For every disaster endured by mankind like disease, war, famine or worse, we've had a failsafe and they are called omegas.
…..
May 21st 1993. Dean 13 & Sam 10
Dean was completely surrounded by howling beasts riled up from the excitement of the hunt. The pungent smells they gave off and terrifying sounds they made never took away the young hunters focus. He was on his own once again and needed to fight his way out.
Dean gripped his weapon, waiting for the right moment to strike the hulking, ugly thing standing just yards away, "Come on you big ugly sonofabitch…."
The crazed beast hurled its own weapon at Dean but the hunter easily avoided getting struck. The beast now looked truly scared and began moving as fast as it could to avoid this nimble, dangerous young hunter. It was much too slow and in a matter of seconds the creature would get its comeuppance.
Dean pointed to the hulking, panting beast and growled, "You are goin' down." He spit on his weapon to add insult to injury before hurling it with deadly accuracy and striking it square in the muzzle. The beast let out a roar of pain as blood sprayed from its nostrils.
Dean threw back his head and let out a victory howl while the rest of the pack joined in, relishing this victory over their tormenters. He did a fist pump and yelled, "I fucking love dodgeball!"
Coach Johnson looked up from his copy of "Raw n' Ready Omega" he had hidden inside an issue of Sports World, "Winchester, watch the language," he glanced over at the wounded student, "Towers, stop bleeding all over my goddamn gym floor." The coach waved the students towards the gym doors, "shower up." He turned the magazine lengthwise to ogle a full spread with an enticing young omega spayed out for his pleasure, "Well hello there Miss May…welcome to my wank tonight!" It wasn't unusual for males, especially alphas, to refer to omegas in female terms despite an omega having many male attributes. Coach rolled up the magazines and stuffed them in a duffle sitting next to him then went to make sure the boys didn't kill each other in the locker room. The gym stunk of testosterone and that meant the possibility of a fight.
…..
Today Dean felt like he had the world by the balls. School was just about out for the year and with that satisfying end to the game, Dean completed his systematic revenge on every boy who messed with him since he stepped inside that school last fall.
During the postgame shower, Dean did his usual covert looking around to see how the boys measured up and what they had going on. Thirteen was a confusing age, especially for Dean who hadn't presented as anything yet.
John had voiced his worry several times that his first born might turn out to be a run of the mill beta or an omega with all the trouble that would bring. There was still a glimmer of hope; John revealed he had also been a late bloomer before he presented as alpha.
The pressure to become something he had no control over had Dean on edge since his last birthday. Just this past month his moods ran the gamut such as euphoria where he took too many risks or the anger and resent he felt toward his father and all the evil in the world who insisted on making Dean's life all the harder.
Luckily Dean had Sam to keep him grounded. Ever since his brother was born Dean did his best to make sure his sweet Sammy had what he needed like food, warmth and protection. The intense love for his brother was unrivaled. Taking care of one so young and innocent keeps a person focused.
Dean quickly dried off and got dressed. Lately there had been too many eyes on him in the locker room but he had no idea why. It made him uncomfortable in a way he'd never been before.
…...
Sam stared at the paper taped to a board on the table in front of him, debating if he should paint the rest of his dream. Though this wasn't Sam's forte it helped sometimes to put it on paper through writing, art or any creative endeavor.
Through the years many of his teachers thought of Sam as a brilliant little boy who was gifted with a vivid imagination. They had no idea that every creative writing paper or "what I did this summer" type of assignment was the gospel truth and the pictures he drew were of things he'd actually seen.
The art teacher Miss Mack placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Sam resisted the urge to rub his cheek against her skin. His attraction was all about the female's motherly scent, something woefully lacking in his short life.
She had no clue what exactly she was looking at but she liked it, "Sam, you have such a fabulous imagination." Miss Mack pointed to a very tall figure done in a painterly style "who is this?"
Sam looked up at her with a frown on his face, "Me. This was a dream I had but it's not finished yet."
"Dreams are excellent inspiration. They can represent so much more than just your mind doing a little housecleaning as you slumber. Who knows, maybe this is a peek into the future."
