Fields Of Jasmine

Chapter 10 ~ Boy or Girl?

Bobby had put stuff into the room where Sam had been holed up right after they had found him in the woods. And everything was covered with white sheets. The bed, the recliner, the closet. Everything.

Though there were a whole lot more things in this room now. Things that wanted to be explored.

Sam smirked a bit. It wasn't like he was pissed or something. But he was disappointed if he was honest. Because he trusted those hunters – at least mostly – and it kind of hurt that they didn't return those feelings towards him.

Maybe they were right not to do so though. After all they were hunters and he was ... hell, he had no clue what he was exactly. Psychics weren't humans – but they weren't monsters either. On top of everything else he was neither male nor female.

Sam sighed and looked back at the closed door, listening.

They'd be busy for quite some time downstairs, so ... Sam sighed.

He walked towards the big sheet-covered thing and studied it for a moment. How surprised was he, when he pulled the sheet down and saw a big cheval glass with a dark-brown wooden frame around it.

Sam made a surprised but pleased sound as he stared at himself. Maybe he wouldn't check on those tapes anyway. Maybe it would be nicer to have a look at himself when he was wearing a dress ... If he was fast and wouldn't get lost in thoughts again.

Sam stared at himself some more, brushing his bangs behind his ears, revealing the scar to himself. It looked horrible. Utterly horrible. Wouldn't it be for the scar, he would have a nice face. It shone a bit silvery instead of the unnatural brown, as he tilted his head to the side.

The omega stepped a bit closer and covered the right side of his face with his flat palm watching the muscles beneath his skin twitch and his lips curl into a smile. He didn't look so bad without that scar though. Sam brushed his hair back forward, so it'd cover the right side of his face and laid his palm over nose and mouth, covering the shadows of his growing beard and sharp jawbone.

What he saw were long lashes and big eyes, soft nice hair tickling over the knuckles of his fingers.

He'd made a reasonable woman though, wouldn't he? Except for the fact that his shoulders were too broad, his chest too flat and he had no waist.

Then again ... For being a guy, his ass was a bit too curvy and his eyes too big and feminine. His lips were too rosey and his beard was too soft – at least it wasn't as scratchy as it should be. He knew he was swinging his hips a tiny bit when he walked and the way he used to turn his hair around his pointing finger while he was reading wasn't as masculine either. And then there was also the very obvious hidden in his pants.

Why couldn't he been born as a girl or a boy for fuck's sake? Why? WHY? Why was he damned to live like THIS? Like a damn freak? Weren't the visions punishment enough?

He didn't want to be a freak. And he bet he didn't want that before he let them poke around in his brain. No wonder he wanted to forget, dammit.

He had never asked for this, had he?

Sam sighed and shook his head in defeat, trying to calm himself down and try to not cry. It took him about ten minutes of silent weeping before the worst part of his emotional breakdown was over and cleaned his nose into the sheet he had pulled from the mirror before since he hadn't any tissues with him.

He wiped off his face into the sleeve of his hoodie and turned around towards the bed, where he had put the box with penny-ante stuff.

His red eyes lit up a bit at the sight of the white and champagne-colored dress as he pulled it out and held it up. Sam turned around with it and held it to his chest, watching it in the mirror.

No one would know except him, right? He'd try them on and then put them back at the very bottom of the box. No one would ever know he had them, nor that he tried them on.

Dean Winchester thought about him as a freak already, he didn't have to make things worse or more awkward between the both of them. Then again ... hadn't he tried to kiss him?

Or maybe the alpha was only curious of how he'd taste? After all Sam knew that he smelled different from the other omegas ... and according to Henry, it'd turn them into horny dogs ... So maybe that was what made Dean Winchester act so very different around him now. Because when he thought about the first time they met ... well ...

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean sighed heavily, one hand rubbing over his tired eyes, as he sat on the couch. "So Jim thinks they had all been experiencing the same? Just by DIFFERENT monsters? ... Why let them go, when they were gonna kill them anyway? I mean ... what's the point?" He looked up at his older friend in disgust.

Bobby shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"And what about Henry's pet? Or ... I mean, was it the same thing or were they different ones?" He huffed out a breath and slumped back.

