He managed to get to class five minutes after the bell rang. He earned applause from a couple of his classmates and a bit of a snide greeting from the teacher, who fell silent when his gaze wandered to Dean's jaw before sending him to his seat. He was glad that his place was out of Becky's reach, because he could see from the doorway that she wanted to know where he was and how he had come by the split lip. Kevin just watched him with a frown, and when he returned the look, he quickly lowered his head to his notes.

The hour was dragging horribly. He was only half listening to the teacher and every now and then he would look out the window.

The classroom had windows facing the main road, and even though the school was separated from it by a fenced-off area, you could definitely see the cars that passed by or were parked near the school. But he couldn't tell if any of the parked cars had Alf's men sitting in them or if one car was passing by repeatedly. He assumed there would be some, they were just staying out of the way... just as he'd ordered. He could hardly believe it, but it really looked like they were obeying him. If that was the case - hell, he hoped so - it meant that at least on school property he could do whatever he wanted, and maybe he'd be able to get away from them. Just following standard escape protocol, he'd already scoped out the entrances for the kitchen and supply staff so he knew how to slip out of the school undetected. They were also emergency exits, so it was easy to get out from inside. Getting back would be a bit of a problem without a key, but who wanted to get INTO the school?

"Could you come in for a moment, Mr. Winchester..." the English teacher, Mr. Dalton, demanded just as he was heading for the door, saving him from Becky's barrage of questions.

He slung his bag onto his shoulder and approached the department.

"That face looks bad. What happened to you?" The teacher asked, his eyes fixed on the bruise on Dean's jaw.

"I was riding my bike, wasn't paying attention, and hit the curb," he lied with ease, telling the truth in his own way at the same time. When he was thirteen, he really did hit the curb, flew over the handlebars and cut his chin so badly that their Alpha had to stitch it up. The most believable lies always had as much truth in them as possible.

The teacher gave him a rather incredulous look.

"Is that why you didn't come to your first class?"

That was a trick question. If it had happened on his way to school in the morning, it still wouldn't have had that nice, dark purple color to it, even if it had happened while he still had a chance to get to first period.

"No, I just overslept," he retorted, not getting caught.

"You haven't even been here a week and already you're skipping class without an excuse," the teacher pointed out, and from his tone Dean could already anticipate what was coming next.

There were two possibilities. Either he'd be labeled a lazy bastard with a future of a lifetime wiping tables at fast food joints or picking up trash around the roads. Or - in the worst case scenario - he would start asking if everything was okay at home and if their Alpha father was being rude to them.

He already had answers to both.

"I know that truancy, disruptions and bad grades were a problem at your previous schools. All of the last twelve from which records have come to us." He measured him with a long look before continuing. "You live alone with your Alpha father and younger brother who is also an Alpha, correct?"

"Yeah, I do..." he agreed neutrally, not sure where this was going. This seemed like a new approach he hadn't experienced before.

"It shows in you," Dalton pointed out. "The way you dress, the way you act, all the trouble at school... It's important for young Omegas, especially boys, to have an Omega in the family to act as a role model and help them get in touch with their instincts."

That's what it was all about. He wasn't a proper Omega in Dalton's opinion, so the Professor thought he'd speak to his soul and help him become a good Omega. Because as a Beta, he knew a lot about what Alphas wanted from their Omegas and what a 'proper' Omega should look like. He probably had a forty year old teacher's manual for that.

"You should try some sort of club or optional class where you can give vent to your natural instincts." With those words, he reached into his files and pulled out a paper, "Here. Take the list and choose something."

Having already arrived an hour late today, he didn't want to provoke, so he obediently took the paper.

"Housework..." he read the first option aloud and looked at the teacher. "Flower arranging is already taken?" He asked snidely. So much for not wanting to provoke.

The teacher frowned at his insolence.

"That would be a good class for you," he said very seriously. "You'll learn how to manage money there"-as if Dean hasn't been the only one doing that most of the time for a long time-"make your Alpha's lair comfortable"-nothing prepares a man better for the harsh realities of life than knowing how to arrange his cushions according to Feng Shui-"and cook your Alpha well." Neither Dad nor Sammy ever complained about macaroni and cheese spray.

"I'll consider it, sir," he said neutrally, instead of laughing outright, and shoved the folded paper into his bag. "Can I go now? I don't want to miss the start of another class."

Dalton dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Dean gladly left the classroom.

"Dean! What happened to your face?" Becky almost literally jumped out at him from behind the door.

"I got punched."

"You got into a fight with someone?" Becky questioned further, not sure herself if she was offended or more like impressed by the tone.

