A/N: First Physical Contact Ahead. If you can't stand cuddles, you better brace yourself. There'll be some. ;)
Thank you for all the lovely Reviews :)
Fields Of Jasmine
Chapter 8 ~ New Stuff
Dean chewed his lower lip. Overthinking this whole thing standing in the room like a giant elephant. His hunter-senses made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, telling him that there was something real bad going on here.
"Who's behind this?" Dean asked pensively, rather talking to himself than Bobby or Jim. "You think vamps did this? Vampires don't do such a thing. It doesn't fit. Why did Savanger's body vanished? Where did the nest go?"
Jim sighed.
Bobby shrugged. "No clue."
Dean kept taking in the photos of the victims. Something didn't fit. They might look the same from a hunter's view, but they somehow didn't. These weren't bodies mauled by a werewolf or any other creature. At least not in the common way. Sure, something had chewed on them. Had eaten their heart and liver ... or at least ripped it out. The first two bodies looked more mauled than the others. As if something hadn't worked out right or ... whatever.
The omegas though ...
"It just doesn't fit," he hissed through gritted teeth. He sighed and rubbed over his face. He was too fucking tired for this shit.
"You're tellin' me boy," Bobby sighed. "Better we hit the hay. Think about it tomorrow."
Dean pursed his lips. Bobby was right. He couldn't think straight. Not with his hip and knee and certainly not when he was so tired.
It had to wait until tomorrow.
He had an omega in his cabin, who may or may not need him at the moment. But he couldn't know if he was needed right now or not. He couldn't. So he needed to get his ass back into his house and check on Sam.
Specially with this new knowledge he couldn't leave him alone there. If there was something after him, he'd have to have a close eye on Sam (despite the fact, that the whole yard was protected by several spells and sigils).
"You better head home, boy." Bobby took a sip of his cold coffee. "Get some sleep."
Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah ..." He blinked up. "There's something else ... I ... I'd need my wage a few days earlier if that's okay?" He met his old friend's gaze in shame. Usually he dealt with that kind of problem just fine. Cutting back on food and such. But that wasn't possible with an omega to take care of. "I need some stuff for Sam. - A proper jacket and .. well ... boots that fit and-"
Yeah, Dean Winchester felt kind of ashamed because he'd spent most of his money in the bar at town. To get drunk. To get more Vicodin from a dealer, since the doc wouldn't allow him to have more than two bottles a month.
Bobby rose his hand to stop him. "Boy - Did I ever said no to you?" His tired eyes were trained on Dean's. "Of course you can. I've something stashed away too - You'll need it anyway."
The ex-hunter was rather surprised at the suggestion to use Bobby's saved up stash of money from the counter top. He knew the old man was saving up for a brand new engine for the Ford Mustang in the shed at the west-side of his house. So far the grizzled mechanic had managed to restore the old vehicle partly. But some parts were still missing – among them the engine.
"Bobby – It was-" Once again he got stopped by Bobby rising his hand. "If it wouldn't have been you, I've driven to Columbus to check on him. With the very same intent as you had. Trust me. I've called Caleb. He'll help out at the garage for some time." He winked at Dean with a slight smile. "When you think that Sam's ready to get along on his own for a couple of hours, you can come back, Dean."
The old man had always been more understanding than his dad. Of course, John hadn't been a bad man. He had done what he could for Dean to keep him safe. Sadly, keeping Dean safe hadn't been the same like other parents would've done. John had trained his son like a drill sergeant ...
"You mean it?" Dean looked up, his pupils blown wide by the Vicodin.
"Did I ever not mean something I told you?" He smiled warmly. "Now get your ass back home. - Get some sleep. You'll need it."
Dean smiled back at him. What else could he do? Saying Thank you wouldn't cut it anyway.
They said their goodbyes then and Dean collected the files and photos from the table. "I'll work through it tomorrow. There'll sure be some time in between ... stuff."
Bobby smirked. He didn't seem as confident as Dean about that but let it slip anyway.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
The next morning came early.
After Sam visited the bathroom about ten times during the night. Okay, ten times was an overstatement; it was three times at most. Of course, Sam had tried to be silent and not disturb Dean's sleep, but it was no use. Dean was a hunter after all – even when he wasn't anymore. And he wasn't used to having someone else around him ... sneaking through the house at night ...