"At least the descriptions of seven victims matched the one Sam gave us about Henry's. Maybe they're something we didn't get in contact with yet. Some kind of monster which searches for a new master and somehow controls it?" He shrugged again. "I've no clue."

"So the victims who were ... they got pregnant while their time away, Jim said - From a monster?" No, he couldn't believe that. He had never heard of it, that monsters did pair with humans, even if it was possible. "I mean ... vamps are practically dead meat on two legs. How could they possibly make babies with a human? And werewolves? What the hell, Bobby?" He huffed out another breath, having to let it all sink in.

"I don't know, boy. But we'll find out." The grizzled man leaned back against the door frame and shook his head. Then he cleared his throat. "You think that .Sam's ... you know ..." He made a gesture towards Dean's belly, whirling his finger around in the air to underline his thoughts, his eyebrows rising up.

"Nah - If so he surely would've noticed ... We would've noticed, wouldn't we?" Dean thought for a moment. "How long has it been? I mean ... he was close to a year with them ... and we killed Savanger about three months ago ... We would see something, right?"

The grizzled man gave an approving sound from him. "Yeah. You're right. We would."

There was an awkward silence stretching out between the both of them.

"Why don't you go get Sam, huh? I'll warm up the roast beef and potato mash from yesterday."

The ex-hunter nodded and groaned uncomfortably as he got up, putting way more strain onto his hip and knee than was good for him. He made a few limping steps and stretched, kneeling his thigh absently.

Dean went to the stairs and lurked up the staircase. Nope, he didn't want to climb up there again. "Sammy! Food's ready in ten!" he yelled.

A second later, Bobby was behind him giving his head a slap. "I said you should go and get him, Idjit. No yellin'." The grizzled mechanic shook his head as he moved on into the kitchen, shaking his head and mumbling something along: "He ain't gonna hear ya' if he's listenin' to the tapes."

Dean's face scrunched up in discomfort and he reached back to rub the back of his head where his older friend had just slapped him.

Sometimes that guy was as bad as John. "Fine," he grumbled and groaned as he looked up the stairs once again. Did he already mention that he didn't like stairs?

Slowly and limping he made his way up towards the room Sam had to be in. To his surprise he didn't hear music – which he should, since Sam was supposed to try the tapes. - or maybe he had found something else to spend his time with ...

Dean laid his hand onto the knob and turned it slowly. Since there was only dead silence coming from the room on the other side of the door, he decided to just lurk inside. If Sam had fallen asleep, he'd leave him be and wouldn't call him for lunch.

After all it seemed, like the omega was still sleeping way too little. So he nudged the door open a bit, made a step forward and lurked inside.

His eyes widened and his hand slid from the knob, making it swing wider open than it was supposed to.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam fought with the zipper at the back of the dress, straining his back and arms to get to the middle of his back. The omega held his breath and held in his stomach, desperate to get the zipper up.

Eventually he managed it, though breathing in this thing was a luxury itself.

Sam straightened the dress with his hands, fingertips ghosting over the petite fabric on its front. It was a bit tight around his chest though.

He eyed himself curiously in the mirror and turned around to look at himself from the side. Sam then turned back to eye himself from the front. His eyes wandering up from his bare feet and hairless calves to where his legs disappeared under the dress.

Its skirt was a wide swinging one, with neat drapes and a small seam of lace on its bottom. It looked a bit like it was made for someone who was pregnant though. There was an elastic band right under his breasts, holding the upper part of it tightly to his rib-cage

Short lace-sleeves, falling loosely over his shoulders.

For the fact that he wasn't quite a girl he looked kind of good in the dress. It might be a bit too small, but that didn't matter. Not at all. Eventually he dared to breathe in. The fabric strained against his chest and shoulder-blades

Sam made a turn around himself, watching with awe the way the dress lifted shallowly and swung with the movement. Still a bit curious, he pursed his lips as he turned around to check out how his back looked like in it.

It wasn't bad either, Sam figured.

A spark of joy flamed up inside of his chest, making him smile broadly. This was truly nice. And it felt incredible against his skin.

