Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part One

There was an Omega in the apartment Castiel had just broken into.

The contrast between the chaos of outside and the surprising warmth and peace of the living room Castiel had landed in was laughable. Outside the window, police sirens roared as several squadrons’ worth of policemen screamed down the streets, their lights flashing and their tires spinning on the rain-slick streets. The scent of ozone and wet pavement was wafting through the now-open window, cutting through the distinctly lingering scent of baking apple pie.

Omega.

Castiel stood from where he’d thrown himself through the window he’d frantically unlatched with his knife, brushing pieces of broken windowsill off his black jacket and onto the floor.

The Omega standing in the nearby kitchen was staring at him with wide green eyes, his plush pink lips parted in a little ‘o’ of shock. He really was quite beautiful, Castiel realized. He was wearing sweatpants and a shirt that was way too big on him. He was a little bigger and broader than most Omegas Castiel knew, but he still retained that slimness and beauty that never seemed to fail to identify an Omega from a crowd of Alphas and Betas.

Castiel took a deep breath, then leveled his silenced .45 at the man.

“Scream, and it’ll be the last sound you ever make,” he threatened lowly, nostrils flaring instinctively as he tried to catch the scent of the man standing twenty feet away. The apartment he’d broken into was small. Castiel stood mere feet from a couch in what must have been the living room. The carpet met crappy fake tile, which indicated the start of the kitchen. The Omega was standing at one of the counters, holding a knife in the air. There was still a glob of mayonnaise on the blade of it. He’d been making a sandwich.

“It’s cool, man,” the Omega murmured in a surprisingly deep, pleasantly smooth voice. “I ain’t gonna try anything.” His eyes, a startling green color, were fixed on Castiel’s face instead of the matte black gun leveled at his head.

“You’d better not,” Castiel growled. His voice was rough and threatening, even though he was panicking internally.

He’d promised himself a long time ago that an innocent person—especially an Omega—was never going to find themselves on the wrong side of his gun. He couldn’t shoot this man. He needed to get the fuck out of here, and fast. It wouldn’t take the police long to send out dogs and specially trained agents. Castiel couldn’t stay in one place too long.

“You mind if I spread this mayo?” the Omega asked, startling Castiel. “It’s kinda expensive, and I don’t want it to spoil. Just gotta put it back in the fridge.” His beautiful green eyes slid to the refrigerator, which was only a few feet away from where he was standing.

“If you try anything funny, I’ll blow your skull to smithereens,” Castiel snarled.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” the Omega said calmly. He slowly, slowly put the knife down on the bread and began to spread the mayo. Castiel watched him closely, searching for even the smallest indication that he was trying to escape or contact the authorities. He didn’t have time for this, but the Omega had already seen him and the jacket he was wearing, had already observed his face and heard his voice. Any one of those pieces of information could be used against him.

Fuck, what was he going to do?

The job was meant to be simple. Castiel’s task had been to get Gadreel back by exchanging him for the shipment of cocaine they’d liberated from the cartel they’d cleaned out a few weeks ago. It had been a perfect opportunity. Too perfect.

Now, the Demons were four hundred pounds of cocaine richer, and Gadreel... Castiel shuddered at the skeletal husk of a man Azazel had thrown their way, a glint in his eye and a gun barrel leveled at Michael’s furious face.

Castiel wasn’t even sure how Gadreel was still alive. He might not be. Eight months at the hands of the Demons was enough to break one of the strongest men Castiel had ever known, apparently. It was as terrifying as it was tragic.

“Do you want a sandwich?” that same smooth voice asked, startling Castiel back into awareness. He narrowed his eyes at the Omega, who was watching him carefully from behind the kitchen counter. He nodded at Castiel’s gun. “Your hand is shaking. You want some food?”

He held up an admittedly delicious looking sandwich. Castiel stared at it, then at the Omega holding it. “I’ve broken into your apartment, gotten blood on your carpet, and threatened you at gunpoint, and you’re asking me if I want a sandwich?” he demanded, appalled and slightly amazed.

The Omega shrugged. “Well, you haven’t killed me yet, so I figure whatever I’m doing is working. D’you want some or not, man?” He used a knife to carefully cut the sandwich in half. “I’m starving. I ain’t gonna wait on you.” As if to prove his point, he put the sandwich in his mouth and took a massive bite. “Mmm, delicious.”

Castiel was tempted to fire the gun just to get a reaction out of him, he was so shocked, but that would be stupid. Not that he was in the habit of doing smart things, if this situation was anything to go off of.

“I’m going to leave, and you’re going to call the police immediately, aren’t you?” Castiel asked. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to know, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. The Omega chewing his sandwich swallowed, carefully putting it back on his plate.

“Maybe,” he said. “I probably should. I don’t think I will, though.” He eyed Castiel up and down. “The guy you killed... did he deserve it?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

The Omega shrugged. “You have blood on you, but you don’t look injured. Must be someone else’s, so I asked if they deserved it. I’m talkin’, like, drug dealers or old ladies? Who’d you hurt?”

“He’d been accused of raping and killing six women,” Castiel got out before he could stop himself. “He shot first.”

The Omega shrugged, as if Castiel hadn’t just admitted to murder. “Sounds like the world won’t miss him.” He eyed Castiel’s gun. “I should probably tell you that I’ve got a mate comin’ home any second now, but that’s not true. You can shoot me too if you want.” He shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich.

Castiel stared, dumbfounded.

He’d expected swearing, screaming, threatening, but not... this. This strange, beautiful young man was just eating his sandwich like there wasn’t a murderer standing in his apartment with a gun leveled at his forehead. Castiel had blood all over him, for God’s sake. It sounded as if the entire Lawrence police force was out, screaming down the streets in search of Castiel and his brothers.

“What’s your name?” he blurted out.

“You gonna use it against me later?” the Omega asked. There was no fear in his voice, just calmness and maybe a little curiosity.

“No,” Castiel replied. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t even consider lying. Whatever happened today, he wouldn’t hurt this strange Omega. After all, despite this being the strangest interaction Castiel had ever had in his entire life, the other man hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I’m Dean,” the Omega told him. “I probably shouldn’t tell you my last name, but it’s Smith.”

There. The first lie. Castiel tilted his head in predatory curiosity as he realized that Dean was a terrible liar. Did that mean this was the first time Dean had lied to him throughout their entire conversation? Or was he just so good at lying that he’d only just decided to drop a red herring?

“Dean Smith,” Castiel mused, tasting the name, feeling the shape of it in his mouth. “I would say it’s nice to meet you, but seeing as we’re both in compromising situations, that would be a lie.”

“True,” Dean agreed easily. “What’re you gonna do about that?” He nodded at the window, where red and blue still flashed by periodically. Across the street, a dog howled in tandem with the sirens.

“Truthfully? I have no idea,” Castiel said. He wasn’t sure why he’d just admitted that, but it wasn’t like Dean could do anything. The green-eyed Omega nodded solemnly at his admission. Castiel narrowed his eyes at him. “I think I’ll manage to get away, as long as no one meddles in things they should not.”

Dean lifted his hands innocently in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, man. I ain’t gonna call no one on you.”

“Why not?” Castiel asked, purely out of curiosity.

Dean shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like those guys would have caught a serial killer and rapist and whatever other crimes that guy committed. You did.” He nodded back at the window. “’Sides, they would have given him a long trial and shit, and nobody has time for that. Far’s I can see, you’re the hero here. At least, for now.”

“You’re very strange,” Castiel remarked bluntly.

Dean gave him a beautiful smile. “Thanks. It’s gotten me this far.” He patted his body and looked down at himself, as if checking he was still in one piece. “We’re all good here. You gonna run?”

“Yes,” Castiel decided. He hesitated a moment, then lowered his gun and holstered it. Dean didn’t make any immediate moves to hurt him or pull out a weapon of his own. He just watched Castiel calmly, still holding a plate with a few smears of mustard and the second half of his sandwich on it.

“See ya, Mystery Man,” the Omega said cheerily, giving Castiel a little wave as he stepped backward, toward the still-open window. Castiel hesitated for just a moment, then gave the Omega a sharp nod.

“Goodbye, Dean Smith.” He turned his back and heaved himself out of the window.

Outside was cool and wet. It smelled of the city at night, sharp and fierce. Castiel reached behind him and shut the window firmly, made sure his gun was firmly holstered, and disappeared into the rain.

~>>>~

Dean stood in his bathroom, staring into the foggy mirror silently. The sound of the fan above his head sliced through the silence with all the grace of a concussed rhino. It rattled where it was contained in a metal vent, swirling warm, misty air around sluggishly in a way that Dean very much doubted was useful. The Omega spared a glance at the ceiling fan, then looked back at the bathroom mirror.

His own reflection stared back at him. Lots of tanned skin, freckled near his face and the tops of his shoulders, nicely defined with muscle that had been built from hours at the gym that Dean had snuck in here and there. Nothing else. No mark on his skin. Nothing.

Some people went their whole lives without meeting their soulmate. Some people died alone. Some gave up hope early on and mated with someone who wasn’t their soulmate. Whether or not their perfect other half showed up later on in life was entirely up to fate. Dean wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to his own soulmate. His Alpha could be dead for all he knew. He could live his entire life without ever meeting an Alpha capable of putting a brand on his skin with a simple brush of their hand.

Unbidden, the man from a few days ago entered Dean’s mind.

He had to have been an Alpha. Dean wasn’t into sexist stereotypes, but he couldn’t deny that certain Alphas had a sort of presence about them, a personality that said don’t fuck with me. There was no doubting that the man who’d crashed through his window a few days ago had been an Alpha. Dean felt trembles of phantom fear run down his spine at the memory of the barrel of that gun leveled at his head. He’d broken down and had a panic attack after the guy had left, amazed that he’d managed to make it through the entire interaction without one.

