Once again I want to thank all of you for reviewing! It really means a lot and keeps me going :)
Like always, I also want to thank my lovely beta GOTHPANDAOTAKU, who'll be helping me with figuring some things out around chapter 20, since I'm pretty much stuck there since about a week.

The Road So Far ...

... The omega wasn't dead. He knew that. He'd feel it, wouldn't he? There wouldn't be that pull in his chest, literally dragging him over to the bed and making him fall to his knees beside it.

The figure beneath the comforter was completely covered by it. There wasn't a single inch standing out from under it.

"Sam. - 's that you?" Of course he knew that it could just be him. Who else'd be in the omega's bed. Besides, he didn't smell anything else besides OMEGA.

Dean's fingers curled around the top of the comforter and he ever so slowly drew it down from where he figured that his head had to be.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath at the sight before him. Pale skin. Dark circles around closed eyes. The smell of someone not having showered in days. Soft stubbles along a sharp jaw and the labored rise and fall of a chest ...

Fields Of Jasmine

Chapter 6 ~ Peace

Dean blew out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His fingertips ghosted over the younger man's cheek and curve of his jaw, towards his neck.

The omega didn't rouse. As if he was in a deep slumber.

Dean Winchester's fingers found Sam's pulse, resting there above the steady but slow thumps. The ghost of a smile hushed over the ex-hunter's face at that.

"Sam," he said, guiding his fingers away from the man's throat and up to his cheek, cupping it. "You with us?" He turned the man's face so to have a better look at it, rubbing his thumb over the man's jaw and chin.

It felt so good to be able to touch him. To feel the man's skin against his own.

His skin was cool and felt clammy under his touch. Besides ... he looked even thinner now that he had a better look at Sam. Dean's other hand found its way on the man's shoulder.

"There's nothing to indicate he had something to eat recently," Bobby's gruff voice was heard, giving the both counselors a judging gaze. Unseen by them, since he was looking over their shoulders from behind and into the room.

Dean noticed his older friend's words, but didn't react on them instantly. Instead he stored them away for later yelling; he wanted to know this stuff, but it woudn't help Sam any at the moment.

Dean pinched the omega in his bicep, trying to wake him. There was a low moan. Fluttering eyelids, which stayed closed. The twitch of muscles under Dean's touch.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

He had been drifting in and out of awareness.

Sam had caught gazes at his room every now and then. More then than now. He couldn't remember when he had last opened his eyes – but he thought it had been still dark outside. NOW there was light shining thorugh his closed lids as his mind started to rouse.

That meant it was daytime. Something else had changed too. The scents he smelled ... It wasn't just him anymore. There was something else familiar now too. Something his dazed mind couldn't quite put a finger on. A presense – so close. So close he had the feeling he could touch it.

Sam swallowed, his mouth and throat feeling thick and dry.

The smell of old wood and oil ... and musk crawled up his nose and set a domino effect of feelings and thoughts off.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean looked back over his shoulder, looking past Brady and Amelia and straight at his hunter-friend. "Could you bring us some water?" He deliberately didn't say me or him. He had said us. US because it felt more than right to do so – though later on he'd wonder about himself because of it.

"We should call an ambulance." Amelia was already fumbling for her phone, while she put her weight on one of her crutches while she balanced the other one, reaching for her phone.

"Keep it, lady." Dean said coldly, addressing her with a dangerous look. Too Little too late – was what he thought. "He won't need a hospital. - Only someone who's lookin' out for him." He still stared at her sternly. "And that ain't you anymore." His lips formed into a tight line. "He's comin' back with us."

"What?" the woman's voice high-pitched. "You can't just take him with you - There's-"

"There's nothin'." Bobby came up from behind with a glass of water in his hand and maneuvered through between the both of them so to hand Dean the glass. "You can let your orderlies know that he's in Sioux Falls. I'll call Sheriff Mills as soon as we're on the road again."

"You can't take him with you," Brady spoke up, looking bolder now, his gaze flickering from the omega on the bed to Bobby and to Dean. "He's under our care for reasons."

Dean snarled. Actually snarled. Because he didn't give a fuck about what those people thought Sam was. After all it was obvious that those people may gave him a roof over his head, but they surely underestimated his condition.