He wiggled his hips, trying how those movements would look like.

To Sam's surprise he didn't think that it looked as off, or embarrassing, as he thought it should. Somehow it seemed to fit him. The lace, the color ... the way his eyes seemed to be brighter. "Huh," he breathed, making a step closer towards the mirror.

Sam got ripped out of his daydreaming state as he caught movement in the mirror from behind him. He froze.

The door swung open a bit more and a pair of emerald-green huge eyes stared back at his through the mirror.

Sam's eyes widened in return and the smile on his face dropped. He paled. His heart started speeding up at the expression on the alpha's face.

So blank. So shocked So ... Shit. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The alpha took a step forward into the room, still not talking.

Sam turned around. His cheeks flushed a dark red, his eyes watery, his hands shaking. He made a step back and felt the cheval glass behind him against the back of his head. He swallowed thickly.

There was definitely no way out. No way to hide away from the thrilling look on Dean's face.

The omega pulled his arms up and crossed them in front of his chest, hooking his hands over his shoulders as if to hide himself, as he cast his look down.

Sam closed his eyes in shame. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Neither of them heard Bobby call for them to get their asses downstairs and eat lunch. Neither of them heard narrowing heavy steps on old creaking wood. Nor Dean, nor Sam noticed Robert Singer appearing in the doorway, dying words on his lips as he caught sight of the omega inside the room.

Bobby stopped dead in his tracks, only inches before bumping into Dean's back, his face wide open and though unreadable.

"Holy ... balls ..." the grizzled hunter murmured breathlessly

Though he seemed to regain control over his senses before Dean could even grab a useful thought and laid his hand on the alpha's shoulder.

"Lunch's ready, Sam," Bobby said finally – a bit hoarse. "We're waitin' for ya' downstairs ... Just ... you know ... when you're ready." And that was all he would say, before he pulled Dean out of the room with him and shut the door to leave Sam to ... well, whatever he was doing.

The older hunter manhandled the alpha away from the door and down the stairs into the kitchen. Dean still seemed somehow shocked about what he had seen.

"C'mon," Bobby grumbled and nudged Dean towards the fridge. "Get the damn salad and beer."

Though, Dean continued to stand and stare. Would it have been a REAL girl in that room, he'd have walked over. Would've stood behind her (what – in this case – might have looked a bit awkward, since he was a few inches shorter than Sam) and would've looked over her shoulder into the mirror. He'd have caught her look, would've made her to look at herself. He'd laid his hands on her shoulders or on her waist and would've told her how beautiful she was.

Well ... how beautiful HE was in this case ... and then they might have kissed.

He just hadn't thought about ... finding Sam in a dress ... and well ... Dean wasn't just at a lack of words. Even his mind seemed to suffer from a real bad case of short circuiting.

Shit, that was bound to get awkward ...

"Are you even listening?" Bobby demanded, tearing him out of his thoughts and back into the present. Into the kitchen. Towards the task at hand.

"Yeah." Dean's voice broke. He stalked over to the fridge and got out the salad, three beers and a bottle of coke. He put all the things on the small kitchen table and went to get glasses.

When the food was warmed over and on the table, the two men sat there. Dean a bit more tense than Bobby.

"You ... you think I should go upstairs? See if everything's okay?" Dean whispered, insecure.

Bobby flashed him a clueless look. "If you think that starin' at him as if he's grown two heads I'd rather not go up there," he murmured.

Then there was silence again. Nothing that led on, that Sam would be coming through the doorway any time soon.

"I wasn't staring," Dean hissed back.

"We both were staring." The beta sighed heavily and rubbed over his eyes. "He's a pretty nice lookin' girl though," he added after a moment.

"Bobby," the alpha ground out.

"What?" The older man's gaze snapped back up.

"Just ... drop it, would'ya?" Dean cleared his throat. "He's just ... tryin' out things – probably."

"You embarrassed 'bout the boy?" Bobby knew that the ex-hunter wasn't someone who shipped things like that – normally. But he also knew that Dean was a very tolerant and accepting person. He wouldn't judge Sam. And if Bobby was right about what he was sensing, Dean wouldn't be able to judge him (or bring him back to Columbus). Because he wouldn't be able to.