The blood hadn’t come all the way out of the carpet, though it had faded to a barely noticeable stain. Hopefully, Dean wouldn’t be charged heavily for that, though he doubted it. He cringed at the image of the landlord’s reaction if she ever saw the window, either.

Dean opened the door of his bathroom and padded into his living room to grab the hoodie he’d left over the back of the couch. He found it and yanked it over his head, struggling a moment to get his arms through the right holes. Once he’d managed that, he pulled it over his head, looked up, and stopped dead.

The Alpha kneeling on his carpet snapped his steely blue eyes to Dean’s green ones, face hardening into a threatening look. Dean knew what that meant, so he put his hands up innocently before the Alpha could even pull his gun out.

“Do you make a habit of doing this?” Dean asked curiously.

“This has only happened twice,” the Alpha panted. It sounded as if he’d been running very far, very fast. Behind him, Dean’s window was wide open. Dean must have been in the bathroom when the Alpha broke in. “I have no idea how I managed to end up back here, but... well.” The blue-eyed Alpha squinted at Dean. “Don’t think I won’t still kill you if you make a wrong move.”

“I know,” Dean replied easily, already moving slowly toward the kitchen. He searched for something intelligent to say, but all he could think of was food. Frantically grasping at that, he said, “I was just gonna make another sandwich. You want one this time?”

“Why do you keep trying to get me to eat?” the Alpha demanded. It was a fair question.

Dean shrugged. “Food is a great way of bringing people together. It fixes a lot of stuff, reminds us we’re all human, y’know?” He turned his back on the other man to pull out the ingredients for a sandwich, fully aware that the Alpha could kill him whenever he wanted to. “Besides, you already know I ain’t gonna rat you out. Might as well get a free meal out of it, yeah?”

Dean turned around and dumped the ingredients on the counter, trying to hide how badly his hands were shaking. The Alpha, who’d been crouching on the floor of his living room, straightened and peered over the counter at the food.

Dean moved slowly and deliberately, calming himself slightly with the familiar motions of making food. Food was good. Food made everyone happy. Murderous Alphas, abusive fathers, crying little brothers. It worked like a charm.

“I hope you’re good with just cheddar,” Dean said, peeling a slice of cheese out of the wrapper and placing it on the sandwich. “I’d use better stuff if I could afford it, but you know how it is.” That was a stupid thing to say. How the hell could the guy ‘know how it is?’ Dean didn’t know jack shit about him.

“You are very odd,” the Alpha remarked in his rumbling, impossibly deep voice.

Dean flushed. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He concentrated on layering the various ingredients, finishing by spreading mustard on the top piece of bread and putting it in position, completing the sandwich. Using a crappy knife to cut the sandwich in half, Dean put it on a plate and carefully slid it across the counter toward the blue-eyed Alpha. The man stared at it distrustfully, then looked back up at Dean with a dark expression. Dean swallowed, managing a casual, “It won’t bite. Neither will I.”

He backed up a step anyway, allowing the Alpha room to come closer. The man’s shockingly blue eyes stayed trained on Dean the entire time, searching him for even the barest flicker of a suspicious movement. It was both terrifying and calming, since Dean knew he wasn’t going to try to hurt this guy. Frankly, the fact that he’d even come back was surprising.

“I don’t trust you, Dean Smith,” the Alpha said.

“That’s, uh… That’s okay. I get it,” Dean said. Without thinking, he frowned and asked, “What’s your name? I told you mine.” Almost immediately after the question left his mouth, he smacked his own forehead. “Wait, shit. That’s a dumb question. You’re probably not gonna tell me.”

“Jimmy,” the Alpha responded, surprising Dean for all of a second. The Omega narrowed his eyes. The Alpha had said it way too easily. It seemed he was aware of that, too. He watched Dean as he backed up into the living room with his sandwich. Dean snorted at the obvious lie.

“Sure, buddy,” he said, deciding not to push. “Whatever you say.” He nodded at the sandwich as the Alpha took a bite of it, watching his handsome face closely for signs of dislike or enjoyment. “What do you think?”

“This makes me very happy,” Jimmy responded solemnly, chewing. “You are quite skilled at creating sandwiches.”

Dean flushed at the unexpected praise, ducking his head to hide the pink that was surely spreading across his cheekbones. Something warm swirled in his gut. “Thanks,” he murmured, slightly embarrassed.

“My superiors would flay me alive if they knew I was here,” Jimmy remarked around a bite of sandwich.

“Why are you here?” Dean asked, curious. “I mean, I know I’m awesome, but you don’t seem like the type to come back just for fun. I heard sirens earlier. Was that you?”

“I should hope not,” Jimmy responded, shaking his head. He was looking at his sandwich contemplatively, as if it held all the secrets of the universe. “I came back because someone was on my tail. This was the nearest place I could hide.” He looked up at Dean, who was watching him curiously. “I assure you, they can’t find this place. I have not put you in any danger.”

“Oh,” Dean said, surprised. “I wasn’t worried about that. Are you okay? Why were they tailing you?”

The Alpha blinked at him, seemingly startled by Dean’s questions. “I’m unharmed, yes. They were tailing me because I managed to apprehend one of their younger recruits and steal some valuable information. I don’t believe they’ll be too eager for revenge after the initial chase.” The Alpha paused, frowning thoughtfully. “I’m not quite sure why I’m telling you this.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Dean promised. He gestured around. “Don’t have anyone to tell it to, anyway.”

“You could be anyone,” Jimmy pointed out. “A spy or an enemy or a mole. Perhaps I’m slipping.” He shook his head, looking back down at his sandwich. Dean watched him, wondering what that meant for his own safety. Jimmy had said he wasn’t in danger, and Dean sort of trusted him, which was kind of ridiculous in its own right. Would Jimmy hurt him now that he knew things? Crazily enough, Dean didn’t think so.

“Maybe we’re both stupid,” the Omega said. “I mean, I should probably be screaming and running right now, right? But I’m not afraid of you. At least, not completely.” He eyed the strange Alpha he’d just made a sandwich for. “You don’t seem like a bad guy.”

“I assure you, I am,” Jimmy said, taking another bite of his sandwich. There was no doubt in his voice, no sugarcoating, just blatant facts.

Dean chose not to comment on that.

The impossibility of having a stranger—a stranger who had killed someone, and probably many more than just one person—in his tiny, crappy apartment still felt sort of like a fever dream. That kind of shit just didn’t happen to Dean. He was a typical small-town boy who’d escaped from the suburbs because being submerged beneath the chaos of the big city was better than dealing with his own problems. His life, save for PTSD nightmares and creepy Alphas at the diner he worked at, was normal and painfully ordinary. An assassin Alpha breaking into his apartment wasn’t something that happened every day.

“You’re from the Angels, aren’t you?” Dean asked suddenly, remembering what Dagon and Abaddon, the two Beta waitresses he worked with, had been talking about. “You’re one of those gang assassins that kill drug lords and sex traffickers.”

Jimmy had looked at him sharply. “Why would you think that?”

Dean swallowed, thinking of the day-to-day customers he saw in Purgatory. “Well, I’m pretty sure I interact really closely with the other guys, and you don’t seem like one of them.”

“The ‘other guys?’ How could you be close with them?” Jimmy asked. His voice, which had possessed a previously calm and collected tone, had turned cold and hard.

Dean swallowed, remembering the two guns Jimmy was carrying, one on each hip, not to mention the other weapons he undoubtedly carried. “I work at a diner,” he explained. “There’s a lot of shady characters that come there.” He flicked his eyes up to Jimmy, who was watching him very closely, then back down at the floor. “They wear dark jackets like yours sometimes, only they have pentagrams on their backs. You’ve got wings, so I figured you were part of the other group, the Angels. The guys I interact with are different.”

“The Demons,” Jimmy muttered, looking away for all of a second. He glanced back over at Dean, blue eyes calculating. “You’re sharper than I thought.”

Dean shrugged. “I notice things. Everyone talks about you guys. Your blood feud is centuries old, yeah? And you’ve killed a whole bunch of higher-up politicians and shit to further your defenses against each other. The Demons were behind the assassination of that mayor a few years back, right? That’s what everyone tells me, at least.”

“I suppose we aren’t the most subtle, no,” Jimmy conceded. Dean realized somewhat distantly that his guest had just confessed to being part of the gang they’d just been describing. “It’s gotten us quite the reputation. It interests me that you see such a high concentration of Demon activity. Where do you work?”

“Purgatory,” Dean replied. “Crappy, rundown, piece of shit building, just off the corner where Dorian and Avalon intersect. You can’t miss it, honestly. It’s a fugly building if I ever saw one.”

“I haven’t heard of it,” Jimmy said. “That’s intriguing.”

“I work there because I need money so I can live with a roof over my head while I finish culinary school,” Dean explained, unsure why he was saying this. “It’s a shit place with even worse food.”

Jimmy snorted. “I don’t doubt that.” He eyed Dean appraisingly, nodding slightly to himself. “This was more productive than I thought it was. Thank you for the information.”

Dean shrugged. “Just don’t expect me to get tied up in your gang war, dude. I gotta finish school and keep a clean nose so I don’t reflect badly on Sammy’s lawyer-record, or whatever the fuck that’s called.” He paused, wondering why the hell he’d just told a murderer that he had a little brother. “Forget I said that.”

“Said what?” Jimmy asked, pulling a slight smile from Dean. “I didn’t hear anything. In fact, I was never here for this conversation.”

“The sandwich ate itself,” Dean agreed solemnly, watching as Jimmy put the now empty plate on the nearby table. It was cluttered with papers and textbooks from Dean’s studying, and for a wild second, he wished he’d been able to clean up a little more before Jimmy arrived. That was ridiculous, though. He hadn’t had any idea that Jimmy was going to show up, and besides... Why would he be trying to impress the blue-eyed Alpha anyway?