It wasn't like there had been any one of them around for at least a week or two - Giving the state Sam was in, he might haven't been checked on for even longer. Otherwise he wouldn't have been eating take-out food instead of going out and have a look at what was available at the stores.

"He's under mine." Dean fixed the man with a stern gaze. "Now get the hell out of here before I call the authorities and force you to be removed."

Dean turned back towards the omega as he took the glass from Bobby's hand, stroking absently with his thumb over Sam's cheek all the while he had been talking.

Brady huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes.

"We just want to help, Dean," Amelia tried.

"Well, I think you've been helping enough, haven't you?" He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that his words had hurt. They had to have hurt. It was meant to hurt. Because he was right. And he knew it.

He also knew, that the whole system was guilty too, but he couldn't help the urge to blame those two guys for it.

"Maybe she's right and we should call an amublance. Have him checked-" Bobby didn't get any further.

"No. I don't think he'd be comfortable.", Dean said. "Besides ..." Of course he was considering their suggestion. Just not right now. First he needed to know if it truly was necessary to get the omega into a facility, where dignity wasn't quite a basic right.

Dean snuck his hand under Sam's neck and tilted his head up, which lay limply in his grasp. He then set the glass at the man's lips and wetted them a bit.

"Besides. I think that he's a bit dehydrated ... I can handle that," he continued as he watched Sam taking small sips of the cool liquid. "He's just too exhausted to open his eyes yet."

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

A warm hand was cupping the back of his neck and there was cool liquid seeping into his mouth and flooding it slowly. Instinctively – gratefully – Sam swallowed, wetting his mouth and throat and wanting to protest when the flood ebbed away and eventually stopped.

Sam wanted to open his eyes and see. He NEEDED to open them to see with his own eyes. To know that it was really him. The alpha. Dean Winchester. Or if his senses were playing tricks on him, mocking him – or dragging him further away from reality.

Wasn't it ridiculous that he hoped that some stranger was there with him? A knight in shining armor rescuing the damsel in distress? Yes. Yes it definitely was. And it was embarassing.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean smiled as he saw the omega's attempt to follow the glass as he pulled it away from dry lips.

"He'll come around," the ex-hunter said softly. "We'll stay with him until he's ready for traveling," he exclaimed, laying more of his alpha into his voice as he had attempted to.

"Dean. - Please." Amelia took a step towards him.

He didn't look back, despite the urge to glare her to death. "What? The things you can do here? Well, I think he'll be better off with us. Bobby's got the Salvage. Enough space for him to walk around without meeting someone else. A house which he can leave without stumbling over some stranger. There's always enough food. We cook dinner regularly." His voice was a bit calmer now. "There's no better place for him than there. I've a friend who I can call if there are troubles. She's a (he nearly said psychic) ... psychologist."

Amelia sighed.

Brady continued to glare.

Amelia gave Bobby a questioning look while she watched him closely.

Bobby had thought the very things himself right after entering the apartment.

"You'll just put him in one of your facilities," Bobby continued, keeping his features unreadable. "I don't think that's the right thing for the kid."

"You can't believe that just because you're an alpha that-" Brady got stopped, a hand in front of his face. Amelia's hand. Right there. Only an inch before his nose.

"They're right," she murmured, defeat in her voice. "A facility won't be the right place to put him. - Though." She looked at Bobby. "I'll have to inform my overlies. They will adamant that someone stops by – without letting you know before – and check on Sam. They'll demand to talk to him in privacy without either one of you."

Bobby held her gaze, ignoring the unspoken threat in her voice. "Won't be a problem at all."

"Okay." She turned to face her coworker and then looked around the room once more. "I'll get things in motion then. Let my boss know that Sam's going to stay here for another couple of days and that he'll be taken to Sioux Falls. I'll need a phone number and address for the both of you." She addressed Bobby, acepting that the Winchester was busy otherwise at the moment.

Bobby nodded.

"Brady's gonna help you to clean the mess up. I'll go and get someone to bring groceries," Amelia said, already facing towards the door. She gripped the man's sleeve and tugged at it, showing him that it was time to get going.

Only hesitantly, Brady followed.

Bobby breathed out a sigh of relief. "Want me to get something else?"

There was a beat of silence, while Dean let the omega have another couple of sips from the water.

