"Are you sure we got to wear these monkey suits?" Benny asks tugging at the lapel of his inky dark blue jacket, as he drives west along I-64. They are an hour out from Taylorsville, Kentucky, having swapped seats midway from their overnight rest stop at Cumberland.

"You're from the insurance company, remember?" Dean answers patiently, rifling through his cassette collection on his lap.

Although John wants Dean to pose as FBI, and beta, the young hunter knows that some travelling alpha salesmen and claims adjusters will bring pupless omega mates on the road with them. He plain does not want to hide his new status from anyone.

"There to check if imploding liver falls under the terms of their policies." Benny huffs. "Don't know a thing about the insurance game, but I trust you. As you said, Sugar, we'll be the ones asking the questions."

Dean nods. He notices Benny loosening his white and blue diagonal striped tie another fraction. There's a smidge of guilt that the ill-fitting suit is due to Dean hustling them out of Hoboken before it got late enough that Benny might reconsider his refusal of Andrea's offer of a bed for the night. Dropping the cabin key off had turned into a sumptuous lunch at Andrea's favorite Greek restaurant to celebrate Benny's mating to a 'delightful' omega. If only she knew how un-delightful Dean's thoughts were, as she jested about how dumping Benny had turned out to be the best thing for them both. There had been barely enough time to get a set of basic hunter fake IDs for Benny in matching family names to Dean's omega cards. A text to Caleb had set them up an introduction to a Ugandan dude operating out of the back of his pawn store. They paid a premium to pick up two decent badges and a couple of generic IDs before close of business. While they waited Dean pulled Benny into and out of a row of goodwill stores. For his mate, Dean snagged a couple of suits, patent leather shoes, plain white shirts, and generic ties, as well as an awesome find of plumbers' overalls that could easily transform into a fake alarm company or pest control uniform as needed.

"Excelsior Motel?" Benny checks, interrupting Dean's thoughts.

"Yep, that's what Dad's message said, Southside of town."

Taylorsville is a small community but more than a single street drive thru. Dean narrows his eyes noticing signs for schools, diners, cops and gas stations. There won't be any bars, because Taylorsville is a dry community. Three of the liquor-free-zone's prime citizens have expired from extreme alcohol poisoning since Christmas.

The motel John chose looks like it is closed for the winter, and due major renovations in the spring. Benny actually scrunches his nose as he swings the Impala onto the grounds, avoiding deep pitted potholes much to Dean's relief. They have plenty choice regarding parking, only an old pick up and a rusty Taurus show that the place has any sign of life.

"You sure?" Benny asks with a strong whiff of incredulity, as they both have one hand on door handles to exit in unison.

"You'd prefer the Super 8 back-a-ways, or that whitewashed guesthouse with the black wooden window frames on the opposite side of town." Dean states before explaining, "This place is cheap and anonymous. Betya they don't care that Dad's checked in as Jim Rockford but might hand 'em a credit card for Max Mendoza if he's staying an extra week."

"We could get cooties." Benny mutters in a low grumble, coming round Baby's front to bump against his mate.

Dean throws his head back and laughs. "Why'd think we've got emergency sleeping bags and blankets?"

The carpet at reception is threadbare but at least the office is toasty warm. The desk is empty, noise of a TV blaring from a room to the rear. Benny dings the bell on the desk with enough alpha force for the metal contraption to make a little leap in reverberation.

"Hey Gents. Y'want a room?" The motel owner grunts, emerging wiping his hands on his gravy stained sweater vest.

Dean does not want to know what the skeevy dude is wiping off his skin, or what he's got playing on the TV. Guy has got to be the owner because no one in their right mind would employ him. He begins a curled lip leer at Dean's scent and features. The lewd eye stops dead at Dean's neck, pupils dilate, flick to Benny, drop to the counter.

It is a great effort, one Dean feels should be rewarded later, not to laugh out loud, or dance around the motel showing off his collar.

Benny draws his shoulders back. He has noticed every nuance and is unimpressed. He clears his throat and produces a freshly minted business card.