“Whether or not the sandwich disappeared of its own accord,” Jimmy said, backing up toward the window, “it was still one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever had. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean barely had time to blink at him, surprised by the show of honest gratitude, before the window was sliding shut and the assassin was gone.

~>>>~

As Castiel wedged a knife underneath the sill of Dean’s apartment window, he told himself that this was just for information about the diner the Omega worked at. The excuse was easy, simple, and would have made sense to anyone else. To Castiel, it felt flimsy. It felt like a lie.

He landed lightly inside Dean’s apartment, right in front of said Omega, who looked like he’d been studying on the couch.

“Dude, don’t you ever use the front door like a normal person?” Dean asked, looking up at Castiel with wide eyes. He looked exhausted, and for a moment, Castiel’s heart twinged for him. He had mentioned something about culinary school the last time they’d seen each other, which had been about a month ago. Castiel thought back to their conversation, recalling all the details. He didn’t know how, but every moment he spent with Dean was burned into his memory forever, like the seconds were precious gems he had to hoard until the end of time.

Slightly disturbed by that analogy, Castiel responded to Dean’s original question. “No. Doors are impractical.”

“And climbing up a five-story building to break through a window isn’t?” Dean asked incredulously. Castiel shrugged, surprised that Dean had been able to outsmart him on that one. The Omega was very intelligent and witty. It was amusing. Dean snorted. “You’re one weird guy, Jimmy.”

“Not Jimmy,” Castiel corrected, without even thinking. He winced right after the words left his mouth. There was no way Dean was stupid enough to miss that. True to form, the Omega was looking at him with intelligent green eyes bright with amusement.

“Not Jimmy, huh? What is it, then?” Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow. Castiel was tempted to deny what he’d said, or even make a vaguely threatening comment to make the Omega back off, but he had a feeling Dean wouldn’t fall for that. There was something about the Omega that was inexplicably fiery, like he wouldn’t take Castiel’s shit even when he had a gun pointed at his head. He hadn’t, actually. It was as baffling as it was intriguing.

“Castiel,” Castiel said. Dean snorted.

“I won’t be able to pronounce that. Jimmy’s almost better.” He narrowed bright eyes at Castiel, plush lips quirking in amusement. “Hmmm… How ‘bout ‘Cas?’”

“Cas,” Castiel deadpanned. “You want to call me ‘Cas.’”

“Yeah, why not?” Dean’s smile faltered just the tiniest bit. A normal person definitely wouldn’t have missed it, but Castiel had been trained from birth to read even the smallest shift of facial expressions. He read into the small flicker of insecurity easily and found himself softening.

“I don’t see why it’s a problem,” Castiel conceded, wondering in the back of his mind what the hell he was even doing. “It’s better than what my brothers call me. I don’t appreciate the nickname ‘Cassie.’”

“Ooh, yeah, that’s pretty bad,” Dean agreed, nodding. He looked pretty proud of himself for figuring out Castiel’s real name, so much so that he missed the mini crisis Castiel had as he realized he’d just revealed he had brothers.

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Some of the assassins at headquarters didn’t even know he and his brothers were blood. In fact, there were only a select few amount of people who knew. So why had he just added this young, foreign Omega to that very short list? Was he really so depraved that a pretty face and some sass could unwind his careful control? Castiel didn’t think so. He was very in control of his Alpha instincts.

So why was he acting like such a dumbass lately?

“Cas?”

Castiel blinked, recognizing that nickname as his own. His new nickname, which he’d let a virtual stranger give to him—“Yes?”

“I asked if you wanted some food. I don’t have any sandwich stuff, but I think I could find some instant mac and cheese and spice it up a little,” Dean said. He was looking up at Castiel from where he was still seated on the couch, his papers spread out on the broken-down coffee table in front of him.

“What is ‘instant mac and cheese?’” Castiel asked, frowning. “I’ve had macaroni and cheese before, but never... instant.”

Dean snorted, gesturing with his chin at the kitchen. “Yeah, well I’m poor, so I don’t have any of the fancy stuff. Sorry, man.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture that Castiel recognized as awkwardness. “Sandwiches are pretty fancy eating, for me.” Castiel caught the undercurrent of insecurity in his words again.

The Alpha noticed for the first time the actual state of the apartment. Sure, he’d registered the important things before—escape routes, windows, doors, corners, other rooms, the distance from one building to the next—but he’d never actually looked at his surroundings.

The wallpaper was peeling, the ceiling spotted with mold. The carpet was ragged and rough, uneven underneath Castiel’s shining black boots. Dean’s coffee table was supported underneath one leg by a stack of two phone books, his couch lacking any legs at all. The space was small, even for a single Omega living alone. It was obvious that Dean’s financial situation wasn’t the best. In fact, if Castiel really wanted to be judgy and snobby, he’d say Dean was a few steps away from living on the streets.

Castiel thought of the mansion on the edge of the city, the multiple rooms and grand hall that held a massive meal three times a day. He imagined the enormous, gleaming kitchen and the gourmet food it produced, then glanced back at Dean’s, some of the tiles on the floor missing, the cords of his blender held together by duct tape.

“I don’t mind trying new things,” he said, voice softer than even he’d been expecting. “Show me what ‘instant’ mac and cheese is.”

Dean ducked his head in what might have been embarrassment. He wasn’t looking at Castiel. “Not too impressive, man,” he said. Castiel didn’t reply, just waited, and after a moment, the Omega on the couch slowly got up and limped over to the kitchen.

“Have you injured your leg?” Castiel asked. It was a stupid question, but he’d been told by his brothers that his immediate analysis of people and their problems could be uncanny. He knew that Dean’s left knee was hurting, and that it was likely an ACL strain because of the way he seemed to favor it when he bent and unbent it. He didn’t want to unsettle Dean, though, so he stayed quiet and let him reply.

“Nah, just an old injury that never got looked at,” Dean replied, reaching for the cracked cupboards of his kitchen. “When it gets cold like this, it starts to really ache. Not helped by the fact that I walk to work, either.”

There was a lot to unpack in those sentences, but Castiel settled on, “Why did it never get looked at?”

He could physically see Dean tense. “Not important,” the Omega threw back over his shoulder. He paused for a moment, simply staring at the little plastic cup he’d pulled out of the cupboard, then came back to life. “Here, the trick with instant mac is the water, see?”

Castiel listened as Dean explained. Instant mac and cheese was the same as the macaroni and cheese Castiel was used to, just faster and using cheaper ingredients. And a microwave.

He could have pushed for the answer to his question. He could have demanded that Dean answer. He could have done any number of things that might settle the question and curiosity swirling in his gut, but for some reason, he was glad he hadn’t. Castiel didn’t like forcing people to do things. It made him feel like one of the awful Alphas he hunted and killed, and he never, ever wanted to be like that.

Besides, Dean wasn’t as tense as before, and it was decidedly nice when he was loose and relaxed. He smiled a lot, and Castiel liked when he smiled. He didn’t know why. Everything about Dean was both confusing and alluring at the same time.

Dean triumphantly pulled some leftover chicken from the fridge and shredded it into pieces, then mixed that—along with an unknown smattering of spices—into the mac and cheese. Castiel watched with careful fascination, observing the deft, sure movements of Dean’s hands.

He was prepared to fake his enjoyment when he took a bite of the artificially yellow glop Dean handed to him, but it was surprisingly good. The glee on the Omega’s face when Castiel told him he enjoyed it, perhaps more than the food he ate at ‘home,’ was enough to make Castiel want to smile too. Dean’s joy was infectious, Castiel was discovering. It was impossible not to feel better in his presence.

Castiel ended up eating all of the mac and cheese, surprised and pleased by the taste. Dean, for his part, was absolutely delighted. He watched Castiel eat the food with shining eyes. It was adorable.

By the time Castiel had finished, he’d listened to Dean talk excitedly through the project he’d been working on. He’d explained that the culinary school provided basic food, but if he wanted to do anything fancy, he had to bring that himself. He’d been struggling to come up with a recipe to use for his quarter final, in which he needed to cook something original. He didn’t have enough money to purchase special ingredients, he explained, so he was trying to find something that was simple but effective.

“Could you not use mac and cheese?” Castiel asked, feeling slightly stupid. He didn’t know much about food, but he did know that Dean’s mac and cheese was good.

From the look on Dean’s face, Castiel’s lack of knowledge was evident. “Cas, I can’t cook the judges mac and cheese. They each have, like, four Michelin stars, did you know that? They’d flay me alive.”

“What were you thinking, then?” Castiel asked, feeling guilty for being so useless in this conversation. “Could you ask your peers?”

Dean snorted. “They don’t like me. They don’t think an Omega with one foot on the streets should be in class with their rich asses.” He looked away, face flashing with the bitterness of an old wound. “Kinda crazy how Omegas are s’posed to be homemakers, but the second we try to do anything more than cook a simple meal, we’re suddenly ‘out of our depth,’ or some crazy bullshit like that.”

“I believe anyone can cook,” Castiel said mildly, frowning at the description of how Dean’s classmates treated him. “Omega or Alpha or not. Your designation doesn’t define you.”

Dean glanced at him. “Yeah?” he asked, sounding almost as if he didn’t believe what Castiel was saying.

“Yes. Those are my beliefs. You can choose to take them or leave them.” Castiel nodded at the empty mac and cheese cup. “All I know is that you made something that I can infer is typically not very pleasing into something delicious. That takes talent, and it has nothing to do with your biology.”

Dean eyed him for a moment, almost distrustful, and then a smile slowly began to spread across his face. It was like watching the sun rise in the morning—beautiful, vibrant, warming, and magnetic as the force of gravity.

“I like you, Cas,” Dean declared.

Castiel could do nothing but blush.

~>>>~

Dean made a variation of macaroni and cheese and got a ninety-five percent on his quarter final. He cooked quinoa instead of macaroni and sprinkled in his own battle-tested combination of spices, along with green onions, bacon, and malt vinegar.

