I am sorry, but I've written this story until chapter 36 so far.

And I am not sure if I can procceed with it. I do have a plot, but somehow I can't - for the hell of it - get it written ...

Fields Of Jasmine

Chapter 34 ~ I've no clue how the title goes 'cause I can't remember.

Dean shoved the second Styrofoam box across the table over to where he hoped Sam would sit down when he was done with his shower. He took a huge bite from his own burger, humming at the taste of melted cheese and salty bacon.

When he heard the water being turned off, Dean's ears perked up and he straightened up slightly. He heard the rustle of towels, and Sam brushing his teeth. The rustle of clothes followed, and a couple of sneezes and coughs, before the door handle got pushed down and the lock on the door snapped open.

The alpha did everything possible not to look in Sam's direction. Avoiding the younger man's gaze was the best he could do at the moment, he figured. He was just glad that Sam had gotten into the car and decided to come with him after he had screwed up again.

He knew his temper. He also knew that he said mean stuff when he got angry. He knew that. And he still couldn't for the love of it manage to shut the fuck up before something idiotic came out of his lips.

Any-who. It was a win that the omega was even there with him.

The alpha listened to Sam's bare feet shuffling over the carpet towards the single queen furthest from the door. Dean's belongings lay sprawled out on the one closest to the door.

Dean had decided to get separate beds because of their earlier fight. He'd thought about getting separate rooms, but that might have been too much. After all, he had to assume that demons were after them… and maybe even one of those THINGS.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Azazel gritted his teeth and growled at the huge black creature before him. His yellow eyes flickered up at the vessel that Gluttony was currently wearing. White hot rage burned within the demon's pupils.

"What HAPPENED?!" he yelled angrily. "Where is my daughter?"

The sin didn't flinch, nor did it seem at all impressed by Azazel's fury. It merely blinked at the demon as if it were bored.

"The place was already burned to the ground when I got there." Gluttony sounded rather annoyed. "The owner didn't know anything, only that the omega had been there to get stuff. He didn't see him leave, hadn't talked to him again after he'd gotten there."

"Where's he now?"

"He's dead, of course." Like it was the most stupid question in the world.

"You sure he told you the truth? He didn't see what happened?" Azazel bit his lower lip, his teeth glowing yellow in the faint light.

"I made sure he'd tell me everything he knew," Gluttony answered calmly. After another moment, he straightened up. "And I would dearly appreciate it if you would not treat me like one of your underlings, sir. Because I am not one. Neither of us are. Orthos's children in the very least. I truly appreciate your efforts to break the seals and free our king, but you should not forget that you are also an underling yourself."

Azazel glared at the sin. "Don't forget who brought you here – who freed you from the pit," he spat back at the plump tall man. "You owe me." It had been Azazel who had come up with the ritual, Azazel who had figured out how to get their leader back topside.

"I owe Lucifer, not you, Azazel." Gluttony took a step towards the yellow-eyed demon. "Don't forget your place here. As soon as the seals are broken – as soon as you get your rebel back under control – we will all bow before the same fallen one." He made it clear that Azazel was the boss for now, but not for any longer than absolutely necessary.

Azazel knew that, too. He was older than many of his kind. He had seen so much… and yet, not enough.

"The question is, to whom should you be bowing?" There was a self-conscious smile on Azazel's lips and in his eyes.

Gluttony tilted his head to the side. His forehead creased, and in his gaze lingered a hint of confusion and realization at the same time.

"The only reason you are still alive is that you bound us." Gluttony's eyes gleamed with anger and rage as he pressed the words out between gritted teeth. "None of my kind would ever bow before the likes of you." Beside his feet, Orthos's child licked its chops and blinked its white eyes at the demon.

"I want you and Famine to keep going. I will send my men out to get the rebel back home." Azazel walked towards the open fire of the fireplace and pursed his lips as he stared into the flames. "We don't need it anymore, anyway. It's of no use like that." His eyes traveled back to Gluttony, coming to a rest at the beast next to him.

The sin stared at the demon, even more curious now. "The ritual can't be finished without it."