"We're looking for Agent Jim Rockford. I believe he is staying at your motel." Benny taps the card. "Alpha Ulrich from Mutuality Insurance."

"Huh? The grizzly grump in 14?"

"That's him." Dean confirms.

Benny raises a brow in his direction but refrains from commenting.

"You and your mate wanna a room?" The guy scratches his armpit. "We got all separate entrances. I got a thick walled mating one, y'know, for heats or whatever."

"Sounds awesome," Dean whispers sarcastically for Benny's ears. "Thick walls."

"Lars and I may take you up on that," Benny drawls slowly.

Dean knows his alpha is trying not to laugh. He gives mental kudos that Benny's managed to remember that they are Kirk and Lars Ulrich. While Benny listens to a special offer of 7 nights for the price of 6 and makes their excuses, Dean unconsciously rubs along the soft bottom edging of his collar with his thumb and forefinger.

Outside the office Benny leans in blowing hot breath over the hollow of Dean's throat before kissing where his omega's fingers have been caressing.

"You do things to me, Mon Cher."

"I should hope so," Dean chuffs, taking his alpha's hand and leading him down the cracked pavement, seeking Room 14.

Dean picks the lock while Benny blocks the view of anyone driving by.

The omega steps through the door and over the line of fishing gut his Dad has strung across as a spy catcher. He points to the trip hazard. Benny looks dazed as he takes heed of Dean's warning. For a moment, the hunter is nonplussed but then he flicks the light switch and tracks his alpha's gaze.

John has decorated one wall. Precisely 80% of it is devoted to the current mystery in the town. The remainder pertains to where John stands in his eternal quest. Dean casts an eye over the perennial information for any breakthrough however small. Only difference to Hazelton's wall is a new pin dotting a spot in Indiana and below a new paper cutting about some cattle mutilations in Lafayette. On closer inspection, the events occurred months ago, so probably not their next destination.

Benny's still gawping.

Dean shrugs. John's room redecoration must look insane to a civilian.

"Some of this is in Latin," Benny gawps at pages ripped and pinned around photos of Taylorville, copies of autopsies, and newspaper columns. "D'you read Latin?"

"Some. Slowly." Dean chews his lip, "Sam's fluent."

He turns over the mattress and jeopardizes his health to look under the bed. John's journal isn't there. There's a loose page in the Gideon Bible on the side table by the pillow. Dean pounces on it like catnip.

"Ha! Yatzee."

"What'd'ya get, Sugar?"

Dean unfolds a single A4 sheet. There is a line sketch with an 'X' off the road heading west out of town. "Directions, Alpha."

Body curse. Spell. Not witchcraft. Amateur casters. Got a bead on them. McAlpine's Farm. Turn off Mt Washington Road 3 miles out. Follow me.

"Typical." Dean huffs. "He wants me here, and then takes off alone. I mean, he said 72 hours," He checks his watch, "71 hours 20 minutes ago."

"Your call." Benny nods. He raps a knuckle against a high school club flyer for a meeting railing against restrictive local county laws.

Dean joins the dots. "Freaking high school kids and college dropouts playing with fire. What's this? Footloose meets Hocus Pocus?"

"Are we on the move?" Benny has already turned for the door.

"Yeah, Alpha." Dean confirms. "They might be dumb kids, but if they've got a powerful grimoire, who knows what sort of crapfest is going down?"

Having matched John's sketch to the local map Dean plucked from the wall display, they find their destination with ease. Dean rolls his Baby to a crawling stop just beyond the muddy entryway to the old farm buildings. McAlpine's Farm looks like the last McAlpine went to the great farm in the sky sometime around George Bush Senior's ascension to the White House. The surrounding land sold off to adjoining properties, all that remains is a tumbledown long cabin with derelict out buildings and rotting fences. John's truck is parked round the side of a three walled previous animal shelter. The low glow of battery powered lighting leaks out from between slatted cabin windows.

