He sniffed to himself and wrinkled his nose. He'd only washed the dishes for the second night and already he thought the smell of burnt grease, chicken, onion rings, disinfectant and hectolitres of cheap detergent had soaked not only into his clothes and hair, but right into his skin. Plus his own sweat. And not the 'good' kind that only enhanced his pheromones. This was real, smelly sweat that made his armpits cake wet.
He could barely make out his own scent underneath all that stink.
Not that he was complaining.
He was used to working in all sorts of shady places, like this diner with a nightly operation where they were willing to employ an underage Omega purely because no one else would work there at night. The pay was... well, good enough for now, as long as they had money from Dad. He half hoped they'd get out of N.Y. before the money could run out, and half was already looking around for a better job or some other income if need be. If he couldn't find another job, he could always go air out a few pockets, play a few fake pool games, or stand at a bus stop and pretend he needed change for the bus or something to eat. It was almost unbelievable how many people were happy to contribute a few dollars when he lowered his eyes properly, craned his neck and let his scent waft out into the neighborhood. Being a small, scared, vulnerable Omega worked wonders.
"I'm going to take out the trash," he announced casually as he tossed the first two large bags that needed to be taken out over his shoulder.
"Want some help, pretty boy?" Bill asked from frying the fries.
" I get it..." he declined, smiling at the tall Beta.
Bill was a nice guy. Dean had bristled the first time he'd called him pretty boy, but he'd quickly discovered that Bill called everyone by their pet names. Plus, he was perpetually so stoned that flipping burgers and frying fries was the pinnacle of physical activity he could handle. Oh, and staggering out to the dumpsters once an hour to take a few swigs from his joint.
The back door slammed smoothly behind him and Dean immediately groaned in frustration.
They shared a side alley with the Chinese restaurant next door. Both establishments had their containers there, and someone from the Chinese place kept leaving their container open all the time. He'd been there three times yesterday to dump trash and the lid was open. Today was the first time and... yes, the lid was open again. Open containers attracted rats, and the large number of rats in the back alley meant they could easily get into the kitchen.
He took the trash to their dumpster and then proceeded to the next one. It wasn't surprising that the lid was open, as all the bags were thrown casually in front, preventing it from closing, plus it was full of unwrinkled boxes that took up space unnecessarily.
Angrily he started pulling the boxes out so he could squeeze them properly. Granted, it wasn't his job, but the last thing he wanted was to lose the few dollars he was making just because the diner he worked at was filled with rodents.
A car pulled up on the corner of the alley.
That wouldn't be anything special. People stopped here all the time to get takeout, and since it was only close to ten o'clock, there were still plenty of customers. The weird thing was that it was a van. A big, white one with some florist's logo on it. Maybe an employee was returning from his last delivery and had stopped by with his company car to pick up food. Yeah, that was possible, but…
Dean stopped squeezing boxes and looked at the car.
No one got out of the van for a long time, then the window opened and a man leaned out of the passenger seat. He was wearing a chunky jacket with the sleeves rolled up high, revealing his bare forearms, so that even from a distance the thick tattoos that ran down his arms could be seen. And he was looking directly at Dean.
He returned the gaze for a moment before slowly turning and tossing the box back into the container, watching the guy out of the corner of his eye. Years of experience and instinct warned him that something wasn't right. Best to go back inside.
He closed the lid of the container as tightly as he could and made his way back to the back entrance of the diner.
The man in the van pulled inside and the van slowly pulled away.
Dean sighed and mentally scolded himself for acting like a fool. Like this was the first time he'd ever worked in a weird neighborhood in a crappy establishment with weirdos staring at him. He had simply felt tense the last two days and his Omega instincts were more difficult than usual. Tonight, for example, it had been awfully hard to leave for his shift and leave Sam at the motel. A little voice in Dean's head kept whispering that he couldn't possibly leave a vulnerable, sick puppy somewhere all alone, as if this was perhaps the first time Sammy had been sick and he couldn't stay with him because he had to work. Or else get them some money. Writing to Lisa didn't help either. While every text from her brought a smile to his face, it also made his stomach clench in a strange way... Not nervous, perhaps, because... come on! Lisa wasn't the first pretty girl he'd texted. There was one in every town they passed through. But this time, it felt wrong to write to her. It was as if his inner Omega was looking around for... something or someone.