"Hell no ... it's ... What am I supposed to say to him now?" Yeah, it was kind of embarrassing, specially because it had been surprising as hell. He was completely taken aback. So far Sam hadn't looked like he LIKED girl-stuff. What reminded him, that Sam was partly a girl. Even when he had no clue exactly what that entailed.

Google would tell him anyway as soon as he'd have time to look it up. After all he only knew that hermaphrodites (what that meant – at least basic information. That they were kind of half male half female) existed and that they were rare. But he had no clue about how that could look like, or what it even meant for Sam to be that way.

Maybe it was completely normal (after all there were cross-dresser out there, who weren't hermaphrodite who liked to dress like the opposite gender). Well, not that anything was wrong about that either. Sure, Dean wasn't the guy who'd hook up with a transvestite or something. Because he was a very utterly completely masculine guy (drumming and banging on his own chest like Tarzan). Hell – and if that was how Sam rolled, he couldn't care less. He had just no clue how to tell that the omega without screwing things up even more.

Because the way he had stared at him ... the way Sam had looked away in shame ... that hadn't felt right and he had been too taken aback to act on it the right way. The appropriate way.

"I'd say ... Hell, I don't know, okay?" Bobby grumbled. "Ain't like I've ever met someone like Sam. If it isn't for him looking like a man, I wouldn't even know how to approach him in the first place, boy. IF I'd know anyway ..." That seemed to be an issue to Bobby, which he couldn't wrap his mind around himself yet. As far as you could call it an issue. After all it had to be even more difficult for Sam. Specially in regards to the more close-minded beings on this planet. And man, could those be mean and assholes.

"So you'd be cool with him runnin' around in dresses?" Dean's voice high-pitched at the word dresses and emphasized it slightly.

"I sure as hell don't care. I guess that's who he is - Even if he wouldn't be who he got born as ..." Bobby grumbled. "Look, boy. I'm not sayin' I won't stare. All I'm sayin' is, that we are gonna have to accept it. So ... if you think you ... you know ..."

"What? You think I can't handle a guy – or whatever – in a dress? You're callin' me close-minded? I'm not that much of an asshole or monster as you may think, old man."

"Hell, no!" Bobby huffed out a breath.

Dean didn't think he had seen the older hunter blush before. "Hope so," he muttered to himself. He blew out a breath.

Then there was the rustling of fabric and shuffling of sock-clad feet on smooth wood and the two men fell silent.

Bobby's and Dean's gaze were trained at the kitchen's doorway, waiting in nervous tension. It wasn't like they were waiting for Sam to show up in the dress or something. It was rather because – well, they didn't exactly know why. Maybe they just wanted Sam to show that – whatever they had interrupted upstairs – didn't matter to them. That it didn't change anything.

Sam was still the same guy – or girl – or whoever they had started to like.

There was a hesitation, the shuffles on the steps and Bobby and Dean shared a short glance until the shuffling was heard again and the omega eventually came into the kitchen.

Sam held the both dresses thrown over his right lower arm and had his left hand resting on them as if they were something precious. Something that had to be treated with care. He threw a tentative glance at the both men, before he looked back down at the fabric and went further into the room until he was standing right before Bobby, well two feet between them still.

"I ..." Sam swallowed hard. "I didn't want to take them. I ... Thank you for letting me have some of your things." Shame was radiating from the omega in thick heavy waves. Omnipresent and not something someone could possibly not sense. "Here." He held the arm with the dresses towards Bobby.

It were Karen's. Of course, the grizzled hunter had instantly realized THAT. And it even kind of hurt to see the two favorite dresses of his dead wife. It even stung a bit that someone else got to touch them besides of him. But – as much as it may hurt – it was the past.

And he was living in the present.

Someone had told him a long time ago, that he had to let go of the past and look into the future. Yeah, and that someone had been Ellen.

He took them anyway, even when he thought for a moment to let Sam have them. It may have made things even more embarrassing for the omega as they already were.