"Yes, it can, and it will. The only thing we need to get it done is Orpheus's blood." A mischievous grin spread across the yellow-eyed demon's face. "And the blood of the others, as well as–" Azazel sighed and moved his hand behind his back "–YOURS." He drew the last word out in a long hiss as he yanked a knife from the sheath at his back and sunk it into Gluttony's chest.

The sin gleamed up, dark red, as its dark soul evaporated and vanished.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam dug through his duffel, unsure of what he was even looking for until his fingers touched the bottle of pain pills. A sigh of relief fell from his lips; they'd ease his discomfort a bit.

There'd be no going on a hunt like this. No wonder he'd taken suppressants before. A part of him wished he still had them right now, that he'd never stopped taking them. He should've never let those doctors erase his memory.

Or he should – at least – have left himself a note about that.

Anyway, he was here now. With Dean.

Dean, who was watching him.

Yeah, Sam knew. He could feel the hunter's gaze travel up and down his long frame, though not in his usual sensual way – more of a curious one.

Sam uncapped the bottle and shook two pills out. He popped them into his mouth and swallowed them dry, then put the bottle back into his duffel. Without wasting a further thought on what he should or should not have done, he turned around and sat at the table opposite his mate.

The alpha kept watching Sam. Sam kept his gaze down and studied the box. Dean reached out and shoved it further towards Sam, then pulled his hand back.

Sam reached for the box. As if on instinct, Dean's hand covered Sam's atop the box.

Their eyes met briefly, and Sam offered his alpha a small smile.

Dean smiled back, his hand lingering on top of the omega's. Then the alpha pulled it back and picked up his burger again. Sam's fingers curled around the lid slowly and he opened it, revealing a chicken sandwich with fries and two small bags of ketchup.

"I haven't changed my mind," Sam murmured, sighing heavily.

"Not now, Sammy," Dean said softly. He was exhausted and his head was pounding like a stampede was thundering through it. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "We'll talk about that when both of us are better."

Sam nodded in understanding. His alpha was right. It'd be wiser to talk once both of them felt better again. Bringing Orpheus and the rest up now would probably end in the exact same dilemma as before.

"Eat. You must be starvin'," Dean waved towards the box. "I'll call Bobby, let him know that we'll be at the Salvage earlier than expected."

"I'm not going back." Sam spoke in the same calm voice as before.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the younger man. "What?"

"I can't… They wouldn't understand," Sam answered straightaway. "And I can't be there when they kill it. I can't let that happen. I can't kill someone if I don't know if he's truly guilty."

Dean pursed his lips. "No one is going to kill anyone without proof. That much I can promise you."

Sam looked up at him in surprise. "Why? Why now? You told me he was a monster before, that he was evil, that there was no way he could be possibly good."

"Well, that was before. I've been thinking about what you've said." The alpha sighed again and rubbed his face with both hands. Apparently they were talking about this now after all. "You're good to go back to Bobby's. Trust me. He'll understand. Ellen'll understand." 'Cause they aren't as close-minded as I am. "When you say you think the... Orpheus's... isn't a monster... well, you know what I mean... they'll listen." Just not me...

The omega didn't believe him. He couldn't, judging by how Dean had reacted when he told him what he thought...

"Sam," Dean sighed, "I know what you're thinkin' and it ain't true."

Sam squeezed the ketchup out of the bags and drew one of the fries through the small pool of red before sticking the cold, salty potato stick in his mouth. "Let's just... eat and, and go to sleep, okay?" He picked up another fry.

With a sigh, Dean reached for his burger and took a bite. His mate was still picking at his fries by the time he was done.

Dean took a Vicodin to dull the ache in his leg and the one in his head.

Sam didn't finish his meal, giving up after another three fries and a bite from his burger. He had no appetite. The pain meds were dulling the effects of his fast-approaching heat and the lingering pain in his back, that was all.

That, and the fact that he'd have to justify his opinion on the creature he had borne.

While Dean took a shower, Sam dumped his duffel beside the bed and crawled under the covers, tugging them tightly around his shoulders as he let his eyes close. Pulled under by the pills and exhaustion, he didn't stay awake long enough to sense Dean emerging from the bathroom with a shocked and knowing expression on his face.