Probably just his nerves still frayed from that unpleasant encounter with the murderous Alpha. His stupid Omega instincts just favored finding a safe place over Lisa or something. He'd never paid much attention to that Omega shit, and if any of it was useful truth, he'd never been able to get his hands on it. He was stuck somewhere with statements like 'Omegas need safety and stability' - safety was boring and somewhere to settle was nerve-wracking. He knew this because when he was twelve, they spent one interminable three-month summer at Bobby's in Sioux Falls; a small, quiet backwater in West Dakota. Or 'They love soft things to build nests out of' - right, because Alphas and Betas preferred sleeping on hard ground and sitting in uncomfortable chairs. Alternatively, 'They like sweet things' - well, he loved pie, but he also loved meat in all its various forms. And his favourite was 'They enjoy bright colours' - he probably didn't have much to say about that, all anyone had to do was look at him and they knew straight away what rubbish it was.
He heard the squeak of wheels.
He jerked his head up sharply to find a florist's van speeding towards him.
The back entrance was too far away and the van was approaching at such a speed that his first thought was that if he didn't jump into the pile of pallets stacked against the wall, the van would simply run him over. He did. He stepped aside and the van came to an abrupt stop with a loud screech of brakes just enough to block the entrance.
At that moment, he knew it wasn't just a coincidence.
His first thought was for his knife, but it was in his jacket hanging in the diner's kitchen. The next option was to run, but the alley was a dead end. He was trapped. For the second time in one fucking week. This town really sucked. He wished they were out of it already, or at least that he'd brought a gun with him when he left for his shift.
Both van doors opened and two men got out.
One was as tall as Dean, the other just a little taller. The taller one was about as muscular as Dean, but the other was much skinnier, in fact he almost disappeared into his big jacket. The more muscular guy was the same one leaning out the window. His sleeves were now rolled up, so they covered his tattooed forearms, but his neck was clearly visible. The flickering bulb that had just lit up over the back entrance of the diner illuminated the spider web tattoo. It trailed down his neck and encroached a little on his jaw. Years of living almost on the streets and his dad's occasional job as an unlicensed headhunter had taught him many things, like how to read gang tattoos. The spider web was a typical prison tattoo.
If the muscular one was an ex-con and a criminal, the other certainly wasn't much better, and both were close to Dean.
He sucked in a deep breath of air. He couldn't smell the Alphas, so it could have been the Betas, whose faint scent was lost in the stench from the dumpsters and the smell from the kitchen that rose from Dean's shirt. Or they were wearing strong odor blockers.
He was hoping it was just the Betas. He'd have no trouble dealing with those, but Alphas? When he was dealing with some annoying bundle, he always had at least a knife on him, or they were Alphas his age, like Marcus. In fact, he'd never had to face two Alphas, probably criminals at that, without a weapon.
Both men stopped.
"You," the skinnier one spoke. "You're coming with us."
"And if I say no?" He asked in return.
The two men exchanged a look that seemed to speak no words because they were suddenly in motion.
Dean wasted no time. A quick glance around him revealed that he had only one weapon at hand. He stepped up to one of the pallets he was standing between, grabbed the splintered wood, and ripped it off just in time to swing it and hit the thin man in the shoulder. The guy staggered, tripped over the steps to the back exit, and fell on them.
Dean swung a second time, this time against the other man.
But the guy elbowed his attack with one hand, grabbed the end of the wood with the other, and then Dean slammed him against the wall with all his strength. The blunt blow to his entire back half knocked the wind out of him. He didn't even bother trying to grab it, just gritted his teeth and lunged forward, head-on. A perfectly aimed punch hit the guy in the nose.
The guy grabbed his nose and blood immediately started seeping between his fingers. If it wasn't broken, it was certainly bruised badly.
Grinning, Dean took a step forward, ready to give him another good swipe with the wood when the skinny guy's surprisingly strong arms caught him from behind. Before he could try to get out of the grip, the other man swung and drove a fist into his jaw.
He felt the inside of his cheek rip open and heard his teeth scrape against each other as his jaw was deflected to the side. Then an all too familiar pain exploded through his face. He growled and bared his teeth in hostility.
The second blow struck his stomach. He was really glad he'd only had a serving of fries for dinner, because the blow was so hard he'd surely have puked if he'd eaten more. The third punch didn't take long. It hit him a little lower than his stomach, near his navel, and sent a sharp and very strong jolt of pain to the back of his tailbone. Tears pricked at his eyes. Rather unconsciously, he realised that the guy had a fucking good shot and hit probably the second most painful place on his body, after his balls; his womb. Or at least he had a vague idea it was there somewhere.
That last blow had knocked him out completely. Fucking omega of anatomy. It hurt so much he was barely aware when the man swung again.
"Prekrati eto!"
