman extended her hand towards him in a friendly gesture.
Sam's eyebrows knitted together and he instantly drew back a step, eyeing her warily.
Her face fell, but she managed to keep her expression light. "We've a three hours drive , so ... I'd say we should get on our way." She nodded towards Bobby and Dean, giving them an apologetic look, saying "Ain't your problem anymore, guys. I got this now".
"Thought you'd like to have a coffee?" Bobby offered. "After such a long-."
"No." She rose a hand to stop him. "It's fine. Really." Her smile turned stressed. "I've a strict shedule, I'm sorry." She really seemed to be, as she looked longingly past Sam and towards the front door. "But ... I can't."
Sam gave Dean another look. A wide open one, laying all his emotions into it, hoping that he'd catch up on them.
The alpha could smell the distress and fear. He could SEE it – written all over the omega's face and specially in the man's wet eyes. He could say that he'd take Sam in. Right now. He really could. He'd find a way to make it work in the cabin. Somehow it'd always work.
And once it worked, he had the rare gift to burn it all down to ashes again. Like always. Who'd say he wouldn't mess Sam up even more if he tried? Because he sure as hell would. He always did.
After all ... If it wasn't the right thing for the omega in Columbus, Jody'd call. She'd let him know. And then he would go and pick Sam up and take him back to the Salvage and try his luck.
They just hadn't had enough time. Hell, they hadn't even had a real conversation yet and he was already planning. PLANNING, for hell's sake.
Dean shook his head unconcsiously to shake off the very thought.
So instead of telling Sam to stay, he said: "Good luck, kiddo." And that was all.
Sam's face fell and to the scent of distress and fear mixed sadness and disappointment. Something he could smell so clearly ... so purely ... it had to be forbidden. No alpha was capable of scenting someone's odor like that – not so precise at least. So why the hell could he? On top of everyhthing else it was an omega's one too.
Fate had sense of humor, apparently.
Sam gave him an understanding nod, despite that he didn't know what he was supposed to understand, and walked away towards the Sedan. He hadn't another option. If neither Bobby nor Dean wanted him to stay – if they didn't like him enough – he had to leave. He had to try and find his own way somewhere else.
Dean told himself that he had still time. That he could still stop this woman from taking the omega away.
But he didn't.
He simply didn't.
... to be continued
THANK YOU to GOTHPANDAOTAKU for betaing!