Knock. Knock. Knock.
He raised his head sharply.
His heart was pounding wildly, and at first he wasn't sure where he was. Then he realized he'd fallen asleep with his head on the table, cell phone in one hand and gun in the other. Loaded. Nice work, Winchester, you want to blow your head off in your sleep, he chided himself. Then he wearily rubbed his face, creased from the hard tabletop, and frowned at the sun shining outside the window at that unpleasant, autumn angle. It looked like a beautiful day.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Another knock made him stiffen. Who could it be? Certainly not the motel manager, since it was only Friday and the next week's pay was always Monday morning. Of course, things like mail or packages didn't come their way. Maybe some other guest.
He stood up and slowly walked over to the window to look out. Fortunately, he could see to the door and... Damn. Shit. One of Alpha's men was standing outside the door. The disheveled Beta male that Alpha had borrowed the gun from yesterday, the one he had so willingly and mercifully offered Dean to execute himself in the crossfire. He was balancing two shopping bags in one hand and a smaller, white bag with some sort of logo on it in the other.
Dean looked at the gun lying on the table, then back at the guy. Was it safe to open it and send him somewhere? Or should he have waited until he left on his own? No, the guy didn't look like he planned to leave. He could have sent him the fuck through the door, but that might wake Sammy up and the last thing he wanted was his little brother asking nosy questions about who he was and why he'd come.
He grabbed the nine, checked with a quick glance on the way to the door that Sam was still asleep, then carefully pushed the door open. The gun was firmly in his hand, the barrel pointing towards the ground, but in a way that the guy could see it through the crack.
Surprisingly, Beta smiled widely as soon as the door opened, his smile fading just a little as he noticed the gun. It was clear he was used to people running around with guns in their hands.
"Hello, kid," he said in a kind tone with a thick Russian accent, picking up the white bag and puffing a little on the large paper bag. "Batyushka sent you something."
"Who?" It fell out of him uncomprehendingly. Bat-what? The word confused him.
"Batyushka. The boss. Mr. Novak... Alpha Castiel," Beta clarified with a lingering smile.
Clearly, he meant his boss. Why hadn't he figured it out right away? Who else would have sent Beta here if not Alpha - Castiel, he should call him that, if only to avoid confusion - So, it could only have been Alpha Castiel who sent Beta here with... was it really a purchase? And that little bag, could it have been food? The bag definitely had a restaurant logo on it.
Dean sucked in air.
He could still smell mostly himself, since he hadn't bathed since yesterday, and he was soaked in the stench of the kitchen and the disinfectant, but beyond that he could smell the aroma of baked cheese and ham, plus Beta's very faint sea-like smell that was almost overpowered by the strong, sweet cologne. He didn't feel any aggression, the guy even looked calm.
"Can I come in, kid?" Beta asked as the silence stretched, trying to keep it small. He hunched his shoulders and tilted his head to show his neck. These things always looked weird on Betas. They didn't do them naturally, because their instincts were weak. They couldn't understand the subtle nuances of smells and attitudes between Alphas and Omegas.
"No, you certainly can't, man. I don't even know your name."
"Pyotr, but you can call me Peter," the Beta introduced himself, holding up the white bag right in front of Dean's nose. "I brought baked bagels with ham and cheese. There are six, but I'll send for more if that's not enough for you. I have nephews your age and I know kid like you are like... the word... er... piranha."
Dean frowned first at the bag and then at Beta. The same guy who yesterday had been ready to kill him and throw him in the Hudson and had calmly listened to the Alpha make him agree to a deal that definitely involved sex, today he was acting like a good uncle and talking about how boys needed to eat a lot when they were growing up. He should tell him to fuck off, except... the bagels smelled so good it made Dean's stomach growl.
The loud sound was impossible to miss and brought an amused smile to Beth's face.
"Okay, come on in, but don't make any noise. Sammy is still asleep," he finally agreed, because what could possibly go wrong? Apparently Alpha Castiel claimed him as his Omega, literally his property, and if this one wasn't… Pyotr a complete moron, he certainly wouldn't touch Alpha property like Castiel Novak was. Plus, he'd seen the Beta's deferential and subservient attitude towards Alpha.
He slowly opened the door, but got a better look at the guy before stepping aside. He was as tall as Dean's Alpha, so taller than Dean, broad in the shoulders, with a large belly arching over the waistband of his lounge pants and a face that looked like that of a boxer. Flat and scarred. He was dressed in a dark red shirt, made of a strange, shiny material like a woman's blouse. It was unbuttoned enough to show the head of the Virgin Mary tattooed on his hairy chest and a gold cross similar to the one worn by Alpha Castiel. And draped over his shoulders was a black leather jacket that he definitely couldn't button up over his round belly.