She winked at her favorite student when Sam's eyes grew wide; it was as if his teacher knew his secret. Another student called out for her and the moment was gone and Sam was relieved. Before she could leave, Sam impulsively took her hand and touched his cheek to it, then let go.
"Thank you for being so nice to me Miss Mack, I'll miss you."
"Oh Sam, I'll miss you too but we'll see each other next year."
"No, as soon as school lets out Dad will take us away."
The boy straightened up then took a fine brush and dipped it in emerald green.
…...
Sam waited for his brother in his usual spot, on a bench outside the school doors. It didn't matter that the weather had turned and his clothes were damp from the sudden mist shrouding the area. Sam always made sure to face the athletic field that separated their school buildings. Dean starting calling his brother "the mailman" because despite any weather Sam would be there waiting for him.
Sam noticed movement near the bleachers and if he squinted he could just make out Dean poking around underneath them, searching for coins or cool stuff. If Dean didn't find anything he said nothing to Sam but if he did he proudly presented it to his little brother.
He felt an overwhelming urge to run over there and hug his brother and thank him for being such a good provider. Dean would have none of it of course because he did these things out of love and duty and didn't take compliments easy. Sam stayed where he was, this was Dean's thing.
….
Score! A buck fifty in change, ice cream here we come…" Dean stuck his arm in the air and gave Sam thumbs up but doubted his brother could see him.
He turned to leave and walked right into a wall of spongy flesh who turned out to be Keith, Dean's dodgeball nemesis. The bridge of the bigger boy's nose looked swollen and bruising had started around one eye.
"Well this is just friggin' great…"
Dean did the only thing he could, step back, puff out his chest, put a cocky smile on his face and say something to piss the big guy off even more.
"Came for some more I see. Come on big boy, let's get this over with." Dean put up his fists and Keith did the same expecting a fist fight. Dean did a leg sweep, catching him off guard and Keith tipped over, disappearing into the fog like a rotten tree in a windstorm.
…
Sam could just make out a hulking figure approaching his brother. He dropped his backpack and took off running in the direction of the bleachers. By the time Sam got there he could see both boys throwing fists but Dean was landing his punches. Even at thirteen, Dean was a skilled fighter and quick on his feet. That didn't matter; all Sam could see was this big bully attacking his brother. Without any thought, the little boy launched himself at this monster and the force knocked Keith to the ground. Sam sat on his chest and began whaling on him, little fists going a mile a minute.
Dean grabbed Sam under the arms and dragged him off of the stunned bully. "Sam, I got this, stay out of it!"
"But D…"
"GO!"
When Dean turned around, he could just make out Keith running toward school.
He forgot all about his own injuries and immediately checked Sam for any damage but only found his brother's left hand was red and the knuckles swelling. He hoped a good soak in a bucket of ice water would take care of that.
The adrenalin rush gone, Sam started to cry quietly. He'd never gone on the offense before and it overwhelmed him. Sam was a tough kid and rarely cried but his hand hurt, Dean had a bloody lip plus he yelled at him and at that moment the world was just too much.
…..
Dean gently dipped Sam's hand into the plastic ice bucket and his brother let out a hiss when it hit the cold. Sam could move his wrist and wiggle all his fingers so Dean was pretty sure nothing was broken.
"Stay here, I'm heading for the gas station to pick up some grub," Dean waved a cheap, nylon wallet in the air; "Keith made a donation to the Winchester fund. There's a whole fourteen bucks in here and yes, I'll drop the damn thing in a mailbox after I take the cash."
Sam learned a few years back that Dean had sticky fingers but sometimes it was the only way the brothers got by when their dad left them with nowhere near enough to eat. There was also all the shop lifting but that didn't bother Sam as much as the wallets. The deal was Sam wouldn't nag if Dean agreed to only take wallets from total jerks and then drop the moneyless wallets in a mailbox in hopes it got back the owner. As for Dean's skill of shoplifting, Sam saw it as his brother being a provider with no other options. It was love, plain and simple.
….