"Yeah..." he replied absently.

He was sure that Lisa would show up at some point now. He wanted to see her and, more importantly, apologize for being so suddenly silent last night and not even checking in this morning.

He unconsciously took in the mixture of smells wafting down the hallway before realizing that despite the smell of strawberries and cream and all the other smells wafting down the hallway, he probably wouldn't have smelled Lisa even if she had been standing right inches from him. Let alone be able to find her from a distance. So he craned his neck and looked around the hallway...

He saw her dark hair.

"I'll be right there."

He ignored Becky calling after him and purposefully made his way over to Lisa, who had just disappeared around the corner. Though he was quick, he managed to catch up to her almost at the base of the stairs.

"Hey, Lisa."

"Dean... hi," she replied, acknowledging him but not stopping or turning around.

"I wanted to apologize for not answering yesterday..."

"Whatever. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," she brushed him off, again without looking.

"Hey, wait! That's not it!" He stopped her by gently grabbing her shoulder.

She turned sharply, and it was clear she was ready to make a sharp rebuke before she saw his face and her expression changed completely.

"What happened to you?" He asked worriedly, and she even reached out to lightly touch his bruised cheek.

Her hand smelled of grass, dandelions, and some fruity soap, which together made a pleasant combination that he leaned into slightly. It was like spring. Subtle, barely perceptible, but it was there, and it wasn't as intense and erasing all thoughts from his brain as the scent of cherries and almonds.

He winced a little and hissed.

Partly because Lisa's gently stroking fingers touched the sore spot and partly because an image flashed through his mind of blue, squinted eyes that was literally knitted together with the memory of the scent of cherry pie.

Lisa quickly withdrew her hand.

"I'm sorry," she apologized guiltily. "Does it hurt much?"

"It's nothing," he brushed off her concern casually. "I've been punched a few times."

"Did you fight? With who? With Marcus?" Lisa surprised him by mentioning Markus in particular.

"No, I was at a bar and I beat a guy at pool who didn't like that he lost," he replied with the once tried and true lie... well, the one that had worked for Sam and was definitely cooler than claiming he had smashed his lip on the curb when he fell off his bike. "Why did you think I was fighting with Marcus?"

"I just heard what happened a few days ago... about Kevin... and I thought..."

"...that if you like me, will Marcus be jealous?" He arched his eyebrows defiantly.

"I like you? Don't you trust yourself a little too much, Mr. Winchester?" Lisa replied with a laugh, but mostly her cheeks turned pink and her eyes lit up.

"At least I'm not falsely modest." He shrugged casually.

"No, definitely not," she agreed, continuing to laugh. "More like you're pronounced cheeky!"

"Yeah. That's got to be one of my most endearing qualities." He shook his head in mock seriousness.

"You're really unreal." She shook her head, but continued to smile, her eyes a little squinted and those nice, round lips parted. And her Beta scent had intensified so much that he didn't even have to lean in to get a good whiff of her, though of course he did lean in and take in the scent of grass and dandelions slightly, with a slightly sweet hint of happiness.

"I have to go, or I'll be late for my Housework class."

He blinked in surprise and pulled away.

"You go there?"

"Sure." She nodded. "I know it's mostly for Omegas, but my mom had to be in the hospital with my newborn brother for three weeks and I suddenly found I couldn't even do a decent load of laundry. She's always been the only one doing it and I never even realized how much work there was to do around the house. Now that she's back, I'm trying to help her more, but she doesn't have time to explain everything to me. I'll learn what I need in class and then my mom won't have to watch me at home."

"Wow. I wouldn't believe someone would volunteer for that crap," he remarked incredulously.

"It's an optional class. Everyone goes voluntarily."

"I don't know. Mr. Dalton strongly recommended it to me. He said it would help me be a better Omega." Kysele grinned. "He probably has something against the way I look or something."

"If he said something like that to you, it wasn't very appropriate of him," Lisa decided in a serious tone. "But the lesson isn't so bad. We have quite a bit of fun there too, and I like going. If you'd joined, we could have worked together. What do you think?"

He unconsciously slid his gaze over her body. She was wearing a short skirt today because it was warm out, and instead of a T-shirt she was wearing a tank top that revealed a little more than the cleavage she otherwise wore. Her bare shoulders were covered by a loose sweater, but you could still see a lot of her neck, and even that at Beta's most fragrant spot where her neck met her shoulder. The skin there was beautifully soft, olive colored and she had a small birthmark on her right tranny.

Yeah, he could suffer through a few hours of boredom for that.

