Here we go with another extra-long chapter for all of you :)
Keep commenting & feed the muse if you want :)
Here we go with another extra long chapter for all of you :)
Keep commenting & feed the muse if you want :)
REPOSTED
Beta'd by 2cool4noSCHOOL ;) You're awesome, girl!
Fields Of Jasmine
Chapter 20 ~ Traveling Back Home
Another couple of days later, when Sam was halfway steady on his feet and was capable of spending most of the day awake, Doctor Cavenaugh told him and Dean that the omega was ready to leave the hospital on Friday.
That was just two days.
While Sam seemed utterly relieved about that development, Dean wasn't. He felt uneasy about taking Sam for a three-hour drive back home, where they couldn't provide the safety and medical attention he might still need.
Sure, it had been close to a week that Sam had gone through surgery. And yes, he seemed to be doing a whole lot better and all. But was it really safe for him to go home?
What if something happened?
What if the journey back to the Salvage would make Sam feel worse again?
What if his omega got some sort of infection or something?
Dean didn't like hospitals too much, himself. Hell, he hated them. But this one wasn't too bad and if it meant that Sam would go home all good and healthy, he'd gladly spend some more time around here, even when he felt like a caged animal.
This was about Sam. HIS Sam.
There was no way he'd take any risks.
"You sure about that?" Dean Winchester asked, eyeing Doctor Cavenaugh curiously.
The doctor seemed very sure that Sam was ready to leave and was a bit taken aback by the ex-hunter's question. His curious expression softened after a moment of looking into concerned big green eyes.
He chuckled.
"Yes, Dean. I'm sure. He's still sore, but he definitely ready to leave. I don't see any reason to not release him on Friday. The wound looks just fine. It's healing perfectly well and he's up and walking." He tried to reassure the alpha with that sort of warm smile he had given him when he first told Dean that Sam would be fine. So why didn't Dean believe him? After all he'd been right. "Though … you will have to keep an eye on him and make sure that he doesn't overdo himself."
The ex-hunter nodded. "Of course." He was determined to follow any doctor orders. Very strictly.
"But you also have to let him do some things by himself, too," Cavenaugh pointed out.
The doctor gazed through the gap of the door and pursed his lips, watching Sam eat his breakfast. "He's a bit underweight … I'll order Becca to get him two more shots with vitamins and trace elements. One for today and one for tomorrow and then he's off the saline drips." He gave Dean some more orders of what he was supposed to look out for and told him that he'd give him a list with things that would be handy and some that were necessary on Friday.
Dean nodded and noted everything in his mind.
Cavenaugh patted the man's shoulder and smiled. "He'll come around. Feed him properly and get as much protein into him as possible. He'll recover faster then. Though, I'm not lying when I tell you that it may take a while longer since he's … practically malnourished."
Dean glanced inside the room and eyed his mate for another long moment, biting the insides of his lips nervously. The doctor was right. Sam was malnourished and still thin. Even though he's been with Dean and Bobby for quite some time now.
Maybe he'd been a bit sloppy with his meals, too. When Sam had slept, he'd let him sleep and skip a meal or two … Maybe that wasn't such a good thing. Here in hospital, the omega got woken up when they brought food. They always pestered him about eating, Dean realized only now.
With that realization, a weird feeling started to grow deep inside Dean's stomach, forming a dark pit. It was basically his fault that Sam hadn't gained more weight yet. It truly was.
He let him sleep in and then they'd skip breakfast or lunch and truth be told, Dean had been happy to see Sam eat the little he had eaten so far. Because he had figured it was already more than it had been before.
But how could he truly know?
"He needs to go home. He doesn't seem to be very comfortable here with all those people around, coming and going in his room as they please. Given his history …" The doctor sighed again, "You'll take good care of him. I know that."
And that was all the doctor had to say before leaving him standing at the door to Sam's room.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
It was Friday morning, just shy of nine.
Bobby and Ellen waited in the car at the back entrance of the hospital in a borrowed car.
Dean was packing up their last belongings while Sam signed the papers Doctor Cavenaugh had brought with him. He was explaining the important things to Sam, which he had talked about with Dean beforehand.
Jim's friend also told him that he had to eat more regularly; like in hospital and that he was supposed to look out for himself, too. That – if he wanted to make the alpha happy – he needed to eat properly, or else they'd be seeing each other again very soon.
This made alarm bells go off inside Sam's head, judging by the way his eyes widened and his face scrunched up in disgust.
Dean blushed at the mention of his name and the fact that Sam seemed to not want him to worry.