Whatever the skinny guy said, the next punch didn't come, and instead the muscle man grabbed him by the shirt and bared his teeth at him viciously. Now he knew it was just Beta. Great, Winchester, you've been worked over by two Beta guys. That's quite a show you put on.
"Eta suka slomala mne nos!"
"Durak! Ne zabyvayte zakazy!"
Bigger Beta might have wanted to say something, but he changed his mind. Instead, he grabbed Dean by the shoulders and then, with the help of the skinny guy, they put him down. He fell face first onto the cold, wet pavement reeking of urine and garbage, and a can full of cigarette butts standing at the base of the stairs came into his field of vision. He wondered if that was the last thing he would see before he was shot or cut down.
It was a bit of a surprise when the weight of a knee pressed against his back and then someone twisted his arms back to tie him up. Plastic police handcuffs, he immediately realized as they dug into his bare wrists.
"If you're nice and quiet, Omega, we won't tie your legs and you won't get gagged. Deal?"
He swallowed his desire to send them up the ass and gave a small nod of agreement. Whatever they wanted to do to him, they weren't going to do it here and now. That gave him some time to absorb the pain and formulate an escape plan.
"Smart decision," the thin man complimented him, patting him on the head like he was some kind of dog.
Then he was lifted off the ground and a moment later found himself in the back of the van.
°°0°°
A drop of water fell on his knee. He swept it away in one swift motion before it could soak in completely and looked down at the woman kneeling on the ground in front of him. The blonde woman was hugging her own shoulders, her red-painted nails clenched in her black jacket, shivering, her downcast eyes obscured by strands of hair that had come loose from her tight bun. The name tag proclaimed Crystal, but Castiel knew her real name was Oksana. She was one of the many Ukrainians they'd helped get to the States, and one of the few lucky enough to pay off her debt not in a brothel or by shooting porn, but in Blue Sky. Castiel's private club, where she was a waitress. She had the right combination of good looks, English skills, and even a faint scent for a Beta, so all it took was a single application of blockers in the right places and she could spend the whole night on set without her scent bothering the guests. The waitresses at Blue Sky were supposed to be seen, not smelled.
"I'm disappointed."
Oksana looked up at him for a brief moment before she curled up further, a wave of raw fear surging from her body so strong it overcame any blockers she'd applied to herself before her shift.
"I gave you the opportunity to work off your debt with Blue Sky, and how did you repay me for such a show of kindness and trust? You stole from me."
"No!" Oksana exclaimed, making a motion as if to lunge at Castiel's feet, but Pyotr took a step forward, stopping her. She stayed on all fours, desperate eyes fixed upward, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No, I didn't steal from you, batyushka! I swear! I would never - "
"Stop lying to me," he interrupted her harshly, a small growl creeping into his voice.
Normally he didn't let his inner Alpha slip through the cracks so easily when it came to business, but this was more than that. Blue Sky was his safe place. In fact, it was part of his lair that others were only allowed to enter under very strict conditions and only those he deemed worthy of his trust. Literally every single registration passed through his hands and every single employee, including Oksana, had to be approved by him personally. And she betrayed him. She stole from him. Yes, it was only five grand - Ah... that's how much you spend at the hairdresser's on your sexy hair, ma chér, Balthazar noted casually - but this was about her blatant audacity, daring to steal cash straight from the safe and thinking she wouldn't get caught.
Beta just lowered her head helplessly, a whimpering sound escaping her throat.
"I had to do it," she whispered softly. "I needed the money. I needed it now. My mama... v doma v Ukrayini... she had big debts she couldn't pay. She would lose everything... I had to help her." She raised teary eyes to Castiel. "Please... forgive me! Forgive me! I'll pay you back! I swear!" She begged, her hands clasped together as if praying to him.
Another growl escaped him. Under his force, Beta lowered herself to the ground again, eyes downcast, exposing her vulnerable neck to him. His Apha rewarded it with a satisfied purr. This was the submission he wanted to see. The real, sincere apology, not having to listen to her make excuses for her poor mother somewhere in the Ukraine. Even if she did exist, that wasn't Castiel's problem. He didn't care.
"I'm not worried about you not paying your debt," he pointed out, standing up. "Hold her."
Boris gripped her upper arms tightly while Yury grabbed her left arm and forcibly lifted her up. Oksana watched with bulging eyes as Pyotr pulled surgical gloves and a medium-sized pair of tin snips from his bag.
Chopping was the most effective, but when it was only one finger and not the whole hand, it could be a problem to get a person to hold a finger on a flat surface. And holding it meant risking his own hand.