Dean and Benny slide into synchronized hunting mode again. Dean jerks his head to the left, getting Benny to take point, as he eases gingerly up to the door. There are missing and loose boards. Benny points with his rock salt filled shotgun to a darkened rotten one by Dean's boot. The omega quirks his lips in gratitude. He squints at the boarded over window. Benny heads to it. The alpha raises one finger. He mouths and one tied up.

The hunter hopes the one tied up is their Kevin Bacon and not his Dad, but either way the numbers are in their favor. There is only one suspect and three badass hunters.

Benny approaches. Dean's right beside him, testing the door with his shoulder. It swings open with an ear splitting creak of rusty hinges. So much for subtle entry.

There is no foyer. The door opens straight into a living area. There's been redecoration going on here too. Old beer cans and signs of drug use litter the floor, much of it decaying with age. A freshly painted inverted pentagram dominates the far wall. It's a new enough addition to stand proud against the dirt. The whole place reeks of decay, mould and teenage parties gone bad. Those scents are clouded over by alpha fear and rage, spiked with fresh urine and blood.

John's got a young curly haired brunet alpha bound to an old chair. By the bloody lip and nose, the hunter has been working on him a while. With a flick of his fingers to stay back, John acknowledges Dean's presence. However he is completely focused on his prey, doesn't break away for a moment.

Using his voice to demonstrate his superior alphaness to his bewildered captive, John demands, "Who gave you the grimoire?"

Dean is reminded of gazelles pinned by lions.

Not answering fast enough, the kid alpha gets a backhanded crack from his inquisitor.

"We found it." The boy's voice quavers. He spits a glob of bloodied spittle.

"Who gave it to you? When? Where? What color were their eyes?" John's fist pounds down on the arm of the chair, slamming knuckles into the back of the dude's hand.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Man." It comes out as very un-alpha-like squealing. "I swear we found it buried under the floorboards."

"Where?" John snarls.

"Here. I swear." Amid the stench of fear there is a whiff of honest desperation or desperate honesty. "We found it here. The night school broke up for the holidays."

"Dean?" John steps back but doesn't turn round. "How about you go round up Drew's little omega girlfriend?"

"No!" Drew roars, his alpha showing as he demands, "Not Patti. She knows nothing. She wouldn't even come out here."

"You are a lying shit." John hisses. "Maybe seeing Patti tied up…"

"No! I swear, Mister. I swear on my Momma and Poppa. We didn't know. We only wanted to party. Didn't know the stupid chant would work, that it would do that to people. I mean we felt sick, didn't know how to stop it."

Drew sags in his bonds. John nods. He has got the whole story.

"I'll show you."

Drew looks up, as John douses lighter fuel over a mangy falling apart leather bound book with a goat's head cover, and sets it alight.

"Dean." John instructs calmly. "Guess you'd better let our amateur witch outta his bonds."

Dean comes forward, passing his Dad. Benny stays under the door frame. God only knows what he thinks of his first, pretty tame, introduction to interrogation. Dean kneels down to slice through the electrical tape around Drew's ankles.

"Freaking school boy spell casters," Dean chuckles under his breath.

John got his eye on the book which is slow to burn. He crouches. The seasoned hunter pours a measure of salt onto the smoldering heap before adding more gasoline to create an indoor evil-purging pyre.

As soon as Dean has slit the tape binding Drew's bruised arms to the chair, the young alpha scarpers, feet sliding from under him as he stumbles as fast as he can for the exit. Benny stands aside to let him flee.

"You took your damned time." John comments as he rises to full height, wiping his hands on his jeans. He tilts his face up, scenting the air. Now that fear-stinky Drew is gone, beneath the sulfurous ash of destroyed magic, John can perceive a change in his son's scent and maybe the presence of new strange alpha.

Dean turns to face his father, conscious of the warm leather encircling his neck.

John's eyes bulge. "What. The. Fuck. Is. That?"

Dean lifts his hand, fingertips ghost the green trim. "My collar."

"Your motherfucking what?" John surges forward making a grab for Dean's neck as if he could rip it from his skin.

Dean dodges backwards, putting the rickety chair between them.

"What the fucking hell have you done now?" John rages.