The ex-hunter felt for the folded piece of paper in his jeans pocket once more to make sure he got it.
Sam had been silent ever since he woken up. The young man looked good. Well, at least as good as he could look. The tone of his skin still seemed a bit off and his movements were still slow, but the doctor had assured Dean that it'd go by and that his mate would be back to himself within a couple of weeks.
Sam shook the doctor's hand and gave him a friendly smile as they said their goodbyes to each other.
The alpha moved over beside Sam, duffel bag slung over his left shoulder where it wouldn't be in the way. He gestured to the wheelchair right beside the bed.
Sam gave him a look.
"Hospital policy," Dean cocked an eyebrow. For once he was glad about the existence of it.
The omega stood up, slightly bowed and wincing and turned to sit into the wheelchair.
"That's my boy," he praised the man jokingly and got behind it.
Carefully, he pushed the wheelchair in front of him. Dean noticed Sam flinching away from sounds that were completely normal for a hospital like this. Though, even worse was the presence of other people around them as it looked like. Sam seemed to try to fold himself up into himself.
It was horrible. All those people, walking by, maybe even brushing against the wheelchair or Sam himself. The omega recoiled even more at that.
He wasn't used to this; so many people – strangers – in one place, all around him. Chattering and noises and the foreign place in general. It made his skin crawl and his chest tight. It was making it hard to breathe, as if all those people were sucking up the oxygen around him.
Suddenly, there was a heavy hand on his shoulder and a thump against his neck, rubbing circles into his skin. It was unbelievable how soothing it was to have Dean so close, touching him.
The alpha sped up and was relieved when they finally arrived at the elevator.
There was a mother with her teen son standing there, too. Both of them gave his mate curious and questioning gazes.
Dean noticed instantly – not just by her scent, but also by the way they were behaving – that she and the boy had to be alphas. He saw the boy stare down at Sam, drilling holes into the young man who he called his.
The ex-hunter cleared his throat and moved a bit to the side, so that he was kind of standing between the boy and Sam, trying to block his view. But that little bastard just moved with it and kept on staring at HIS mate.
Dean cleared his throat, a bit louder than necessary this time. He kept staring at the boy, who had a leg in a cast and a cane in one of his hands.
The mother looked over at him, then down at Sam and back up at him with a softer expression on her face. Her son did not get it – obviously. She nudged the teen in the side, but the boy ignored it and kept staring.
Though, he couldn't really blame the boy either. He probably had not seen an omega so far in his life.
Even though the boy was young, he should have at least been able to scent the omega's fear and distress by now, and not just his luring scent. Hell, Sam's scent would permeate the whole damn floor if the elevator didn't come soon, a scent that would irritate every alpha … Would draw each one of them closer.
Not that they would do anything to Sam. No way.
Dean knew that. It was more about the fear they'd scent, which would wake every common alpha's instincts. It'd tell them to go and find its source and help – if there was something they could help with.
Dean just didn't want them to come and gaze at Sam, even when it was well meant. It would make the omega feel crowded and maybe freak out. Especially when he wasn't used to so many people around. Particularly, alphas … Who still seemed to make Sam even more afraid …
"He's an omega," the teen murmured curiously.
"Ben," the mother hissed and nudged her son.
"I..." The teen swallowed thickly, his hand slowly moving up as if to reach for Sam. It looked like Indiana Jones reaching for the first crystal skull…
Like Lara Croft reaching out for Pandora's box …
His face filled with a whole lot of awe and curiosity. And wonder.
He was still too far away to physically touch him, though. His gaze flickered up at Dean's narrowed eyes. The boy looked confused all of a sudden.
Sam blinked up through his long bangs, but kept his head down, avoiding direct contact.
"Why is he scared?" the boy asked eventually, a bit confused. "He's … he's … I've never smelled something like that … What's wrong with him?"
"Ben," she said again, tugging at his sleeve. "Don't make me make you take the stairs," she warned.
"He's not used to being bothered by alphas, boy," Dean said bluntly. His gaze flickered towards the mother and back at the teen. "Staring at him doesn't make things better. So you either get the hint now and stare at your shoelaces, or I'll make you take the stairs." His stare was promising bloody murder.
This time the kid got it and tore his gaze away from both of them and stared down at his shoes and neon-yellow laces.
Dean made an approving sound and gave the boy's mother a nod.
Then, finally, a ping was heard and the elevator's doors moved apart.
The mother let the both of them take the elevator and held her son back when he intended to follow. Dean gave her a thankful nod and pushed the button to the basement.