"There are two jewelry-boxes too ... I've put them on the bed ... upstairs ...", Sam added softly. His gaze flickered up briefly to meet the older man soft one. "I wasn't going to take them, Bobby. I ... wanted to give them to you later ... when we'd be done ... and ... then I forgot ..."

"It's okay, boy." He smiled warmly as his calloused fingers wrapped carefully around the tender fabric of the dresses. "I told you you can take what you like."

Something like relief washed over the omega's face, and though it darkened again.

Awkward silence spread.

It spread some more.

"C'mon. Sit down. Food's gettin' cold." Bobby shared a look with Dean and rose to put the dresses aside.

They then ate in silence. Sam poked at his food more than he actually ate. But no one was willing to address the issue. Dean would think about something later on of how to make Sam eat something else. And how he was going to bring the topic about the dresses up – just so he could tell him that it was nothing bad.

Sam cleaned the dishes.

No one dared to argue about it.

When they left Bobby's, Sam left the box behind deliberately He actually didn't need any of those things anyway. He had all the things he needed in his room. There was no need to stuff Dean's house full of old things ... after all he wasn't supposed to stay there anyway. It'd be just long enough so that Robert Singer and the alpha wouldn't have a bad conscience about his well-being.

Because he was a screw-up. He was a freak. He had proved it thoroughly.

Once back in Dean's house, Sam went straight into his room before the alpha could say something. So, with a sigh, Dean limped over towards the couch and slumped down on it.

He wasn't in for sweet-talk or chick-flicks at the moment anyway. His fucking hip hurt as if it was about to get ripped out of its sockets and his knee was swollen and hot.

What a fucking shitty day ...

Dean huffed out a breath and shook his head, as he maneuvered himself into a lying position. Well ... at least he could've picked up his freakin' laptop for some research. So yeah, he got up once more (but only that once, he swore to himself) and settled back on the couch. The alpha swallowed another Vicodin (dry) and booted his notebook up.

When it was finally started, he noticed, that he was lying head-first towards the bedroom doors. Which was an actually real bad thing to do. Because if Sam'd come out, he'd see what he was doing. And that could make things even worse. So Dean changed his position again, so that he was looking towards the bedroom doors, what would buy him enough time to snap the laptop shut, in case Sam'd come out unexpectedly.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Two hours later ... and Dean Winchester's head was full with information about hybrids. Or hermaphrodites. Or zwitter (how they were called in German). None of this words felt nice to Dean though.

He had read in a blog of a hermaphrodite. It had been pretty enlightening. Only, this one was more of a girl than a boy and she was a beta. Long brown hair and brown eyes. She looked petite from her picture and well ... nice.

So Dean worked himself through her blog and read in Wikipedia about hermaphrodites. He found some other sources and tried to pick out the stuff that could be useful for him.

Hell, he just didn't want to make something wrong and screw things to hell with Sam. He kinda liked him – very much. All Dean knew was, that he didn't think that he could stand it anymore to not having him around, to not let the omega's scent sooth him into sleep when his hip and knee tortured him at night.

In the end – and after finding some more blogs discussing that topic – he realized that there was nothing wrong with Sam feeling like he wanted to wear dresses. NOT that there have ever been something wrong with such a thing in the first place. Hell NO!

Who was he to judge others?

It wasn't like it was a kink, as it seemed.

It was pretty much like ... Sam had two faces. A male one and a girly one. So was it with the owners of those blogs. They all looked like normal people you'd meet on the street. Some preferred a gender and some even went through surgery to be "normal". A hand full of those seemed pretty cool. That one girl was mostly dressing as a guy. And had a boyfriend. Another one was a boy and hell, if that one didn't make a hot chick. He – SHE – had a boyfriend too.

Though ... it was a bit different when it came to omegas. After all omegas were different. They thought different.

Sam was high likely one of a hand full of hermaphrodites in the whole US. Hell, he probably was the only omega-hermaphrodite in the whole damn world.

A wave of pure pride washed over Dean at the realization. He and Bobby had saved him ... They were protecting something precious ... (He desperately tried not to use the term MINE in his mind when it came to Sam though. After all, Sam was no one's).

