As usual, he didn't bother to bring any appropriate clothes for gym class, assuming that the coach would then let him sit on the bench like in almost every school he'd ever attended. Sure, there were jerseys to buy at school, and everyone had them, but... he didn't pay for his own lunch, so when the coach asked him why he didn't buy a jersey, he just said he couldn't afford one. He thought that would be the end of it. Teachers usually didn't want to smear someone for being poor.

Coach Smith - a fifty-something Beta with big arm muscles but pretty skinny legs - had come up with a sort of social program that included free jerseys for kids from disadvantaged families; new ones, carefully sealed in plastic bags at all times. It even included a bottle of odour blockers, which he was obliged to use. They were surprisingly good quality and when he applied them to his shoulders and neck, his smell almost disappeared. He wondered if it would last the entire gym class or if they would wear off as quickly as the ones in his bag. If they didn't wear off, he'd definitely steal them for casual use.

Stripped of his smell and dressed in a white t-shirt and red shorts, Dean found himself in the gym with the rest of his year group. They were all wearing the same type of jersey, just in different colors. The red was obviously for the Omegas, the blue was for the Alphas and the green was for the Betas.

He looked around at the usual sorting of Alphas, Betas and Omegas and reluctantly joined the small group of Omega girls where only Kevin was left besides him. This was why he hated gym class, although going for a bike ride or dealing a few punches to a punching bag was his favorite pastime. He had to be with the Omegas in class, and the Omegas were usually girls or petite guys like Kevin. He stood out among them, literally, because he towered over them all by a good two inches. Plus, as it had been explained to him more than once, the physical education curriculum for Omegas was different than for Betas or even Alphas because Omegas were tiny, weak, had more fragile constitutions and shit like that. As a result, gym class was boring.

The coach blew the whistle to line them up.

It turned out that the basic warm-up was the same for all of them, only after that did the trainer hand out appropriate exercises by subgender. The alphas were given strength exercises to show off their big muscles. Marcus in particular made no secret of them as he strutted around the gym in a tank top two sizes too small, under which I could see not only his muscles but also his scent glands.

The Betas were given a slightly lighter workout. Lisa sent him a smile and a little wave from the rope she was, surprisingly willingly, about to start climbing.

Finally, the Omegas, and Dean with them, were directed to the yoga mats, giant balls and hula-hoop hoops. Whatever the plan was, he was sure that none of it would be real exercise, but on the other hand, it looked like it would be better than a school in Ohio where the Omegas' gym class consisted of meditating in various positions.

"I'll leave it in your capable hands now, Miss Rosen."

"Of course, Coach Smith," Becky replied enthusiastically.

The trainer just nodded and, without giving the Omegas a long look, headed straight for the Alphas. He didn't seem to care wholeheartedly about how their class was going to go, and the only thing he probably cared about was the athletic achievements of his Alpha charges.

"Okay, people, let's get our mats and spread them out at regular and sufficient intervals so that we all have plenty of space," Becky instructed them.

He wasn't particularly into it, so the last mat left for him was a hideous pink one. With a sigh, he carried it over to Kevin and unfolded it beside him. As everyone took off their shoes and sat on the mat, he did the same.

"Get into a comfortable position."

Damn, meditation after all? He thought with a sigh, but did as Becky said. He assumed a comfortable position lying on his back, his gaze fixed on the fluorescent lights of the hall ceiling. If nothing else, he could take a nap. He'd slept surprisingly well last night, but an extra half hour never hurt anyone.

"Well done," Becky complimented them in a satisfied tone. "Now, before we begin, let's get in tune with our inner Omega. Nicely, a breath in and a slow breath out. Breathe in and out."

Connect with the inner Omega? Okay. He did, only to find that he was lying bored on his back and all he wanted at the moment was a good piece of grub. Yeah, he was totally in line with that thinking.

"Listen to her. Feel her. Do you know what she's telling you yet?"

"'Sure. She'd want caramel popcorn and a beer," he mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.

Kevin burst out into muffled laughter at his side, and he certainly wasn't the only one.

"Dean!" Becky admonished. "It's important to make contact with your Omega before you train."

"I think we've all made that connection. Can we continue?" He asked, at the same time rolling over onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at Becky, who was sitting in a strangely contorted Turkish sitting position on her mat. They exchanged a glance. He raised an eyebrow and held his gaze long enough for the other Omega to lower his gaze and acquiesce to what he wanted.

"Okay," she said with reluctance in her voice, but began to shift as per his further instructions. "Everybody lie on your backs..."

He slapped himself back onto the mat.

"... and we'll start with the first pelvic floor strengthening exercises."

"Oh, come on!" He exclaimed in frustration. This just wasn't going to happen. "Okay, I'm done. Enjoy," he said and started to get up.

A couple of weeks after his first heat, once they hit the town where they had the Omega clinic, his dad took him to the gynecology clinic to have a doctor look at him and make sure everything was okay. In addition to undergoing a very unpleasant examination, which thankfully their Alpha never forced him to do again, he was also given a brochure on what it was like to be an Omega, containing a list of recommended reading. He remembered them sitting out in the car together afterwards, and his dad saying with a sigh how much he wished their mum was alive, because she was going to be the one to go through this with Dean. Then they went to the bookstore and Alf bought literally every book that was on the list that the store had. One of them was a book of exercises suitable for teenage Omegas, where there was a whole huge chapter devoted to exercises that were supposed to strengthen the pelvic floor and circulate the uterus, thus relieving cramping during humping and increasing fertility.

In fact, for almost two weeks he really tried to exercise according to that stupid book, because Dad had bought it and that meant it must have made some sense. It didn't matter how embarrassed he felt or that he had to hide every time. Eventually his dad caught him anyway, and when he explained what he was doing, Alpha actually flipped through the books he'd bought for the first time, only to label them all as bullshit. And then they grilled dinner on that pile of books. One of Dean's greatest memories.

"You can't leave. It's mandatory. If you leave, I'll have to report you to the coach," Becky informed him importantly, which had little effect as she lay on the floor while she did so.

"Fine." He waved his hands. "I don't mind staying after school. I'll definitely enjoy it more than this." He nodded his head towards his classmates.

"None of us enjoy it," Becky told him, sitting down, "but it's beneficial. We all want healthy puppies around here."

"I thought you wanted to be the third Omega in history to win the Pulitzer Prize?"

"That doesn't mean I don't want to have kids. We all want them here."

"Speak only for yourself," Kevin muttered from somewhere at the level of Dean's knees, so quietly that only Dean could hear him.