He took second in his class.

Life went right back to its usual grind after his final. He’d been kind of hoping to see Castiel soon after so he could tell him how he’d done, but the dark-haired Alpha didn’t show.

For a week and a half, Dean woke up at four in the morning and worked a shift at the diner, then went to school in the afternoon. After that, he worked another shift at the diner and then went home to study and finish his homework. By then, it was typically close to midnight, so he passed out in his bed and woke up to do it all over again.

The weekends weren’t much better. Dean was able to take a nap halfway through the day, which was nice, but other than that his weekends were spent doing homework and working at the diner. Sometimes he did both at the same time, keeping his assignments in the little pocket of his apron to finish when his boss wasn’t looking.

Dean had just returned home from working at the diner when he heard the sound of one of his windows being opened. He tensed for three seconds before he looked up and recognized who it was.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean greeted, grinning broadly at the Alpha that climbed smoothly through his window.

Castiel jumped silently down to Dean’s carpet and nodded in greeting. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean was tempted to ask why Castiel was here, but he didn’t want to know. He had a terrible feeling that asking would make Castiel realize that he had no real reason to be here and that he’d leave. Why Dean wanted someone who was certifiably dangerous to be spending time with him, he didn’t know. Maybe he was lonely.

Dean had no friends here. He had no family, aside from Sammy, who was hard at work studying law at Stanford. Dean had been living and working alone for five years. This was his final year before he received his graduated his school of culinary arts. He couldn’t wait to be out of this Godforsaken city once and for all.

“How did you do on your final, Dean?” Castiel asked, bringing Dean out of his thoughts.

Ignoring the warm feeling at the knowledge that Castiel had remembered, Dean said, “I did great, actually. I took your advice and put my own spin on it.” He explained what had happened, watching Castiel’s face for signs of emotion. He’d learned the first time the assassin had broken into his apartment that Castiel didn’t have a lot of facial expression, but if Dean was good enough, he could catch the little flashes and tells. The quirk of Castiel’s lips betraying his amusement, the blink and tiny nod of approval, the warm look in his eyes when Dean gleefully reported his fantastic grade.

“Thanks for giving me the idea,” Dean finished breathlessly. “You shoulda seen Zach’s face when he was told I ranked higher than him. He was pissed an Omega had even ranked at all!”

“It sounds as if he deserves the disappointment,” Castiel remarked, sounding completely sincere. “Are there no other Omegas in your class?”

“There’s one, but she doesn’t talk much. She’s okay,” Dean replied, shrugging. “She certainly doesn’t say anything when the others are bein’ dicks.” He looked away, thinking bitterly of the previous Wednesday, when Ruby had deliberately turned up the heat on his burner when he hadn’t been looking, resulting in him burning his scallops right in front of their instructor.

“I’m sorry you experience such prejudice,” Castiel said. He sounded like he truly meant it, which was enough for Dean to look up at him in surprise. The Alpha was looking off to the side, staring at something far away. “In my profession, designation doesn’t matter. Hormones, biology, social expectations... they do not matter in the game of death. I suppose that is a blessing and a curse.”

“Do you know how many people you’ve killed?” Dean asked, purely out of curiosity. It didn’t occur to him that Castiel might be offended by the question, though afterward, he cringed slightly at the idea of pissing the Alpha off.

Castiel didn’t seem upset, though. Merely thoughtful. “I don’t like to think of the number. Somewhere in the double digits. My missions don’t always end in death. Oftentimes, they include capturing hostages for ransoms and to send messages. Other times, we obtain units of valuable items from people.” Castiel huffed, shaking his head. “I truly don’t know why I keep telling you these things. It’s as if I lose all memory of my lessons in withholding information.”

Dean didn’t know why, but his chest warmed at the idea of Castiel telling him things he didn’t normally tell other people. “It ain’t like I’m gonna tell anyone,” he pointed out. “’Sides, I tell you stuff I shouldn’t too. Guess I’m just not used to talking to people I like... being around, y’know? People I like being around, that aren’t dicks all the time, and don’t want something from me.”

Castiel’s lips quirked in that rare show of amusement again. “I suppose I’m in the same boat.”

“Well, now that I know your secrets, you’re gonna have to kill me, right?” Dean asked, keeping his tone light and playful. “That, or keep tabs on me.”

“Are you suggesting I come visit you more?” Castiel asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow. Dean flushed in embarrassment at being called out. The blue-eyed Alpha really cut straight to the point, apparently.

“Uh... what if I was?” he asked, dodging the question.

“Then I would have to admit that you’re in luck,” Castiel said, sending Dean’s heart leaping into his throat. “I need information about Purgatory from you. That’s why I came here tonight. I’ve been given an assignment. The Angels are interested in the information you have the potential to provide. We won’t drag you into our fight, nor will we require anything more than basic facts from you, but we’ve scoped out the area and deemed it something to observe carefully.”

The fact that Castiel needed things from him, and that that was the only reason for his being here, did nothing to quell the excitement spasming in Dean’s stomach. He hadn’t had an honest-to-God ally since he’d said goodbye to his high school best friend, Charlie Bradbury. That had been five years ago. Despite Castiel’s... extracurricular activities, Dean couldn’t help but be excited that the Alpha was going to be coming around more often. It had been half a decade since he’d had someone he could talk to without feeling like he was unwanted, his brother not included.

“You want to know about the diner?” he asked.

“Yes. Layout, customers, hours, delivery times, staff... even the food that is cooked,” Castiel said. He looked at Dean with those serious blue eyes and asked, “Do you think that sounds feasible?”

Dean could do nothing but grin. “That sounds fucking awesome. When do we start?"

Chapter Text

Part Two

The next time Castiel returned to Dean’s apartment, he found the window unlocked.

It was probably because Dean knew they were working on a semi-professional basis now, but Castiel couldn’t help the warm twist in his chest when he went to pop the lock and found that the window slid up easily. The analysis of that particular sensation could wait until later.

Dean wasn’t there, which was surprising. Every time Castiel had come here in the past, Dean had been home. He was a student, of course, and he did work at the very diner they were going to be discussing. Castiel hummed in thought, staring around the quiet, empty apartment, and made his decision.

He closed the window after himself as he left the apartment again, sliding up onto the rooftop of the building instead of going down the wall, like usual. The roof was flat and pocked with puddles of rainwater. Castiel dodged several outcroppings of metal and unknown machinery, mentally calculating where he was going and how he was going to get there.

Travelling by rooftop wasn’t exactly the safest way to go about things, but it was fast, efficient, and stealthy. Castiel preferred the peace and relative monotony of the city roofs as opposed to the chaos of the streets.

Purgatory was a good four miles away. Castiel had scoped out the distance and route that Dean must take when he walked, some part of him frowning at the idea of Dean having to go through such dangerous neighborhoods because he couldn’t afford a bike or a bus ticket. He hadn’t personally followed the Omega to work, though Gadreel had trailed Dean a few weeks ago just so they could get a precise location of their new observation point.

Purgatory was right where Dean had said it was, near the intersection of Dorian and Avalon. It was an ugly gray building, with an ugly gray parking lot and an ugly gray atmosphere around it. Castiel had a hard time imagining Dean—vibrant, bright, beautiful Dean—working in a place like that.

The Alpha knelt on a nearby rooftop, content to simply observe the diner for the moment. Dean was somewhere inside, probably. Castiel had memorized the hours of the nearby culinary school and found that the Omega got out of class at about two o’clock in the afternoon. It was now five.

Castiel hummed softly, glancing down at a message that buzzed silently on his watch. He typed back a response to Gabe’s inquiry on his location, replying that he was ‘scoping out Point Five.’

The garrison of assassins had deemed Purgatory a point of interest, but it wasn’t incredibly high on their list of priorities. Castiel was glad, since it meant he had an excuse to see Dean without the Omega being in too much danger. Or, well… threats that they knew of. The idea of Dean being around Demons at all made Castiel twitchy, though he didn’t know why. Dean was a grown man; he could take care of himself. At least, Castiel hoped so.

He waited on top of the roof, observing people and sharpening his knives, until sundown. It took Dean approximately an hour to walk home every night, so he usually got home at around eleven o’clock. The diner closed at ten.

Castiel watched as the ‘open’ sign clicked off at precisely ten o’clock, the last of the patrons leaving soon after. He’d observed a few low-level criminals coming and going throughout the day, but no one major. Everyone leaving currently looked to be normal civilians.

Castiel waited until the doors of the diner opened and revealed a familiar green-eyed Omega before sliding down the nearby drainpipe of the building he was standing on. He shook off the water droplets on his gloves and stayed in the shadows of the alley, kicking absentmindedly at a rat that got too close.

Dean stood in the parking lot, rifling through a plastic bag to presumably check that he had all of his possessions. Once he was satisfied, he stowed it in his jacket, hitched up the collar against the night chill, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and began to trudge in the direction of his apartment.

Castiel followed the Omega in the shadows for a good mile and a half, debating on appearing or not. It was only when Dean lifted his chin and squared his shoulders at what had to be the sixth catcalling Alpha they’d passed that he decided to emerge. It was a stupid decision, really, driven by the uncomfortably angry twisting in his gut that he got whenever another Alpha whistled at Dean or made a remark about his ass. Castiel didn’t even have time to second-guess it before he found himself moving beside Dean quietly.

“Listen, fucker, I’ll—” Dean stopped, blinking as he turned and saw that the person beside him wasn’t a stranger. “Cas? What the hell are you doing here?”

I got to your home and you weren’t there, Castiel wanted to say. I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t let you face all these assholes alone. Or, perhaps the most condemning, I wanted to make sure no one else thought you were up for grabs.

“I saw you while I was walking and decided to accompany you,” Castiel half-lied. “Would you like me to leave?”