"You know what? When you put it that way, it doesn't sound so bad. I think I'll sign up," he decided, definitely enjoying the wide smile the Beta girl gave him.

°°0°°

The door closed quietly behind him, separating him from the raw air of the corridor.

Castiel took in the smell of cleaning products and ozone from the air conditioner, equipped with the latest odor purifier he'd had installed in the club two weeks ago at Balthazar's urging.

And it had been a good investment.

Even after last night's busy night, the air in Blue Skye was virtually odorless. It was even clean enough to pick up not only Balthazar's nettle scent, accentuated as always by the odor enhancers, but also Oleg's cinnamon-iron scent, as well as the subtle sweetness wafting from the waitresses.

Balthazar stood behind the bar, leaning against it with one hand, the other fiddling with the corner of his high-lifted collar, picking his way through the stacked bottles. As soon as he spotted Castiel, he lost interest in the alcohol and turned to him; a provocative smile lifted the corners of his mouth. The same one that had made Castiel sit up all those years ago.

He followed him to the bar, only half registering Oleg, who had just noticed him and nodded briefly in greeting.

"Big bad wolf has finally risen," Balthazar greeted him, leaning his arm against the bar and bowing his head in a graceful, subservient gesture, honed to near perfection by years of practice, in which he revealed his neck still marked with dark green and yellow hickeys. Castiel's own brand. Evidence that Balthazar wore proudly and that was... strangely unsatisfying. Perhaps it was because they were already faded, or perhaps it was because they were on the wrong neck.

Balthazar was undeniably beautiful. Slender and lithe, with curly hair the colour of sand, bright blue eyes and the pungent smell of nettles that matched so perfectly his sharply caustic tongue, not dulled by even a soft French accent. But he wasn't an Omega, and what was more important; he wasn't Castiel's Omega, and while he couldn't deny that he wasn't entirely indifferent to the claim he had on Balthazar, his Alpha wasn't as interested as ever.

"A drink?" Beta offered, tilting his head to the other side, exposing the untouched side of his throat in challenge.

"Yes," he agreed, his own voice sounding a little flat even to him.

Balthazar rested his eyes briefly on the brown plates. Then he turned away and began to prepare the ingredients for his favorite apple martini.

"We couldn't help but notice that we were short a waitress yesterday. George bitched about it all night," Balthazar said as he tipped the first shot of vodka into the shaker. He shot Castiel a brief glance before tossing a second in, then pouring a third to nudge him across the bar. "I told him Crystal decided to quit. He believed me. But there's a rumor among the girls that you sent her to talk to the fish for her greedy little fingers."

"Why would I do that?" He frowned in confusion and raised his glass. "She owes me, and the dead don't pay their debts. Vladko has her," he added before turning the contents of his glass over in his hands.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow in some surprise.

"You were furious when you found out she cleaned out your vault. You let her get away that easily?"

Oksana's betrayal still irritated him, but he wasn't going to dwell on it anymore. Especially not now, when his thoughts were still filled with memories of the smell of pine trees and apple blossoms and bright green eyes. Oksana's lack of gratitude for giving her exactly the comfortable life here in America that she'd dreamed of back home in the Ukraine paled in comparison.

"Even with nineteen fingers, I make at least a hundred thousand a year on the street. She's worth more alive," he pointed out, setting his glass back on the bar and sliding it over to Beta to indicate he should pour another. "But I have one less waitress. You'll have to fill in for Oksana until I can get a replacement."

"Me?" Balthazar put a hand on his chest and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "I'm too pretty to be a waitress."

"Then help me choose." He picked up the folder at the same time he took his drink and walked over to the sofas.

His gaze wandered briefly to the waitresses sitting on the next sofa, metal trays on their laps, with large bags of ecstasy on them and a stack of smaller ones into which they were dividing the goods, two pills at a time. Their small, slender fingers were much better at dispensing the pills than the clumsy fingers of Oleg, who sat across from Castiel, cell phone in hand, rather pretending to watch the two Beta women. He could afford to be less vigilant after Oksana hadn't shown up for her shift last night.

Especially with Castiel there.

The subtle scent of fear that hovered around Marishka and Nina and intensified when he sat down next to them was the best reassurance his Alpha had that neither of them would be trying to take anything that was his anytime soon.

Balthazar sat down next to him, close enough as always that their thighs rested against each other and Beta's nettle scent flooded Castiel's nose. Normally it filled his mouth with saliva and he would have felt that telltale clenching sensation in his gums, but not this time. His scent was still pleasant and inviting, but there was something missing.