"Yeah... I'm not so much" he said, though it wasn't entirely true or false. He hadn't considered kids yet, Sammy was plenty enough for him. "And even if I ever wanted them and had them, I assure you, Becky, I wouldn't be the one to deliver them."

Omega opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped mid-word and frowned thoughtfully. It took a small moment for the meaning of Dean's words to sink in before she closed her mouth and puckered her lips.

"It'll help with the cramps."

"I know a much funnier cure for that," he grinned, arching his eyebrows suggestively.

He'd never actually spent any time heating up with anyone, nor had he thought to ask anyone to. Who else? The waitress Suzzi had made out with in the bathroom of the diner where she worked? Or the motel manager's daughter, who called herself Bubble, had grown out her pink highlights and dragged him into one of the empty rooms?

Well certainly not the pimply, teenage Alpha from the last gas station who literally smelled ice cream on his overalls when he almost broke down to open the door.

"Like I didn't tell you about him right away," Molly snorted; one of the Omega girls, pretty with big lips, skin the color of light chocolate, soft hips that Dean would quite happily dig his fingers into, and the smell of blackberries and caramel. Her comment belonged to the two friends sitting at her side, but it was said loud enough for everyone to hear.

"What did you say, sweetheart?" He asked, throwing her one of his smiles.

"Some of us, myself included, think that Omega should remain chaste until mating with Alpha," Molly answered him with complete sovereignty, even a little condescension, as if her decision not to fuck until marriage was a sign of moral superiority. "But I'm sure that doesn't mean anything to you."

"Then you're right about that. I missed that train a long time ago," he replied, as sovereignly as she had, before turning to Becky and pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "If you decide to sue me, you can tell Coach I'm sitting under the bleachers."

With those words, he turned on his heel and, leaving the other Omegas to their fate, made his way to hide under the bleachers where he could observe the action in the hall through the view between the seats and not be seen at the same time. He didn't really expect the trainer to be looking for him, given how little the Omega part of his class interested him, but he didn't need to be right out in the open either.

He reached into his pocket from where he pulled out his cell phone. They weren't allowed to carry it with them, lest it break, but since he didn't expect to get into any sports anyway, he didn't see any reason to leave it in his locker. He bored through the waters of the internet especially Facebook for a while, regretting that he'd forgotten to take his headphones out of his jeans pocket as well, and then he tried texting Sammy.

He clicked off the message, stared at the chat window for a moment, waiting to see if he'd get a reply when he realized that Sam had been talking about some history test on the way to school this morning. When did he have a history class? Hell, Dean should know, he'd seen his schedule but he didn't remember it. Sam was old enough and capable enough to keep track of his own books for school.

With a frustrated sigh, he leaned against the iron structure. He couldn't play music or videos or play a game without headphones, that is unless he wanted to draw too much attention to himself. So he was doomed to sit there staring at the peeling plaster and the wisps of dust slowly sliding along the walls. Unless... Inwardly he hesitated at the thought, but his fingers beat him to it and opened up a conversation with Alpha.

Dean: today sucks I should have left it out

He formulated his frustration into a short message, which he sent to Alpha after a small hesitation and... surprisingly, he felt relieved. Damn, it was good to be able to complain to someone, even if the murderous Russian Alpha was on the other end of the conversation.

He glanced between the stands at the other Omegas who were currently balancing on balls and grinned in disgust. His grin quickly turned into a smile, however, when his cell phone vibrated in his hand.

°°0°°

He leaned back against the bar, closed his eyes with a sigh, and began to massage his temple with two fingers. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, resting on the inside of his forehead, and his Alpha growled softly in deep, all-encompassing displeasure.

If someone had asked the average, law-abiding man if he could commit murder, have to clean up the evidence, and live with the risk of being discovered and imprisoned for the rest of his life, he would surely have answered that he couldn't handle that kind of stress. If you asked Castiel the same question, he would have replied that being on the board of directors of one of the companies legally owned by Bratva was a hundred times more stressful than seeing all the potential life sentences that awaited him.

"Gin and Tonic," he demanded of Balthazar, who was approaching him from behind. He recognized him by his regular, light stride, and especially by the nettle aroma.

"Rough day?" Beta asked, and he could be heard going behind the bar to prepare his drink.

"Yes," he replied simply, finally opening his eyes to look at Balthazar. "I can deal with Italians and Koreans without us killing each other, but an Alpha American with a degree from Harvard?" He growled, literally, at the memory of today's meeting, and wrapped his fingers around the glass Beta had placed in front of him. "If I had a gun, I'd shoot her and I wouldn't care how many witnesses were around."

"How about a long, hot shower?" Beta suggested, leaning his elbows on the bar and leaning close to Castiel. "I'll keep you company," he offered, running his fingertips up his arm, up to under the cuff of his shirt. The soft, nettle smell, this time unenhanced by scent enhancers, filled him with a familiar thrill.

He locked his gaze on Balthazar's exposed neck. He gave it away, his head tilted a little to one side and a little back at the same time, so that the curve of his neck and the muscles in his shoulders tensed beautifully. Defiantly served up right for the bite.

He wrapped a hand around his throat, thumb resting on the nub that he ran over a few times, enjoying the quickening pulse that rested in his palm. Slowly, he let his hand slide lower into the deep cleavage of Balthazar's loose, grey T-shirt, running his fingers over the softly toned muscles.

He leaned forward to inhale Beth's pungent aroma and... stopped mid-movement. His smell was pleasant, but at the same time there were so many things wrong with it. It created a frustrating contradiction between the desire to bend Balthazar over the nearest flat surface like he always did and push him as far away as possible, because this wasn't his Mate.

He let out a long sigh and pulled away, letting his hand slide from Balthazar's chest and pulling the other out from under Beth's gently probing and stroking fingers.

"Not now."

Balthazar straightened.

"Is he handsome?"

He cast Beth a sharp look.

"Who?"

"Your new botoy who makes you resist my proverbial charm, mon amour," Beta replied with typical acerbity.

He squinted his eyes and a small, warning growl escaped his throat. He wasn't generally in the mood for Balthazar's games because his head hurt. And he especially wasn't going to talk to him about Dean, as if he were just another on the list of men who had passed through his bed.

"That pretty?" He grinned, both provocative and amused, while his scent took on that subtle tinge of something that could grate on Castiel's nerves. "I heard you talking to Shurley... sixteen and Omega? I imagine he's a puppy eager to please, but I doubt he can do anything but lie there and moan."

"Be careful, Balthazar," he warned him a second time, parting his lips and showing his teeth to back up his warning. But he still held back, despite the angry growls of his Alpha, ready to protect his Omega no matter from whom. His patience was on edge, though. He knew Balthazar could be biting like a shark, and at other times and under other situations he liked it, just not today.