"Yeah - Maybe you could go and grab us some grub? Crackers, soup ... maybe hot chocolate and a milk-shake?"

Bobby nodded. "Sure. No problem. What'd you want?"

"Burgers would be fine, Bobby." His voice turned soft. So very different from how he had talked to the counselors.

With that, the older man turned around on his heels and left, taking Amelia with him on his way out of the apartment. Once there, he handed her a calling card for himself and scribbled Dean's number onto the backside, letting her know that the both of them had the same address.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When Bobby came back with bags full of food, since he hadn't been sure what would be the right kind of soup and which milk-shake the omega would prefer, he had bought one of each kind. And that was a lot.

Bobby figured they'd save them up and if no one would eat them, they'd throw them into the garbage before they'd leave.

Dean had managed to get two whole glasses of water into the omega in the meanwhile and Brady had disposed of the boxes and cleaned up the counter. He only had to bring the plastic-bags down and then he'd be done.

Bobby set the bags with food onto the now clean counter in the kitchenette and stacked the plastic bowls with ten kinds of soup up beside the fridge. He then put the one with tomatos and noodles into the microwave so that he could heat them up as soon as Dean'd tell him to.

When the old man entered the bedroom, Dean was sitting at the bed's edge, watching the omega intently. The omega had his eyes open, watching Dean closely. His hand rested on top of the covers, his fingertips close to where the ex-hunter's knee was – nearly touching.

For someone who didn't know it probably would've looked weird. But Bobby – who had seen how Dean had suffered – literally suffered – it was cristal clear. That was why he had been relieved to see Dean manning up and deciding to check on Sam himself before Bobby had to intervene and kick the kid's ass down to Columbus.

Hell, he'd driven up here by himself and would've picked Sam up if Dean wouldn't have made a move soon. Bobby had seen too much to hold his feet still when he saw someone acting as off as Dean had the past four weeks.

He had slept in. Hadn't bothered to check his phone just once. The ex-hunter wouldn't come over and have dinner with him – not once (and usually Dean was the one who'd besieged his kitchen and would bother him about cooking). Dean was the one who wouldn't care about the cars that came in for repair. Wouldn't badmouth cars that were an European or Japanese brand. He seemed to not care anymore.

So yeah, he'd seen the signs, even when Dean wasn't aware of it. Well, at first he hadn't noticed anything – as Sam had stayed with them. Not at first anyway. Just when he noticed, that the both of them were staring at each other through the night from their windows it set his bells going.

Not to mention the fact, that – even when he hadn't talked about Sam – he had been thinking about the man.

"I'm back, boys." Bobby lurked inside the bedroom, catching Dean's gaze when he looked his way.

Dean looked back down at Sam, who had pulled his hand back from where it had been resting, and up to his chest, where his fingers closed around a corner of the comforter.

"You hungry?" he asked, his gaze locked with the omega's.

Sam gave him a jerky nod without looking away.

Bobby cleared his throat gingerly. "You like tomato-soup?" He gazed at the youngest among them.

The omega tore his look away from the ex-hunter and towards Robert Singer, giving him a nod too.

"Dean?" Bobby asked.

The hunter turned his gaze towards him, a quzzical look on his face as if he had been deep in thought and gotten ripped away from them abruptly.

"You want your burger now? Gotcha onion-rings and fries," he asked.

While Sam trained his gaze back at Dean, Dean looked rather clueless towards Bobby.

After a moment of silent staring, Bobby blew out a long breath. "I'll take that as a yes." And with that he sauntered back into the kitchen, where he poured the soup into a mug and one of the styrofoam-bag's ingredients onto a plate. Bobby tested the soup's temperature by taking a small sip.

He decided it wasn't too cool nor too hot. Just right.

When he came back into the bedroom, Sam was already sitting, leaning against the wall on the bed. Dean took the mug from Bobby and tested the temperature too – by taking a small sip.

Bobby gave him a judging look.

Dean ignored it and inched back on the bed until he was sitting right beside Sam. He handed the man the mug, watching him as he brought it to his lips for the first time. He watched him, as the omega's eyes slid shut and as he made a comfortable sound in the back of his throat as he had the first taste.

Bobby stood beside the bed watching it.