He wrinkled his nose and turned his head slightly towards the slender Beta who had settled comfortably at his side. He sucked in the air and almost immediately realized what he was missing in his scent. There was an undertone of Omega sweets missing. It lacked apple blossoms and pine wood.

"Let's see what's on the menu," Balthazar interrupted his thoughts. Then he sipped from his glass and leaned over to retrieve the ingredients lying on the low table. He rested his palm on Castiel's knee as he did so, along with another whiff of peppery scent.

Any other time he would have leaned closer and inhaled the pungent, nettle scent, but this time he found himself stiffening and even pulling away a little. His inner Alpha was strangely tense, almost wary, and that hadn't happened around Balthazar in years.

The slender Beta returned to his seat, allowing Castiel to finally relax a little and lean back into the couch.

He stretched his legs and pulled out his cigarettes to light up and soothe the strange inner tension as he watched Balthazar turn one photograph after another. There were two Betas from the last delivery. And three that had been working for some time. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of having used goods in Blue Skye because it meant drug and alcohol addiction, but Vladko assured him that all three came from their better businesses and were clean.

"Next time, tell your men to at least wash their faces before a photo shoot," Balthazar remarked dispassionately, taking another drink.

He glanced over his hand at the photo he was commenting on. It was of a brunette of about eighteen with heavy makeup smeared with tears and dried blood smeared across her upper lip. Whichever of Vladek's men had taken the picture had slapped her so hard that blood had run down her nose. Probably to get her to stop crying, at least during the photo.

A buzzer sounded from the door.

"Are we expecting a visitor, mon amour?" asked Balthazar.

"That would be Shurley. I called him."

"Ah...in that case, I'll go answer the door for him," Balthazar sighed, tossing the folder on the table and standing up, drink in hand.

He disappeared behind a post on the corner of the bar for a moment before reappearing with Shurley trailing behind him.

The lawyer was in a light jacket, clutching a black leather briefcase, the artificial smell of mango and citrus trailing behind him.

Castiel sucked in air.

He'd never been sure if it was Shurley's own scent, amplified by the odor enhancers Balthazar used, or a cologne so strong it was meant to cover his natural scent entirely. He tended to believe the latter. It was as if Shurley didn't want others to know what he really smelled like. That's why it occurred to him, not for the first time, that the lawyer wasn't really a Beta as he claimed to be, but rather an Omega. He was petite, soft, and even a thick beard couldn't hide his round face. And his teeth, especially his fangs, were too regular and unnaturally aligned. If it weren't for the artificial scent and the fact that he could stand up to anyone in a courtroom, Beto and Alpha alike, he'd definitely be an Omega at first sight.

Not that Castiel really cared about his other gender, as long as he did his job and especially as long as he did it well. And he also liked that literally nothing could faze Shurley. He didn't disappoint this time, either, as he ran his gaze unblinkingly over the several stacks of bags of takeout lying on the table and Marishka and Nina, who continued to dispense because no one had told them to stop.

It was exactly that kind of behavior that had earned him such a measure of trust from Castiel that he'd invited him here today to sort out a few issues around Dean.

"Alpha Novak," the lawyer greeted him first and shook his hand.

Castiel stuck his cigarette between his lips and returned the greeting with only a brief squeeze.

"And Mr. Morozov," he turned to Oleg, but did not offer his hand. "I didn't know you'd be here too, but it's convenient. There has been great progress in your case. As for the holding with intent to sell..." he shook his head. "It turns out that the police made some procedural errors and the drugs that were seized from your car were excluded from evidence at my request. Since they had nothing else against you, the prosecutor had no choice but to drop the charges. You can pick up your bail in person or I'll have it posted for you. That was the good news, now for the bad news..." he let the briefcase swing to his right leg. "I'm afraid I'm not going to get you out of those parking tickets. The car is written in your name and you haven't paid thirty-three of them. That's a serious offence for which you could face up to three months in Rikers."

"And that's why I wanted to retire to America," Balthazar interrupted amusedly, gracefully swinging his leg over so that he leaned his bbk a little more against Castiel. "You can ride around with a cussed heroin in your glove compartment, but woe betide you if you don't pay the parking tickets. Beautiful country," he added, raising his glass in a toast.

"Will I be there over Christmas?" Oleg asked.

"You're standing in three weeks. If you are sentenced to an exemplary sentence, which we can assume given your criminal record and recent charges, and given the overcrowding in the lowest security ward, which includes convictions for minor offences... then I'm afraid you will not start your sentence until mid-November at the earliest, perhaps early December."

"That sucks," Oleg sighed in Russian before turning to Shurley in English. "Can't you get me out of this somehow, Curly?"