When the door closed, the alpha took a deep inhale and some of the tension started to fade from him. "We'll be out of here in no time, Sammy," he murmured softly. "Don't you worry."
Sam didn't respond. This wasn't his world. Too many people. Too many variables he couldn't calculate.
This wasn't his world and he sure as hell couldn't imagine that it would ever be.
Two minutes later they arrived in the basement, where Dean pushed the wheelchair through a long corridor and a wide double door, above which "Exit" was written.
Once outside, Sam took a deep inhale of fresh cool air and let his eyes flutter shut. Finally getting out of those walls and different smells. The tightness in his chest eased away when he saw Bobby and Ellen in a big Ford Combi, whose engine was running.
"There we go, kiddo. Time to go home," Dean smiled and adjusted the duffel bag that hung from his shoulder. He moved around the wheelchair and took Sam's arm to help him stand up.
"Hop in, boys," Ellen called through the open window and gestured towards the back.
First, Dean helped the omega into the backseat and then hurried to stash the bag in the trunk, before he went to the other side and slipped in behind Bobby.
Sam closed the distance between them and leaned against Dean's shoulder as soon as he had the door on his side closed.
"There we go," Dean purred into his omega's ear and snuck an arm around his shoulders to tug him closer. He then wrestled the blanket out from underneath his butt – which was some serious effort – and tugged it over Sam's legs and lap.
Sam shivered. He put his hands under the blanket and tilted his head to the side to rest it against his alpha's shoulder.
Bobby drove slowly, really slowly, avoiding each pothole if possible and when the traffic allowed it.
An hour into the drive, Sam had the blanket up to his chin and was shifting every now and then.
The ex-hunter shifted, too, trying to make Sam more comfortable and let him rest against his chest, not caring that the angle in which he sat was troubling his hip and knee.
Ellen glanced over her shoulder at the both from time to time, sharing glances with the young alpha holding his omega, communicating without using words.
They made it another half an hour before Ellen reached over and laid a hand on Bobby's thigh, telling him that it was time for a break.
They took the next exit. Bobby pulled up in front of a dinner and parked the car right in front of the entrance. He shut the engine off.
"Break," Bobby murmured and unfastened his seat belt.
Ellen turned around to look at Dean. "What do you guys think about getting out of the car to stretch?"
Dean gave her a nod and craned his head to the side to look down at Sam's ridiculously soft mop of hair.
"Sammy," he whispered and nudged Sam gently.
The omega stirred and tilted his head back, catching Dean's gaze. He made a small sound.
"Wanna get outside for a bit?" he asked with a soft smile.
Sam nodded.
They all left the car. Dean helped Sam to get out and up on his wobbly feet. The omega made a few small steps, holding himself bowed over to take the strain from his surgical wound. Dean held him close with one arm around his waist and the other one holding the blanket around his shoulders while Sam had one arm around Dean's shoulder to hold onto him.
"Is this okay?" Dean asked concerned.
Sam only nodded, concentrating on walking.
"You hurting?" he asked when they reached the other side of the parking lot. If it weren't for Sam's long legs, he'd be able to lie down in the back …
Sam shook his head. Though, in the very moment Dean knew that the omega was lying. And Sam knew that Dean knew that he was lying.
"You know you can have something if it gets too bad, baby boy?"
Sam nodded again.
"We'll get some snacks!" Ellen called out.
Sam blew out a shuddering breath as he tried to straighten up to his full height. It wasn't a good idea and he had to duck back down and wrap an arm around his stomach.
"Okay." Dean's breath rose in a cloud of white steam towards the sky. "We're goin' back to the car."
Sam let himself be led back and folded into the backseat, where Dean sat down beside him.
When Ellen and Bobby came back, they had a bag full of cashews, Twinkies, M&Ms and other junk food, enough to last two weeks– at least.
They were back on the road before Sam could possibly process what was happening. Though not for long. He heard the rustling of plastic and papers and then – out of nowhere – an Oh Henry was held up in front of his face.
"Nah," he said and turned his head to the side. Sure, the chocolate bar looked inviting and pretty damn yummy, but then again, when he thought about it properly, he feared that he'd get sick to his stomach.
"Nope. C'mon. You know how it goes." Stay hard, Dean told himself, Make him eat. He checked his watch. Yep, it was about time to get him a snack.
Sam wanted to argue, but then he didn't. Looking into these green deep, hopeful eyes, the way Dean looked at him, all freckles and dimples and the soft curve of his lips as he smiled.