After that – and because curiosity won out – Dean searched for ... well ... nude portraits of hermaphrodites. Because he couldn't ask Sam about getting naked and show him what he looked like. AND because it'd definitely wouldn't do any good. AND because this part of Sam had to be a very private one. One he didn't want to share.

Dean could understand that. Though, he wouldn't be like that high likely. Hell, when he had still been on the road hunting, he had a girl (rarely a guy) in each damn fucking town. He probably would've tried out a whole lot of things with those special features.

He had to grin smugly at that thought.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam sat on the bed, legs pulled up against his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them. How was he supposed to look the alpha in the eyes ever again? Man, he'd give everything if the earth would open up right now and swallow him whole. Right there. Right then.

What had he even been thinking?

How much more of a freak could he be?

Sam wondered if he had always been like this. If he had always been such a coward and embarrassing. A guy for his size – an omega on top of that – and – well – the rest wasn't supposed to act like that. He should show pride. He was supposed to be special.

Like other omegas. Well, not that he could tell if he ever had met others ...

Sam swallowed a sob.

Of course he needed to cry – again. Just another thing that showed how much of a weakness he actually was. How much of a girl he was. Because a guy? Hell, a guy didn't cry. That much he knew.

What was he even supposed to do with his future? What lay ahead? He wouldn't be able to hide out on the salvage for the rest of his life. He couldn't live on Dean's and Bobby's pockets forever.

Hell, he wasn't even capable of finding Henry's pet in any of those books Bobby had let him look into. Right now he was supposed to look through them instead of cowering on the bed on top of a sea of blankets and cry his eyes out.

And then there was Dean Winchester. The alpha.

He kind of liked him – very much. What felt quite irritating.

He practically didn't know squat about that man – except for the brief glimpses he had gotten every now and then – but it felt like he knew him. At least kind of.

Sam knew that Dean was an alpha and once a hunter and that he went on hunts occasionally nowadays. He knew that his hip and knee got injured on a hunt and forced him to stay in a hospital for months. He knew that Dean's family was dead.

Sam also knew that Dean didn't like to talk about that. He knew, that whenever the alpha would look at him, that there was this spark of happiness and hope and something more in his eyes.

Dean was actually very nice to him. At least he had been so far.

Hell, Sam couldn't even tell if he had a girlfriend or boyfriend in his past and why he had been on his own when he had been abducted. He had no clue in which direction he swung.

Sure, there was Dean and he felt quite attracted towards the older man. But then again, there were Henry, Bobby, others from the nest, Jody and Ellen. And neither of them had roused this kind of interest.

Why the hell had he let those doctors poke around in his god-forsaken brain? WHY?

He couldn't imagine (right now) that anything could feel worse than not remembering his past. Remembering who he was.

Then there was his time with the nest. With Henry. With his pet. Specially with his pet.

Those things he could remember clearly. Sadly.

Of course there were the first few rough months in which he had been beaten and stuff. Then everything changed with the first time he became sick. That had been when he himself started to realize that he was different. And that had been the first time he had gotten tied to the bed face down and buck-ass naked and also the first time he had seen Henry's pet.

His first time he had sex ... At least that he could remember.

So far he have had a whole lot of real bad first times ...

Other than all that he had a more pressing issue right now. Sam needed to pee.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean rubbed over his tired eyes and closed the laptop. He then put it on the coffee table and sat up with a groan.

The pain in his hip and knee had eased a bit, though it still looked swollen and was hard to bend. Well, he have had worse anyway. Sam must've had worse.

His phone vibrated in the front-pocket of his jeans and a moment later his ring-tone echoed through the living-room.

Dean eyed the caller-ID curiously since he couldn't remember the number and eventually picked up.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"He. –It's Amelia," a female voice spoke up.

"Hey, yeah. What's up?" Dean wasn't in a mood to talk so why not screw that bullshit and go straight for the matter?

"Garth Fitzgerald – a counselor – is going to stop by Monday in a week around 9:00am."

Dean pursed his lips and frowned. Fantastic timing. "Okay?"