Shurley frowned, probably because of the nickname, but kept his professional composure as he replied:

"I'll do my best to make it a suspended sentence, but in your case it's hard to argue that you're a taxpayer understatement. Count on spending the holidays at Rikers."

"I hate American Christmas food. Dry bird and mashed sweet potatoes."

"I hear they have decent jelly," Balthazar pointed out.

"Like I said, I'll do my best," Shurley repeated, clutching the case with both hands again before glancing at Castiel. "Payment at the usual place?"

"No, I have it here," he replied, rising to his feet and grabbing his glass, emptying it in one gulp.

He rolled the sip over his tongue, savoring the pleasantly scorching taste, and left the glass on the bar on his way to get Shurley's money. He stuck his cigarette in the corner and bent down to retrieve the leather bag he'd placed in front of the waiting lawyer. The latter immediately pulled it towards him and opened it to inspect the contents.

Castiel watched him out of the corner of his eye as he grabbed another glass and a bottle of vodka and poured a generous helping not only for himself, but for Shurley as well. Then he set one of the shots in front of him.

"God bless." He raised his glass.

"To Good Business," the lawyer mimicked his toast.

He turned his shot glass over in his hand and watched as Shurley hesitated briefly, took a deep breath, then resolutely did the same. The expression he showed as he swallowed the alcohol was priceless, and it wasn't even real vodka from home.

Castiel smiled in amusement.

This little Jewish lawyer could be funny. But most of all, he was as trustworthy as someone who was willing to defend criminals and was also really good at what he did could be. He was a decent guarantee that Castiel's lieutenants wouldn't go to jail for nothing. Granted, the cell was a second home for most of his men, but they were still less useful when behind bars than they were when free. And since the prison business was not part of their interests, he needed Shurley to keep his men out.

"Jesus... I swear this is going to kill me someday," Shurley stammered as he set his empty glass down, taking a deep breath before speaking again, his voice grating as if he were swallowing gravel, "You said on the phone you needed to talk to me about something. What is it, Alpha?"

He put out his cigarette on the ashtray hidden under the bar before reaching for his cell phone, keeping both hands free as he opened the folder of photos Pyotr had sent him during the day.

All of them had Dean in them.

The oldest was from this morning. Omega was looking out the small window of the dingy motel he'd been forced to stay in for the time being. The formerly orange plaster was greyed with smog and cracked with age, and the hideous flower-patterned rags that were supposed to replace the curtains were faded from the sun. The sight of the parade of filth and squalor made his Alpha growl angrily. This was not a good home for any Omega, especially not his. Everything in him screamed that Dean belonged in his lair. Between the books, the wooden furniture, and the big bed with the cashmere sheets where he could build his nest and live in the comfort and luxury he deserved. Luxury that Castiel had and as an Alpha he was more than willing to lay it at Dean's feet, only he knew he couldn't for many reasons. Not yet.

The main one was his firm resolve that his Omega would be with him by choice. He'd called Shurley here today for the others.

He pushed his justifiable anger at Dean's accommodations out of his mind and quickly flipped to the photo of Dean just coming out of the school gates.

Placing his cell phone in front of the lawyer, who leaned over him curiously, he looked at the photo and then looked questioningly at Castiel.

"That's my Omega," he said with pride and a hint of possessiveness that started with his inner Alpha and slipped into his voice like a slight growl, under which the lawyer hunched his shoulders a little.

"I see," Shurley replied politely, his tone and the way he turned away from the photograph saying very loudly that he had no intention of coming between Castiel and his Omega. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

He measured him with his gaze. No, of course Shurley posed no threat, and it was... strange how easily the thought had occurred to him that he did. He wasn't used to losing control of his Alpha so quickly, even when someone dared to touch someone who belonged to him. Balthazar was a prime example of that. He knew Beta would always find company for the night, if only to have a place to sleep, and he tolerated it because he was sure Balthazar would always come back to him.

In Dean's case, the thought of all the Alphas, or even just plain Betas for that matter, being around his Omega right now was like the proverbial stick poking a sleeping bear.

"He's sixteen," he said after a brief pause during which he watched Shurley warily, finally rationalizing that the lawyer wasn't a problem. He was here to advise, not take away his Omega.

"Ah..." Shurley cleared his throat and put on a professional lawyerly expression. "As your lawyer, I must inform you that in the state of New York, the consent limit is seventeen. Any sexual activity with a person under the age of seventeen is treated by law as rape and abuse of a minor. For both offenses, the penalty is four years for each separate act proven, with the sentences being cumulative, of course. Also, part of the sentence is an entry on the sex offender registry and, in your case, deportation immediately after serving your sentence."