He had the cheerful smile of a good uncle on his face and a little too much gel in his hair.
Beta walked in and stood politely outside the door.
"Put that on the table," he half demanded, half commanded, and watched as Beta obediently and quietly carried the bags to the kitchen table.
"The boss said..." the Beta began as he set the bags down and turned to Dean, only to be interrupted by sounds from behind the screen.
They both turned their lunch in that direction.
"Ahrm... Dean?" Sam murmured absently from the bed.
Dean didn't bother with any pleasantries, just opened the door and gestured with his gun towards the outside. This time Beta frowned a little, but obediently left the room anyway.
He slammed the door behind him and shoved the gun into his bag, just in time to see Sam, who had emerged from behind the screen, do nothing more than stand at the door and lock it.
Sammy staggered, frowned a little, and then his eyes fell on the bags.
"Who were you talking to?" He asked on his way to the table.
"No one... just... the guy in the other room," he corrected himself quickly when his brother shot him one of his looks, getting to the table first before Sammy could start rummaging through the bags. He didn't know what strange things Alpha Castiel might have had delivered to him and he wasn't going to risk his little brother finding out first. "I met him outside on my way back from shopping. We were talking about the weather and stuff. You know... the usual bullshit," he said casually, and after a quick glance into the white paper bag, he pulled out two delicious smelling bagels. "Breakfast!" He said cheerfully, placing the bagels in front of Sam.
His brother measured him with a piercing look before taking one bagel and biting into it hungrily.
"Okay..." cooed Sam over a bite. "Who punched you?"
Dean froze, his mouth open around his own bagel, but only for a moment. Then he quickly took a big bite, allowing himself time to chew and also to consider the answer. He didn't know how bad his jaw was, but he guessed from the fact that Sam wasn't mad and in pain that it wouldn't be too bad. Lip was dragging a bit, but he could chew normally and everything. He hadn't checked his stomach either, but it didn't hurt to breathe on its own, only when he breathed too much, and now when he ran his hand over it, it hurt kind of moderately. He'd been punched in the stomach a few times a lot more. In the end, the guy probably hadn't really meant to hurt him last night, probably because he'd been ordered to bring Dean in alive and in usable condition.
"Just some jerk in a bar. He didn't like that I beat him at pool," he replied, mentally patting himself on the back for that answer, because the money won at pool explained why he could afford a hot breakfast plus the big purchase that was on the table next to them. Speaking of shopping...
He peeled his eye over the bags.
He was skeptical of what might be inside and didn't want Sam to peek in first, so he stuffed the rest of the bagel in his mouth and took another, then rose from his chair to look in the bag. The contents looked perfectly normal at first glance, so he slowly began to pull it out.
In the first bag was a large bottle of milk. Orange and apple juice, the good, expensive kind that wasn't just water with sugar and fruit flavor. Moistened tissues and a smaller bag from the pharmacy. He checked its contents carefully, but it was just medicine for a temperature, something for a cough, and vitamin C, just stuff for someone with a cold, except... how the hell had Alpha found out Sammy was sick? Did the motel clerk know and tell him? Or did he have them followed?
The other one looked frighteningly likely, considering - he cast a quick glance to the window - yeah, the car from last night was still there. Two figures still loomed in it, plus Pyotr was leaning against the open window, smoking.
In the other bag were such ordinary things as bread, chocolate cereal, macaroni, and frozen pizzas. Just food he would buy too, because all he had to do was pour warm water over it or heat it up in the microwave. But there were also tomatoes, apples and bananas. He couldn't remember the last time they had fresh fruit. Sure, they used to have it at school, and when he could, he'd bring it home to Sammy so he could have something healthy too, but he didn't buy it. It was expensive and perishable. You couldn't stuff it in a bag without it turning to mush.
"Bananas!" Sammy grunted excitedly, flooding the air with so much of the smell of a happy Alpha puppy that it shouldn't have been possible when he saw a regular banana. Sam had always been weird. "Since when..." he wrinkled his nose, "do we buy fruit?" He asked, but by then he already had one of the bananas in his hand and was peeling it.
"A little vitamin can't hurt." He shrugged casually.
"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Sam asked in return, frowning suspiciously over the banana he'd just bitten into.