The omega had to smile back. Lured into taking the chocolate by his alpha's strong scent and lips and … everything. Feeling the need, the joy that bloomed in the ex-hunter's heart when he took the bar from him, and Sam eventually sunk his teeth into the soft sweetness.
Sam hummed as the mixture of chocolate and caramel melted in his mouth. Damn it. If he got sick afterwards he didn't care. At least not right now.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam had fallen asleep and was slumbering softly since Dean had made him take one of his pills for the pain.
And now that they were about to pull up before Bobby's house, Dean felt guilty to have to wake Sam up after just falling asleep an hour ago. Then again … He could lie back down once they were back in the cabin, right?
Back in the cabin, there was Garth, wearing a weirdly colorful apron around his narrow hips.
It was comfortably warm inside and smelling like roast beef and mashed sweet potatoes. The cabin looked as if they hadn't been gone for a single day.
Dean and Sam greeted the scrawny alpha with a short nod.
"Welcome home!" Garth said cheerily as he came out of the kitchen holding a spoon in his left hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Bed's ready too. Didn't know if you..." he started to stumble over his own words, "both … I mean, Sam's. And yours. Because … you know … Mates and … I just thought."
"It's fine, Garth," Dean murmured smirking.
"Thanks," Sam croaked out tiredly.
Sam leaned heavily against Dean, letting himself being guided into the ex-hunter's bedroom and let himself fall into the soft mattress of his mate's bed. He didn't care. Even if Dean lead him to an abyss to dump him he would have followed.
Dean made sure that Sam was covered in the comforter and blanket and adjusted the pillow until it looked comfortable.
Sam was lying on his back, still too uncomfortable on his left side, curled up, as he was used to. His eyes fell shut immediately. He didn't even notice Dean giving him a tender kiss to the forehead.
The ex-hunter brushed over Sam's cheek before he rose and adjusted the blanket once more before he left the room, leaving the door wide open in case Sam woke up or needed something – anything.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
The ex-hunter woke Sam up for a late lunch. He helped him to the bathroom and then into the kitchen, where he let him sit down. Garth was still there too, waiting for the both of them to arrive and have a seat. The scrawny alpha grinned broadly as he loaded their plates full with roast beef, sweet mashed potatoes and salad.
They all ate.
Sam wasn't hungry and far from feeling any kind of appetite, but he knew that Dean would worry if he didn't eat. So he did. He ate as much as he possibly could before feeling too full.
"That was good," Sam sighed contently, when he leaned back slowly. "Real good, Garth." He smiled tiredly.
"Sam's right." Dean grinned with a mouth full of food and scraping together the last remains on his plate. "That's awesome!"
No one would've thought that Garth's grin could get any brighter. The tiny guy was already on his second serving, too. "My mom's recipe."
"So … what do you guys think about watching a nice movie on TV?" Dean spoke up.
Garth cleared his throat and chuckled. "Nah. Without me. I gotta go." He sniffed and rolled a bite of meat around in his mouth. "I've overlies to please. Have to get my report about Sam written and sent and stuff." He sniffed. "I've serious work to do, guys. Can't hang around and do nothin'." He wiggled his eyebrows as if to underline the words "to do."
Dean shook it off and licked crumbs from his teeth. His hand slipped under the table and onto Sam's thigh. The omega's cheeks tinted a soft pink and he ducked his head when he bowed forward slightly and laid his hand over Dean's.
"I'm supposed to be back at the office tomorrow and considering that I'm not the fastest driver, I'm should get going by five – at least," he explained and shoved another fork full of mashed potatoes into his mouth, groaning lowly. "But … don't you worry. I'm gonna see what I can find out. We'll talk on the phone."
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Done as said, Garth Fitzgerald took off at five and left Dean and a snoring Sam in front of the TV on the couch.
While Sam was fast asleep, Dean's mind was working in overdrive. He wondered if Sam was really out of the woods. Now not talking about his health per se, more in general, as if the birth of that THING was the only thing that connected him to this case.
At least the ex-hunter hoped so. He wanted Sam out of the way when things got ugly, uglier than they had gotten already.
Dean had his fingers buried in the omega's soft hair and kept massaging his scalp, even when Sam was asleep with his head in Dean's lap. He loved the feel of those soft strands slipping through his fingers, the sounds Sam made in his sleep whenever he brushed over that tiny spot right behind his ear.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
There was still food left from lunch, but Dean decided to have it tomorrow. For dinner, he'd make sandwiches and milk shakes. Maybe with a cream topping for Sam. He could use it anyway. So why not?