Most of what the lawyer said he knew very well. Thanks to the young katushkas, they had a few initially arrogant fools in their clutches who had no fear of it coming out that they were paying hookers. But it definitely scared them when they found out they were in photos and videos with girls or young men under sixteen. He also knew full well that prosecutors liked to emphasize the young age of prostitutes in court. At the same time, they were not shy about threatening fifteen-year-olds and younger ones with arrest for prostitution or the production and distribution of child pornography, all just to get them to talk.

But none of this directly concerned Castiel until he met Dean and the problem of his True Mate being so young arose for him alone.

It would be disgraceful to have a career as a hit man for Bratva, eluding Interpol, Europol, and Russian investigators and never getting to jail, and to be content to run a business here in America for two years without anyone having any idea who he really was, and then end up in jail because Americans were puritans. Back home, Dean's age would have been no problem because he would no longer be under the law.

Unfortunately, it's the seemingly stupid crimes that are fatal to people like Castiel.

"I know all that. I want your advice on how best to avoid trouble."

"Except the obvious, which is not to see him until he's seventeen?" Shurley asked; Castiel just cocked his head to the side and squinted a little, because stopping seeing his Omega just wasn't an option.

"I see," the lawyer shook his head knowingly and straightened his tie. "Technically... there's no law against a minor and an adult having a purely platonic relationship. That said, in the eyes of the law, it's perfectly legal for you to... let's say go for a walk, or to a movie, or to a restaurant. There's also no law against scent marking, hugging or even kissing. But the definition of what constitutes sexual touching or non-consensual touching, for example, is so broad that if you want to completely avoid even hypothetical problems, it would be best to legalize your relationship. The easiest thing you can do is bite him. Although his legal guardians can challenge Mating in court, since he's already sixteen, the court will take his opinion into account. So the mating must be voluntary on his part, or at least he must confirm the voluntariness in court to... "

"No," he interrupted. "We'll mate when he asks for it. What are the other options?"

Shurley frowned a little, as if to say something more, but finally bowed his head slightly; both in agreement and in submission.

"All right, Alpha. Your decision." He raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "The other options are marriage or an agreement for future mating. Both can be arranged at the age of fourteen with the consent of a legal guardian.

The older of the couple is then automatically convicted of statutory rape. If you can convince his parents to agree to one of these, I'll be happy to make all the necessary arrangements with immigration and draw up a prenuptial or mating agreement for you."

Castiel frowned a little.

It wasn't hard to convince someone to cooperate. Most people had their price, and the few stupidly honest exceptions could be persuaded by means other than dollars. Like blackmail or terrorizing. Dean's Alpha father - if someone like him could even be called a father and an Alpha - was in the former category of people and could certainly put a price on the most expensive thing he owned; an Omega son. And Castiel would have had no problem paying any amount for Dean to be his and, more importantly, to be free of the mere imitation Alpha that John Winchester was.

The only problem was that although his people had tried to find Dean's father, they hadn't been able to so far.

"He has no one who can agree to a mating or marriage contract. Can we do it without that?"

"At sixteen, he has to have someone. If not parents or grandparents, then a court-appointed guardian or foster family," Shurley argued.

"He has an Alpha father, but he left him and his brother at a motel and left town."

"That's good news," Shurley said in a genuinely pleased tone, but quickly grew serious when Castiel rolled his eyes disapprovingly. "I didn't... er... mean it's good that he doesn't have anyone. I mean, no one but you, Alpha," he added quickly as Castiel tilted his head to the side this time and frowned. "But if their father really is gone, it's neglect and abandonment of a child. If Social Services finds out about it, they'll be put into the system and then you can use the Omega in Distress Act."

"What's that?"

"In short... it's a law that allows any Alpha over the age of twenty-one to claim custody of any orphaned or otherwise neglected Omega. Most often it applies to minors, but under certain conditions it can also be applied to an adult Omega. For minors, custody of the Alpha lasts until the Omega is twenty-one. For adult Omegas, it's a minimum of two years, after which the court decides if the Omega is fit to begin caring for herself."

"That sounds almost like foster care..." he remarked disgruntledly. He didn't particularly like the idea, as it had the aftertaste of parenthood. The last thing he felt for Dean was anything paternal.