"Why?" He raised an eyebrow and leaned one hand on the bar. "Since when do you and I have any bed secrets, Castiel? You know me and I know you, down to all the little intimate details. And you've always told me about your boys, so why are you suddenly so shy now? I want to hear it all. Tell me," he leaned forward again so their faces were very, very close, "what was it like to taste Omega for the first time?" He asked in a conversational tone; Castiel exhaled sharply through his nose and pursed his lips. Balthazar squinted his eyes and met his gaze with an uncomfortably searching one before his face widened in genuine surprise and he pulled away a little. "Unless there's nothing to talk about because you're still - "

He grabbed him below the neck and squeezed just enough to keep him from continuing, but didn't cut off his air supply. Still, fear flickered in Balthazar's eyes, and he gripped Castiel's forearm firmly, both hands in a futile attempt to pull his hand away from his throat. He didn't stand the slightest chance against the Alpha's strength, and they both knew it. The grip alone was warning enough for the next time, but Castiel's Alpha wanted more. He wanted Beta to realize that there were new lines surrounding Dean that even someone as close as Balthazar was not advised to cross.

He let his fangs slip from his gums and showed them to Beta up close as he pulled his face up to his.

"I allow you much. He is taboo. Don't cross the line. Do you understand?" He warned, his voice hoarser and wetter than ever as his teeth prevented him from articulating properly and his mouth filled with saliva.

"Yes, Alpha," Beta choked out a little hoarsely, the scent soaked with fear, before closing his eyes in resignation.

Satisfied with his submission, he let go and let the fangs fall back into place.

Beta swallowed loudly several times and ran his hand over his neck, eyes still fixed on the ground. There was still a hint of fear in his scent, but it began to dissipate, replaced by a bitter string of anger

"I think I'd better get out of your way today." Declared Beta and indeed took a step, intending to clear the field

Castiel caught him by the wrist.

"No. You stay here."

Beta glanced at him obliquely over his shoulder, lips drawn into an irritated line, but he didn't try to pull away and walk away. He took one small step back so he could more easily free his wrist from Castiel's grip, then said:

"Whatever you say... boss." The last word dripped with sarcasm bordering on mockery.

He squinted, irritated by Beta's relentless efforts to piss him off again, when a beeping sound came from the door.

"Go open it." He nodded his head toward the entrance.

"As you wish," Balthazar didn't forgive himself for being snippy this time either, but at least he did go to answer the door without further ado.

He took a deep and mostly final drink, then leaned his back against the bar and turned his attention to the newcomers.

Vladek's men had brought the two girls with them.

He chose two each time, deciding between them after seeing them with his own eyes and, more importantly, smelling them with his own nose. Vladko was an Alpha, so he could find the Betas with the faintest scent among the girls, but he had trouble grasping the whole concept of Blue Sky - a place where Alphas who wanted to spend time exclusively with Alphas and not be bothered in any way, especially by scent, by Betas or Omegas, were free to congregate. Therefore, on several occasions, he had offered Castiel a girl who was attractive and satisfactory in all other respects, but had too intense an odor. Even that could be masked with blockers, but over the course of long, twelve-hour shifts, even the best blockers began to wear off. They covered the mild, faint odor for much longer, which was why he only wanted Betas with the faintest odor as waitresses.

The older of the two, who had been working for them for some time and had been chosen by Balthazar, went willingly and gave the whole place a quick glance. She even looked directly at Castiel for a moment before lowering her eyes. The younger one, fresh from Russia, didn't cooperate so easily and one of Vladek's men had to grab her elbow and nudge her to stand next to her companion.

Castiel looked them both over from head to toe.

The Romanian was first and it showed. Her skin was milky, contrasting strongly with her thick black hair and dark eyebrows arching over brown eyes in which he had seen a spark of energetic determination earlier. The other looked like a true Nastenka from the old fairy tales. Cheeks round and red, large lips, light sandy hair and blue eyes cast down in fear.

He walked slowly up to the first.

"What's your name?"

"Lia... batyushka," she replied in a firm voice, though she added his surname with some degree of hesitation, as if she wasn't sure she was addressing the right person with it.

He didn't confirm that he was who she thought he was, but he didn't refute it either, instead addressing the other.

"And you are?"

The other girl looked up at him in alarm, and when their eyes met, she froze completely, her expression that of a deer in the headlights.

"Ruslana," Lia answered surprisingly behind her, even leaning a little in her direction. "Her name is Ruslana."

"Good. Let me see your neck."

Without hesitation, Lia tossed her hair back, tilted her head to the side, and pulled both the wider strap of her pink tank top and the thinner strap of her bra off her shoulder. It exposed her vulnerable neck, and when he leaned in to take in her scent, she didn't move. She stayed still the entire time he inhaled the faint scent of orange peels, which itself was faint enough that he didn't mind having Lia anywhere near him even without the blockers.

"Your turn." He walked over to Ruslana.

She, unlike Lia, didn't seem willing or perhaps able to cooperate.

He didn't have the time or inclination for this nonsense, so he motioned for Vladek's men to take care of it. Just as one of them took a step forward to grab Ruslana and tilt her head to the side, Lia spoke up again.

"I'll do it."

He gestured the man to stop, allowing Lia to walk over to Ruslana and wrap her arms around her shoulders.

"Don't worry, little dove. He's not going to hurt you, he just wants to smell you," Lia said soothingly as she pushed Ruslana's hair back. She ruffled it a few times while stroking the younger girl's back. "Tilt your head this way."

She tilted Ruslana's head to the side, the fingers of one hand entwined in her sandy curls and the other hand resting on her shoulder. Then she stepped back a little to give Castiel room to sniff.

Ruslana's scent was a little stronger, laced with fear and reminiscent of roasted sweet potatoes. But, as with Lia, it was faint and faint enough to be well concealed.

He was comfortable with the scent of both, so he had to decide based on their skills and appearance.

He walked back to the bar, taking out his cigarettes on the way. He sat down on a bar stool, leaned his back against the edge of the bar and lit up. He took a drag and met both Betas' eyes again before slowly blowing out the smoke.

"I need a new waitress. One of you will be lucky enough to get her. Have either of you done it?"

"I have," Lia volunteered immediately. "When the place was crowded and I wasn't at the bar or didn't have a client, my boss would send me out to deliver drinks."

"And you? Did you work anywhere?"

Ruslana sent him a quick, frightened look, then glanced at Lia, who nodded in response to the unspoken question and added encouragingly:

"Speak. Tell him the truth, little dove."