Cutting was very tedious and made a lot of mess. Blood mixed with fine fragments of bone and flesh splattered literally everywhere.
Sheet metal scissors, if they were big enough and of good quality, worked best, though it took a bit of strength to use them.
He took a pair of gloves from Pyotr, which he carefully pulled over the cuffs of his shirt and the ends of his jacket sleeves as well, then walked over to Oksana with the tin snips.
"Please! Please don't! You'll get everything back! I swear! I can... I will... get the money! I swear! You don't have to... forgive me! Probach meni! Please! Please! Please!"
He ignored her annoying pleas, which were no different from any other he'd heard in his lifetime, and pried his pinky out of her fist, because of course she clenched her hand in a futile attempt to protect herself.
He held it firmly while he only lightly clamped the scissors around the other knuckle as he searched for the spot where the blade fit best. When he found it, he squeezed.
It crunched wetly as the flesh and bone loosened.
Oksana's litany of pleas was interrupted by a loud, wailing scream.
His inner Alpha growled in satisfaction and bared his teeth, and Castiel did the same. His desire to protect the territory had been satisfied. Whoever dared to intrude and take something that was his alone was duly punished.
He stepped away from Beta, who hung half fainting in Boris's arms, and examined her finger. She had a very nice and certainly not cheap manicure. Maybe if she sent her mother what she spent on nails every month, then she wouldn't have to steal to support her family in the Ukraine.
Without further interest, he dropped his finger into the burning barrel and slid the tin snips in after it, blade first, to burn off Oksana's blood. Then he leaned over to the blonde Beta, grabbed her hair and lifted her head so she had to look up into his face. Her eyes were unfocused and her scent was filled with so much fear and pain that almost all of the woman's sweetness was gone, so he had no problem inhaling her scent so closely.
"I was tempted to cut off both of your arms, but an armless bitch isn't going to do much good. Let this," he grabbed the mutilated hand and held it up in front of Oksana's face, "be a reminder to you in the future to never think of stealing from me again."
He let go of her and straightened up.
"Take her to Vladek. He'll know what to do with her," he ordered the men holding Oksana before pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the fire next to the tin snips. Flames erupted and the smell of burning latex filled the air.
"Aye aye, boss." Boris nodded and let go of Oksana.
The beta female dropped to the concrete floor where she curled into a fetal position, her bleeding hand pressed to her breast. She was shaking and sobbing and didn't seem to care that blood was seeping through her blouse and her pants were wet with urine. She certainly wasn't in such a state that they had to worry about her trying to escape anytime soon. They'd probably have to carry her out to the van.
He stepped a little to the side to avoid the risk of blood or urine getting on his pants and just half-watched what his men were doing. Boris took a plastic bag and cardboard from Pyotr's bag. He pulled the bag over Oksana's bleeding hand and taped the edges of it thoroughly. They may have had the van covered in foil for this one, but the less free-flowing blood the better.
Pyotr's phone rang.
"What is it, Vadim?" He asked into the phone and after a brief pause, nodded. "I'll tell the boss," he uttered, moving the receiver away from his ear and turning to Castiel, "They've got the kid. Do you want them to bring him in?"
Immediately a wave of excitement washed over him. His inner Alpha, until that moment calm and comfortably curled at the edge of his consciousness, perked up and shivered all over. They had his Omega. They had grabbed it for him. Finally. His wonderful smelling Omega.
"Yes. Get him here as fast as you can," he ordered, barely managing to keep his voice steady. He couldn't remember the last time, if ever, he'd felt such excitement at the mere thought of meeting someone.
"Bring him in. We're there as usual. And quickly," Pyotr ordered into the phone, hanging up, then adding to Castiel: "They'll be here in twenty minutes, boss."
He nodded and turned his attention to Boris, who had just lifted Oksana onto shaky legs and was about to lead her away with Yury's help. Blood and a wet spot of urine were left on the floor by the blonde Beta. The mixture of iron smell and ammonia must have been strong enough to be disgusting even to Betas, let alone to Omegas, whose sense of smell was much better. It was necessary to get rid of the filth before Dean was brought in.
"Clean this mess up," he ordered, nodding slightly towards the wet spots on the concrete. "And a second chair will be needed."
His men looked a little surprised. Usually they didn't clean up until the very end. Doing it earlier was pointless, because whoever they brought in, for whatever reason - an execution or just a conversation - there was going to be some waste left behind. Urine, vomit or blood. Often a mixture of at least two of the above. Plus, the bloodstains had a psychological effect; they induced fear. And that was exactly what he wanted to avoid right now.