Dean’s green eyes widened. “No, no, that’s fine. You’re good.” He took a half-step nearer to Castiel as they moved past a group of Alphas and Betas that stank of marijuana and cigarettes. “I don’t mind the company.”

Castiel didn’t respond, just fought back a smile.

They walked along in comfortable silence, staying close together as the daytime crowds thinned out and gave way to the nightlife of the city. Castiel wasn’t afraid of anyone anymore, but he did notice how Dean tended to duck closer and behind him if they came near a particularly large group of Alphas. While Castiel didn’t doubt that the Omega could take care of himself, a group of six or more Alphas hopped up on pheromones and God knew what else would be a challenge even for him.

Despite the circumstances and the implications behind the action, Castiel couldn’t help but feel a flicker of proud warmth every time Dean chose to seek protection in him. Objectively, yes, he knew that he was the only friendly Alpha the Omega knew, but it still felt primally good to know that Dean felt safe with him.

By the end of their walk, Castiel had decided two things: One, he was absolutely screwed, and if he wanted to remain at the top of his game, it was best for him to distance himself from Dean. Two, there was no way he was going to let the Omega walk home by himself ever again.

Castiel split off as they reached the entrance to the rundown apartments. “I’ll meet you up there,” he said. Before he could stare too long at Dean’s amused smile, he peeled himself away and went to locate the place he usually scaled. He was in Dean’s apartment before the Omega even got to the top of his set of stairs.

“You want something to eat, Cas?” Dean asked, setting down his plastic bag of belongings as he came inside. “I think I have some more mac and cheese, if you want some.”

“That’s alright, Dean,” Castiel replied. “I feel guilty for coming here and eating your food all the time.”

Dean snorted. “Don’t worry about it. I... I like feedin’ you.” He looked away, though not before Castiel caught the faintest blush on his handsome cheekbones. “You sure? You walked all that way with me and everything.”

“I assure you, that walk was neither a chore nor laborious,” Castiel replied. “You don’t need to feel obligated to feed me. Do you need to eat? I would be happy to sit with you.”

Dean shrugged, looking a little awkward. “I don’t want to keep you. If you have assassin stuff to do, then that’s fine.” He held up another little instant bowl of mac and cheese. “I’m just eatin’ this, and then I’m doing my homework.”

Castiel hummed, frowning slightly at the idea of Dean eating only mac and cheese for dinner and nothing else. “Aren’t you going to eat anything more?” he asked, taking in the hollowness of Dean’s cheeks and the boniness of his wrists. “If you can afford to feed me, then perhaps you should eat more.”

Dean flushed bright red. “Uh, well, I… Uh, I can’t. Heh. S-Sorry.” He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You can’t afford to feed me, but you’re offering it anyway?” Castiel asked, floored. Dean knew next to nothing about him. Castiel could easily get as much food as he wanted from the dining hall at the mansion. He didn’t need to eat here. Dean needed every scrap of food he could get, and yet he was offering to feed Castiel just... because.

“It’s fine, Cas, seriously,” Dean said to the microwave as he filled the cup with water and put it in. “Something tells me you ain’t so good at cooking yourself, so I figured I could help you ‘try new things,’ yeah?” He managed a smile for Castiel, as if he could ‘cute’ his way out of the situation.

Castiel hated to admit it, but it sort of worked.

“I suppose,” he admitted, unable to remain angry when Dean was smiling at him like that. “Don’t think I’ll forget about this. I’d like to make it up to you.” The Alpha frowned, considering that. “Perhaps I could cook you something that I know how to make.”

“You can cook?” Dean asked, turning to look back at him.

“Simple things, yes,” Castiel admitted. “I’ve been told my rye sandwich is quite delicious. I can also cook pasta. I struggle when it comes to anything more than that, unfortunately.”

Dean smiled. “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.”

“You are obviously a very talented cook,” Castiel observed, an idea coming to him in an instant. “What is your favorite dish?”

Dean leaned back against the counter, silent for a moment as the microwave whirred between them. “Honestly? I’m not all that into all the fancy shit that I cook at the school. I like good ol’ fashioned stuff, you know? Bacon and eggs and pancakes.” Dean whistled lowly, turning to pull the mac and cheese from the microwave when it dinged. “I haven’t had pancakes in years. I love that stuff.”

Castiel nodded thoughtfully, watching as Dean pulled out a few near-empty spice jars and put them on the counter, mixing them in with the gooey yellow cheese that he dumped into the container of macaroni.

“I believe I have some errands to run,” Castiel said. “I’ll let you finish your homework. I believe you said you had some assignments, yes?”

“Yeah, we have to write up some stuff on exotic spices and what they can do with the four main components of food tasting,” Dean replied. “I’ll probably be ready for your questions in an hour or so, if you’re still around.” He smiled hopefully at Castiel.

The dark-haired Alpha smiled. “I’ll be here.”

~>>>~

It took Castiel a good hour or so to get what he needed. By the time he returned to Dean’s apartment, groceries tucked into his belt, it was past midnight.

The Omega was still in the living room, though Castiel was amused to see that he seemed to have fallen asleep on the couch. Or rather, with his back half on the couch and his face and upper torso on the coffee table. His project, which was spread out in front of him, looked nearly done. Castiel read some of Dean’s neat handwriting for a moment, then knelt next to the sleeping Omega and gently put a hand on his left shoulder.

A spark, almost like static electricity, traveled up Castiel’s arm. He shivered.

“Dean,” he said gently. “Dean, wake up.”

“Mmm?” Dean mumbled. “Mmm. Hmm mmm.”

“You cannot fall asleep in this position,” Castiel said, smiling a little despite himself. “You’ll most definitely have aches and pains in the morning.”

“Don’ care,” Dean slurred into his arm. “Wanna sleep.”

“You can certainly do so, but only in your bed,” Castiel replied, feeling slightly silly. He really should leave Dean alone, but it felt wrong to let the Omega sleep in what had to be a very uncomfortable position. “Come. If I assist you, will you move?”

Dean didn’t respond with anything more than a grumpy mumble.

Deciding to interpret that in his favor, Castiel worked his arm under Dean’s chest and began to lift him, smiling at the Omega’s sleepy grumble of protest. He miscalculated what they were doing, though, so when Dean finally got to a standing position, he simply slumped over and leaned his body against Castiel’s.

For a moment, the Alpha could only stay frozen and rigid, something deep inside of him pleased by the feeling of Dean warm and relaxed against him. The Omega’s body was slightly more bony than what Castiel thought was healthy, but he was still soft and firm against Castiel’s chest. Dean leaned his head against Castiel sleepily, lifting his nose almost on instinct. Castiel could only stand stock still as the Omega instinctively scented Castiel’s neck, then gave an adorably grumpy huff as he found nothing but the faint chemical scent of blockers.

“Come on, now,” Castiel choked out, forcing himself to move and not just stand there like an idiot with his arms around Dean. “Time to go to bed.”

He gently maneuvered Dean around the coffee table and helped him stumble deeper into the apartment, past the kitchen, which was as far as Castiel had ever been. It took only a few seconds for Castiel to locate the single bedroom, which he found had a peeling dresser, a cracked side-table, and a mattress on the floor with a ragged gray blanket that didn’t look like it could possibly be effective.

Dean went into his bed easily, mumbling sleepily as Castiel tugged the blanket out from under him and draped it over his body. As Castiel stood to leave, Dean muttered, “G’night, Cas.”

Castiel couldn’t withhold his smile, despite all that had just happened, despite the feelings and thoughts swirling wildly through his head like a maelstrom. “Goodnight, Dean,” he whispered quietly. Dean didn’t respond, likely because he was already asleep. Castiel straightened.

He flicked the switch on Dean’s alarm clock, turned off the light, and quietly shut the door behind himself. In the next minute, the window of Dean’s apartment was sliding quietly shut as Castiel disappeared into the night.

~>>>~

Dean woke up at his usual time, groaning softly as he rolled off his mattress and slammed the ‘off’ button on his alarm.

Today was the one day he didn’t work the morning shift at the diner, if only because it was Saturday and he had the luxury of being able to sleep in and compensate by taking the afternoon shift instead. Why had he set his alarm so early? Dean squinted at it, trying to remember setting it at all. How the hell had he gotten to bed last night?

He remembered Castiel walking home with him from the diner, then eating mac and cheese, and then finishing his culinary project. Well, almost finishing it. He was pretty sure he remembered falling asleep on the couch, but everything after that was hazy. Had Castiel been there? No, that wasn’t possible. Dean must have been mixing it up with what happened before.

Shaking his head blearily, Dean rolled over and fell back asleep. He woke up a few hours later with the sunlight blazing through his window, the clock reading 9:46 a.m. That was more like it.

Dean dragged himself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen. He opened his fridge half-heartedly, hoping for a banana or something so he didn’t have to eat canned chicken for breakfast again, then stopped dead at what awaited him.

A pack of thick-cut bacon, a dozen eggs, some orange juice, and a package of pancake mix sat in the previously-empty refrigerator. There was a note, too—with neat, cursive handwriting—stuck to the front of the pancake box.

Compensation for both the dinners provided and the personality endured. ~ C

Dean stared, openmouthed, at the contents of his fridge long enough for the machine to ding at him to remind him to close the door so the cold air didn’t get out.

“Fucking shit,” Dean muttered, closing the door and staring instinctively at the window Castiel always came through. The Alpha was gone, of course. He never stuck around for long. But he’d apparently been busy the night before. What had he said? Something about errands?

Dean’s face warmed at the idea of Castiel buying food for him. Sure, the assassin probably saw it as compensation for the food and the company, but Dean couldn’t help but feel... something. He shook his head at himself, opening the fridge again to see the glorious array of food he’d been left.

In the back of his mind, the survivor side wrestled control back from his Omega brain, which had temporarily taken over. I need to ration out this food. I can’t eat it all at once. Bacon now, maybe, and an egg. I’ll keep the pancake mix for a special occasion, since it lasts the longest.