"I... I... I used to work in a perfume shop," she croaked in a weak voice.

It wasn't the same as tending bar, but at least she was working somewhere. She was young enough and, more importantly, pretty enough to decide to go try her luck in America as a model instead of getting a real job or going to college. To fulfill her stupid American dream. Well, now she would definitely be known for her beauty and her body, though probably not in the way she had hoped.

"Something, at least," he remarked, more to himself, swiping and then shaking off the ashes. "Now... both of you strip down to your underwear."

As expected, Lia pulled off her tank top in one learned motion and let it fall to the floor before she began unbuttoning her pants without hesitation. Ruslana, in turn, took a blind step backwards, her back bumping into one of Vladek's men as she did so, who, like Castiel, had anticipated that she would be unwilling to obey and stood behind her to prevent her from trying to escape.

"Come on, bitch. The boss doesn't have all day for you," he said in a tone that was more impatiently annoyed than threatening, and he pushed Ruslana forward again.

She hunched over and ducked her head, her hand raised a little as she tried to shield her head from the blow she expected but which never came. There were no cuts or bruises on her face, so none of Vladek's men had to slap her yet, but she probably still knew full well what would be in store for her if she disobeyed. So reluctantly, with shaking hands, she began to undo the buttons of her blouse.

In a moment they both found themselves almost naked before him, in nothing but their underwear and shoes. Lia stood still, her arms loosely along her body, having no problem showing off her pale, slender body with her tiny breasts in a black lace bra and her slim hips in mismatched red panties to everyone. Ruslana stood hunched at her side, vainly covering her large, soft breasts in the most ordinary white bra with one hand and trying to hug her own wide hips with the other.

"I still like the one on the right better," Balthazar pointed out.

He glanced over his shoulder at Beta, only to find that he was wandering with a very interested gaze over the almost naked body of the Romanian Beta, and as he sniffed the air slightly he could smell Balthazar's arousal for the second time in a short time. He wasn't surprised that he was interested in her, and he would be even less surprised if he took her back, regardless of whether Castiel accepted her today or not. He'd known Balthazar long enough to know that Lia was exactly his type; slim, fair skinned and dark hair and eyes. He had a soft spot for such, regardless of primary or secondary gender. At the same time, he couldn't really be said to be picky. He fucked everything that had a pulse and ideally a sufficiently bloated account to live on the person in question for at least a few weeks.

"Yes, he's exactly your type," he pointed out. "Hand them the uniforms."

In response to his command, Balthazar pulled two sets of uniforms from under the bar and handed each girl a scoop consisting of pants and a simple jacket in black and a white blouse.

Despite the fair-haired Beta's best efforts to cover herself, it was Lia who was dressed first, remembering to leave enough buttons undone on her blouse to show not only the skin and the faint mounds of her breasts, but also the lace of her bra. Ruslana had done up all the buttons, but her blouse was too small, so it stretched uncomfortably on her breasts.

In general, though, they both looked good in their uniforms. Tough decision. Lia had a bit of an exotic look that would fit in with the variety of girls he had in Blue Sky. Ruslana, on the other hand, reminded him of home not only because she was a native Russian, but also because of her looks. Just looking at her photograph made him unconsciously think of a small tearoom not far from his Moscow home, where a waitress who looked a lot like her served. A little nostalgia...

The mobile phone lying on the table vibrated.

At first he wanted to ignore it, but one brief glance at the sender's name made him open the conversation.

Dean: today sucks I should have left it out

He frowned, a little confused. Omega's message had nothing to do with what they had talked about this morning or last night, in fact it had nothing to do with anything. It just seemed like a simple, frustrated sigh, which if he'd heard from anyone else, he wouldn't have cared, but in Dean's case... His inner Alpha stirred, and Castiel felt a compulsive need to do something that would make his Omega happy. For one brief moment, he even thought of going to see Dean, but he was probably still at school at this time, and appearing at the gates of the high school accompanied by his men would draw too much attention.

Surely he could do something for Dean from a distance, though.

Castiel: My day was tiring, too. Is there anything that would make yours better?

Dean: gym teacher could disappear

He squinted his eyes and the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. He was pretty sure Dean wasn't serious and if he did...

Castiel: That can be arranged.

Dean: I was just kidding

Dean: don't make him disappear

Dean: he's fine

Dean: okay?

Castiel: Don't worry, Dean, I know it was just a joke. Your teacher's safe.

Dean: maybe I'll change my mind about that joke someday ? ゚リト

He had to purse his lips to keep from laughing out loud, but he couldn't stop the deep rumbling in his chest from turning into a growl.

Castiel: Just say the word.

Dean: I'll take your word for it

Dean: still working?

Castiel: No, my meeting is over, and even a little sooner than I expected.

Dean: any dead? ?

Castiel: Almost. Luckily, I don't come to board meetings armed.

Dean: like you need a gun...

Dean: you free?

Castiel: Right now? I'm not. I'm hiring a new waitress for Blue Sky. I have to decide between two candidates, and I don't know which one I like better.

Dean: You want some help, alpha? ? I have an eye for a nice ass

He briefly considered Dean's offer. He didn't know what Dean's preferences were, though he was sure he was part of those preferences himself. The pleasantly sweet scent of the yearning Omega that he could smell from him in literally all their encounters was a good indication of that. On the other hand, whether Dean was also attracted to Beta women didn't matter at all. He didn't want attractive waitresses in Blue Sky to pander to the guests, but purely as a decorative element, and as they knew, you could appreciate a person's beauty without being sexually attracted to the person in question. He himself could appreciate the appeal of symmetrical proportions, pretty eyes and thick hair, even if the sight of a naked female body did nothing for him. But he had to admit that his perception of female beauty was limited, and the only other man who had ever participated in the selection of waitresses was Balthazar. A fresh look from someone else might be refreshing, and if it was Dean, so much the better.

He had already started to type a reply to the effect that he should wait for her to send him the photographs when another message appeared.

Dean: like yours

In fact, it wasn't the first time he'd heard something like that, though as time went on, and especially as his respect for the man grew, such flattery became less frequent. He'd never really attached any real meaning to them, but in Dean's case... a small, satisfied grunt escaped him. His Alpha was literally smoldering with pride, for the Species he had chosen clearly returned the interest. He found Castiel attractive. Suitable to father his pups. That one little remark satisfied him deeply, regardless of the fact that he rationally realized it was actually meaningless.

Castiel: You think I have a nice ass, Omega?

He sent a message and waited. This time Dean's reply didn't come promptly, but it did eventually appear.