"It's not the same," the lawyer retorted, much to his relief. "To qualify as a foster parent, a person must prove that they are mentally and physically capable of caring for a child. Also, that he has sufficient financial resources, steady employment, a suitable home and is not a drug addict or alcoholic. In the case of the Omega in Distress Act, the only and sufficient criteria is that he is an Alpha. Also, the rights of an Omega in such a case vary significantly. Specifically with your Omega..." he motioned with his hand to the cell phone still on the table. "As a sixteen year old, albeit in foster care, he has the right to get a driver's license, sign certain types of contracts, work part-time, or qualify for medical confidentiality, for example. If he were in your care, he would lose those rights and, in fact, all others. He would not be able to own personal property, handle money, leave the state without your permission... in fact, he could do nothing at all without your permission."

"How would something like that legitimize our relationship?"

"Not in any way," Shurley admitted. "But unlike foster care, there are no social services checks or other government oversight. Your Omega would be yours even by law, and you could do practically... anything with it with impunity. Not perhaps because it's actually allowed, because it's not. The most basic rights and freedoms remain even with an Omega that has been placed in Alpha's care. That means that killing him, injuring him, or having sexual intercourse with him would still be criminal, but who's going to find out if you don't let him leave the apartment? And the Omeze in Distress Act gives you every right to do that."

On the deepest level, perhaps even deeper than his Alpha's own instincts, the idea of owning Dean absolutely was immensely satisfying. It was a chance to be able to protect and care for him absolutely unconditionally, except that it was the worst of the ways on offer to give Omega everything he needed. It would put him in a situation where the whole group would see him more as a possession than a human being, and so he would be forced to submit not out of his own will and desire for his Alpha, but because he would have no choice.

He had no intention of doing that unless it was necessary. Not to Dean. But in other cases, it opened up surprising business opportunities he hadn't known about until this moment.

"Okay. I want this as a last resort for my Omega. But," he cocked his head a little to one side, sizing up the lawyer curiously, "it sounds like an opportunity to expand the business. Why don't I know anything about it?"

"Because you need a clean criminal record to accept Omega and you'll get on the Alpha Caregiver list."

Yes, now it made sense why he hadn't heard of anyone taking advantage of the Omega in Distress Act,. The less of a paper trail left over from the business the better, especially for those who couldn't keep a clean slate. It was simply easier to approach some neglected Omega right on the street and promise her comfort and money, or buy her from her parents or a shelter, than to get her registered anywhere the government bitches had access. Because the authorities might not notice an Alpha who took custody of one Omega, but an Alpha who had more would surely get their attention sooner or later.

And while there was a generous profit to be made from one Omega, especially if it was a male Omega, it wouldn't be enough money to bring the owner of such an Omega into Castiel's circles. Maybe less than what the average small pimp with three or four girls or a slightly more ambitious type with a small escort agency would make.

"But it's not a problem for you. You've got a Green Card, a clean criminal record, a great social profile... I'm sure you could easily get citizenship if you wanted to," Shurley assured him, as if that was something he was aiming for. That was one of the many vices of Americans; they thought everyone was worth living in their country. But Castiel hadn't come here to settle down, he'd come to make money, and finding Dean was just a happy accident.

"That's an opportunity I'll pass up," he retorted, reaching into his pocket for a packet to light. "You've outlined several possibilities, but none of them suit me." He flicked his lighter and lit up; inhaling the pleasantly warm smoke deeply. "What are we going to do about it?" He asked, letting the smoke pass between his words, looking pointedly at the lawyer with raised eyebrows.

Shurley cleared his throat a little, then discreetly pulled away to avoid the thin line of smoke rising towards the air conditioner.

"If you don't like any of my suggestions, Alpha, I have no choice but to make a few minor recommendations. First and foremost, the utmost discretion is important. Your Omega will have to keep quiet about what is between you, not just now, but for at least another five years after you reach the age of majority, because that's how long the statute of limitations lasts. Can you count on him to keep his mouth shut?" He asked "Kids... young people are always on social media, chatting, sharing photos even making videos... He might want to brag to his friends that he slapped an older, rich Alpha and that would turn out badly for you. One word from him and you'll end up behind bars."

He flicked the ash off his cigarette.

He didn't believe Dean would betray him. He didn't know him, he rationally realized, but his instincts urged him to trust his Omega in a way that was almost disturbing, and yet he wasn't even willing to fight the feeling. He couldn't remember when, if ever, he had felt anything like this. Trust was expensive. He didn't give it away easily, and he knew it took effort and a lot of money to gain it. Trusting without conditions was so... especially refreshing, like riding a roller coaster. Dangerous, but great.

Besides, Omega had only been in town for two weeks, and his life revolved mostly around his younger brother, who he was willing to do absolutely anything to protect. It was a loyalty Castiel could only admire and wish that one day, when they got to know each other better, Dean would be just as loyal to him.