Boris and Yury exchanged glances, then Boris nodded, threw his arm around Oksana's shoulders and walked with her to the van, leaving Yury to clean up. Beta reached for the broom and hose.
Castiel stepped back a little further and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, while he watched Yury carefully remove the bloodstains with a stream of water and a hard broom. He stuck one between his lips and was just reaching for his lighter when Pyotr appeared at his side and lit it.
"Are you planning on inviting him in, boss?" The hulking Beta intoned curiously.
He shot him a look.
There was a time, and Castiel had seen it as a young man, when no one could join them who was not Russian, if not a native, at least by blood. But times had changed in the last twenty years, and accepting a pure-blooded American as a recruit would hardly raise an eyebrow these days. Yes, hard core was still reserved for real Russians, but his little wild Omega still had a chance to get pretty high. He saw the potential in him, but had no plans to back it up.
"No," he exhaled along with a puff of smoke.
"With all due respect, we can't let him live after what he's seen," Pyotr said, and it was clear from his tone that he would do what needed to be done, even if it was against Castiel's will. Of course it irritated him, he was an Alpha and hated being defied, but he also appreciated it. Pyotr's loyalty was first and foremost to his brother and then to Castiel and that was the right thing to do.
"I will give him a choice and one of the options will be death," he assured Pyotr that he too had their mutual interests in mind first and then his own.
Silence fell between them, punctuated by the distant splash of Hudson and Yury's careful cleaning. Castiel took another drag and blew smoke out his nose, while his thoughts wandered to what his people had managed to find out for him about his Omega. His name was Dean and he was sixteen, just as he thought. He was staying for the second week in a cheap motel called the Golden Star, which was ironic because it was a horrible dump. He had a brother, Sam, and from what the motel receptionist said, an Alpha father, but he'd just left Dean and his brother at the motel and disappeared. Just the thought that Omega's father, who was also an Alpha, could be so inconsiderate as to leave him unprotected and uncared for made his Alpha growl and howl furiously. Castiel would never do such a thing. Once he was Dean's Alpha he would literally never let him out of his sight and would make sure he didn't have to live in a motel full of cockroaches and work in some shady all-night diner.
You could hear a car pull up outside.
"Should we stay, boss?" Yury asked, having just set an old plastic chair on the freshly scrubbed concrete.
"No," he dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
Omega was to be brought in by Vadim and Jacob, along with Pyotr that was the three Betas and... oh of course Castiel who was the Alpha. As much as he was sure his Omega wouldn't be intimidated by anything, this was more than enough to scare him off. In fact, it was almost too much, he thought, frowning thoughtfully. He should have done more to make it clear to Dean from the start that he didn't have to die here.
He took one last drag before tossing his cigarette into the burning barrel and then taking off his jacket, which he hung on his chair. When he wasn't wearing the jacket, it was easy to see that he wasn't carrying any weapons. He even briefly considered undoing a few buttons on his shirt. Balthazar always claimed that it made him look less uptight, but before he could make up his mind, he was interrupted by shouts and Russian curses coming from outside.
He turned his head in that direction and sucked in air.
Unfortunately, at this distance and considering how close the foul smelling river was, he couldn't pick up anything. Not even Omega's apple-pine scent, which was etched in his memory as the strongest and most delicious thing he'd ever smelled.
There was another noise and the slamming of the van door, and then Vadin and Jacob finally emerged from behind the open warehouse door, dragging the heaving Omega between them. Even at first glance, he was as wild as Castiel remembered him. Though his hands were tied behind his back and he had no visible way of breaking free or escaping his bonds as the Betas held him with both hands, he still refused to submit to them and tried to break free of their grasp until...
Their gazes clashed.
Green eyes, almost fir-dark in the dim light of the two spotlights, widened with instant recognition, and Omega stopped his frenzy at the same moment. He didn't flinch in fear, as those who knew him did, and so knew that if they came face to face with him, they were likely to meet a terrible fate. It wasn't even Omega's natural respect for the Alpha, because that would make Dean lower his gaze and he didn't. It wasn't even the look of someone who realized he was in big trouble, which Castiel also knew well. This was something else...
Omega allowed himself to be led to the prepared chair without struggling further, and also without breaking eye contact with Castiel.
He sucked in air. The strongest smell he could smell from Dean was the stench of cheap chemicals, fried chicken, and sour sweat, but underneath it all was the scent of apple trees in the spring, pine wood drying in the summer sun, and a subtle Omega sweetness that was just a subtle undercurrent. His Omega. His Kind. That was his Alpha purring in his ear over and over again, making him take a few steps forward.