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Three days later, Dean removed the stitches from Sam's wound and was satisfied to see the pink, healed skin. It wouldn't even scar that badly. Jim had done a great job.
Sam was moving around in the cabin, too. He was helping with breakfast and dinner. Though, in between he was still sleeping a lot due to exhaustion. Dean let him do things on his own, but had always a watchful eye on him; for example when Sam was about to bow down and put on his socks, or slip into his sweats.
They made small journeys through the yard.
They would sit down somewhere and Sam would cuddle up to Dean.
Then they'd get back and have a warm drink on the couch.
Sam cupped the warm cup in his hands and brought it to his lips. Hot steam from the tea with a shot of bourbon crawled up his frozen nostrils. When he set it aside, he sneezed and sniffed and rubbed his nose at the back of his sleeve.
"You not getting' sick, are you?" Dean eyed his mate suspiciously.
Sam shook his head and inched closer to Dean until he was right up beside him, touching. There was a smug grin playing on his lips.
"Somethin' you want, Sammy?" Dean's voice was a bit husky as he spoke. Just that tiny bit lower than it was used to be.
Sam nodded.
"What'd you want?" There was so much want in his voice and face.
The omega tilted his head to the side. His big hand snuck onto Dean's knee. "I'd like to kiss you," he whispered. The way he blushed when he said things like that, things that were basically innocent and though … coming from Sam's mouth … not sounding dirty at all.
The alpha grinned. "Yeah? … What are you waiting for?" He leaned back a bit, adjusting, so that Sam could come closer.
He did.
He climbed practically on top of Dean, his calves along Dean's thighs. He tilted his head down and brushed their noses together.
Then their lips.
Sam didn't seem sure about it, even though they had kissed before.
Dean decided that he didn't want to be teased. He decided that whenever Sam was too insecure to take the lead or just … being himself … he'd take it from him. Dean's arms wrapped around him and pulled him down, one hand on his back and one on the back of Sam's head.
The alpha pressed his lips to Sam's and demanded entrance with his tongue. Sam yielded to him. Though it took him a moment to kiss him back, to make himself relax into it. He still felt kind of nervous while kissing, as if he was cheating on someone else, on himself, or god knew on what exactly.
Though, Dean's scent was chasing his doubts away quickly and let himself being led back down onto the couch with the alpha on top of him.
Sam's hand snuck under the ex-hunter's shirt. Hot soft skin against his palm as he brushed up his sides, feeling muscles flutter under his touch. Dean moaned into his mate's mouth and ground his hips down against Sam's.
It didn't have the reaction Dean was expecting. Instead of some turned on noise, there was a pained whimper and that was the moment that he remembered Sam was still sore in different places and that it wasn't a very good idea to do certain things just now.
Dean pulled back and sat up above Sam's thighs, looking down at him. "Sorry," he murmured and wiped over his swollen lips. "What about we move into the bedroom, huh? More space?"
Sam frowned at that, but nodded.
Though to be honest: they didn't last very long in the bedroom. Both men fell asleep pretty soon after sneaking under the covers and cuddling up against each other, Sam as the little spoon like most of the time. Though, before he drifted off into a deeper slumber, he turned around in the alpha's embrace and buried his face in the older man's chest, breathing in musk and old wood and with that the unique odor of metal and oil.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
It was a week later, when Sam was doing a whole lot better and was nearly back to normal, that Dean Winchester decided that it was time to work on Sam's social skills in regard of people he didn't know.
He decided to avoid places with a whole lot of people for their first time leaving the yard together. Of course, he had talked with Bobby, Ellen and Jim about it. Even Jody. And all of them were fairly certain that it would be safe now for the omega to leave the property and its safety.
Dean had let Sam sleep in. He got dressed and shaved and made a pot of coffee. The ex-hunter had about three cups of it before Sam came shuffling out of – what had become – their bedroom.
He had really bad bed-hair and the imprints of the pillow were visible on the left side of his face.
He yawned and groaned and rubbed his eyes.
"Mornin', Sweetheart." Dean smiled at him brightly and - which Sam didn't notice at first - pretty nervously.
The omega made a hoarse noise and sniffed as he shuffled towards the coffee machine. Only when he was pouring himself a cup of coffee did he noticed the lack of the usual scent of bacon and scrambled eggs.
Sam dumped a butt-load of sugar into the mug and some milk and went to the kitchen-table, where Dean was sitting and watching him. He put the mug down and made a step past the chair, then bowed down and pecked the ex-hunter's cheek.