So he woke each damn time.
Each fucking damn time he thought he'd fall back asleep, Sam sneaking into his bathroom taking a freaking piss.
Not to mention that Dean looked miserable the next morning.
Not to mention that Sam looked miserable too. Though he was the first one up, sitting on the couch, his blanket over his lap and feet and a book in hands. His head snapped up, when Dean emerged from his bedroom short after seven in the morning, completely sleepdrunken. He gazed at the omega and caught his gaze briefly.
"You awake already?" he grumbled as he walked past him and towards the kitchen.
His first stop was the coffee maker. There was no Winchester without coffee in the morning. No Winchester at all. So he needed coffee.
Did he already mention that he had to have a coffee first?
"Coffee," he breathed hoarsely as he put water into the machine.
When it was finally done and the pot filled with black gold, he filled two mugs with it. To one he added three spoons of sugar and a lot of milk. He sauntered back into the living room and sat down beside Sam, holding the golden brown liquid in the black mug towards him.
"Thanks," Sam mumbled, taking it gratefully.
They then drunk their coffee in silence.
Then there was even more silence. Each one staring at nothing.
"You even sleep, Sammy?" he murmured.
The omega looked up at him. Again taking care that most of his scar was hidden behind long hair, since Dean sat at his very side. "A bit."
Dean was able to scent his lie.
Sam knew that Dean knew. Just like that.
"Liar." Dean mumbled as he got up, taking the mug away from Sam in a swift motion. "What'd you want for breakfast?"
"I'm okay." Sam jumped up too, as if the couch was burning hot all of a sudden.
Dean gave him a sideways glance. "Okay. Breakfast it is. - I've pancakes or eggs'n bacon? Omelet?" He thought for a moment. Though being tired made it pretty hard to do so. "And definitely more coffee," he added softly.
Sam hurried up to get before Dean and blocked his way before he could even enter the kitchen. "I'll do it, okay?" He stared at the flabberghasted ex-hunter with big eyes. "I'll make you breakfast. I can do that. I ... I can." Sam swallowed thickly.
The alpha eyed him curiously.
Sam appeared tense. His scent was rather confusing at that point.
Dean rose both hands, showing the omega his palms. "Look." He exhaled. "I understand if you feel like you have to make it up to me. But you don't. Okay?" His eyebrows were closer to his hair-line than ever before. His emerald-green orbs huge as he tried to sympathize his words with his look.
Sam swallowed again and cast his look down. Now it was him who looked confused and maybe a bit upset too. And sad. And ... disappointed.
Dean blew out a long breath. "Look. I just mean ... That ... if you want we can do it together, okay?"
What else was he supposed to say anyway?
Sam's eyes snapped up and caught the ex-hunter's. "Yeah?" He looked surprised and somehow relieved.
"Yeah ..." Dean sighed again, rubbing over his eyes and then his whole face. When his hand disappeared from his face, there was a small smile. "Yeah. Of course."
Sam beamed back at him. For a moment all insecurity forgotten.
Once in front of the oven, he asked Sam if he'd pour them some more coffee into the mugs while he gathered two pans, a spatula, eggs, flour, milk and bacon.
He mixed eggs, milk, flour, butter baking soda and sugar into a medium sized bowl and stirred in it with a beater until it looked smooth. Sam watched him all the while. Dean then put the pans on the oven and heated them up. He then put some oil into it and showed Sam the first one, so that he could do the others.
Meanwhile, Dean cut the bacon into fine strips and whisked the remaining eggs with salt, a shot of milk in another bowl. He put the thin strips of bacon into the pan and fried them until they were little golden brown sprinkles and poured the eggs over them.
They worked silently beside each other.
Sam stole glances at Dean, when he thought the ex-hunter didn't notice.
But Dean did.
They put the pans into the sink and the plates with the hot food on the table. Dean gave the omega the maple-syrup and butter and he took two forks with him to the dark wooden table. When they were seated, Dean handed Sam the fork.
"Dig in." Dean beamed at him and forked up the scrambled eggs with bacon-sprinkles and hummed at the first bite.
Sam eyed the ex-hunter a bit curiously with the fork in his hands. He was a bit taken aback that they didn't have their own plates.
"Savin' the dishes, Sammy." He grinned cockily. "C'mon. You need some more fat on your hips. Can't have you look like that. People are gonna think I let you starve." He shoved another fork with eggs into his mouth.