Dean: I've been watching it

Dean: that time at the store

Dean: if it wasn't for it we wouldn't know each other

Dean: ?

He remembered that evening very well, including the fact that it wasn't Dean's first heady scent he'd picked up, but a warning from his instinct. That distinctive feeling of the hedgehog hairs on the back of his neck, honed over the years to infallibility, warning him that he was being watched. It was only when he tried to pick up the scent of whoever was following him and determine their intent that he smelled the wonderful scent of flowering apple trees mingled with the pleasantly pungent pine resin.

Castiel: For the first time in my life, it brought me happiness to turn my back on someone.

The pause that followed was again a little longer than the last one.

Dean: romantic

Dean: and a little creepy

Dean: you better send pictures.

Castiel: Of my nice ass?

Dean: waitress!

Dean: don't push it alpha ?

Dean: no asses or dicks

Castiel: You're giving me a tough assignment, Dean, but I'll try to be restrained.

Castiel: I'll send pictures of them.

He swallowed the laughter on his lips along with the last sip of his gin and tonic, looked up from his cell phone and ran his eyes around the room.

Neither of the girls dared move. Ruslana's back was hunched, her head bowed, her gaze fixed on the ground, her arms wrapped around her stomach, while Lia seemed to have been watching Castiel the whole time and only now, when he raised his head, lowered her gaze. One of Vladek's men leaned against the bar, the other continued to stand behind the girls, both wearing their learned neutral expressions. It was clear to him that they wanted to do anything other than wait for their boss to get his texts done, but they had the presence of mind not to let it show. And strangely enough, Balthazar had sense enough to keep his mouth shut as well, though Castiel could feel his gaze on the back of his head as he stood up and made his way to Lie.

Beta immediately got the point, and perhaps a more hidden meaning, like she was being photographed for someone else - someone more important and powerful than Castiel, she might have thought - as she struck a pose with her throat exposed, but at the same time her gaze, from beneath her closed eyelids, fixed squarely on the lens of her cell phone.

He sent the photo and walked over to Ruslana, who, unlike the other girl, didn't even raise her head. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look up so he could look into her face. She was pale and her eyes were moist with tears and red from the previous crying that had also painted red circles on her lower eyelids. She didn't look her best, but a little smile might improve that.

"You should smile, little dove," he used the nickname the other Beta had given her, lifting her head a little more. "Liking you depends on whether you stay here or go back to where you came from. And I don't mean our dear mother Russia."

Beta seemed to understand what he meant, because she at least tried to smile. Small and somewhat spasmodic, but it improved her face enough that he could send her picture to Dean and not have to face questions about why the applicant for the waitress job at his club looked like she was about to face a firing squad. Not that he'd have a problem telling Omege straight up that Ruslana was one of his girls and that she'd been brought to America to make money for him in a brothel or a shuffleboard joint somewhere. But casual communication could be monitored, so as long as he and Dean used it, he wasn't going to talk business, and as his lawyer had advised, he was going to avoid anything... explicit. Probably even discussing pictures of his ass was already beyond what puritanical Americans would consider appropriate, but as long as such a photo couldn't be found on Dean's cell phone or in the records of their conversations, there was no evidence of anything inappropriate.

He sent a second photo and returned to the bar stool to sit down while waiting for a reply. He also shot a glance at Balthazar and raised his glass in a sign that he wanted another gin and tonic.

Dean: ?

Dean: wow... you really sent the pictures

He tilted his head slightly in confusion.

Castiel: I told you I'd do it. Why are you surprised?

Dean: I don't know

Dean: OK

Dean: should I pick one?

Castiel: Yes.

The delay that followed was expected. He imagined clicking from one photo to another and then back again.

Dean: the first one has nice legs

Dean: the second one has nice boobs

Dean: keep them both ? ゚リト

He took a sip from the new drink Balthazar brought to his hand and furrowed his brows thoughtfully. Keeping both was also an option, and actually a pretty good one. Fridays and Saturdays nights in particular had been very hectic lately. While the guests who went to Blue Sky usually didn't have to work to make a living, they often liked to pretend that they were terribly busy Monday through Friday and needed to relax on Friday and Saturday nights.

He decided to keep both. The apartment he was putting the girls up in was certainly big enough to accommodate seven instead of six.

Castiel: Good idea. I'll take them both. Thank you, Dean.

Dean: great

Dean: basketball

Dean: I gotta go

He raised an eyebrow. If he understood Dean's one-word mention of basketball correctly, he had just been moved to the sidelines for the game. That was a little... irritating, but it actually amused him as well. And maybe it was impressive in a way, too, because he literally had fewer people around him who would dare to do something like that than there were fingers on one hand.

He took a drink and pocketed his phone before turning to the would-be waitresses.

"Today is your lucky day. I've decided to accept both of them," he announced, noting with interest how Lia cast a quick and not very friendly glance at Ruslana. Up until this point, she seemed to have befriended the young Russian, but that look... It was more the look of someone who even pandered to an opponent just to win and then eventually found out that no one was winning. Interesting. "I'll tell you what is required of you. I expect the waitresses to not only take and deliver orders, but more importantly, to not be seen, heard, or smelled. That's why all my employees wear strong odor blockers during their shift, regardless of the fact that they are Betas. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Lia replied aloud while Ruslane just nodded shyly and licked her lips.

"The girls live together in a very nice and comfortable apartment. If they do their jobs well and don't cause trouble, they get one weekend a month off, and the especially good ones can go out for fun too."

"We usually go out for a drink, get our hair or nails done, and do some shopping," Balthazar echoed from behind the bar.

"That's Balthazar," he nodded his head to Beth. "There's like... a manager. He understands very well the vision I have for this place. Whenever you need anything, you can turn to him. All clear or do you have any questions?"

"I have a question," Lia responded in a polite tone.

He turned to her and with a small gesture of his fingers gestured for her to continue. Ignorance was fear inducing. Fear could be useful to control, but it had to be used with reason. It always worked well for him to make sure the girls had at least a basic understanding of what was expected of them and what was going to happen. Disobedience out of ignorance and thus totally unnecessary damage to the goods could be avoided. For the fact was that the main article of even the last and cheapest hooker was her face.

"Where are we to take guests for a private party?"

Black Velvet, where Lia had come from, was a strip club where the lounges were for private dancing as well as sex. Castiel had only been there once, back when he'd taken over Medvedev's territory, and he'd decided he wanted to see every place he now owned at least once. The Black Velvet in particular was really one of the more upscale places where sex wasn't the main thing. Most of the clientele made do with stripping and lap dancing.