That was considered a good morning for him, since Sam barely talked after just waking up. He seemed to be a lot like a not-so-morning-person, which was pretty fine with the alpha.
When Sam was sitting on his chair and sipping his coffee, blinking around sleepily, Dean opened his mouth.
And shut it again.
He had no clue how to approach the topic of wanting to take Sam out for breakfast, to somewhere where other people were …
"I thought..." Sam was actually half through his coffee before Dean had the guts to talk up. "...Maybe we could go out for breakfast today?" He smiled, covering his nervousness.
Sam – who was about to sip from the mug again – put it back on the table and looked up in a mixture of confusion and shock.
He was wide-awake in one second.
He might have felt hungry before, but now that feeling was all gone. To be honest, he was starting to feel kind of sick.
"Sammy?" Dean asked, reaching across the table and taking Sam's hand in his.
The omega snapped out of it pretty fast and blinked at the man.
"There's a nice diner outside of town. They've the best waffles you've ever eaten. And huge servings." Dean knew that that kind of thing wouldn't bother the omega, so he could try, right? "It's quiet and nice. Besides … I don't think there'll be a whole lot of people there."
Sure Sam knew what his mate was trying to do, and basically he was right. He had to leave his safe haven sooner or later. He needed to go outside where other people were. Someday he'd need to have a job to pay off what he'd been given to by Bobby and the others. Somehow he needed to make it up to them.
After all he was eating their food, he'd been given clothes that they had bought for him.
Sam sighed.
If it'd make Dean happy, he'd do it. He had to try – at least.
Dean looked at him with hope filled eyes, huge and green and sparkling and who the hell could say no to that?
Surely not Sam. So he smiled – though weakly – at him and nodded.
"I'll get dressed," he croaked out and stood up, his hands already shaking and his throat starting to close up on him.
Surprised that it had been that easy, Dean was at a lack of words. Of course he hadn't anticipated that Sam would throw a temper tantrum, or that he'd say no. But the omega seemed to be good with it. Dean – kind of – had at least thought that there'd be signs of distress, or unease.
So he watched Sam saunter into his bedroom and then waited eagerly for him to come back out.
Sure, the omega took a bit longer than usual to get dressed and to brush his teeth, but Dean didn't give it any thought, since he figured it was completely normal to be nervous about leaving the house after such a long time.
When Sam came out, he was clothed in a dark pair of jeans, his one and only pair of boots and the corners of a plaid button down poked out under the leather jacket Dean had gotten for him in the very beginning. Sam had smoothed his hair back behind his ears on one side and let the others fall into his face where the scar was.
All in all, the omega looked hot as shit; all handsome and tall and hell … if that wasn't a picture to jack off to.
Dean swallowed hard, his throat going dry and he croaked out an "are you ready?"
Sam gave him a nervous smile. "I think … yeah."
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam rode shotgun in the alpha's baby. He stared out of the window, watching the trees pass by. He kept on staring while they drove through Sioux Falls, watching all those people on the streets. It felt as if this wasn't his world, as if it had never been his. As if he wasn't supposed to be among all of them.
Dean stole worried glances at the passenger's seat, overthinking his whole plan to take Sam out and he honestly thought about if it would be better to turn the heck around again. But he didn't.
They'd do this and Sam would handle it. There'd only be a hand full of people there. Hopefully.
Eventually they arrived at the diner. There were three other cars in the parking lot and Dean could spot five to six other guests and a waitress.
They sat in the car for about ten minutes before either of them was able to use the door handle and leave the Impala. Sam didn't leave immediately. Just when Dean walked around and opened the door and beamed inside, he got his shit together.
The diner seemed nice, but the omega wasn't sure if he could really do this. He looked inside the diner through the huge windows and frowned. Six people. And the waitress.
The omega took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
Then he felt a hand in his and fingers intertwining with his shaky ones. "C'mon. Let's get us a nice place inside." Dean smiled, tugging at his hand.
Sam followed, keeping his head bowed as soon as they entered.
All eyes were on them. On Sam. His sweet scent, mixed with insecurity and fear infiltrating the air rapidly. No one could not look at them.
Dean guided them to the very back of the diner and gestured Sam to take a seat in the last booth. The alpha slipped in opposite of him and stretched one of his legs out, so that it was brushing against Sam's ankle.
Sam squeezed himself into the very corner between table, bench, and window and ducked his head even further down, when the waitress came along with two menus.