Too close to the young Omega, whose hands may have been tied behind his back, but he still had ample opportunity to attack Castiel. Still, he didn't. He remained still, his gaze fixed on Castiel's eyes, and only moved when he leaned in to catch more of his scent.
Oddly enough, he didn't pull away, but leaned forward slightly, and he could be heard taking a deep breath. He sniffed Castiel's scent as much as he sniffed his, and by the way his breathing slowed and his muscular shoulders slumped, he liked what he smelled.
Smiling, he pulled back a little to get a better look at Dean's face. His sharp chin, but soft cheeks, beautifully shaped lips that... He frowned. There was a small wound on the left side of his lower lip, and now that he got a better look at Omega's face, he realized there was a red swelling on his jaw. A fist wound that would surely turn purple by morning.
He pulled away sharply and shot a cold glare at his men.
"Which one of you was that?" He asked calmly, anger still smoldering only inside. The two Betas exchanged glances, but had yet to reply. "Which one of you disobeyed an order and injured him?"
"I did, boss," Jacob admitted, stepping forward. "He hit me first. Bruised my nose and maybe even broke it," he explained, touching his swollen nose that was still a little dirty from the dried blood.
"Okay. We'll sort it out later. Now," he stepped back and nodded to Omega, "untie him."
Vadim pulled a knife from his pocket and took a step forward to comply with the order, only for Omega to flinch so violently in front of him that he slammed his foot into a chair, nearly knocking it over. At the same moment he turned to Vadim and bared his teeth belligerently. Actually, not just at him, but at everyone.
"Don't touch me!" he barked angrily, but his scent and the glint in his eyes, clearly said that he was not only angry, but also afraid.
At first, he didn't understand why Omega was reacting so violently to a perfectly harmless order, until he realized that he didn't understand them. All he had to hear was the unfamiliar language, his annoyed tone, and he could see Jacob pointing at his broken nose. Then when Vadim pulled out his knife, he had to assume they were going to use the knife on him.
"He's not going to hurt you, Omega. He just wants to untie your hands," he switched to English, which had the desired effect.
Dean cast a quick glance in his direction before slowly straightening from his fighting stance and standing still as Vadim cut the plastic cuffs on his wrists. Once his hands were free, he took another step away, but made no attempt to escape. He watched them with a wary gaze, his eyes occasionally slipping to the side as he assessed his surroundings. He had a keen eye, and it was obvious that he really knew what he was doing, and what to look for. That he was looking for possible improvised weapons and ways to escape.
"Sit down," he prompted, but Dean didn't move, just stared. "I said; sit down," he repeated more emphatically, and by the way Dean pursed his lips, it was obvious he wasn't going to obey this time either, but after another quick glance directed at Pyotr, he decided to comply.
Very slowly, he sat down in the prepared chair and began rubbing his wrists. He didn't stop watching Castiel the entire time, never lowering his eyes for a moment and only stiffening a little as he pulled the other chair closer and sat down on it.
"Do you know who I am?"
"A crazed psychopathic killer?"
Mostly surprised, but also a little confused, he tilted his head to one side and squinted his eyes.
"Yes. I suppose that... could be true," he admitted thoughtfully. No one had ever said anything like that to his face, and it was surprisingly... refreshing, especially coming from the beautiful lips of his Mate. He couldn't help a slight smile before leaning forward a little, just to be closer to Dean's overwhelming scent. "But I am also your True Mate."
Omega's scent hit him in a strong wave, as if he wanted to draw him to him with his scent, but Dean himself pulled away a little and grinned.
"Unless in your crazy fantasies," he got another cheeky reply, bringing a whiff of anger that was very well masked by fear.
"I can smell your aroma. It calls to me. It beckons me. It's overwhelming. According to my Alpha, we're perfectly compatible. And if I can feel our kinship, you must feel it too. Don't try to lie to me," he warned him gently, but firmly enough that Omega wouldn't allow himself to be lied to.
Dean pursed his lips and stared directly into Castiel's eyes for several long, defiant breaths before slipping his gaze away.
"Fine," he breathed in exasperation, looking him in the eye again. "You smell like freshly baked cherry pie with almond crumble to me. It's the best I've ever smelled. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Castiel smiled smugly.
"Yes."
"That's what you heard. But that doesn't mean you're my Soul Mate or True Love or anything like that. I don't believe in those things. It's all bullshit."