Nodding to himself, Dean set about tucking his food in his cupboards and preparing a pan to fry the first pieces of bacon for himself in years. He cooked bacon at the academy all the time, but this bacon was going to be for him.

Dean grinned like a child as he laid the first strips out on the hot pan. They hissed and made a glorious smell that he couldn’t help but drool over, little tingles of excitement running down his spine.

Dean had always had a special relationship with food. Food, when he was younger, was what pleased his father after a night of drinking to forget the death of his mate in a freak fire. Food was what made his baby brother, only a pup at the time, stop crying. Food meant survival. Food meant good feelings. Happy feelings. Food meant family.

Growing up, food meant different things. Food meant entering in cooking clubs at school to ‘stay out of trouble,’ then winning cooking contests and getting scarce praise from his father. Food was what took Sammy’s mind off of their constant traveling, what made him smile despite the pains of growing up as a young pup without his mother.

Food was also the thing John Winchester allowed Dean to retain pride in, even after he presented as an Omega at the young age of fifteen. Omegas could cook. Omegas-who-should-have-been-something-useful-like-an-Alpha like Dean couldn’t do much else right, but cooking was the one of the only things he could do that wouldn’t earn him bruises. Cooking was also his lifeline, his path out of the choking hold of his childhood. Cooking got him a partial scholarship to college.

Dean turned eighteen, got his driver’s license without his father’s knowledge or consent, took off with Sam, and never looked back. Sam lived with Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bobby, who’d helped Dean get a license, until he was old enough to go to college. Dean took classes at a community college until he had a degree and was able to enroll in the best cooking school Lawrence had to offer. Sam headed to Stanford, and then both of them suddenly had possible futures for the first time in their lives.

Now, a year and a half later, Dean was nearly done with getting his education in cooking. He’d managed to stay on top of his tuition, but only barely. His living situation was obvious evidence of where his money from working was going. In the years since he’d run from his father, luxuries and indulgences were rare and hard to come by. That was why something like the first bacon he’d eaten in years made his eyes a little teary, as he bit into the first hot piece and nearly burned his tongue off.

He laughed at his own stupidity, one of his tears breaking free as he blew on the bacon to cool it and try again. It was delicious, just as greasy and salty and hearty as he remembered.

Dean let the bacon cool a little as he fried up an egg. He took near-vindictive pleasure in salting it and putting it on a plate with the bacon he’d cooked. Once he had all his food on one plate, he sat down at his cracked coffee table and ate to his heart’s content.

Dean was so used to eating small breakfasts, he wasn’t able to finish everything. He carefully stored the bacon in a plastic bag and put it in the fridge to use later, then checked the time and realized he needed to start walking to work if he didn’t want to be late.

Dean hurried to brush his teeth and shower. He was so focused on getting to work on time, he didn’t even have time to glance in the mirror, nor did he notice anything as he pulled on his black-on-black work uniform.

Dean left his apartment that morning entirely unaware that he had a handprint on his left shoulder, exactly in the shape of the hand of the Alpha from the night before.

~>>>~

Work was a bitch.

Dean typically didn’t mind being around people, it was just that the kinds of people who frequented Purgatory weren’t always the nicest. Or the cleanest.

Castiel had told him in one of their recent talks that the Demons didn’t really have a uniform, and they wouldn’t usually wear it in public. They did, however, have a symbol that Dean might see on various clothes or even tattooed on various parts of their bodies. He’d learned to look out for the pentagram when he was observing the dining room. He saw a surprisingly large amount.

The current Alpha he was attempting to serve coffee to had it on his inner left wrist. It was black, with several markings surrounding it and something written in what looked like Latin above. Dean tried not to stare as he poured the guy’s coffee and made to turn away.

“Didn’t know Azazel had such pretty toys,” a nasally, horrible voice said. Dean turned around out of instinct, tensing as he saw the tall, skinny Alpha’s gray eyes resting on him.

“I ain’t a toy,” Dean muttered, turning around. He got plenty of comments like that throughout the day, so he was used to simply ignoring them. He was content to forget about it and move on, but the Alpha at the counter apparently wasn’t.

“Sure you are, pretty,” the Alpha croaked. “You just don’t know it.” He grinned at Dean with horrible yellow teeth, something cruel flashing in his gray eyes. Dean shivered. “You got a mate, pretty thing?”

Dean wanted to tell him to fuck off, but this was getting weird now. He simply ignored the other Alpha, hoping he’d leave him alone. Those hopes were dashed when he went to wipe down the countertop and suddenly found a large, clammy hand gripping his wrist in a bruising grip.

“Get off me,” Dean hissed, trying to yank his hand away. He didn’t bother saying it louder. He’d learned a while ago that a cry for help would just be seen as a disturbance, not something to be heeded. Besides, they were in public. This Alpha wouldn’t do anything drastic...

Right?

“Answer me when I ask you a question, then,” the Alpha snarled. His fierce glare morphed to a sickeningly sweet smile in a flash that sent nausea flooding through Dean’s insides. “Wouldn’t want there to be trouble, hmm?” He squeezed Dean’s wrist hard enough for something to shift painfully. Dean hissed through his teeth, attempting to tug himself away again.

“Get the fuck off me,” he said, trying to keep his voice low and calm. In reality, he was panicking slightly. This Alpha’s grip was hard, and no matter how much Dean tried to twist and get away, it wasn’t working. If they’d been standing face to face without a dining counter between them, he could have kicked at the guy’s knees or crotch and used that as a distraction to loosen his grip. But here, the only leverage Dean had was his hands and this Alpha’s face, and he wasn’t stupid enough to attack one of Azazel’s customers right in the middle of the diner. Azazel didn’t give a damn about his employees, but he did care about his reputation, whatever there was to salvage. He was well aware of the kind of deals and people that came here, he just didn’t care. It brought in money, and that was enough for him. He’d fire Dean in a heartbeat if Dean attacked one of his frequent customers.

“Fiery, aren’t you?” The Alpha grinned darkly. “I like ‘em with a little fight. Makes you pretty things so much more fun to break.” With a horrible, nasally laugh, he released Dean’s wrist. It ached as Dean pulled it back to himself, his teeth bared in warning as he rubbed the already-bruising skin with his other hand.

“Fuck you, dickhead,” he dared to snarl.

The Alpha merely chuckled and turned away, looking back at the newspaper he’d been reading.

Shaken and feeling dirtied somehow, Dean escaped to the kitchen to check that there wasn’t any food up for anyone. He didn’t want to leave the relative safety of the kitchen once he got there, but he needed to get the orders out to customers. For the rest of his shift, he felt jumpy and skittish, even long after the gray-eyed Alpha left.

It was a relief to clean up, collect his paycheck, and grab his things. Dean hated Purgatory, but it was the only place within walking distance that had been willing to hire him right off the bat. He was only stuck there until the end of the semester, anyway. Only until the end of the semester.

Dean checked carefully for anyone around before he began his walk home. It wasn’t the first time one of the customers from the diner had waited around for him to leave. Luckily, once they exited the doors of the restaurant, they weren’t technically Azazel’s customers anymore. That meant Dean could break their noses and knock them out without any repercussions.

He wasn’t sure when he noticed Castiel, just that he suddenly became aware of the Alpha’s presence. Dean wasn’t sure whether it was because he just noticed, or because the Alpha was ready to let him know he was there. Either way, he suddenly realized he wasn’t walking alone. When he turned his head, he found the familiar dark form of Castiel moving like smoke beside him.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” Dean said, because he was a self-sabotaging dumbass who couldn’t ask for the things he wanted, even when he didn’t really have to ask.

“Do you not want me to accompany you?” Castiel asked in his calm, rumbling voice. Dean was pretty sure he could tell the Alpha he would look good in a sparkly pink dress and Castiel wouldn’t be fazed. It was as annoying as it was awe-inspiring.

“Not like I’m gonna send you away,” Dean muttered, dodging the question. He did want Castiel there, because the Alpha’s very presence made him feel safe and not alone. Already, just being around Castiel for a few minutes made him feel like all the bad things that had happened that day weren’t really so awful.

Castiel didn’t reply, just kept walking beside Dean.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It never really was, Dean realized. He never felt like he constantly needed to talk. Just being with Castiel was enough for all his worries to sort of fade away. He wasn’t sure why. He figured it was the calm steadiness that the Alpha just seemed to exude, whether he was talking or moving or just standing still.

“I talked to someone interesting today,” he said, not looking at Castiel as they dodged a group of drunk Betas and Omegas that were stumbling loudly down the street.

“Oh?” Castiel peeled away from him for half a second, ducking around a pair of Alphas and a female Beta walking the other way, then rejoined Dean’s side.

“Yeah. He had an interesting tattoo,” Dean said. He knew he could just come out and say he’d talked to a Demon, but he didn’t think Castiel would appreciate talking about such sensitive things in the setting they were in.

He was proved correct when he was graced with a flicker of blue eyes. “Really. You’ll have to tell me about it when we reach our destination.”

Dean nodded, glad he hadn’t come out and said something stupid. He still felt kind of dumb for mentioning it at all, but the brush of Castiel’s shoulder against his as they moved around a sleeping person on the sidewalk was enough to calm any self-deprecating thoughts for the moment.

When they reached Dean’s apartment, Castiel peeled off silently. Dean climbed the stairs by himself, nodding awkwardly at an old Beta woman who was smoking on her balcony, eyeing him suspiciously. When he got to his apartment, Castiel was already sitting inside, looking over the papers Dean had spread out on the table.

“I finished my projects for the week,” Dean said. “I ain’t gonna fall asleep on you this time. Promise.”

Castiel’s pink lips quirked into a smile. “I didn’t mind. You’re quite amusing when you’re half-awake.” He hesitated, staring at his shoes, then looked up at Dean. There was something impossibly soft in his blue eyes. It disappeared in the next few seconds, so fast that Dean wondered if he’d even seen it at all. The assassin stood, stepping away from Dean’s couch. “Can you describe the Demon you came into contact with?”