The bathroom had been filled with the scent of shampoo and sweet jasmine – sweeter than Dean had ever sensed it. Sweeter than he could remember Sam ever smelling. But it wasn't just jasmine he was smelling.

It was more.

Layered underneath it, something else was hidden, making his omega's scent thicker and heavier. It didn't bother him. It was just that... he couldn't tell what was different about it.

Well, at least until it hit him with a sledge-hammer.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Sometime in the middle of the night, Sam awoke. The room was silent and dark, and the omega was cold, so cold, despite the warmth in his inner core.

He knew it couldn't be that cold in the room, since it had been pretty warm already. But hell, the room felt like it was minus degrees. That wasn't possible. But he remembered feeling this way in his past.

Heat. How he had started to hate that word.

An extraordinary violent shiver coursed through his tall frame as he pulled the covers further over his shoulders and neck. He pondered for a long minute whether he should try to sneak out of the room and get one of the blankets from the Impala's back seat.

Then again... Nope. It'd feel even colder out there.

Sam bit back a groan when a particular bad cramp tore at his insides, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Scoot over." He heard a sleep-rough voice, and felt a gentle touch against his covered shoulder. Then there was a soft pat on his hip.

After an internal debate as to whether it was a wise decision to let the alpha into his bed after their fight, Sam did as he was told. He decided that he couldn't care less at the moment, so he gave Dean an extra couple of inches.

The omega felt the mattress dip down and a broad form came up alongside his back. "There you go," he heard Dean grumble sleepily. A strong arm curled around Sam's middle, the calloused hand feeling along his ribcage and waist to settle right over his belly button.

Dean's touch was warm and pleasant as the heat of his hand soaked into the omega's skin. "Try to relax," he mumbled as he started to draw gentle circles on Sam's stomach with his whole palm. "It'll help."

Muscles tense, Sam curled up into himself a bit and whimpered pitifully.

The alpha shushed him and kept on rubbing the omega's belly. It didn't take long before Sam started to relax into the ministrations and fell back to sleep with Dean stroking and caressing his tender skin.

At first, Dean hadn't known how to react. Should he call Sam on it or simply ignore the fact that his mate was going to find himself in heat by the morning? As much had to be said: Dean hadn't allowed himself to fall asleep properly. He'd kept an ear out for Sam's breathing and such, ready to come help if he needed something.

When the whimpering and choked-off groans had started, Dean had initially thought he'd wait until Sam called for him or tried to ease the pain. But when he realized that he might end up waiting until morning, that Sam might not tell him at all, the alpha decided to make the first move.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

The next morning came early for Dean, with the persistent ring of his phone blaring "Highway to Hell" at him. Sam woke up, too, but only under protest did he let the alpha out of his grasp to turn around and reach his phone.

"Dad?" Dean asked, squinting his left eye open. There weren't any clocks in the room, but judging by the soft rays of sun peeking through the dark-colored curtains, it had to be just shy of sunrise.

Dean's eyes flew open. "What?" He sat up straight in bed, his free hand coming to a rest on Sam's hip under the covers to keep him down in case he intended to get up, too. "You're fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled.

Of course, John Winchester was never kidding. He was damn serious about the seals that had to be broken to free Lucifer. He was also serious about the way this ritual had to go down. And he was even more serious about telling Dean to get his and Sam's asses back to the salvage yard as soon as possibly possible, because Orthos's children were supposed to kill their bearers to break the bond that kept the creatures' human side alive.

Dean hadn't told Bobby about Sam's assumptions about the parasite they'd cut out of him. He hadn't told his father, either, because they were too alike when it came to monsters.

"Sammy." Dean squeezed his mate's hip gently to gain his attention, even though the alpha'd had it the very moment John Winchester's name had fallen from his lips. "We need to get outta here."

"What? What happened?"

"Nothin' so far… and it's supposed to stay that way," Dean murmured.

"Nah, not you dad." The younger Winchester listened to his father for another couple of seconds. "We're as good as on the road. Be at the Salvage by noon." He snapped the phone shut.

"What's it?" Sam slurred and turned onto his back.