"You want your grub in here?" he finally asked after the silence continued and only Sam's occasional slurping was heard.

Dean shook his head. "Nah - Gonna eat outside. Just waiting until Sam's done."

Yeah, he wasn't the omega anymore, that was what Bobby noticed too. It was SAM. Not bitch. Not bastard. Not that thing. It was Sam.

"You sure? I could bring it inside." He was far away from insisting that Dean'd eat with the omega, but he could nudge him into the right direction, couldn't he?

Dean nodded, but said "No." he wanted to wait until Sam was asleep again.

Which didn't take very long after the mug was empty and the omega laying down again. When the ex-hunter was sure that Sam slept fitfully, he walked back out into the living room, where Bobby sat at the small table, plates with food already warmed up and prepared, only waiting for Dean to be done.

The ex-hunter sat down and eyed the burger for a moment, before he looked up at Bobby. He looked miserable. A bit pale and nauseous.

"Bobby ..." Dean started, leaning back in the chair. He sounded serious. His gaze was serious. Hell, his whole posture signaled that it was something serious he needed to say.

"Yeah?" Since Dean was sitting at the table with his lunch before him, he didn't see a reason to not dig into the meaty part of his food and start to eat.

"Bobby - I think I'm sick ... or something." He even sounded miserable as hell.

The grizzled mechanic, and part-time-hunter looked up from his plate, cocked an eyebrow at Dean and hurried up to get the chunk of burger down his throat. So he gulped down half of the beer-bottle afterwards.

"How come?" he asked, looking as curiously as a small puppy-dog. "You're not feelin' good?"

Dean shrugged as he stared back at his burger. "Something's wrong with me. Something's ..." He sighed. "I don't know. It's weird ... I ... Something's goin' on here, Bobby. Ever since ..." He sighed again, rubbing over his face. "Since we've taken Sam with us. When we killed Savanger. It's ... something's different." His features screwed up in a mixture of disgust and curiousity. "I ... I was on this hunt six weeks ago ... do you remember?" Now he looked up, fixing Bobby with his gaze.

Bobby nodded. "Yeah?"

"It had been about those witches. I – I freaking hate witches - ... I think it could be a curse – or something." He cleared his throat and made a sound as if he was going to vomit any moment.

"You think a witch cursed you? Six weeks ago?" Bobby had to ask again. He couldn't not ask. Though the spark of amusement was omnipresent in his blue-grey eyes.

"Yeah .. .I mean ... I figure. A spell would've worn off by now. So it's gotta be a curse, right?" A hopefull expression on his face, as Dean looked up again, giving Bobby a glance which practically begged him to tell him that it had to be a curse. Because a curse they'd be able to fix.

Bobby nodded absently, his lips twitching. "Oookay," he drew the word out as it rolled from his tongue and he leaned back, beer still in one hand.

"I've changed. Haven't I? I mean ... Maybe the omega somehow triggered it. And the witch knew that I'm not best friends with omegas, so ... It's the only thing that makes sense, right?" Dean chewed on his bottom-lip nervously.

"It usually ends in death if a witch curses someone. So ... you're still walkin' and talkin' - Besides ... such a curse – no matter what kind – the victims mostly end up dead within three weeks. Either by killing themselves or getting killed." Bobby leaned forward again. "You'd be long overdue."

Now Dean Winchester gave his friend a look. "You know that there are exceptions."

"Why not think about more plausible reasons why you feel the way you feel?" Bobby's lips twitched again. "Maybe it's got nothing to do with witches and curses?"

He waited. Patiently. For Dean. To finally get it.

But the alpha obviously didn't. He just looked at Bobby as if he had grown two heads.

With a sigh, Dean straightened up in his chair and glanced at the bedroom door which stood slightly agape, before he turned back around, wolfed his burger and beer down, followed by a huge piece of pie. Another beer. And a coke.

They then took a swipe through the apartment, leaving out the bedroom. They weren't even very silent, but Sam didn't wake through it all.

A coworker of Amelia stopped by with groceries.

While Bobby stored them away, Dean warmed up another cup of soup in a mug. The ex-hunter went into the bedroom with the mug and sat down at the bed. He tested the warmth of the soup, before he laid his hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"Sammy," Dean whispered gently. "You need to wake up."