Sam extended his hand and ripped off a piece of one of the pancakes off. Once in his mouth, he chewed the sweet homemade food slowly.
Dean scraped flakes of butter off the remaining cube and put them on the pancakes. The butter immediately started to melt and soak into the small flat cakes. He added maple syrup and sprinkled it carelessly over the pancakes.
"Tastes even better," Dean murmured with a sly grin. "C'mon."
Sam looked from the pancakes to Dean and back again. Then he stole a glance at the eggs.
He watched Dean some more, before he copied what the alpha did. Sam shoved eggs onto his fork. They were perfectly soft crumbs, melting on his tongue, gliding down his throat smoothly.
Sam groaned, his eyes fluttered shut.
"I think I've never had this before." Sam frowned. High likely he just couldn't remember.
"Don't think too hard." He smirked at the omega, sensing what was going on in that brain of his right now.
Which actually seemed weird to Dean. How could he (probably) SENSE what Sam was thinking? Anyway, he pushed it aside for the peace of his own mind.
Sam blinked up, his lips puckered, thought for a moment and seemed to decide that the alpha was right. By thinking that Dean was right, he started to feel a bit less irritated. The omega huffed out a breath and started to mix up the eggs with the pancakes and whipping them through the butter and maple syrup.
There weren't any leftovers when they were done.
They cleaned up the two pans and the dishes. They got another cup of coffee and Dean switched the coffee maker on again for another pot. Sam watched him cautiously.
Dean turned around and leaned against the counter beside Sam, his fingertips thrumming in the rhythm of Back in Black. Until he stopped.
Sam kept on leaning beside him, obviously waiting for the alpha to say something – or do something.
"We need to talk, Sam," Dean finally spoke up. "You're not the only one, you know? We think there were others like you, so ... I thought maybe you could answer some questions." He stole a tentative glance at the omega.
Sam's cheeks turned red. "Yea?" he croaked out.
"Questions about ... about the people who had you." Dean could hear the unspoken question. "If ... If you are one of them and you got away ... then you're the only person who'll be able to help us get to the bottom of this."
Sam nodded, ducking his head. "You're hunters, right?" he asked, biting his lower lip right after. The question had come out of his mouth before he could stop himself from even thinking it.
Dean cocked an eyebrow. Rather surprised.
"Yeah. I know there's such a thing," Sam continued after he didn't get an answer. "I know there are monsters too - I was kidnapped by them. Of course I know they are real." Now he looked up blinking through his long bangs at Dean before he looked back down. "I know that vampires are very real. I know that ... that these things are real too. Four legs. Black. Look like a mixture of some kind of cat, lion and dog ... these ... they're ..." Sam sighed. "But ... I don't know about other monsters. I ... But I guess they're real too though I haven't seen them yet." Sam cleared his throat.
Dean nodded, staring at Sam as if he had grown an extra head.
"I heard Henry talk about hunters. That's why I know." Sam clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and sighed. "But I didn't hear him talk about other ... things ... at all. Ever. I think he was very careful about that." His voice was soft. Barely audible.
How could that guy stay so extraordinary calm about this? Other humans – humans he had met so far – were freaking the hell out about this. Even when it was just about an orb or a cold spot ... or a ghost.
"What do you need me to tell you?" Sam stole a glance at the older man.
"Why don't we sit down for that, huh?" Dean gestured towards the living room.
The omega sucked in a shuddering breath and nodded.
They then went into the living room and sat down on the couch. After all there weren't a lot places to go in the small house. Sam put a good amount of distance between them, not wanting to sit too close to the alpha.
Sam reminded himself, that he needed to think before he was opening his mouth to answer them, so not to reveal something he didn't want to accidently.
Dean cleared his throat, taking in the omega's profile. The blank expression on his face hidden by strands of hazelnut-brown dark hair, hiding most of the scar.
There was a file on the coffee table before them. Dean had removed the pictures of the victims before, so Sam didn't have to see them when he'd have him look into it.
"That's our information about the others," Dean explained calmly as he reached forwards and took the file into his hands. "Twelve. We want to figure out if ... if you're one of them since there are some similarities, so ... everything you can tell me about your time with the nest would help."
Dean handed him the file then and Sam took it with shaky hands. The omega stole a glance at his host before he flipped the first page open.