Dean caught Sam's gaze as he looked back at his mate. The young man was a bit pale, his cheeks tinted deep pink. His pupils were blown wide, his eyes dazed from the fever.

"They got news on the book. Figured out some stuff." Dean cleared his throat, deciding that it wasn't time to tell his omega all the details just yet. "Ain't safe here. Dad's worried that they'll come for you."

Sam watching him for a long moment, trying to digest what the alpha had told him.

"They already did." Of course the filter between his head and mouth wasn't working properly. He'd just woken up.

Dean sighed. "Yeah. And they'll try again."

"I know you don't want to hear it, but... Orpheus won't let that happen." Sam let his head fall back onto the pillows and closed his eyes briefly. "And you won't either," he added, realizing what he had just said. He didn't want to push Dean over the edge again.

Dean rubbed his face, registering that Sam had obviously tried to make up for what he'd said before it could upset Dean again.

"Damn right I won't." He patted his omega's thigh and rolled out of bed. "Let's get packed."

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

They got packed in record time. Dean checked them out while Sam brought their belongings to the car. When the alpha came out of the office, he was already in the passenger's seat, curled up into himself with his overly warm forehead resting against the cool window.

"You good over there?" Dean spared a curious glance at Sam. The omega hummed and groaned and made another sound he couldn't quite place.

"We're gonna stop somewhere to grab breakfast. You need food and water."... loads of water. Fifty miles ahead they found a small diner where Dean got them club sandwiches, coffee to go and two bottles of ice tea.

Dean kept a watchful eye on his omega the whole drive. He'd never seen an omega in heat, nor had he ever spared a single thought about it. He'd only read about heats and what they might be like, and had decided back then that it served those bastards right. They didn't deserve anything better.

But now that it was Sam beside him suffering PMS (that's at least how he thought of it so far), Dean couldn't figure out for the hell of it why he'd considered it serving anyone right. It looked pretty uncomfortable and slightly painful. The way Sam shifted in the seat and sought the chill of the window didn't look cool at all.

Sam remained still, though; not a single sound came from him, which didn't make it any easier on Dean. He had no clue how to concentrate on the road and comfort Sam at the same time. Moreover, he didn't even know how to comfort Sam at the moment. He settled for trying to avoid potholes at least. That, and sudden stops or brutal curves.

When they pulled up in front of Bobby's house, Dean sent a brief "thank god" prayer up to the heavens. He called the grizzled man to let him know they had arrived, but that Sam wasn't feeling well, so they were heading to the cabin straightaway so Sam could lay down and rest.

Of course it was John Winchester who appeared at their doorway half an hour later to check on his son. Well, and the omega. But mostly he was seeing if Dean was okay. He sniffed the omega-heavy scent and looked around curiously.

"Coffee?" Dean asked, peeking into the bedroom. He'd left the door wide open so he could check on Sam any time he wasn't with him, even though the omega had told him he was good and didn't need anything.

John gave Dean a nod and stole a glance into the bedroom, too, before following his son into the kitchen. "Heat, huh?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow but didn't turn around. Instead, he busied himself with the coffeemaker. Of course his father knew, had scented it.

"He doing okay?"

"Ain't talkin' that much at the moment."...At least he let me help him into his sweats, he thought to himself.

"Thunder over paradise, boy?" It sounded mocking coming from John's mouth. Gleeful.

"None of your business," Dean grumbled and switched the machine on.

John's smirk vanished and he cleared his throat. "You know, son..."

"Save it, dad," Dean snapped as he got two mugs from the cupboard. "Ain't like you would've ever cared. Why start now?"

There was a beat of silence. "Cause I'm your father. And I–"

"You what, startin' to care all of a sudden? Cut the crap. You're way too late for that shit."

John cast his look down for a moment. "I know. I... Look, I never pretended to be father of the year, but this life–"

"What life?" Dean shot back. "You leaving me at Bobby's while going on dangerous hunts? Missing my birthday – well, wait, except my sixteenth. Or maybe that time I fell in love at fifteen, and you told me to suck it up 'cause we had to leave for another gig of yours? Me leavin' my date standing at the movies?"