Dean sighed, setting his stuff down and sitting with a thump on the cushions. Castiel remained standing, though there was plenty of space on the other side. “He was tall and skinny,” Dean started, shuddering at the memory of the Alpha that had grabbed him that morning. “Nasally voice, nasty smile. He had gray eyes, I think.”

Castiel frowned. “Where was his tattoo?”

“On his wrist,” Dean said, holding out his own without thinking. He tapped on the swollen skin of his inner left wrist. “Here.”

“What happened?” Castiel demanded, throwing Dean off guard for a moment. The Alpha moved like liquid smoke to kneel in front of Dean, grabbing his wrist in surprisingly gentle hands. “These... Good God, Dean, these look like handprints.”

“He grabbed me,” Dean explained, face heating a little as Castiel traced light, gloved fingertips over the purple swelling. “It’s, uh… It’s really not that bad.”

“Alastair grabbed you?” Castiel demanded. “It looks like he tried to break your wrist, fucking hell.”

Dean stared at the Alpha, slightly shocked. He didn’t think he’d heard Castiel swear once. The blue-eyed Alpha was quite the sight, six feet of trembling rage encased in matte black armor, coiled tight as a spring. Castiel reminded Dean of a predator almost constantly, and that was no different now. The only difference was that Dean wasn’t afraid.

Well, he was never really afraid of Castiel. At least, not once he’d gotten to know him. If anything, Dean was afraid for the people that crossed the Alpha, and it seemed that he wasn’t too happy about the enormous bruise on Dean’s wrist.

“It’s fine,” Dean tried, not wanting Castiel to get too worked up. “Point is, he was there. Is he important or something? What’d you call him, Alastair?”

“Yes,” Castiel said tightly, still holding Dean’s wrist in an impossibly gentle grip. “His name is Alastair. He’s one of the three brothers that run the Demons, or so we believe. To learn that he frequents the diner you work at...” Castiel looked up, something unreadable flashing in his blue eyes. “You might be in more danger than I thought. This is certainly something to report to my superiors.”

Castiel gently put Dean’s wrist back in his lap, then stood and flicked a knife out of a hidden sheath with a violence that seemed harsh and furious in light of how softly he’d been touching Dean. The Alpha twirled the knife in his fingers, looking down at the flashing blade.

“He comes there a lot,” Dean offered, unsure if the information would calm Castiel or rile the Alpha up more. Despite how calm and kind Castiel had proven himself to be, the presence of an angry Alpha was making Dean twitchy. He had a feeling he’d bolt if Castiel looked at him with red eyes. Thankfully, when Castiel turned to search his face, his eyes were still an in-control blue. “Could you, uh, describe the other two guys?”

“Asmodeus wears white often,” Castiel replied. “I don’t have any pictures of them, not here. Azazel is more elusive—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean cut in, something cold curling in his gut. “The guy’s name is Azazel?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied. “I believe they’re named after demons in Christian lore.”

“Is he, like, a tall Alpha with yellow eyes and a mean face?” Dean asked, feeling a tremble run up his spine. “Wears a leather jacket a lot, gray hair?” There couldn’t possibly be that many Alphas named ‘Azazel.’ It was too strange of a name.

Castiel was looking at Dean with something serious and intense in his blue eyes. “Have you seen this man?”

“Yeah,” Dean choked out, trying for a shaky smile. He missed by a mile. “I work for him. He’s my boss.”

~>>>~

“I don’t understand how you could overlook the identity of the owner of the whole fucking establishment,” Michael said, head hanging between his shoulders. He’d leaned himself against the table of the debrief room, facing the young Angel seated before him. In the shadows of the room, Luke and Castiel lurked, observing. Michael looked up when he received no answer from any of them, his blue eyes narrowed fiercely at Alfie. “What part of ‘scoping out the place’ did you not fucking understand, boy? Fuck.”

Alfie winced. “I’m sorry, sir. You told me not to go inside, so I didn’t. I could only observe customer flow, nothing else.”

“There’s such a thing as research—” Michael started to say, but Castiel stepped forward into the circle of light in the center of the room, eyes narrowed and focused on the young Angel seated in the chair.

“How long did you watch the diner?” he asked.

“Castiel, how is that even relevant to—”

“Alfie, how long?” Castiel growled, ignoring his older brother. Michael huffed in frustration and stalked off to the corner to stand beside Luke, who hadn’t said a word. He was silently observing, arms folded, face set in an expression of frowning concentration.

“Twenty-five hours, like Michael told me to,” Alfie replied. Nervously, he added, “I was just following orders.”

“In all that time, did you see anyone that could possibly resemble Azazel Prince leaving the building?” Castiel asked.

Alfie frowned. “No. I would have known him right away. I didn’t see anyone like that. I saw Dagon Knight, but—”

“I wasn’t asking about her,” Castiel cut in. “I was asking about Azazel. Did you see him come in or out?”

“No, sir,” Alfie replied.

“What are you trying to get at, Castiel?” Michael asked, blue eyes curious instead of frustrated now. He’d obviously picked up on the tension in Castiel’s words. Something was going on here. Something bad.

“Azazel is the leader of a very active, very powerful, very complicated gang of criminals,” Castiel replied slowly, thinking through every bit of information that had been presented. “There’s no way he would stay at a diner all day, simply sitting in an office. Dean confirmed that he was there all day, but that can’t be true. He’s a very busy man. He cannot possibly be staying in one place for twenty-four hours straight, seven days a week.”

“You think he has a secret exit or something?” Michael asked, sounding more than a little skeptical.

“We’ve long suspected the Demons use the sewers as a path of travel and housing for their weapons and drugs,” Castiel said, looking up to meet his brother’s shining blue eyes. “Could they not use the sewers as a shelter, too?”

Michael was silent for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as he thought deeply about the question. After a period of tense silence, he stepped out of the shadows and gestured at Alfie. “You’re dismissed. Do not speak a word of what you’ve heard in this room or I’ll have your tongue, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Alfie replied, standing a little too enthusiastically. He was all too happy to hurry for the door, out of the presence of three frustrated, stressed, trained killers.

“Get Gabriel if you can find him,” Michael called after the young Angel. As the door slid shut, the oldest Novak shook his head. “Fucking newbies.”

“Your Omega is sure Azazel’s there all day?” Luke asked, coming forward to sit in the chair backward. He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the iron back of it, gloves making no noise against the metal.

“He’s not my Omega,” Castiel snarled, something inside of him flashing at the idea. He wasn’t sure if it was revulsion or... excitement. “Yes, he’s quite sure Azazel is there all day. He says the asshole regularly threatens him and his position at the diner to encourage harder and more efficient work.”

“’Course he does,” Luke muttered, flicking a knife free of a hidden sheath so he could play with it, the blade dancing between his fingers, flashing underneath the harsh light of the single overhead lamp in the room.

“And you’re sure this Omega is a reliable source?” Michael asked. He’d been the most skeptical when Castiel had reported his findings from Dean. Castiel bristled at his brother’s lack of faith in both his judgement and Dean’s trustworthiness.

“Yes,” he bit out.

“Cassie, just ‘cause he’s a hot piece of ass doesn’t mean he’s trustw—”

Castiel slammed his fist on the metal table, startling Luke into abruptly finishing his sentence. “Dean is completely reliable. I refuse to hear anything critical regarding his credibility and honor. If you’d like, I could gladly introduce you and let you analyze his reliability.”

“You don’t need to get territorial over your fuck buddy,” Luke said nonchalantly. The gleam in his blue eyes told Castiel he was being played, and he knew he was being egged on, but he couldn’t help his snarl of rage as he stood and unsheathed a knife on instinct.

“Calm the fuck down,” Michael growled, his Alpha rumble cutting through the tension that had risen up faster than Castiel could comprehend. Damn it, he didn’t think he’d ever lost his temper that fast.

Usually, he was the last one to lose control because of Luke’s teasing. Gabriel was soon after, if only because he was as much of an asshole and trickster as Luke was. Michael was typically good at keeping a hold on his emotions, but his twin had a way of getting under his skin. Castiel, though... He almost never lost his temper.

Here I am, getting riled up over a few comments about Dean and his relation to me. Why does that make me so spitting mad?

Castiel didn’t have time to put away his knife before the door was opening behind them, admitting Gabe. He paused a few steps into the debrief room, the door swinging shut behind him, and eyed them all with a raised eyebrow.

The red lollipop in his mouth made a lewd pop when he pulled it out. “What the fuck’s going on here?” he asked conversationally. “Is it time to threaten Luke’s life already? I thought that was in a few hours.” He checked an imaginary watch, sticking his lollipop right back in his mouth. Around the candy, he asked, “So, what’s all this about a secret bunker underneath a breakfast diner?”

“Cassie’s side whore had some new inform—”

Castiel’s knife buried itself a few inches from Luke’s crotch, the blade vibrating with how hard he’d thrown it. Michael cursed. “Fucking hell, Lucifer, leave it alone. You want to have kids someday, right?”

“More than a side whore, then?” Gabriel remarked, eyeing Castiel warily as the blue-eyed Alpha turned on him. Gabriel held up his hands in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. “I’m not judging, Cassie. Just observing.” He winked. “Glad to see you’re getting some.”

“Dean is not associated with me in any way other than business transactions and the exchange of information,” Castiel bit out. “He happens to work at the diner you are all so interested in. His information is also the newest and most solid in our hunt for the Demons’ base, but I suppose we should disregard it, since apparently, Dean is good for nothing more than wetting my knot.” He glared at his brothers.

“C’mon, Cassie, we were just teasing,” Luke said, carefully plucking Castiel’s knife out from between his legs. “I’m sure Dean-o’s got plenty of good shit to tell us. Just as long as he isn’t a Demon spy, of course.”