"Don't be such a bitch, bitch." He grinned in return. "I just got lucky. Big bets and all that. So don't complain and be glad you can stuff the breadbox with some of your beloved rabbit food."
Sam made a face, but didn't answer because he actually had a banana stuffed in his mouth while somehow mysteriously managing to pop the noodles.
"And blow your nose," he added, sending wet tissues across the table. God knew he needed them because his nose was all red and swollen from sniffling. But when he talked, he sounded better now, and he had a nice color, too. On Monday, he could finally go to school.
"Shouldn't you be at school?" Sam asked, as if reading his mind.
Shit! He probably should have...
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. It was quarter to ten, so no rush. He wasn't going to make his first class anyway, and he didn't particularly mind, except... he had a text from Lisa, Becky, and Kevin, and all three were asking him where and if he was coming to school. Lisa was even worried about him, asking if anything had happened to Sammy or their Alpha. That probably had something to do with the fact that he had stopped answering her the moment she texted him yesterday about going to bed. Just the best part of their conversation and he'd missed it. Oh, shit.
But there was more besides messages from friends.
Castiel.
That damn name was staring him in the face, and... it made his stomach especially drop. He'd like to think it was anger or... hell, it could have been fear, but the truth was that it was his Omega instincts reacting to the mere memory of Alpha. Even the stupid name reminded him of the smell of cherries and almonds, and even... he clenched his jaw angrily. He certainly didn't want to remember Alpha's musky aroused scent, his large hand on his thigh, and he certainly didn't want the memories to excite him, but that was just the way it was. He could feel the telltale warm curl low in his belly and the whispering voice of his Omega self telling him how great it was that an Alpha as strong as Castiel wanted him.
Angrily, he opened the message. For he knew he couldn't let it go unanswered, no matter what it contained.
Castiel: Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep well? Did Pyotr bring everything you needed?
He didn't know exactly what he was expecting, but probably not this. Those few perfectly ordinary sentences seemed somehow strange in the context of the fact that he'd been texted by the Russian mobster who'd kidnapped him a few hours ago.
Still, he found himself not even hesitating as he put his fingers to the keyboard to reply.
Dean: hi... yes... he brought a lot of bagels for breakfast too.
He sent a message before hesitating and typing another:
Dean: thank you alpha.
Considering what an Alpha he was, it was definitely wise to say thank you, and besides, his dad had raised him to be polite and act like it. Well, most of the time. Not everyone around him deserved to be treated politely.
He was about to put the phone away, feeling he'd done what he needed to do, when another message came through.
Castiel: That's good to hear.
Castiel: If you need anything before 5pm, call. Texting doesn't always wake me up.
He blinked at another message. Again it seemed so casual, friendly and informative at the same time, as if they'd known each other for years and this wasn't the first time they'd texted. Rationally, he knew it was weird, but it didn't feel that way, and it annoyed him. And it annoyed him even more when he found himself laying his fingers on the keyboard again. Was he completely unable to control himself? Damn it! He was no needy Omega waiting for his Alpha's every word. There wasn't! Just no! And this knot wasn't even his Alpha... Just...
Dean: are you going to sleep now?
Are you going to sleep now? Really? That's the most intelligent question you could ask Winchester, he grinned smugly. If up until now the Alpha was sure you were a stupid, naive Omega, now he's going to think your mind is completely blown.
Castiel: I'm an owl. And I live mostly by night.
Castiel: As you've already learned.
Alf's answers seemed a bit like a joke or something completely deadly serious. He didn't know which it was.
"The girl from school?" Sammy asked suddenly.
Dean looked up at him in surprise.
"No... just a guy from class," he lied immediately.
His brother pulled back and measured him with his all-too-bright and therefore unbearable gaze.
"Alpha?" He intoned, and though he sounded curious, his scent was a little bitter with hostility, but also with apprehension. He probably wasn't even aware of it, he certainly couldn't feel his nose stuffy and his throat full of mucus, but he reacted like a stupidly possessive Alpha who was about to have his Omega taken away. Or no, not really, but it was definitely the first time he'd felt anger from Sam when he thought he was sleeping with someone, and actually the first time he'd assumed it was an Alpha. Which in and of itself was... what the hell? It was none of his business who Dean fucked, if anyone.
"No, it's not Alpha."
"Oh," he sniffled again, licking his lips. "I thought... ohrm... you looked so dumbfounded that I thought maybe..."
"Maybe what?" he asked sharply. "That I've run into some knotty guy, my Omega instincts have gone haywire, and now I'm going to run after him like an obedient little dog?"