"I just thought ... well ... Maybe you could prepare Sam a bit? Tell him that he's comin' and that he's gonna want to talk to him alone?" There was something hopeful in her voice. "Usually I'm not supposed to tell you but ... I think it'll be important for Sam to know and ... I figured it'd be only fair."

Dean nodded and bit his lip thinking for a moment. "Garth who?"

"Fitzgerald. A funny guy. Actually real nice, and well ... funny and a bit off the rocker." She chuckled amused.

Reminded him of a scrawny dwarf who called himself a hunter. Well, he wasn't exactly a dwarf, but he wasn't tall either. And he was thin. And a bit of a nerd. Totally not common for an alpha.

"Thanks?" Dean wasn't quite sure how to take her warning. After all they haven't had anything to hide.

She told him that he had nothing to thank her for and that she wished them luck before they ended their conversation.

Now that Dean thought about it, it was not the worst thing to know that this guy was coming over. After all they had some issues to solve at the moment. So maybe they'd straighten it out until the guy arrived anyway.

He pocketed his phone again and let his head roll back against the side-lean, groaning.

The only question was, how he was supposed to talk with Sam about that. He may as well had to go into the lion's cage ... Not that Sam was a lion. He was more of a puppy-dog. All floppy hair and giant innocent eyes. Milky white, tender looking skin and lips he would die for.

Not to mention those dimples and the way he laughed or chuckled. How it looked like when Sam's long fingers curled around something, or the way he skipped a page in a book, licking over the tip of his pointing-finger.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Half an hour later, Sam's bladder was too full to hold back anymore. If he wanted or not, he had to go – or pee himself.

Which wasn't an option at all. So he decided to leave his safe cave and dare to meet Dean on his way there. So he hopped from the bed and headed towards the door, which slid open and the ex-hunter's silhouette appeared there.

Sam couldn't care less at the moment. Aka more pressing matters. So he brushed past Dean without looking at him and made a sharp turn into his bedroom and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

Dean stood frozen in place, until he heard the unmistakable sound of the toilet being flushed. He turned around and leaned against the wall, as casual as possible, to wait for Sam to come back out.

Though, like before, Sam stormed out of Dean's room, brushed past him and back into his own, throwing the door shut. He wasn't ready to face the ex-hunter right now. He had too many things to think about. Too much stuff that had to get sorted out.

He crawled back into his bed, the late evening sun illuminating his room in a tender yellow and orange through white curtains.

Sam sighed and buried his face in his knees.

Then there was a knock.

The omega decided to ignore it.

Another knock, this time more urgent and "C'mon Sam. We need to talk."

But he didn't let himself being known.

"Dressed or not. I'm comin' in." And then Dean Winchester was already inside and walking towards him. Once arrived, he sat down at the bed's edge and a hand was laid on his knee. "We need to talk, Sammy. About what happened today at Bobby's."

Sam turned his head towards the other side. It was weird how soothing the alpha's touch and scent were.

Dean huffed out a sigh and cast his look aside for mere seconds before he looked back at Sam. "You know that it's not a big deal, okay?" He had to start somewhere and delaying it wouldn't do any good. "There are cross-dressers all over the world. And some of those guys make real nice lookin' women." He smiled a bit, trying to lighten the mood.

But Sam turned his head further away from him, straining his neck. He didn't say anything. Maybe Dean was trying to make him feel better, but was he honest about what he was saying and the things he was going to say? Or would he only use his knowledge about this world's order to lure him into safety?

Yeah, it was kind of weird to think that way. But what was he supposed to think?

He had learned a lot about A/B/O dynamics and some things – they just didn't sound plausible. Why would an alpha or beta go on hunts with omegas? Why would they even include them in this life?

Sure, Sam had read in one of Bobby's books about it. That they were as good at it as everyone else and that it didn't matter. Alphas were the fighters and destroyers in the war against evil and Omegas were more like the brain. They were the ones who'd do most of the research and stuff. It didn't mean that Alphas were too stupid to do things like that. They were just ... different. Most hunters were loners anyway.

Though, Sam couldn't imagine himself hunting down a werewolf or any other beast.

He was drifting off with his thoughts again, completely forgetting the alpha who sat now a bit closer to him.