Dean smiled up at her. "Heya, Milly," he said cheerily. Of course he hadn't gone there without letting her and the owner – Brandon – know about the circumstances. He couldn't just walk into a diner with an omega who might freak out and have a panic attack and hoping to not get into any trouble. After all Sam did – in fact – look like a victim of domestic abuse. His whole behavior, the way he wouldn't look at anyone …
That was why he chose this dinner today. He had called Brandon and had explained the situation roughly to him, so that he'd be there too to calm others down if Sam slipped into a mental breakdown or something.
Calling the police – despite the fact that Jody knew him and Sam already – wasn't something he wanted. It'd cause a whole lot of trouble and would make the next time he wanted to go out with Sam a whole lot more difficult.
So yes. Dean Winchester had planned this beforehand.
To say the least, Dean had never been the one to play things through except it was for hunting. But with Sam, it was pretty much different.
"What can I get you boys?" she asked, smiling brightly at them.
Milly was in her late forties, but a sweet lady. She had six kids: two girls and four boys, all of them betas except for Jean and Josephine. Jean was an omega and Josephine an alpha. But Jose was the one that she had had to worry about for her entire life. As far as Dean was concerned, that kid was pretty closed up and barely leaving the house, due to an extremely horrible encounter with a group of guys from school a couple of years ago.
So she understood.
That was another reason why Dean had decided to go here with Sam. Maybe they'd even make it a regular when it'd work out today.
"I'll have the … 'pig in a poke.' Extra bacon, gravy, coffee and some of your orange juice," Dean answered first.
She noted the things on her pad and then turned her attention towards Sam. "And what can I get you honey?"
Sam flinched.
Milly lost control over her face for a split second and a streak of sadness crossed her features, before she looked back at Dean.
He wouldn't make Sam order for himself if he wasn't ready. With time he'd come out of his shell and would be able to order for himself. For now it was a big thing that Sam was even here with him.
"I think he'll take a grand vanilla latte with sugar. Waffles with blueberries and whip cream and a chocolate milkshake."
She noted it again and then gave him a nod.
Dean – who sat so that he had a nice view over the whole dinner, his back to the wall – watched as one of the men took hold of Milly's wrist and whispered something. She turned out of the grasp and patted the man's shoulder, who glared over towards Dean and Sam. She bowed down and whispered something back, too silent for Dean to understand.
The man threw another glance back over his shoulder, this time his eyes were hooded with sorrow… or something similar. Dean didn't really care though.
While they were waiting for their food, Sam raised his head a bit and looked out of the window. The Impala stood right outside in the winter sun, all black and sleek and beautiful. He could understand why Dean liked that car so much. She truly was a beauty.
He was torn out from his thoughts when the chattering of silverware against dishes was heard and a huge plate with steaming hot waffles, a mountain of whipped cream and more than just a couple of blueberries were put in front of him.
Sam's eyes went huge. This didn't just look awesome; it also smelled amazing.
Dean grinned broadly at him and then at Milly.
"Enjoy yourselves, boys," she said and then she was gone again.
The ex-hunter kept looking at Sam, who stared for the better part of five minutes at the plate before he dared to take the fork and knife and start to eat his way through it.
Only when the omega started to eat, did Dean start, too, always keeping a watchful eye on the younger man.
They ate slowly and didn't talk. Sam ravished the waffles, all his appetite back at once. They truly were the best waffles he'd ever had. Not that he could remember having ever eaten others than the ones Bobby and Dean had made for him.
Sam concentrated on eating and not on the chattering from the other tables and the clattering that came from the kitchen. He shut the world around him out, staying in his little bubble until his plate was empty and his coffee finished.
Desperately searching for something to hold onto, he sought contact with Dean, whose foot was still resting against his and looked out of the window, watching the sunbeams shining down on the Impala and the gleaming chrome.
He didn't even notice Dean ordering the check and a whole cherry pie to take with them. Only when he felt the alpha pull his foot away, did he snap out of his daydreaming and gaze up through his bangs.
He watched the Winchester rise and slip out of the booth. Sam followed his example, but then stopped, frozen where he stood.
"Baby?" Dean asked with cocked eyebrows, his hand reaching out to him.
Sam's gaze flickered from the hand up to Dean's face and back down. He wanted to reach for it. He truly did. But he – somehow – couldn't. There was this weird feeling in his head and chest again. The way his throat started to close up on him and how his chest grew tight, only allowing him short in and exhales. He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard.
Then there was a familiar hand on his cheek and another one on his waist.
Dean could feel the shift in the air. Sam's panic became almost palpable within seconds. He heard glass shatter behind him and sharp inhales. There were footfalls and Milly saying something in a strict voice.