Sam looked surprised at his outburst at first, before frowning and a wave of bitter anger rolled out of him, along with a low growl, masked by the wet sound of mucus in his throat.
"You know very well that's not what I meant!" He defended himself angrily. "I just meant that-" he paused, either to take a deep breath to calm himself or to wipe his wet nose with his sleeve. "There's nothing wrong with liking an Alpha boy. Seventy-three percent of male Omegas are attracted to male Alphas, you know? There's nothing weird about it, so... if, you know... if, purely in theory, there was an Alpha... or maybe not even an Alpha... then I think it's okay."
Dean opened his mouth to say something with a sigh, but he didn't really know what. He closed it again. He didn't have the energy for this, not after everything that had happened last night and he still had to shower and try to make second period... well, maybe more like third.
"I don't have time for this. I have to go to school. Finish those bagels and let me see you in bed when you leave," he ordered, ruffling Sam's hair as he walked past him towards the bathroom.
The little Alpha grunted in annoyance and ducked, which only amused Dean, so he grinned to meet Sam's pouty expression and closed the bathroom door behind him.
He was alone.
He leaned against the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He had a bruise about the size of his thumb on his jaw, and when he pulled his lip back a little, he saw a bloody cut on the inside of his lip, but nothing serious. He pulled off his shirt and looked at his stomach. There were nicely sculpted bruises from his fists, nice and close together so they almost merged into one big one.
He felt them carefully and hissed in pain.
A quick, warm shower would definitely come in handy.
Ten minutes later, when he emerged from the bathroom, he found his brother sitting obediently in bed, his laptop on his lap and an apple in his hand. Sammy ran his eyes over his bruises and frowned, but neither of them said anything. It wasn't the first time he'd come home beaten, and seriously, this didn't even look too bad. Hardly a school fight.
He threw on some clothes, stuffed his books into his bag, and as he searched for his jacket, he realized it must still be hanging in the diner. Damn job. He had no choice but to borrow Sam's. It was rather unusual because it smelled like a little Alpha, which wasn't downright unpleasant, on the contrary it was comforting, but his dad's scent deeply soaked into his old leather jacket was better. It always made him feel so much more... powerful and that was something he definitely needed right now.
Pull yourself together, Winchester. You're not a whiner, he admonished himself, but as he shoved his cell phone into his pocket, he checked to see if he'd gotten a text or anything from his dad, and his gut tightened a little when he realized he hadn't. He hadn't expected it, their Alpha never answered right away, but this time he damn well might. Yeah, he was pretty sure that if he was a good Omega and went along with Alpha Castiel, they weren't in immediate danger, but he wanted out of here and Dad... Dad was the only option.
He zipped up his jacket, threw his bag on his shoulder and walked out.
Just outside the door, he stood staring at the car on the other side of the parking lot and especially at the three guys who were in it or near it. All three returned his gaze, not even trying to look inconspicuous. He must have seen them all on this side of the building, and that included the receptionist. It pissed him off. If they had to watch him, they could do it without Sammy noticing.
He pointedly headed straight for them.
"Hey!" He addressed them without the slightest courtesy, barely suppressing the angry snarl that tugged at his lips; an instinct to protect his puppy. "Are you going to follow me all the time?"
Pyotr pushed away from the car he was leaning against and walked towards him, arms outstretched, palms up as if to show he was harmless.
"We're not following you, kid," he dismissed the obvious, as if perhaps Dean was blind and stupid. "Batyushka told us to protect you."
"Right," he grinned. "And from what?"
"Whatever." He shrugged Beta wounded. "You're his Omega now. He wants you to be safe, and since he can't keep an eye on you personally, he sent us."
Pyotr's words had a powerful effect on his inner Omega. It literally melted away at the thought of the Alpha wanting to protect him, and with that came this nagging feeling that he should let himself be protected and not rebel when the Alpha provided protection for him from members of his pack. Maybe even more than that, he should seek out the Alpha and stay by his side where he was most safe.
He suppressed such foolish thoughts. He knew how to take care of himself, and he certainly had no desire to have a pack protect him, regardless of the fact that these Betas were not here for his protection.
"So you wouldn't try to stop me if I decided to leave town?"
Pyotr's face, previously soft and with a small, friendly smile, changed completely. His features hardened and his expression became dangerously calm.
"I wouldn't advise you to leave without the boss's approval," he replied, showing his cards so clearly.