There was a list of names and addresses. All female ones. Beside them were As, Bs and Os drawn with a thick black pen.
Sam snapped it shut and leaned back, but kept the file in his lap.
"They never told me what they held me for," he started softly. "And I didn't lie when I said those things back then either." He sighed. "Henry Savanger wasn't a nice person. He made me do ... some things." Okay, turned out he couldn't hide from the subject if he was supposed to tell the alpha why they had him – or kept him. Or whatever. He realized that just then. If the hunters would start to dig around – and they would dig around – they'd find out. And then they'd be pissed. Maybe pissed enough to hurt him ... "You should read the file Sheriff Mills gave to me." Sam figured that was the easiest way to get over with. "The reason why I was in this facility and why I let them do ... THIS. And ... then I'll answer whatever else you wanna know."
Dean eyed the man curiously and nodded, his lips pursed and twitching.
Their gazes locked for a short moment, Sam telling him with a single look that he was nervous. His scent shifted into something more ... fearful.
The omega then got up and walked into his bedroom, where he took the file from his backpack. Sam bit his lower lip as he eyed the –future dooming – papers in his hands. If Savanger's actions were anything to go by, he'd be so screwed. Maybe he could at least retain some of his dignity and not tell them at all about the creature that man had locked him up with every other month or so – always about the time he'd started to get sick. He could leave those incidents out.
A heavy sigh fell from his lips and then made himself walk back into the living room, feeling the alpha's eyes all over him.
Sam felt like the breakfast was forming into a heavy stone in his stomach, making him nauseous.
Sam laid the file on the table where Dean could easily reach it and withdrew into the furthest corner on the opposite side of the couch. He pulled his legs up to his chest and hugged them, staring down at the grey fabric of his sweatpants.
He didn't see the grim expression on the ex-hunter's face, but he could practically smell the change in his mood as he flipped the file open and started to read the very first page.
There was a picture of Sam on the second page from about a year and a half ago, when he had himself admitted. His face was fuller. He seemed healthier. And there was a mischievous spark in those eyes he hadn't the opportunity to see yet. This person in the picture seemed so very different from the one that sat now on the other end of the couch.
He looked confident and self-secure. Sure a bit troubled, but nothing that led on that he had big issues. Physically or mentally. Dean stole a glance at Sam before he kept on reading.
"A psychic," Dean murmured to himself skipping a paragraph with some psychological bullshit about traumatizing events in the omega's past and how they had to cause his liable psychological state.
He read two more pages of the doctor's diagnosis and how they reasoned about the why's with a buttload of medical words, before he looked up, his gaze trained at the younger man.
"I know you don't remember but ..." Dean's voice was hoarse. "I don't think that you were crazy - There're others like you, you know that, right?" Both his eyebrows rose.
Sam only shook his head, not daring to look up to see the other man's face, or the emotions or disgust he may find there.
"Sam - You were a psychic. Some of those .. those hallucinations ... those things may really have happened." His eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what was going on in the man's head right now. "Have you read this?"
Sam nodded again. "Yeah,", he answered. "I have."
Dean watched him for some time, before he continued reading with a queasy feeling in his stomach.
There had been a fire one night. On the floor Sam's room had to be. He had just came out of surgery and wasn't even there yet, when they started to evacuate the whole wing. And that had been when Sam had disappeared along with two of the nurses.
The whole wing had burned down to ashes.
They had figured that Samuel Tristan Harvelle died in the fire along with those two nurses.
Dean huffed out a breath and closed his eyes while he rubbed a hand over his face.
"I didn't feel good the first time I woke up. I didn't knew where I was and why I was there. There were two men in hospital gowns, setting an I.V. into my lower arm. Short after I was out again. When I woke up the next time I was in a dark room with someone sitting at my bed. Henry Savanger. I was alone most of the time at first until I was able again to move around and ask questions. Henry told me that nothing of this would matter anymore. I'd be his." Sam sniffed, his fingers starting to toy with the fabric of his sweatpants. "I told him I'm no one's - And he'd beat the crap out of me. Just because he could. Because it wasn't my place to talk and that I'd need to learn how to behave and ... and things. After that ... I don't know how long ... I've tried to get away for the first time. That's where he got me with the knife in my face." Sam's voice broke. "He showed me my place. Again. He wouldn't even say something." He sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to blink tears away, but it was no use. Once freed, they'd run down his face mercilessly. "Those ... those visions - He sometimes would give me a vial to drink and told me that I'd have to recall what had happened in them. That ... that he needed to know." He sniffed again, wiping his wet cheeks into his sweatpants. "He knew how to make me remember. But they were only pieces of something. Henry said I'd need those abilities or else it wouldn't work."