"I know that it's kinda different with you. I know that - Either way it's nothing bad," Dean tried to reassure him with soft words. "Sam. C'mon. Look at me, buddy."

He reached around and his calloused palm found Sam's cheek. "Look at me," his voice was even softer, tender.

Sam couldn't but follow the gentle plea. He lifted his head a bit and turned it over, so that he was looking at the alpha. The older man's hand in between his knees and his head, still holding his cheek. Unconsciously, the omega turned into it, smelling old wood and oil and musk even more intensively now.

Innocent hazel-green eyes peeked up at him through dark bangs. The late-evening sun letting Sam's eyes burn up in a weird rage of fiery green, blue and brown. Too many colors to name anyway.

"It doesn't matter to me what you're wearing, okay? I mean it - You're a handsome g- person. I was just ... shocked." He flinched at his own choice of words. "Nah, shocked ain't the right expression. Taken aback. I ... I came to get you for lunch and thought you've fallen asleep or something and ... and then I see you, you know? All scrawny, skin and bones, wearing that white thing. And ... I just didn't know how to react to that, you know?" He knew he was babbling and high likely sounding nervous, but he didn't care.

Sam gave a jerky nod, never breaking eye-contact while the alpha was talking. But he didn't mean it. Dean could tell.

"Look. I'm tryin' to apologize here, Sammy ..." Dean sighed heavily, having the feeling that not a single one of his words reached the other man.

He drew in a shuddering breath and his lips parted slightly.

Hell, how could a single gesture like that look that good? Holy fucking shit, if it wasn't for the fact that Sam had been through what he had been through and if it wasn't for the fact that Dean was there to give him shelter, show him how the social stuff worked, he'd totally would've tried to bang him right on that bed.

Yeah, even small Dean Winchester gave an interested jerk at that thought.

"I'm a freak, Dean," Sam breathed out, his voice sounding as if he was going to break out in tears any second now. "I'm no woman and I'm no guy either. I'm ... Am I even human?" He sounded vulnerable and hurt. "What the hell am I?"

There was a short pause, since Dean had to over-think his answer carefully. "You're human," Dean whispered gently. "And as far as I can tell you're a nice person. You can't influence what you're born. Boy or girl. But you can choose what you want to be like." He paused, letting his words sink in and search for other comforting stuff he could tell the younger man. "It doesn't matter what others think, you know? It doesn't matter what I or Bobby think about you as long as you're okay with it." Oh, how he wished John had said that to him – only once.

Sam's long fingers curled around the hand's wrist which lay snug between his knees and cheek. His eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted again for a soft exhale of warm air. Air that ghosted over Dean's sensitive skin of the inside of his lower arm and made goosebumps rise all over his body.

The omega uncurled and crawled the few inches towards Dean, curling back up beside him and leaning his head onto his shoulder.

Sam watched carefully how the ex-hunter would react to the closeness. If he truly meant those words, if he wouldn't pull back or flinch away from him. If he wouldn't be disgusted.

Dean didn't. Instead he snuck his arm around Sam's back and tugged him closer, letting him lean into him.

It felt good. The warm body beside him. Soft hair tickling his neck. The closeness and emotional comfort Sam provided, making him feel whole again after so many years.

The omega blew out a soft breath, making himself even smaller. Hell, he was a tight ball. Dean had no idea that someone tall like that could appear that small.

It felt like their bodies – their souls – were melting into each other's becoming one. Singing along the lines of the same song. Following the same path though in different worlds, but knowing that they were at the right place at the right time.

That was the moment Dean Winchester knew that – no matter how much another omega had hurt his family – Samuel T. Harvelle was his and that Dean was Sam's. That moment, Dean decided that he wouldn't let Sam go. Ever.

Because he understood. Deep down he knew what Sam felt like on the inside. The turmoil of emotions about all of this.

And he knew, that if he'd give everything he had to give, Sam'd know too. Would feel it. That Sam'd choose him to spend his life with.

No matter how ridiculous this may sounded to an outsider, or how weird it made himself feel at first, this was right. Sam was right.

They were two pieces of a whole.

The Ying and the Yang.

They were the Alpha and the Omega.

... to be continued