"Saaaaammy…Sam, wake up." Dean waved a bag of sour gummy worms under his brother's button nose and watched as Sam sniffed the air, a slight smile on his face and eyes still closed.
"Better wake up or the pizza is gonna get cold plus I'll eat your gummy worms." That got Sam on his feet pretty quick. They ate almost the entire cheese and pepperoni pizza except for three slices put aside for John in case he came back.
Sam picked the pepperoni off his share and gave it to Dean. Dean had become a bottomless pit the last month and that was when Sam began sharing his food with his brother when he could.
Normally Dean would never take food offered from Sam because keeping his little brother fed and healthy was of the utmost importance. Over the last several weeks all that changed. Between the constant hunger and the intermittent pain that felt as if everything inside him spanning from hip to hip was being twisted and stretched, Dean didn't feel like himself anymore.
After dinner the brothers relaxed on one of the double beds while a new show called "X Files" played on the big clunker TV. Dean held Sam's sore hand, gently rubbing the wrist, palm and fingers to help with the swelling while Sam fed himself gummy worms.
"Hey Dean, we are kinda like Mulder and Scully, you'd be Scully."
"Uh, I don't think so."
"Sure, you're pretty and kinda skeptical. Mulder is tall and I think I'm gonna be really tall someday."
Dean let out a chuckle, "Oh you think so?"
"I know so."
"You think I'm pretty?" Dean wasn't sure if that should bother him or not.
Sam could tell even in the dim lamplight that his brother was blushing so sweetly. "Oh yeah, everyone does. People look at you all the time. You're super handsome-pretty and that's the best."
Sam remembered the rolled up painting still in his backpack, "I wanna show you what I made." He handed it over to Dean and when his brother unrolled it they found part of it obliterated by streaks of paint. Sam was devastated. "Never mind, its ruined from the rain."
"Sammy this is really awesome. I don't know what's going on but the colors are cool," Dean pointed to a tall figure, "who is this?"
"That's me." Sam pointed to another figure looking out a cabin window, "that guy is you."
"Why am I inside?"
"Because you're taking care of….stuff."
"Hmmm, ok, pretty mysterious."
Sam took the painting from Dean, "Anyway, there were maple trees with colored leaves but you really can't tell," he shrugged, "it was just a dream I had, no big deal." The real focal point of the painting was obliterated and Sam decided not to point out the black smug. Maybe the dream hadn't been that important after all.
Dean took the damp paper and set it on the nightstand to dry. He felt there was more to the painting but Sam wasn't saying. Dean changed the subject to let his brother off the hook.
"I wanna thank you for helping me out today. That was friggin' brave to jump that asshole. You got in a couple good punches, Sammy. I'm proud to have such a kickass little brother."
"You yelled at me though."
Dean pulled him in close and Sam instinctively curled up tight against his body, "I was worried you'd get hurt and I was right. I'm not sorry I yelled, got it?"
"Yeah, I guess."
He kissed Sam's sweaty temple, "Let's get some sleep."
"Ok, goodnight D."
"Goodnight Sammy."
….
"Goddamn, I'm on fire!" John dropped the cue on the table and snatched the cash up. The hunter was damn good at pool and even better at reading people. The dive bar, Ricky's, was packed with humans flush with cash from their Friday paychecks and booze loosened up the players and their wallets. There were quicker ways of making cash but none more fun.
This trip to a dive bar full of normals, the word John used to describe regular people, wasn't all about the money. He hadn't had pussy for what felt like forever but in actuality was only a week and a half. The alpha's libido hadn't waned since he first learned his dick was meant for more than pissing out of.
His pick for the night was a fine young omega sitting at the bar. He was just John's type, a slim, dirty blonde with fine features and long legs.
John popped a couple quarters in the jukebox and the "The Joker" by the Steve Miller Band began to play. The alpha went in for the kill; he leaned over, crooning lyrics into the stranger's ear. That was all it took to earn a smile.
You're the cutest thing that I ever did see
I really love your peaches
Wanna shake your tree
Lovey dovey, lovey dovey, lovey dovey all the time
Ooh wee baby, I'll sure show you a good time…..