"And this is my Alpha." Dean is a million times thankful that he is not facing John's shocked reaction alone. Benny is closing the distance between them with blessedly long strides.

John swivels, looks Benny up and down. The younger alpha is tense, ready to fight or make peace. As if John's brain is having trouble comprehending Benny's presence, he zeros in on Dean. It's like the older hunter's perception filter is blocking out the alpha who stands with his son.

"So what? You're mated? Gonna give up the family business for some stray you picked up on the road, or on that island? Gonna stop saving people to put your own selfish wants first?"

Dean gulps. His eyes prickle and a lump swells in his throat. Is it overly selfish to want a mate, a family of his own?

"Hold up, Alpha Winchester." Benny rumbles from his spot. "If there is one thing my Dean ain't, it is selfish."

"Your Dean?" John gawps.

"My Dean." Benny repeats firmly. "We come to share news of our mating."

"Please Dad," Dean's chest shudders, waiting for John's judgment.

His father blows air through his nostrils like a bull challenged. His voice is thick with sarcasm, "What did you expect? Balloons? Trumpets? Yipikaye?"

"I'd've thought you might congratulate your firstborn pup." Benny's voice is solid, firm, steady. Steady enough to hold Dean together.

"Congratulate him? For ruining his life as a hunter? For falling into being useless…"

"Dad!" Dean doesn't want to hear this. He knows he has rarely pleased his father enough for praise but to be damned like this in front of his alpha is cringe inducing.

"What are you going to do, Dean? Sit on your butt and spew out pup after pup for this stranger?"

"If I did," Dean raises his chin high, displaying his collar and the vestige of his pride, "then those pups would be your grandchildren."

John blanches. His Adam's apple rises and falls. "I never wanted this for you."

"But what about what I want? Hell, what I need." Dean exclaims, "I need this. Need Benny. Dad, it's who I am."

"I don't know you." John mutters.

With an effort to begin again, the omega straightens his back and looks his Dad in the eye. "I'm Dean Winchester Lafitte, and his is my alpha."

"I don't understand," John's rage drains away from both his voice and scent, replaced by a confused tone, that makes Dean's ears perk up. "Why'd you come off your sups, Son? You were a great beta hunter. Now look at you, stuck with this alpha."

It is Benny's turn to fume. Dean can sense it like invisible lightning strikes.

"No Dad. Benny is my mate." Dean insists. The situation obviously bears repeating. "Mate, Dad. I am mated, claimed, collared and solemnized. And who said anything about freaking giving up hunting? I mean, I'm not gonna hunt when I'm with pup, but Benny was my partner on Gauntlet. We ended the Angiak as a team."

Benny wraps an arm round Dean's waist. They come round the chair, removing the barrier. They stay an uneasy distance away from John. Benny's moves to take Dean's hand in his. Touch settles stewed up nerves inside.

"Dean, wake up," John squints at them both. "You know this guy like what? A week?"

"How long did you know Mom?" It spews out of Dean's mouth before he press his lips together to prevent it.

The slap across his cheek comes with cracking swiftness. It's not an uncommon response to back talking his Dad, but for it to have happened in front of his alpha is humiliating. In the seconds it takes Dean to clear his head, Benny's got John pinned against the wall, growling, his large hand pressing on his Dad's throat.

Dean can hardly believe that Benny has retaliated on his behalf, put himself on the line for his mate, stood up to John in the blink of an eye. Thing is, this could get nasty. John is a dirty experienced brawler but Benny's got pure protective instinct on his side.

"Alpha," Dean steps closer. His cheek is stinging. He has bitten the inside of it. He ignores the discomfort, focuses on his mate. He pushes away his peripheral awareness of how John is holding his body, ready to spring with a sneering expression spreading across his reddening face. "Alpha, my Alpha… I think he got the message."

"You. Will. Never. Lay. A. Hand. On. Dean. Again." Benny snarls, releasing his arm from John's windpipe. He shakes his hand in the air as if it had touched something icky.

Dean's rooted to the spot. John's face is defiant.