He glared over his shoulder, staring daggers in his father's direction. "You weren't father of the year. You weren't a father at all. And I looked up to you dad, the entire time. I did what you told me, no matter what, no matter how stupid it was. But you know what? Maybe I've got the chance for a normal life."

"None of us leads a normal life."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, son. I do. And I can't erase what I've done wrong. But I can try to make it up to you, can't I?"

"How? By disrespecting my omega? That ain't how it goes, 'cause I won't dump him, and I won't tolerate dumb questions about him. And I recommend you not be a dick when he's around. You don't get to know if there's thunder in paradise, either, 'cause if there was, it sure ain't you I'd talk to about it." It wasn't all that bad between them, not always, but Dean needed to let out some steam and John was the first one to come along.

He would never talk to Bobby like that. Bobby was Bobby, and even though he wasn't his father, that old man had been there for him all along. Back in the day and right the fuck now, too. The grizzled hunter knew when to back off and when to pry.

John, obviously, did not. While Bobby had gotten the hint when Dean told him Sam wasn't fine, John obviously had not.

"Well... you've made your point clear." John accepted the mug Dean handed him. "Maybe he should take suppressants if–"

"DAD. Shut it. Ain't none of your business."

"You done with ranting at me 'cause there's no one else around?"

"Yeah." Dean felt a bit embarrassed. Before the hunting accident, John never would have let Dean talk to him like that.

"Good." John took a sip from his coffee. "So... what happened in Lawrence?"

"Got jumped by demons. They've been after Sam." He'd be damned if he'd tell John everything right now. Dean was still tired, and he kind of felt for his omega's pain. Besides, he wasn't in the mood for a discussion with his father which might morph easily into a fight, as it seemed to do nowadays.

Dean sighed and sat down at the table across from his father. "So... we're fightin' what exactly?"

"They broke the pattern. Six cities are down, laid in dust within the past week."

"You think they're takin' a break for Sunday?"

John chuckled and huffed out an amused breath. "I think something happened. According to the book, they should have been done with the seals within thirteen days. Something must've gone south."

Dean bit down on his lower lip. "Might be 'cause one of the things is dead."...or because one of them isn't playing along. Which would prove that Sam's idea of this one parasite breaking the rules could be true. That maybe it wasn't wishful thinking. That Sam was right.

The older Winchester cocked an eyebrow at his son. "You do it?"

"Nah. Another of those... of Orthos's children... did," Dean admitted.

Curiosity bloomed on his father's face. "You're freakin' kidding me..."

"Sam said it saved his life, and mine. I didn't believe him at first, but..." Dean sucked in his lower lip.

John waited, but his son didn't continue. "But what?" he finally asked.

"But... maybe he's right," Dean said. "Maybe one of them isn't playing along."

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Dean..."

"I think we have to consider the possibility. If it's like that... it buys us time. Maybe, with us breaking the pattern, it's solved itself."

"Son. I know what you're thinkin', but we both know there's no such thing like good evil."

"There ain't just black and white, and you know it, dad."

"I know that there are monsters, and no monsters. That's what I know."

"Well, maybe you don't know everything. We have to think about the chance that Sam's right. That due to his connection with the parasite, the thing's turning against its kind."

"Don't be ridiculous." Of course John would never think about considering that point of view.

"Would it be so bad for something good to happen out there for once?" Dean asked. "To us?"

"You've been out of the game for too long, son."

"Maybe, but you know what it showed me?" He waited for John to look up from his mug at him. "It brought me peace. It brought me – occasionally – some kind of normal life."

"Domestic life, you mean," John chuckled and shook his head. Dean knew exactly what his father was trying to tell him with that. That he'd gotten soft. Blind to what was going on out there.

"I don't care what you wanna call it – I call it living. I'm as happy as I can possibly be right now, and in a way I hadn't thought I could be before. So yeah, if you wanna call it domestic, call it domestic. I'm happy with it. And you should be, too, 'cause you're my father. Fathers are supposed to be happy that their kids are happy, no matter which life they're living."

He stood up. "Sorry, dad, but I gotta check on Sam. Get him to drink something, and stuff." He brushed past his father, leaving him behind at the table thinking hard.

... to be continued