There really wasn't much need for courting and flattery. Just being alpha stud John Winchester was enough to drop panties. He was the rare alpha who enjoyed everything leading up to getting his dick wet. No "wham bam, thank you ma'am" for him. If he had a little time he took it.
Within the hour John had that long legged filly in the back of the Impala, riding him like a champ. Fuck it felt good, all that tight warmth hugging his shaft like a wetsuit and the omega's own dick sliding against the fur on John's flat belly, leaving a sticky trail of sterile precum as a souvenir. John marked him all over with love bites and hickeys because tonight this omega belonged to him.
The stranger yelled, "Yeah, harder, harder, harder," then let out a loud squeal and shot cum across the alpha's broad hairy chest and flooded his lap with slick. John immediately filled this gorgeous creature's mysterious depths with the load he'd been saving up.
The hard part of the night came when John drove the now quiet omega to his mother's home. They usually wanted more, things John could never give them like unconditional love, protection and stability.
He got a kiss on the lips and a phone number and name scrawled on a bar napkin before the sad young omega exited the Impala. John would add a date and location on the napkin later on then add it to his collection of matchbooks, napkins and scraps of paper. These acted as reminders of normality, moments in time where the hunter could forget the outside world existed.
….
Still a little drunk and stinking of sex, John entered the motel room as quietly as possible. There were three slices of pizza on a paper plate and a note that simply said, "Dad" in Dean's neat block lettering.
He showered first then stuffed his clothing in a garbage bag and knotted the top to keep the smell in. He spotted a pair of Dean's dirty boxers sitting in the laundry basket. The alpha pulled them out and sniffed the crotch and that told him all he needed to know.
John sat on the edge of his bed eating the pizza while he watched his boys sleep. One a demon blood child and the other who would soon disappoint him.
John was certain now Dean would present as an omega. He could smell it on Dean even though others didn't seem to notice yet. Dean was his blood and a parent could sense these things. When it would happen and how long it would take was a mystery since each omega was different.
It would change everything and the hunter had no idea what he'd do when the time came and Dean became more of a burden than an asset.
Sam and Dean slept unawares, their feet touching for security in slumber. Two brothers forever bonded through love, blood and tragedy.
TBC
A/N-reviews are always welcome especially on a first chapter. Welcome back dear readers and a wave to the new ones out there.
If you aren't familiar with my writing, I tend to add tags or sensitive material as the story progresses. Just a heads up for more delicate readers.
Sam sometimes caught their dad staring at him as if he just sprouted an extra head. The looks he gave Sam could be cold and detached and other times sad. Sam didn't feel he could trust his dad the way he trusted Dean. He wondered why his dad was so distant with him but the alternative would to be at John's beck and call, the role that his brother played. Both situations were pretty awful but he felt Dean had it much worse.
…
…
That night John poured over the map he had spread out on the table, placing pencil marks here and there while his sons watched. They knew to leave him to his planning until the alpha raised his head, a sign he was done.
Dean drained the bowl of ramen broth and then licked the bowl clean. Sam took his time slurping the salty noodles. He heard his brother's stomach growling so he passed the rest over to Dean. Ramen wasn't one of Sam's favorites and lately it seemed Dean was constantly hungry. Normally Dean would never take food from Sam; he'd spent his life making sure his brother had enough to eat. He gratefully took the bowl and sucked it all down like a starving animal.
John took note of this since it wasn't the first time in the last month that Sam offered Dean a share of his own food and Dean accepted without question. John felt a small shift between them. The alpha found this disturbing.
There was something going on with Dean and though John couldn't detect anything concrete he was picking up some gonadotropin in the boy's scent. Even with the superior olfactory senses of an alpha John couldn't detect the clear scent of testosterone which by the levels would determine if Dean would present as alpha or beta. There was something else muddying it up.
The alpha worried it was estrogen.
"Can't be, there are hardly any omegas in my family…its gotta be from Mary's side. Don't panic, it could be anything going on…the kid doesn't smell like much of anything yet…."
"Dad, what's wrong?
…..