Then there was silence. Dean wasn't sure if he was supposed to ask or just wait for Sam to continue.
"You still have them? You've ... those visions?" he finally asked.
Sam shook his head. "Sometimes I've dreams. But they're too ... too disturbing. Mostly I don't remember them at all. I just wake up during the night," he explained, his voice vibrating with emotions.
There was silence again. Dean could sense the need of Sam for a break. That it was enough for the omega.
"You know what was important about them?" But he needed to know, so that Jim'd know what questions to ask, where to look, when he'd arrive at the first victim's family to get more information about her.
Sam shook his head again. "Thirteen," he mumbled. "Thirteen's important. That's all I know. And blood. White glowing eyes in the darkness. Thirteen pairs of white eyes and snarls ... and fire." He sniffed.
Now he looked up, catching the ex-hunter's unreadable gaze. "What're you gonna do with me now?"
Taken aback by the omega's question, Dean was stuttered and ... shocked at the same time. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. At the fourth try, he finally managed to come up with something intelligent.
"We'll hang out in front of the TV. Then make lunch. Then I'll head out to get you some clothes ... and then we'll see what well be up to later." He made himself smile.
Sam's head snapped up, red-rimmed wet eyes staring at him flabberghasted. "You ..." He hiccupped. "You're ... gonna let me stay? You're ... not gonna lock me away?" Thousands of new ideas and thoughts broke down over him like ha breaking dam.
There were too many emotions seeping into the omega's scent. Too many for him to make out a single one. "What? You think we'd do' what? Kill you? Tie you down and leave you to rot somewhere?" It was the lightness in the ex-hunter's words which made him sound amused.
Sam blinked. "Yeah."
Dean huffed out a breath.
"You're hunters," he muttered.
"Yeah. We are - And I learned that there's not only black and white. You've had visions? Okay. And even if you still have them, that doesn't make you a bad person, does it?" Dean shifted, so to take away the strain from the aching muscles in his hip and thigh. "You haven't killed anyone, have you?" It was only a rhetorical question, but Dean had to notice that Sam didn't hear it as one.
The omega's face changed, a row of emotions playing over it in a matter of seconds.
"I ... I don't know ..." he breathed, the wheels in his head starting to jump into motion. "What if I did?"
Dean only shook his head. "Don't think so. Omegas rarely hurt others- It's not in their genetics." ... except for Cooper's. His mind darkened at that particular thought. The omega who had killed his mother. Left his father to what he had turned into. Dooming his family's fate.
Before his thoughts could travel any further, he cleared his throat.
The sound had barely came over his lips, when the giant omega was on him. Long lanky arms wrapping around his neck. A wet face buried in his shoulder. A ridiculously soft mop of hair tickling his nose.
Dean froze, his eyes wide, pupils blown. The omega so close, his scent so unmistakably intense all of a sudden, that his breath caught in his throat. He had thought about a lot ways this would end up, but surely not with the guy all over him, practically in his lap, squeezing the living shit out of him. Was he trying to smother him with his body? Was it some kind of attack?
"It's okay." Dean swallowed thickly, trying to breathe through his mouth, so not to make his mind even more foggy due the sensitively sweet smell the omega's pheromones were causing.
But Sam wouldn't back off.
Dean petted the man's back awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with this situation. Until a heartbreaking sob was blown into his shoulder. His hands rested on the younger man's back now, holding him lightly, until a hiccup – so emotional, so hurt, so vulnerable – made the ex-hunter close his eyes.
He couldn't but envelop the younger man into a gentle hug, rubbing up and down over his back while he cried into Dean's shoulder, soaking his shirt wet with salty tears.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Eventually Sam had cried himself to exhaustion and drifted off, still seated against Dean, his chest resting on the 's chest, listening to his heart. The alpha had fumbled out the blanket from underneath them and had wrapped it around the omega's form.