"At Blue Sky, you're not expected to have sex with the clients. You're mainly here as waitresses. But..." he ran his fingers over his wet glass several times, "if, on the rare occasion, a client approaches you with such a request, it will depend on what he wants. You can take a blow job or hand job anywhere and then report it as a 'special request' at the bar, which will be added to the bill. If you get something in cash, you hand it in at the bar just like all tips. If a customer wants something more... you tell Balthazar and he'll handle it."

"Usually they go to the hotel, sometimes to client's homes," Balthazar took the floor, leaning his back against the bar very close to Castiel. "I'll either escort you there or send one of our boys with you. And you'll be given a phone on that occasion so you can call us if you need to. None of us want anything to happen to you."

Despite Beta's comforting words and kind tone, a sob forced its way from Ruslana's throat, choked by the hand she pressed to her mouth, and followed by the unpleasant smell of fear and despair that wafted out in enough force to be picked up at the bar. Of course, it wasn't as strong as if there was an Alpha or Omega or Beta in her place with a much stronger scent, but it still made him wrinkle his nose.

"Please... please, I want to go home... let me go home," Ruslana whimpered, and as she'd managed to get by in passable English so far, she now slipped into her native Russian, her hand shooting up to her neck in a familiar gesture; she was looking for a cross, but it wasn't on her neck. She raised teary eyes to his. "Please... I won't say anything to anyone, just let me go... I can't do this... I don't want to... don't make me!"

She took a step towards Castiel and raised her hand as if to reach for him, which was obviously a bad decision.

"Stop whining, slut!" Growled one of Vladek's men, the one at the bar, and before he could warn him not to ruin Ruslana's face, he swung and slapped her so hard that she hit the floor with a dull thud.

Her whimpering had indeed stopped, as had her pitiful pleas, but the silent weeping rocking her shoulders had not ceased, and her unhappy scent filled the air.

The other Beta female looked down at her without a single flicker of emotion, a direct contradiction to her so far sweet demeanor.

"Go calm her down. She's starting to stink," he urged Liu, watching with interest as she obeyed him and knelt down to wrap her arms around Ruslana's shoulders and pull her head to her chest. While one hand gently ran through her hair, the other roamed her back in soothing circles, and it was obvious that she was leaning in to whisper something in the Russian's ear that made the other Beta stiffen and nod dully.

"What did you say to her?" He asked, leaning forward a little in interest.

Lia looked up at him.

"I told her that God would forgive her if she slept with someone, even though she promised to keep her chastity until marriage."

At that moment, Ruslana pulled abruptly away from Lia's embrace and looked at her, shock written in her flushed face and betrayal glistening in her eyes. The two of them had only spent a short time here together, but apparently it had been long enough for Lia to gain the other Beta's affection and trust and coax her secret out of her. And something that was a rather lucrative opportunity. There were still men, especially Alphas, but not only those who had a penchant for being first. To conquer territory, so to speak. Personally, he had never seen any particular charm in it, though... His thoughts turned to Dean and he suddenly felt an intense sense of excitement at the idea that yes, he could be Omega's not only first Alpha but first lover ever. The thought made his inner Alpha growl in need of possessiveness.

Reluctantly he pushed his instincts aside and turned his attention back to the kneeling Betas.

"Is that true? Are you still a virgin?"

"Yes," Ruslana replied with a tired, resigned sigh.

"I have twenty ncentimeters of medicine for that," one of Vladek's men chuckled.

He flicked an eye in his direction in annoyance, while Ruslana looked back at him in dismay before turning to Castiel, whose eyes, peering down from a pale face streaked with red spots, seemed to seek salvation.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to leave you in the hands of a durak who doesn't even know what five centimeters looks like," he said in response to Beta's stupid remark, earning a double-voiced chuckle from both Balthazar and the other of Vladek's men. "We'll find someone who will pay handsomely for the honor of being first. Until then, you need not worry about being touched," he assured her as he rose from the bar stool. "Now the only thing left to do is the last thing... pick your names." He glanced at Lia and, although he had the initial urge to give her a name befitting her budding viper nature, he decided to go with the name he already had name tags for. "You're going to be Crystal from now on, and you... we need to come up with a whole new name for you..." He frowned thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side a little at the sight of the now silent Russian Beta. "Astria. That's one version of the name Astraea, which was the Greek goddess of virginity. I think it fits you perfectly. Have a name tag made for her," he instructed Balthazar before reaching for his drink and turning it over in one gulp.

"I'll take care of it."

He nodded slightly in acknowledgement of his answer, giving Balthazar only a brief glance before heading for the exit.

It was time to make up for today's lack of sleep.

He slapped the ice pack on his elbow, hissing in pain but smiling at the same time. His arm hurt like hell, but Forest's pissed off expression was worth any pain. It was just great to see him sitting on his ass under the basketball hoop, his face contorted with rage and humiliation at being totally crushed by a small, weak Omega. And honestly, it was worth the look of disbelief on coach's face, too.

He took a seat at the table where a pizza was waiting for him. He took one slice and took a hungry bite.

Sam flicked an eye at it.

"Is that from gym class?" He asked; Dean just hummed in agreement over the bite he was currently chewing. "You know, they talk about what you did in my class too."

He raised his eyebrows a little mockingly.

"Really? And what did I do? Played a few points at the basket... nothing more."

"Yeah, but you also made fun of Alf Marcus while you were doing it and then kissed his girlfriend. At least that's what I heard."

"She kissed me and it was only on the cheek. And she hasn't been dating him for God knows how long either," he argued icily, but the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. Yeah, hearing Marcus' angry growl when Lisa hugged him in a rush of excitement and gave him a quick peck on the cheek was great too. He enjoyed pulling her warm, soft, spring grass scented body into his arms and watching the Alpha choke on his own saliva and struggle not to show his fangs in front of a trainer who certainly wouldn't have praised him for such behavior.

Suddenly a strange feeling of discomfort swept over him. Sure, it was still funny to remember Alpha's angry expression, but he couldn't help it, one particular name ran through his head and suddenly the thought of Lisa in his arms wasn't so pleasant. Like yes, she was really beautiful, just...

"What about that club I showed you its website this morning?" He asked, trying not to think about the weird feelings.

"Right... wait a minute." He set his pizza down, wiped his greasy fingers on his pants, and pulled his computer over with one hand while pushing his plate away with the other. "They had it decently secure. You know the last time I hacked into that police station's network? How Dad needed some information? Well, this was a little easier." He flipped to the familiar orange and black Blue Sky site and rotated the screen so Dean could get a good look at it. "Now he can go through it like you're a registered user."