To his surprise, he didn't have to ask twice.

Sam's eyelids fluttered open lazily and he yawned, pink lips stretching tightly over white teeth. He felt a bit better. Not a lot, but a little bit. Maybe it was because of the comforting scent, maybe because of the warmth he felt waking to the presence of Dean Winchester.

His lips curled up into a tiny smile.

Dean smiled back. A bit more than Sam was smiling at him. He couldn't deny the warmth he felt as he saw those incredibly amazing looking green-brown-blue eyes flutter open. The feeling it roused deep inside him, when he saw those rose lips curl up – even when it was just a bit.

"There you go." Dean showed the red mug to the omega. "Got something for ya' kiddo."

Sam's scrunched his nose up as his gaze fell on the mug and looked back up at Dean. The omega propped up on his elbows and inched back a bit until he was in a sitting position. The ex-hunter thrust the mug into his hands.

Sam tilted his head down, so that his brown hair fell into his face, shielding it from Dean. Hiding his scar from Dean. There was no need to show off his ugly face to this alpha. He may not remember a lot, but the things he had learned during the past year ... It was branded into his mind.

It wasn't just ... THAT. He had learned – Savanger had tought him – how he had to behave. Well, he had at least tried. And he had fought it. Each time, he had fought it all – and had gotten beat up for it. He may even had given in a couple of times. Until he did as he was told. But deep down inside he had been planning his escape.

And he had succeeded, hadn't he?

He was out of the club. He was away from Henry and his folks.

And now he was here. Maybe worse off than he had been before, but surely without being molested and forced to do this psychic thing the vamp had wanted him to do. So, as long as he'd keep to himself and not tell these men anything, he'd be safe.

He knew he'd be safe. And that was weird. Because he knew he shouldn't feel safe. Because he didn't know these men. But he did. And that was that.

"C'mon. Drink it up." Dean tore him out of his thoughts.

Sam gave him a jerky nod and did as he was told.

It was time for him to get a new life. May even forget about his old one. Well, the second old one anyway. At least he had managed to delete his first one efficiently. If it was for the file ... and the things he had read ... he was better off not remembering anyway.

He had been crazy. Shit-hell crazy. Well, he hadn't been, because those things might have been true. He seemingly had visions about things that may happen in the future. But they were gone and wouldn't come back until those things were triggered.

So he was safe.

Practically.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

There was a brown Ford van parked on the opposite side of the road. A blonde girl sat behind the wheel, green-brown eyes piercing through the night, watching the windows of the seventeenth floor intently. A mock grin made her lips curl upwards as she spotted movement behind a curtain at the far right side. Her eyes narrowed, as the curtains were tugged aside and Dean Winchester's head appeared there, lurking outside.

"Gotcha," she murmured, her slender fingers curling around the steering wheel tightly. "Ain't no gettin' away from me, Sammy." Her eyes flashed black for a matter of seconds.

Samuel T. Harvelle was here. And those idiot-hunters hopefully would take him back to Sioux Falls. It'd be pretty difficult to get him out of there, or rather IT, without gaining too much attention. So, the only thing she had to do was wait for the right moment. When it was ready.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have the omega roaming freely instead of the back of some club or bar, locked down. Maybe it was even better than just good.

The only thing was, that she had to stay on track until then. She wasn't allowed to leave him out of her sight until the time had come.

Of course, only if it worked the way it was planned ... If not, there'd be plenty of others out there to be used as a vessel.

The only bad thing was, that those people he was with were hunters. So it might not take long for them to notice that something was off with the omega.

But she wasn't at that point. Not yet.

... to be continued


COMING SOON ...

"Sam." Dean held him by his shoulders – tightly – trying catch the man's gaze. But he was staring through him, focusing on something far far away. "Sammy. What is it?"

His father had originally taught him that he would have to slap a panicking person across the face. Which he had actually done before. But he didn't think it was the right way to snap the omega out of it. Not when he thought of what he hand endured.

The ex-hunter pulled his hands away and cupped Sam's face in them, rubbing his thumbs over the younger man's cheekbones.

"It's fine, Sammy," Dean whispered softly, stepping closer. "Whatever you think you're seeing it ain't real. You're at the Salvage. With me. And Bobby. You know Bobby, right?"