"Yeah... that's what I thought..." he said, and it should have sounded more angry, except his voice betrayed bitter resignation rather than defiance. "You're mainly here to keep me here, and probably to deliver me," he emphasized the word by pointing to the bruise on his face, "to your boss when he's in the mood to have some fun again."
"On ne nastol'ko glup naschet amerikanskaya omega," came from inside the car.
He turned to Beta sitting in the passenger seat. He was thin with a ratty face and curly hair. He was wearing a ridiculous green tracksuit and tank top, from under which he had a tattoo of a chain running from one pectoral muscle around the back of his neck to the other pectoral muscle. And sticking out between it was what looked like the chubby roof of a church.
Dean couldn't understand a shitload of what he was saying, except for his secondary markings, and even that was enough to make him frown. He rarely heard the word 'omega' in the same sentence with something he liked, and judging by Beta's cheerful grin, this time was no exception.
"What did he say about me?" He turned to Pyotr.
"He said you're not stupid for an American Omega," Pyotr translated helpfully, whereupon he stepped closer and smiled again. "I think you're a smart kid too, and you know it's pointless to be... angry," he used a much milder word than Dean would have used, because the latter would have said more like pissed off and somewhere deep down still scared like last night. "We're not your enemies." With those words, he put a hand on Dean's shoulder and placed the other on his heart. "We are Russians, my boy, a hearty and friendly people. Good food, good vodka, great fun... if you let us, we can be friends after all. After all, you're almost one of us."
He looked at his hand with disapproval.
"Take your hand away," he growled, jerking his shoulder to get rid of the hand that was weighing him down.
With a sigh, Pyotr raised both hands in a clueless gesture.
"Whatever you want," he said in a resigned tone with a hint of condescension, as if Dean was just a small, angry child who wouldn't eat his broccoli and Pyotr was his tired dad who no longer had the strength to force it on him. "But remember, we're here for you. If you want or need anything, or have a problem with someone... just say the word. We'll take care of everything."
"Okay. I've got one problem I'm sure you can solve," he said, not forgiving himself for his slightly mocking tone. "If you have to follow me, try to do it in a way that's out of everyone's sight. I don't want the motel manager to notice you and then kick us out."
"You don't have to worry about that. The manager knows about us," Pyotr replied, as if that should be a comfort. It wasn't.
The hope that the manager had been bribed or threatened just once was now gone. He probably belonged to them too, or was on their payroll. Oh, shit.
"But not Sammy. And I want to keep it that way, so just...put the car somewhere else. "He tossed his head toward the parking lot exit.
Pyotr sized him up briefly before nodding gravely.
"We'll stay out of the way. We don't want to scare your little brother."
He almost couldn't help laughing, though he did grin a little. He wasn't worried about scaring Sammy. Strange dudes watching their motel room would piss him off more than scare him, because Sam didn't let just anyone or anything scare him... except clowns and wardrobes. He just didn't want his little brother to know about all this. He had to protect him.
"I'm going to school now." He swung the bag slung over his shoulder. "You guys shouldn't even show up there, because no offense, guys..." his gaze swept over all three of them, including the still completely silent driver in the shorts jacket who'd been staring at his phone the whole time, "you all look like drug dealers, and they don't like to see those types here in America outside of school. You'd be behind bars within the hour."
He didn't wait for a response, because he suspected he'd see them at the school anyway. He just turned and headed off. It was a long way to the school, even with the two bus stops.
"Mal'chik! You hear, mal'chik!" He heard the rat-face call behind him.
Reluctantly, he looked back at Beta leaning out the window.
"How old are you?" the rat surprised him with the question.
He measured Beth suspiciously. As if he really cared how old Dean was. Although... maybe he did. For a moment, he even thought about taking a year or two off, just to see what the guy's face would be like and if he'd mind his big Alpha boss chasing after the little Omega boy. Then he figured no one would buy it anyway. He looked much older.
"Sixteen. Problem?" He raised an eyebrow significantly.
The rat's face turned cheerful.
"Old enough for a good fuck. Boss is lucky."
"Zamolchi!" Pyotr growled, and without hesitation, he slapped the ratman across the back of the head with such force that it sent his head forward and Beta yelped indignantly.
Dean would have preferred to punch him with his fist and his hand clenched itself into a fist, but he couldn't fight within a few feet of their room. That certainly wouldn't escape Sam's attention, unless he'd noticed the mess they'd been making up until now.
He just had to get out.
With his hand still balled into a fist and his jaw clenched, he turned his back on the three of them and left them behind.
Mal'chik - young man
Zamolchi - Shut up