He took another bite of pizza, then tapped the first menu item. There was supposed to be information about the club, and there was, but it wasn't anything groundbreaking. Just the usual bullshit about pleasant surroundings, high standards, centuries-old European values, and complete discretion. Just blah, blah, blah. The only interesting thing was Alf's photo, which closed the whole advertising elaboration. He was sitting in the middle of a huge orange velvet covered sofa. He was dressed in a white shirt with one button undone at the neck and very, like, very fucking tight black trousers and polished leather boots.

His hands were splayed on the back of the sofa, a glass of bourbon or whiskey in his right hand, and his legs spread just enough so that no one could see his crotch. The epitome of Alpha with everything from proof that he had a proper Alpha cock, to a casual pose that said he was all over the place, to the possessive look of blue eyes peering out from under lazily lidded lids. If Dean didn't know him and didn't know he looked and acted like that in real life, he'd think it was the good work of some marketing department. Even though...

He zoomed in on Castiel's photo, just to get a closer look at the attractive bulge in his pants. It wasn't exactly like he was looking at Alf's crotch, because, man, you don't want an Alpha like Castiel to notice you're eyeing his stuff, but then again...

He could feel Sammy's gaze boring into his temple with its intensity, so he glanced back at him out of the corner of his eye before quickly dropping the photo and, while stuffing the rest of the pizza into his mouth, clicking on the next item on the top menu. He quickly scanned the drink menu. He didn't recognize most of the names, the prices made his head spin and the ingredients occasionally made his stomach turn; who puts oysters or gold in a cocktail? Disgusting. There was nothing to see in the Events, and the Photo Gallery had more pictures of the interior - mostly more orange sofas and chairs and black tables - but also of guests enjoying themselves. Specifically, richly dressed Alphas of both genders, though of course there were far more men than women in the photos. And oddly enough, there seemed to be no Betas or Omegas, at least as far as he could tell from the typically Alpha-like posture of all the guests in the photos.

"Your Alpha... he wants to take you to that club?" Sammy surprised him with the question.

"What? No, nothing like that." He shook his head. "I just heard about it..."

"If he wants to take you there, you can't go, you understand?" the little Alpha said seriously with the slightest hint of a growl deep in his chest, as if he hadn't even listened to what Dean had just told him. "Those places aren't safe for Omegas. I even read about them on the American Omegas Rights Association website. Clubs like that... Alphas bring young Omegas there and then borrow them from each other to... you know, have sex with," he said the last word with a small blush, and Dean caught a whiff of a scent laced with discomfort and shame, but continued nonetheless, "They also give Omegas there drugs to make them more compliant and even ones that make them heat up. And sometimes they even have Omegas auctions. I don't ever want you to go there."

"Relax, Sammy. I'm not going there, okay?" He said soothingly, ruffling the little Alpha's hair, which, strangely enough, he allowed this time. "Besides, it doesn't look to me like there's anything like that going on. I mean, those pictures look normal..." he pointed to the photos of the fairly normal-looking Alphas just sitting at the bar - the women in pretty mostly sinfully short dresses and the guys in expensive jackets and mostly casually unbuttoned shirts - chatting over glasses of those oddly named cocktails. There didn't seem to be any of the things Sam had mentioned going on.

"Do you think they'd put pictures of enslaved Omegas on their official website?" Sammy asked sharply, his scent thickening with rage.

His first instinct was to object, simply because his Omega had the urge to protect Alpha Castiel and Blue Sky was his club. What was more, the Alpha had been pretty decent to him all along especially considering what he had expected of him in the beginning, so it seemed unlikely that he would trade with the Omegas. But looking at it rationally, he had to admit that Sam was probably right. The Alpha was certainly not a subsistence taxpayer, and while he didn't know for sure what kind of... business he was in, he could guess. Selling guns and drugs, that was a given, and he was probably in prostitution too, because what mobster wasn't? And that included human trafficking and Omegas in particular. But at the same time... could an Alpha who could be so archly respectful that he held his chair be enslaving Omegas? Yeah, he probably could. It was usually healthy to expect only the worst from Alphas, with a few honorable exceptions like Bobby, Dad, and Sam. And from an Alpha like Castiel, even more so.

He grinned inwardly. Just today he'd been helping Alf pick out the waitresses. Did they know about what was going on at the club? Were they there? Had they been delivering drinks while the orgy with the stoned Omegas was going on? Did Alpha plan to take him there one day when he'd had his fill of his ass? No, no... no. He said he had and always would have a choice, so he always had the option of taking the other side. Not to be the Omega who gets invited to such a club for a bit of 'fun', but the Omega who runs such a club. Only... he wasn't sure he could do something like that.

"You okay?" Sammy asked, and when Dean turned to him with a puzzled expression, he wrinkled his nose and sucked in air. "You smell of anxiety."

"I don't like what's going on in that club, just like everyone else," he replied with a partial truth before adding seriously: "What have you found out about the company that runs the club?"

"It's owned by a Russian."

"Don't tell. And how did you find that out? By Russian writing?" He grinned back.

"It's called Azbuka," Sammy informed him with the typical importance with which he communicated completely unimportant facts that he just liked and wanted to share.

"Smart ass," he snapped back with a smirk, but also enough amusement for it to rub off on his scent.

"Lazy dumbass," the Alpha growled back, also amused, only to click through some official looking page on his computer. "It's a small company that runs a place called Garden in addition to Blue Sky. I think it's a gay and lesbian strip club, because only men are allowed in there Monday through Thursday, and only women the rest of the week."

"Okay. And who owns the company?"

"Ivan Kon-stan-tineovich Nova-ak," he pronounced a little croakily, his finger pressed to the screen where the full name was written, including those strange European lines and hooks around the letters. Well, at least it was in a normal font and thus legible enough for Dean, who didn't have voluntary experience with foreign language books like Sammy. What's more, he understood enough to know that the Alpha had lied to him from the start. Hell, he hadn't even told him his real name.

It probably shouldn't have surprised him, after all Alpha Castiel was a criminal so it was clear he was protecting his identity and not telling his name to any poor Omega who saw him breaking someone's neck. But it still pissed him off. No, not pissed off, sorry. His Omega was quietly whining something about how he should do something to make the Alpha trust him more, because after all, the Alpha's trust was the most important thing. How could he live on Alpha's territory, in what he was sure was a beautiful and luxurious den, and build a nest for him and their pups if he didn't have Alpha's absolute trust. It just wasn't possible. And he wanted, somewhere deep in his primitive brain, a contented life with a strong Alpha like Castiel. And he honestly hated his Omega instincts for it.