A content sigh fell from the ex-hunter's lips, feeling Sam's weight against him, his warmth, the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
Dean didn't dare to move despite the uncomfortable ache in his hip and knee and the ache in his lower back the awkward angle he was sitting in caused.
What had he gotten himself into?
Well, he couldn't deny that he somehow liked this. That it felt good and reassuring and weirdly calming to have the omega this close to him. Somehow it felt as if this was right. That the both of them were in the right place, at the right time, right now.
It kind of frightened the ex-hunter though, that it was an omega he started to feel connected to.
"Ridiculous," he mumbled, catching himself sniffing the younger man, letting his scent soak his mind into a blissful blurring mist of contentment.
Dean knew that Bobby and Jim were waiting for his call to tell them what he'd found out. Bad thing, that his phone was still on the night stand beside his bed.
No matter how bad he wanted Sam to not wake, he needed to make a call – and visit the bathroom. Dean dragged himself slowly and carefully out under the omega, laying him down onto the couch and pulled the blankets over him.
Sam made a disapproving sound, but snuggled back into the blanket, his fingers wrapping around the corner of it.
A last glance at Sam, and Dean went into the bathroom and then to his bed, where he sat down, taking his phone. Bobby was already in the garage – at least he was supposed to be. So he tried it on his mobile.
Bobby picked up after the sixth ring. "Dean?"
The clanking of metal against metal was heard.
"Sam's a psychic - At least he was until the surgery," Dean said, his voice husky and shushed. "Savanger wanted him to remember the visions he had. But Sam can't remember. He says they're just pieces." He sighed, washing a hand over his face, but it didn't help to get rid of the mist that the man's scent had caused. "Something about thirteen pairs of white glowing eyes in the darkness and fire."
There was a huff on the other end of the line and the rustling of clothes. "I think ... I think he wasn't telling me everything though." Dean thought for a moment. "I think he's afraid that we're gonna hurt or kill him if he does." It was not more than a feeling that made him think that.
There was a long-drawn exhale. "Twelve vics – and the thirteenth survived," he mumbled. Then there was a pause. "You told him we won't, right?"
Dean huffed out an annoyed breath. "Of course." Well, not exactly like that, but he figured he kinda did. "Told him I'd go and pick up some stuff for him after lunch."
There was another beat of silence. "Good. You need me to come over?"
Dean thought for a moment. "Nah. Guess we're good. Maybe later? We'll have leftovers from your Spaghetti Bolognese." He smirked a bit.
"Sure thing - Caleb's here anyway. There're only two other cars. Got the Henson's Pick Up done." Bobby's voice was neutral.
"I'll call Jim. See you later."
"See ya'."
The line went dead.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam awoke to the soft fabric of the couch to his right half of his face and the warm blanket around his body. He felt content. Warm. Safe. In the embrace of the alpha's musky scent enveloping him and his mind.
Dean sensed the omega's awaking without being even in the same room. He was in the kitchen the pots of yesterday's lunch before him. Bobby got three plates from the cupboard from above the sink, three forks and spoons.
He stilled in the middle of putting noodles onto one of the plates, his pupils dilating and pulling together so fast that no one could've seen it. Dean put the noodles on the plate, laid the forks aside and turned around, gazing into the living room on instinct.
The form on the bed didn't even stir, but he could tell that Sam was awake. No clue how, but he could.
"Sam awake?" Bobby asked without looking up as he took over Dean's forks and the noodles.
Dean hummed, his gaze completely focused on the couch. He strode towards the couch and bowed over the omega whose eyes were still closed.
"Lunch?" Sam asked sleepily.
Dean hummed again, finding his hand already moving over the man's form, only millimeter above the blanket and sending shivers through Sam's body.
"Leftovers, Sammy," he informed the omega. "You hungry?"
A tingly sensation coursed through his body at the way Dean called him by his pet-name. Sam gave a nod, his eyes fluttering open slowly. "A bit."
Dean straightened up and Sam sat up right away as if Dean was pulling him with his motion. "Good."
Their gazes locked over the short distance, when Sam reminded himself to cover his face somehow.
The three of them ate in comfortable silence. Sam ate most of his serve.
Everything of the Spaghetti Bolognese which weren't eaten wandered into the garbage-basket under the sink.
Dean then left with the money Bobby gave him, leaving them in the cabin.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam smiled. And he chuckled.