"We're leaving." Benny reaches for Dean's hand.

John shouts at them. "You walk out that door, don't you ever…"

The words shock Dean. They steal his breath, stab his heart, and catapult his mind back to another cabin…

"Stop! Please. Stop Dad." Dean beseeches, eyes shining, breath shuddering, leaning his upper body forward.

Miracles do happen because John goes silent mid-sentence.

"Don't say it, Dad. Don't say those words to another son. You can't be a family of one. Please don't do this to yourself."

John's mouth is agape. He looks at Dean, examines him. Dean slinks closer to Benny. He's unsure what comes next. Being more enveloped in his alpha's scent and aura offers a pillar of support, something to stop his knees jellifying.

It is Benny who restarts time, breaks the vacuum. The alpha tightens his grip on Dean's arm, squeezing everything that needs no words, before lifting the veil of silence.

"Alpha Winchester. I'd sure like you to remain part of your son's life, but if you are, then you will treat Dean with respect. We are mates and that's not going to change. Other thing not changing is Dean's not going to fake being beta again."

"And what if I need a beta partner?" John snaps back.

"You could ask Travis, Caleb or Bobby?" Dean shrugs.

"But not you." John shakes his head with exaggerated slowness. "How do you know? What if this is a mistake?"

Dean gulps around an iron ball that has lodged in his throat. "Then it's my mistake. But this isn't wrong. This is so many kinds of right I can't tell ya, Dad."

"And you," John swings to laser in on Benny, eyes vicious with broiling alpha, "What if you change your mind? What happens then? He's claimed now, bitten and frigging collared."

Benny's calm measured tone is full of threat. It chills Dean's spine. "Don't speak of our union in such a manner. My life changed when Dean entered it. Everything up to that moment vanished. We came together. Found each other. Found our mates in each other. There ain't nothing that would drag me away from him."

There is a pause. John scrubs a hand over his mouth and bearded jaw. Dean nuzzles into the wool sleeve of Benny's coat. He can't bring himself to care if this omega-mate reassuring act damns him further in his father's eyes.

"Being openly omega, I never wanted that for you." John sighs in defeat.

They've gone in a circular argument. Dean reads all the years of disappointment his father feels that he sired an omega son, but he hears also in those words that his Dad cares for him, that he never wanted him to face stigma or the sort of trouble he got into on Gauntlet. He takes a deep breath.

"Dad, I am omega. It's who I am, who I always was." He repeats, hoping that it might sink through his father's Winchester stubborn skull. "And I'm mated, Dad. I'm not alone."

John inclines his head slightly to show he heard. He addresses his new son-in-law, "What'd you do?"

"Chef."

"You'll keep him in pie, whatever else." John's huff is almost mirthless, yet Dean grasps tight on a glimmer of conciliation.

"Where's the next case?" Dean chances.

"I can't travel with you like this, Dean."

It's like another smack. "What?"

"I can't stop you following, but I can't hunt with you."

"Dad?"

"No, Dean."

Dean recoils. He had thought there had been a chink in the armor, but it looks like not. At least he's not being told never come back.

"You sure?" Benny's eyes narrow. "You want us to go our separate ways?"

"You'll take care of him?" John asks as he kicks a boot through burnt paper ashes.

A single trail of water trickles down Dean's cheek. Benny sounds choked as he confirms that he will.

"Good." John nods, turning his back, hitching his shoulders in his leather coat.

Dean is hit by how alone his Dad is, how his quest for vengeance sets him apart, even from his sons. It doesn't excuse or ameliorate cruel words, harsh treatment, and all the bad that has happened since his Mom died, but in this moment Dean sees everything his Dad has sacrificed. He vows that he won't repeat his father's mistakes. Dean's pups won't live this life.

"Dad." Dean calls out as John's hand pushes the cabin door. John doesn't turn, but he halts his step. "Bobby'll know where we are, you know, if…?"

The last view Dean gets is of John's hand raised in farewell salute. Benny's arms enfold him. He hears the truck engine rev with his face buried in his alpha's chest.