"I'm not worried about that. He won't talk. What else?" He asked before he pulled away.

"You must avoid any messages, notes, emails, anything written that could be construed as... inappropriate. No intimate or even erotic photographs, virtual or real. Videos of similar content are also taboo. Of course, there must be no physical evidence of intercourse, such as semen or saliva. I would also recommend never taking him into your home. Find an apartment somewhere away from the city centre, or maybe a small cottage completely outside the city, or take him somewhere out of the country... For example, in Mexico the age of consent for Omegas is fourteen, in Thailand it's even twelve. Whatever you do together in these countries will be perfectly legal."

"Anything else?"

"Be careful if you want to give him anything," the lawyer said, surprising him rather unpleasantly.

"I don't know anything about it being illegal in this country to give someone a gift," he countered sharply.

"It's not, but-" Shurley paused hesitantly, his gaze sliding quickly to his cell phone. "With all due respect, Alpha, he doesn't seem to come from our financial circles, if you understand..." he let his voice trail off and raised his eyebrows a little. "I'm sure someone at school would notice that he suddenly has new expensive clothes or electronics. Teachers are required to report anything suspicious, and this certainly looks suspicious. Plus, if the whole thing ever came out, it would look like you were paying him for sex, and that certainly wouldn't do you any good."

Castiel blew out a puff of smoke and frowned.

As much as he didn't like it, and it went against all his Alpha instincts that screamed for him to take good care of his Omega, he was willing to trust Shurley. So when he said that it wouldn't attract much attention if he put Dean up in his apartment and gave him enough resources, it was true. When it came to legal advice, he had never yet failed. And he was helpful even when Castiel got lost in the cultural differences, because Shurly's mother was a native Pole and so he understood the Eastern way of life, which was different from the Western one.

Indeed, back home in Russia this would not have been a problem. There, no one cared about such things and as long as Dean had a family, they would be happy to find an Alpha who would provide their Omega with a comfortable place to live, prosperity, education... just everything he needed. They would probably use such an opportunity to get something for themselves as well - a nicer apartment, a few expensive things, dinners at fancy restaurants... It was customary for a man, especially an Alpha, to take care of not only his wife or his Omega, but also her or his family.

But the whole thing was an inconvenience. The apartment he had chosen for Dean and his brother was deep in the heart of their territory, and in a neighborhood that was generally much safer and more comfortable than the one where the motel stood. He would also be much closer to his Omega, and just the thought of it was satisfying to his Alpha and made him feel like he was protecting his Omega.

The silence stretched on, and Castiel managed two thoughtful swipes before the lawyer cleared his throat, catching his attention.

"For my part, that's all the advice I can give you, Alpha. Is there anything else you need or are we done?"

"That'll be all." He flicked the ash off his cigarette.

"Okay... okay... um..." Shurley hesitated and glanced over his shoulder at the waitresses before leaning over the bar and continuing half-loudly, "I assumed our meeting would be longer and so I'm free for the rest of the afternoon, so I was wondering... if the girls had time...?"

He slid his gaze over the lawyer's shoulder. He had one less waitress, but the club didn't open until ten and now, he glanced quickly at his watch, it was only six. It never took long at Shurley's.

"They have, but only one of them. Which one do you want?"

Shurley looked over his shoulder again, a small smile on his face, and his gaze went to Marishka.

"The beautiful long-haired one."

He'd expected that.

"Marishka! You got the job!" He called across the room.

Beta quickly looked up from her work. He only glanced very briefly into Castiel's eyes before she quickly lowered her gaze and stood up. As she straightened her short blue dress, she already had a wide smile on her face, which she beamed towards Shurley as she walked towards the bar as fast as her high heels would allow, sinking into the thick carpet.

"Hello, Curly," Marishka chimed in, her voice with a slight but still noticeable enough Ukrainian accent, and she placed a hand with long, dark blue nails on Shurley's shoulder. "Will you give me a ride to your place?"

"Absolutely," the lawyer replied, his gaze fixed squarely on her cleavage, partly because the heels made her a head taller than him. Not that Shurley minded, nor did he hesitate as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. It wasn't until he was holding her that he paused, as if something had dawned on him, and cast a quick glance at Castiel.

"Bring her back to the opener. And don't forget your paycheck," he said instead of the direct permission to leave that the lawyer was probably waiting for.

Without anything else, he grabbed his cell phone from the table and made his way back to the waiting Balthazar, who watched him curiously from the sofa, only inadvertently catching Shurley taking Mariska to the exit as he did so.