It was a stupid thing for a grown up guy to like watching Tom & Jerry. But it was also freeing. It was the need to feel carefree for a bit, not to think about the seriousness of life and his situation.
He hadn't lied. But he hadn't told the whole truth either.
His gaze traveled towards the file of the victims and back at the TV. So far he hadn't dared to look inside again. He couldn't. If those people were dead then ... why wasn't HE dead too? If there had been others like him – if he was involved into this too – how could he possibly get away like that?
Sam sighed, his gaze, during his thoughts, landed back at the file, not even listening to the cat & mouse play anymore.
Sam rubbed over his eyes and face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he reached for the remote and turned the TV off. Then he took the file.
Bobby watched him from the kitchen where he sat at the table, sipping whiskey from a tumbler and reading through Sam's file. He was taking notes about the things he thought could be important. Then he moved to set up Dean's laptop on the kitchen table and do his own research about the victims. He might find something useful besides Jim who'd talk to their family members.
The more, the better.
When he heard the TV being turned off, he gazed up over his glasses and lurked into the living room, watching Sam taking the file of the victims. Bobby swallowed a disapproving groan and tilted his head a bit.
He hadn't been okay with it, that Dean'd let him have the file and read it. Then again ... the omega wouldn't have a normal life ever again anyway, so why not seal the pact right the fuck now when there was no getting away anyway.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Dean was at a loss.
He had figured this'd be easier. The boots Sam had were 11 and what he had been checking out so far, Sam's feet had to be a 12 or 12.5. So he took a pair of the same model twice. Once in 12 and once in 12.5, hoping that one of them would fit. The other one he'd bring back as soon as he'd be in town again.
Getting clothes seemed way easier. Jeans and sweatpants. Two hoodies, a stack of shirts and button downs. Socks and some freaking underwear.
Though, that were the basics, Dean figured. And he wanted to get him something real nice too. Something that wasn't made of cheap fabric or something like that. So he went into the mart and strode through the isles, not quite sure what to buy for a male omega who didn't remember what he liked and not liked.
Until he passed a display with silver bracelets. Actually they seemed as if they were made to be carried by women. Though he was tempted to take the one with silver ivy ranks and leaves embedded into dark-brown leather.
So it didn't look that feminine at all ... then again ... nope. That was too much. Maybe Sam'd even think he wanted something from him, or that he had to repay Dean.
Besides ... they weren't even friends yet, were they? So why think about buying that guy jewelry? Was he that screwed up?
Dean sniffled unconsciously, trying to gather some of the omega's scent that seemed to fade rapidly now. Or at least, it started to become too little for Dean.
He tore his gaze away from the display and moved on, deciding that some chocolate would do and that it didn't have to be a bracelet. Then, as he found himself in the aisle with sweets, he found himself right in the middle of another dilemma.
What'd Sam prefer? He looked like a nougat-creme type. Or peanut butter? Or plain milk-chocolate?
Dean huffed out a breath. After spending more than half an hour in front of all those sweet stuff, he decided he'd get peanut butter cups, Oreos, milk-chocolate, some O-Henrys, twizzlers and Nerds. What made him think that he may needed Pop Tarts and Lucky Charms too.
In the end he had half a cart full of sweets, chips, snips and other junk food and paid a total of 6,835 bucks.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Bobby had thrown some logs into the central heater in the small barn that was right behind the house. When he came back in, Sam was in the kitchen, preparing another pot of coffee.
"You hungry?" Bobby asked as he rounded the table to get on his chair.
Sam shook his head, mumbling a soft "No thanks".
"You know you can help yourself, right?" He frowned.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, thank you."
Bobby couldn't quite tell what it was that made him think that the omega wouldn't get something for himself when he felt like it. It was only that small nagging feeling deep down in his gut that Sam wouldn't do that. So he'd wait for another half an hour before he'd get some of the cookies he had stored at the very top of the cupboard above the sink, where Dean wouldn't think to look for.
The ex-hunter barely kept things like that in the house, since he didn't do his training anymore – at least not as intensive. At least not since he had stopped hunting.
It wasn't like Dean even knew about them anyway. Bobby had bought them when he first came back to the salvage and get Dean's house prepared and had stashed them up there in case the omega'd need some sugar.
Everyone needed something sweet from time to time, right?