They only brought him stupid disappointments. Just absolutely perfect cases where his instincts were more for spite than good.

"And about him? Did you learn anything about that... Novak?" He asked, suspecting that once Sam got his hands on the research, he wouldn't stop until he'd dredged up everything he could from the depths of the internet.

"A native of Moscow who came here on a visa three years ago. Less than six months later, he got his Green Card. He had to show sufficient capital and an intention to do business here in the long term, or he wouldn't have been granted a residence permit. He then founded Garden and Blue Sky and sits on eighteen boards of various other companies besides. But I don't think he owns the companies, rather he manages them for someone else," he said vaguely, frowning a little. "They're the kind of investment associations that buy and sell everything from other businesses to real estate to stocks. I don't really understand..." he admitted, his nose wrinkling in displeasure as it did every time he encountered something he didn't yet understand. "I also found his name on a couple of guest lists for quite large and important events like the 4th of July celebration at the vice mayor's or the Police Charity Ball. Next he's a member of several prominent New York clubs, especially those that bring together wealthy Alpha businessmen. He owns paintings on loan to three galleries here in New York and is a contributor to various environmental projects, especially those related to bird conservation."

Wow... Alpha was one of New York's elite. Sure, he knew Castiel was rich, so he could afford all the gold, fancy suits, expensive cars, probably a room in a five-star hotel, and maybe an apartment somewhere in Manhattan, but somehow he couldn't imagine him among the real snobs. He had a hard-to-describe but exciting wildness that somehow didn't fit Dean's idea of a rich Alpha who preferred to hide behind his bodyguard and his money.

"If you want my opinion, the investment funds are owned by the Russian Mafia, and this Novak guy is going to be a high-flyer in it," Sammy surprised him with a statement that damn near came out of the blue.

He turned at him in dismay and his throat tightened a little. He couldn't possibly know... after all, he'd never seen the Alpha and his men, except for that first night, had stayed far enough away from the motel that the little Alpha couldn't notice them. Or at least he hoped he hadn't noticed them, since he hadn't mentioned anything.

"Why... uh, why do you think that?" He asked carefully, careful not to give anything away in case Sammy didn't really know and was just fantasizing.

"That's what they do," he replied, just rolling his eyes at Dean's cautiously questioning look, like he did every time Dean didn't get something perfectly clear. "You know, serial killers and big criminals are kind of... well my thing...?"

"How could I forget," he snorted. No, seriously, how could you forget that your little brother has been into not only Batman, Science Olympiads, trashy sci-fi and gay rights and Omegas since he was about ten, but also Jack the Ripper and Dhalmer. Hobbies are a good thing, right?

"Well... I was into the Russian Mafia for a while, so I know a few things about that. For instance," he shook his head and waved his hand vaguely, "it's not like it was even twenty years ago these days. The really big organizations don't just make money selling drugs and guns or maybe extortion anymore. Much of their profits come from perfectly legal, often foreign, investments. And their Pakhams and Authority... they are the high brass in the Bratva... no longer hard criminals with criminal records like a novel, but wealthy businessmen and Russian oligarchs. And when such a big and powerful Bratva wants to expand to us, they send some high ranking member with a good social profile not only to run illegal businesses here, but also to invest in real estate, stocks, various funds and such. When I look at this," he nodded his head towards the screen, "it literally screams 'Russian Mafia' to me."

"I think you're wrong," he argued, trying to convince him that he was wrong. "Just because he's Russian doesn't mean he's a mobster."

"I'm not wrong. Look at this," he disagreed, then clicked back to Blue Sky's website to search for a picture of Alpha Castiel. He enlarged it, as Dean had done before, but of course he focused not on Alf's bulging crotch but on the right hand in which he held the glass. "See the stars?" He pointed to the slightly blurred tattoo of stars sitting on Alf's fingers, keeping company with the wing wrapping around his middle finger and the words in Russian script tattooed on Alf's wide knuckles. "The mark of a high ranking batch, at least to the Authority. I'm not sure if it's Novak, though I'd say it is. What I can tell you with absolute certainty about this guy," he nodded toward the screen, "is that he's part of the Russian Mafia."

He pursed his lips in displeasure. His brother was too smart for his own good, so it was already clear that he wasn't going to get the idea out of his head that Novak was a Russian mobster and Blue Sky, Garden, and the other businesses the Alpha owned or managed were just money laundries for the Bratva. He certainly wasn't going to confirm it, though, except maybe... If a puppy not even thirteen years old could tell what was going on, how was it possible that Alfa Castiel had been around New York's rich for years and hadn't gotten the cops or the FBI on him yet? It wasn't that he wanted it to happen, on the contrary, the thought gave him an uneasy feeling around the pit of his stomach, it just seemed crazy that no one else had noticed. After all, the Alpha literally wore his mafia origins written all over his arm.

"Okay, let's say you're right; why aren't the police or the FBI doing something about it?"

"These types aren't fools who bought a gun on a street corner somewhere and are playing gangster. These are gangs that have been around for fifty, sixty years. Some say their roots even go back to the days of Czarist Russia, and some of their members come from entire generations of criminals. They've got a lot of experience in covering their tracks, who to bribe, who to kill, and how, when they get in the way and all that... I'd be willing to bet that this Novak," his gaze slid to the screen again, "could walk into the Organized Crime Unit, show all his Mafia tattoos, and they still wouldn't be able to arrest him because there's no evidence that he's ever done anything. He's just a regular businessman and a bird lover."

He knew he should be scared and frightened because he feared for Sam's safety, but he also felt a rush of excitement and a desire to get up and run after Alpha Castiel right now. To kneel on the ground and bare his neck... to submit to him, to win him over like this, because he would only meet an Alpha with this much power and strength once in his life. And his inner Omega was more convinced with each passing moment that he couldn't pass up the opportunity to get a pair of puppies with him.

God... that was so fucking stupid.

"Well... it's a good thing I only read about the club on the internet," he said lightly, just to close the subject already and keep Sammy from poking around any further. "We've done some pretty stupid shit, but we really don't want to get involved with the Russian Mafia."

He raised his eyebrows and conjured up a cheerful smile, which he sent to meet the somewhat sullen gaze of the little Alpha. "I'm off shift today and there's ice cream in the freezer. Shall we put on a horror movie or a western?"

Sam gave him one more long look before sighing and shutting down the computer.

"Better a horror movie than a western," he said as he got up to move to the bed. "I'll find The Evil Dead. The old version. What do you think?"

"Perfect," he agreed, thumb raised in a sign of enthusiastic agreement, and, before going to take the ice cream out of the freezer, he gave the departing Sam a slightly worried look.