He tilted his head to the side a little and squinted his eyes. A lot of people were in denial about the whole concept of Kindred, even Castiel himself was hesitant if such a thing really existed, though just thinking so went against his beliefs. But not now. Now, face to face with Dean, wrapped in his scent and looking into his sparkling green eyes, he no longer questioned it. And he didn't care if the True Mates came by the will of the Lord or if it was just part of evolution, nature trying to bring together two individuals who could produce offspring with the best genetic material. It was simply the truth and he didn't understand how his Omega could deny their connection when he must have felt it as strongly as Castiel himself.
"And yet that bullshit," he fingered the quotation marks. "It saved your life then in the shop and also here and now. You're my True Mate and I'm yours."
Dean's lips were pressed into a thin line, defiance mixed with fear in his eyes, and one hand wrapped tightly around the edge of the cheap plastic chair he sat on.
"Yeah... okay..." stretched Omega, jerking his shoulders in a shrug. "Whatever the guy with the biggest gun in the room says."
He frowned in confusion. He didn't have any firearms on him, and to show Omega that and put him at ease, he'd taken off his jacket before he'd arrived. The shirt he had on was tight enough that a small two and twenty couldn't be concealed under it, and none would fit past the waistband of his pants either. He might have had one on his ankle, but even that couldn't be the 'biggest bump in the room'. So he didn't understand what he meant. Maybe he should ask Omega about it later, if he got the chance. He hoped he would get the chance.
He straightened up before continuing:
"I want to give you a choice."
"What choice?" asked Dean.
He didn't answer right away. He stood up, picked up his chair and pushed it aside just far enough so he could grab a nearby tall wooden box and place it, bottom up, between the chair and Dean. Then he walked over to Pyotr.
"Give me your weapon."
"Sure, boss," Pyotr replied, reaching into his holster for his gun.
Another acidic hitch in the air, clearly perceptible over the foul smells of the kitchen and mostly nullifying Omega's beautiful scent, was Dean's reaction to the drawn weapon. To avoid startling him unnecessarily more, he let the gun rest very loosely in his hand and approached Dean with planned slowness and just close enough to allow Omega a good view of the magazine he had removed from the gun.
"Full." He turned the magazine over so that Omega could check that there were indeed bullets in it. "And the gun is fully functional," he added, very slowly placing the weapon on the wooden crate.
He was very aware that Dean had been watching him closely the whole time. He was literally hypnotizing his every move and didn't stop for more than a few seconds to look at the gun. A weapon that was now completely within his reach, yet Omega didn't move. For now. Only the muscles in his jaw tensed.
Castiel returned to his seat just as slowly and calmly and sat down.
He met the gaze of Dean's green eyes.
"I guess you understand that after what you saw, I can't just let you go. This isn't just about me and not wanting to go to jail, it's about much... bigger things," he had to explain to Dean that he had no choice and that no matter what was between them, he couldn't put Omega ahead of the Brotherhood. "But you saved my life and that's why I want to be fair to you and give you a chance to save yours." He nodded towards the gun. "That's your first chance. You can use it to get out of here."
Omega's gaze immediately slid to the weapon, then looked around. Castiel knew exactly what he was seeing. He was under siege by four men. One albeit unarmed, but still an Alpha, and three presumably armed Betas. Pyotr's gun was missing from his underarm holster, but he had a backup in a holster at the back of his belt. The others had their guns at their waists, and each of them, if not more muscular than Omega, was at least more experienced. Ultimately, they were all stronger than Dean, regardless of the fact that he was magnificently built not only for Omega, but for an Alpha of his age. His muscles rippled under his thin black t-shirt in time with his quickened breathing. And his neck tensed as he slowly turned his head from side to side as he looked around, inadvertently revealing the small but clearly visible bumps of his scent glands in the process.
Castiel's gaze lingered on them, nostrils flaring as he took in the scent of apple and pine trees that made his Alpha instantly long to bury his nose and maybe even his teeth in the Omega's exposed neck. To mate him. To strap him to himself. To claim every part of him and then hold him and care for him for the rest of his life while his Omega raised a few puppies. Puppies that Castiel had long since forbidden himself to even think about, let alone desire, because he knew it was nearly impossible to find anyone to give them to him.
Lord help him, he would and should. Simply pairing Dean up and taking him with him would solve everything, but if he did, he would be no different from his father. No, he wanted to do it differently. His Omega would be with him willingly or not at all.
Dean turned back to him and met his gaze from head to toe. It was an appraising look, one that determined if Castiel would be fast enough to get to the gun first. Whatever conclusion he came to, it made him grin bitterly and swamp the area with a mixture of fear and rage.