Okay, there may were already five cookies missing, but that was just because Bobby had gotten really hungry while he cleaned the house and after all he deserved it, didn't he?
The grizzled man glanced at the clock on the wall thoughtfully. It was short past four.
"He said it'd take two to three hours," Sam spoke up quietly, watching the black liquid run in a slender stream into the glass-pot under the filter.
The omega didn't look up, but his face changed a bit and the corners of his lips turned down slightly. Then he looked up to face the grizzled hunter.
"You don't have to stay - I'll be good," he added. "I'm not going to touch anything in here - Only the coffee-maker and the cupboards." He blinked huge hazel-green eyes at the older man.
"I know that you'd be fine. But I promised to stay until he's back." He gave him a small smile that seemed rather troubled than reassuring. It wasn't just because they didn't want to leave the omega out under their watch in case he'd have a mental breakdown or something. It was also because the possibility that this wasn't over yet and that someone'd attempt to kill him.
"So, you think there's still someone out there who'll go after me?" Sam's eyes narrowed curiously.
Bobby frowned. "There might be." He stared back suspiciously. Was the kid a mind-reader or something?
"But ... those others. They ... they were all female." It wasn't lost on him that he may could be abducted by the same people those women were, because he was what he was. A gynander. Intersex. Hermaphrodite. But he needed to hear it. Otherwise he'd think it was pretty unlikely to take him for a woman since he looked more like a man after all. He may have a body-part too much, but that didn't mean that he didn't feel like he was mostly male anyway.
Though, sometimes he found himself lost staring at dresses in the newspapers instead of the women who wore them. He also liked the pages where they'd show those girls in underwear, but rather because of the nice lace instead of boobs.
Sure, he hadn't had a lot of chances to get his hands on such magazines, but the ones Dean was hiding in the cupboard beneath the sink in the bathroom were very interesting. He had even caught himself thinking of how it'd be if he had boobs himself. Which was rather weird, wasn't it?
He wasn't supposed to feel or think that way - Specially because he was already a freak and things like that would make him look like a complete pervert, right? And then again, he couldn't help it either. He knew he wasn't supposed to think how it'd be to wear a dress, or panties or stockings or ... whatever.
He could remember someone telling him, that it wasn't bad and that it was completely normal for someone like him. That he didn't just have a penis, but also a vagina and female genitals and that that meant that there was a bunch of female hormones raging in his body, demanding to be seen, to be felt.
Hell, if only he could remember who had been telling him that bullshit. He'd kill him. Things like that would make it so much harder to get through life. He wondered how it had been earlier, when he hadn't have the surgery yet. If he had felt like that too ... Maybe he had hoped that he would forget about those "urges" he felt?
"Yes, they were all female," Bobby seemed hesitant. "And a part of you's female too. Maybe we're wrong, you know? - it's just ... for your safety, Sam." He sighed audibly. "And now for the cookies, boy." His blue eyes lit up as he moved over beside Sam and reached up on top of the cupboard where the white corner of something was standing over the edge. The grizzled mechanic tugged on it – and either if he wanted or even not – the very next moment it was raining cookies.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Dean hummed contently as he slammed the door of his baby shut and sauntered around the car to its trunk. He gazed at the cabin with a grin and popped the trunk open, tearing his gaze to the bags he had stuffed in there.
Dean thought for a moment. Actually he didn't want to go more often than once to get all the bags inside ... it wouldn't be an easy task at all. So he had to figure something out. The alpha chewed his bottom-lip absently while he thought, thinking about the weight and sizes of the shopping bags.
He eventually managed to slip eight of the bags over his lower arms and took the easiest one in between his teeth.
Dean banged the trunk shut and then made his way up the porch, breathing through his nose all the way. He made an annoyed sound when it was about to open the front door.
He also managed that.
Once inside, he slammed the door shut with his foot and mumbled something through the plastic lashes of the plastic bag in his mouth as he moved forward, on his way towards the couch, as he caught sight of movement to his left from the kitchen, short followed by a panicked "Sam!"
The plastic bag fell from his mouth and the other ones slipped from his arms and hands as he let go of them, alarmed at the sudden stench of pure panic and fear coming from the one and only beta in the house.
Dean spun around, his eyes wide as they caught sight of Robert Singer hovering over the omega in the middle of the kitchen-floor, one hand on the man's cheek, the other one on his chest.
... to be continued