The alpha came up in front of Sam and cupped his cheek. "Sammy. C'mon, kiddo. You did so good," he whispered softly.
But his mate was just staring into nothingness.
"Lets get you out of here, huh?" he whispered – more to himself since he was fairly sure that Sam couldn't process what was going on right now.
He slipped up right beside him, one arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close. They only had to make it to the car. To his surprise it didn't take more than a gentle tug to make Sam move.
Dean took the box with pie in his free hand and walked Sam past the men and Milly.
She watched them leave.
The men near the entrance gave Dean and his mate curious looks when they walked by, looking like they were thinking about rising and following them outside … Or demanding to know what was wrong with the omega … Figuring out if it was Dean who had done this to him … Making sure that Sam would be safe with this alpha.
But there was Milly, giving them warning looks.
Finally back in the car, Dean dared to suck in a deep breath. He looked over at Sam and laid his hand on the younger man's knee.
"You did real good in there," Dean said, stroking up and down Sam's thigh, trying to reassure him that everything was alright.
Sam gave him a jerky nod, his chest rising and falling frantically.
"I mean it, Sammy." Dean smiled and put the box with pie into Sam's lap. "I'm proud of you. Real proud." He still smiled. "What'd you say? Lets get back to the house, huh?"
Sam gave him another jerky nod.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Everything was okay.
Their second visit at Brandon's dinner went down even better. Sure, Sam wouldn't look at anyone else, but he did not have another panic attack. Besides being jumpy and a bit shaky, Sam didn't seem too bothered by going there.
Okay, there might had been a really bad panic attack the third time they went there, but that was just because Sam have had a really bad night and morning and had seemed off in general. So it had also been partly Dean's fault, since he should've known that it may not was a good time to take Sam somewhere outside the Salvage.
Other than Dean thinking that he might needed an ambulance, due the fact that not even he was able to calm Sam down after about five people thought that they would be helpful by crowding them, it hadn't been too bad.
That day had been the worst so far.
After coming home, Sam had immediately went into the bathroom and had emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. After that he had crawled into bed and had pulled the comforter over his head, not wanting to see or hear anything.
But it's Dean Winchester we're talking about, so he could not possibly leave it that way. He wouldn't let Sam crawl back into his shell only because of one shitty day.
Dean blew out a slow exhale before he entered their bedroom. He snuck in silently, but not too silent, and crawled in on the free side of the bed. The ex-hunter snuck under Sam's comforter and felt that he had his back turned towards him. He felt the slight shaking, which meant that Sam was either cold or crying.
When a silent sob was heard, he figured it was the latter. He didn't say anything at all. He only inched closer and wrapped his arms around the omega's middle and kissed his shoulder.
"It's okay, you know?" Dean whispered against his skin. "It's not your fault. Things like that happen, Sunshine. You can't control that."
That was all it needed to send Sam over the edge and push him into full-blown weeping-mode.
Dean snuggled up right behind him and held him tight.
"You only have to hold on, okay? We'll try again. And next time we'll figure out if it's a good day or a bad day," he explained calmly. "Now we know that we stay at home on bad days, right?"
Sam turned around in the man's grasp and buried his wet face into Dean's shoulder.
"That's my boy." He drank in his mate's scent. "We'll get through this. You'll see. It'll only take time. But you'll heal." There was the bitterness of despair, but the omega's smell was still intoxicating to Dean.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam was alone in the bed and still sound asleep. He hadn't heard Dean's phone going off and him picking up, telling the man on the other end of the line that he'd be outside in a couple of minutes.
Sam didn't hear the front door being opened and closed when Dean left and he didn't hear the door open again, when dirty, heavy boots made their way across the living room.
He didn't hear a gun being cocked and he didn't notice a salt-and-pepper haired man with three-day-old scruff covering his face, stopping in his tracks in the doorway to the bedroom.
But Samuel T. Harvelle's subconscious instincts roared to live at the deadly stare the man directed at him.
He did stir and frown and make an uneasy sound when the man raised his desert eagle, pointing it dead center in the middle of his forehead.
Sam's eyes jerked open at the sound of the safety being removed and he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun, which was right in front of his face. He sucked in a sharp breath and his gaze flickered up at a pair of cold green-brown eyes that were drilling into his skull.
The man's scent had something familiar to him. Though, his sleep-dazed mind couldn't quite tell yet. Maybe it was the smell of metal and oil. Or maybe it was the odor of whiskey and cigarette smoke. Maybe it was that deep musky tang which filtered into his brain and reminded him a little bit of Dean …
… to be continued