"One gun for five guys? You call that a chance to save your life? I'll be a bloody colander before I can move. There's no way I'm getting out of here and you know it. You're an insane, sadistic bastard!" Omega spat in a shaky voice in which the true depth of his inner fear could be heard for the first time, his eyes wet with unshed tears.
His Alpha would have wanted to comfort Omega, but he was also proud and growled in agreement over and over again that Dean was strong, brave, and would be the best protector for Castiel's pups. In fact, he had men twice his age, even Alphas, in the same chair who had started crying and begging for their lives long before this Omega showed his first real fear and tears.
"I admit it's a slim chance, but it's still a chance to get back to your brother."
"As you know - " Dean fell silent before he could finish his question, clenching his jaw tightly.
Castiel knew what he wanted to ask, so he answered his half-unspoken question:
"You weren't hard to find. The wallet you lost in the store had papers made by my own people. We keep a record of when, what document, under what false name, but most importantly where we issued it. It was easy to find where the fake driver's license was issued in the name of Chester Bennington. Then all we had to do was find cheap motels in the area and go through them with your photo. The receptionist at your motel was very helpful. He told us about your brother and where you work."
With every word he said, a stronger scent of fear, almost balanced by the smell of rage, wafted from Omega. Dean's breathing was intermittent, his jaw tensing as he ground his teeth together, the chair beneath him creaking pitifully as he gripped its edges tightly, looking Castiel directly in the eye the entire time.
"Don't touch my brother!" Omega growled. He really growled, deep and fierce, more like a young Alpha, and it almost made Castiel's Alpha respond the same way.
"I have no reason to hurt your brother," he said very calmly instead of growling. "He's never seen me or any of my men. But you should consider what will happen to him if he loses you. As far as I know, you're taking care of him alone, and if you don't leave here alive, he'll have no one. Is that what you want?"
"What does it matter what I want? You're going to kill me anyway!"
"You still have a second choice."
"What's the second choice?" He snorted rather than actually asking.
Castiel leaned forward.
"You're my True Mate, and I'd rather see you by my side than dead."
"What does that mean?"
"Let me get to know you better..."
Something flickered across Omega's face, a brief expression Castiel couldn't place, whereupon Dean looked around again. Then he glanced again at the gun that was still ready for use on the wooden crate. For a moment, Castiel feared that Omega would choose the first option and try to shoot his way through. His chances would be almost nil. Fortunately, he didn't.
He turned his gaze to Castiel again.
"Better to know?" Dean repeated, much less explosively, more cautiously and a little flat. "And if I agree to... get to know you better, you'll let me live and you won't hurt Sammy?"
"Yes."
"How can I trust you?"
"You have my word. And my word is law."
Omega stared defiantly into his eyes for several more long moments before suddenly lowering his gaze to the ground. His shoulders slumped, his whole body relaxed as if he had flipped a switch or suddenly given in to his Omega instincts, and he tilted his head to the side to expose his neck.
"Okay. I agree. Let's... get to know each other better," he agreed in a suddenly quiet, calm, almost bland voice, his words seemingly spoken more to the concrete at Castiel's feet than to Castiel himself.
On the one hand, his Alpha growled contentedly, because the Omega he wanted had done what he was supposed to; he had submitted and accepted him as his Alpha. But it was also intensely unsatisfying to see the by now defiant Dean, who hadn't been afraid to look him in the eye and defy him, suddenly give in. This was not what he wanted. He liked the fire this Omega had. The incredible ferocity that made him more like an Alpha. And that was coupled with the perfect scent and the promise of the things he instinctively craved as an Alpha; to have someone who belonged to him and who he could protect. To have puppies. To have a territory, a den in it, and a nest in that den that his Omega would create for them. This particular Omega.
He suppressed his discontent. He got what he wanted; he didn't have to kill Dean and that was the most important thing.
The other things would come in time, he assured himself as a satisfied smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
1. Castiel and Oksana speak English together because Castiel does not speak Ukrainian and Oksana does not speak Russian. English is the language they both understand.
2. Five thousand US dollars is equivalent to one hundred and twenty thousand Ukrainian hryvnias. The average monthly salary in Ukraine is thirteen thousand hryvnia. For Oksana's mother, five thousand dollars is a lifetime of debt. For Castiel? I don't know... a new watch?
Russian dictionary:
Prekrati eto! - Stop it!
Eta suka slomala mne nos! - That bitch broke my nose!
Durak! Ne zabyvayte zakazy! - Fool! Don't forget our orders!
Ukrainian dictionary:
v doma v Ukrayini - At home in Ukraine
Probach meni - Forgive me!