“Or feeding you fake information just so he can get bent over the kitchen counter again,” Gabriel said, almost to himself.

This time, Castiel didn’t even bother with knives. His fists did just fine.

~>>>~

There was a handprint on Dean’s arm.

He stared at it in his still-foggy bathroom mirror, eyes wide.

The perfect imprint of a hand cupped his left shoulder, as if someone had just rested their hand there to get his attention or to steady themselves. With all the people he interacted with on a daily basis, the mark could have been from anyone. Anyone at all.

Anyone in the world could be his soulmate.

There it was, though, red and raised like a fresh burn. He’d gotten it recently. He’d met his soulmate, had brushed past them, touched them, without even knowing it.

He had a soulmate.

Dean could feel how weak his knees were, so he had no problem sinking down on the bathroom floor. He was still wearing a pair of sweatpants, his shirt in his hands. He’d just finished his shower, the bathroom still warm with steam. On his left shoulder, the handprint mark sat innocently.

He had a soulmate.

Dean thought of the thick slash of a soulmate mark his mother had had. John had accidentally run into her on a crowded beach promenade, his arm brushing hers as he was shoved by a friend. Alphas always marked Omegas, not the other way around, so there’d been no question that Mary was John’s. It was based on the stupid idea that in ancient times, Alphas had had more than one Omega. That almost never happened, nowadays.

Dean looked at his mark, wondering who his Alpha was. What did they look like? Would they like him? What was their gender? Who were they? Would he ever see them again? Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of an electric spark, some sort of indication that they’d found the one? This all felt so... inefficient.

Dean glared down at his mark.

What if he never found his Alpha again? Would he just be taunted with the possibility of being loved for the rest of his life? That sounded like torture. It sounded... well, it sounded exactly like something that would happen to him. His greatest dream come true, only to be dashed because of physical impossibility.

Feeling slightly nauseous and definitely annoyed, Dean angrily threw on his shirt. The skin of his left shoulder didn’t feel any different, but there was no denying the fact that he knew there was a mark there now. He had no idea why, nor did he have any idea how he was going to possibly figure out who’d put it there, but it was there. For better or for worse.

Dean was grumpy coming out of the bathroom, but when he saw the Alpha casually eating an apple in his kitchen, the bad mood dissipated. So did any thoughts about his new mark, all things related to soulmates shoved to the back of his mind for the time being.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean said, trying not to sound too excited. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Dean,” Castiel replied, looking up at Dean with a small quirk on his lips that Dean had learned to read as amusement. “How are you?”

“Good, actually,” Dean half-lied. “Cooking has been going well, at least.” He eyed the apple Castiel had been eating, shifting a little awkwardly as he noticed that the Alpha was dressed in his usual all-black armor, while he was wearing only a thin shirt and some sweatpants. “Uh, what did your ‘superiors’ think of your new info?”

“They found it very interesting,” Castiel replied, tossing his apple core into the bag Dean used to store his green waste. It landed neatly inside, a perfect toss. “They aren’t concerned for your safety, though I am. The presence of not one, but two Prince brothers cannot be anything but trouble. Unfortunately, my brothers seem to think your position and the potential of the information you might produce is more valuable than your safety.” Almost to himself, Castiel muttered, “I disagree.”

“That’s fine, Cas,” Dean replied, something in his chest warming at Castiel’s concern. “I’ll be A-okay. I’ve been working that job for years. I never had any trouble before.”

“But you aren’t doing normal things, now,” Castiel stressed, sounding as if he’d actually thought this through. “You’re observing things a normal waiter might not. You’re being seen in public with someone who could be traced back to the Angels. You’re being above average, and the Demons might notice it.”

“I ain’t stupid,” Dean soothed. “I won’t do anything dumb. I ain’t even ‘observing’ that much. Just payin’ attention to the customers a little more. Azazel hasn’t gotten any weirder, which has to be a good thing, right?”

“Perhaps,” Castiel replied, sounding unconvinced. He frowned, arms folded.

It was a little comical, seeing the assassin leaning against Dean’s cheap, plastic-top counters. Castiel’s armor, dark and sleek and matte black, probably cost more altogether than Dean’s entire apartment. His guns and the hidden sheaths for his knives were in the same black, making Castiel impossible to see in the shadows and very visible standing in the stark light of Dean’s kitchen.

“I’m not sure if I ever thanked you for the food, but, uh... thanks,” Dean said, attempting to draw Castiel’s attention away for the moment. He smiled a little at the memory of the bacon he’d had. “It was amazing. Best food I’ve ever had in my life.”

Castiel looked up at him, broken from his spiral of thought, and quirked a small smile. “I’m pleased to hear you enjoyed it. I could get you more, if you’d like. Because of the... For more information, of course.”

“Are you suggesting I whore myself out for bacon?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at Castiel.

The look on the Alpha’s face was priceless. Eyes going wide as saucers, he shook his head vigorously. “Of course not, Dean, I would never suggest you do such a thing. I apologize, that wasn’t my intention. I—”

“Cas, it’s fine,” Dean laughed. “I was joking. And I would totally whore myself out for bacon, too, so there’s no harm done.” He leaned back against the opposite counter, facing Castiel with a grin on his face. “Are you sure this isn’t just a ploy to give me free food? You know I’d give you the information regardless.”

A faint flush appeared on Castiel’s cheeks. Gotcha, Dean thought, smirking internally. “You are very frustrating,” Castiel growled, looking away. He was still blushing.

Dean could only laugh at him.

They moved on after that, heading into more serious topics, but Castiel ended up having the last laugh. When Dean woke up the next morning and looked into his fridge, he was greeted with a whole new array of food. Bacon, eggs, oranges, more bacon, and a little package of pre-made cinnamon rolls.

I’m so screwed, Dean thought, gaping at the food. I am so, so screwed. I have a soulmate. My soulmate is out there. I shouldn’t be falling in love with someone else.

At that thought, Dean immediately scrunched his face up and groaned. Not falling in love. He wasn’t falling in love. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be, anyway. The mark on his shoulder was evidence of that. Castiel hadn’t touched him once, in Dean’s memory, and certainly not on his shoulder. Dean would have noticed. He would have remembered that. The mark was from someone else. For someone else.

But Dean couldn’t deny, staring into that fridge full of food and remembering the blue-eyed Alpha’s gentle smile, that he desperately wished that the mark belonged to Cas.

Chapter Text

Part Three

As winter turned to spring and then to early summer, Dean’s new way of life continued as normal. He almost always had something to eat now, thanks to Castiel. He continued to report information and updates on the happenings of Purgatory, but for the most part, everything stayed quiet. Dean hadn’t seen Alastair since that first night, and his wrist had fully healed. Castiel kept coming and he kept walking Dean home every night, appearing sometime when Dean was a good distance away from Purgatory, but still had a few miles to walk home. The very thought of the blue-eyed Alpha made Dean’s chest warm.

He was so caught up in finishing cooking school and working with the Angels that he completely forgot what time of year it was. Dean had learned to dread the transition of spring to summer for no other reason than his biological clock.

Ironically, it was Zachariah who reminded him.

“Saw the teacher’s attendance books the other day, Winchester,” the Alpha sneered while they were cooking one day. “Got two whole weeks off next week, don’t you?”

Dean typically ignored Zach, but today he looked up, feeling the blood drain from his face. “What?”

“Your heat, you silly whore. When you get all whiny and needy and desperate for an Alpha’s knot,” Zach said, a nasty grin on his face. “In my opinion, there’s no place for dirty bitches in the kitchen, but what do I know?” He laughed, a few of his friends joining in.

Dean didn’t even have it in him to respond. Fuck, of course his heat would choose now to show up. He’d bet Azazel had it on his calendar too. Employers were required to give their Omega employees two weeks of paid leave while they had their heats. It was a law that had been passed only seven years ago. Originally, it had only been one week, but once a whole bunch of scientific studies had come out claiming that pre-heat nesting was just as important as the actual heat itself, that law had been changed.

Dean felt sort of sick. He hadn’t prepared for this at all. He hated his heats. He usually spent them curled up in the corner of his room, huddled in a pathetic excuse for a nest made by his pillow and his single ragged blanket.

Fuck, what was he going to tell Cas? What would the Alpha say? Maybe he wouldn’t care. The information Dean gave had the potential to save lives, and that was far more important than Dean’s biology, right? Dean was going to have to take time off work, which meant he wasn’t going to be able to report information. Shit, what if Cas got mad? Or worse, never came back at all?

“Fuck!” Dean yelped, looking down at his fingers. He’d just sliced through the pads of three of them because he hadn’t been paying attention while cutting his potatoes. Blood, stark and crimson, began to ooze everywhere.

“Jesus, Winchester,” their instructor sighed, coming over at his shout. Around him, his fellow students snickered. “Alright, let me see. That looks bad. Go on, get Missouri to patch you up, then come back and clean up your station. You can head out for the day. We’re nearly done here anyway.”

“See you in two weeks!” someone sneered behind Dean as he turned to head to the nurse’s office.

Cheeks burning with humiliation, Dean maneuvered his way out of the kitchen through watery tears of pain. His fingers were bleeding down his wrist, the blood getting everywhere. He hurried to get to Missouri’s office, showing her the gashes without a word. She simply nodded and began to clean and bandage his fingers; she saw injuries like Dean’s all the time.

The walk home from culinary school was rough, since Dean felt a little shaky. His hand throbbed, too, and he felt like an idiot walking by himself in the rain.

Work that night was miserable. Dean’s hand ached and he had a hard time writing orders because of it. He nearly cried when he realized he had a table full of twelve people to take care of, nine of which were screaming children. The night seemed to never end. The combination of a humid day and an unresponsive grill in the kitchen meant that customers were cranky and had to wait longer for their food. All of that added up to a massive headache for Dean, who bore the brunt of everyone’s annoyance and anger.

When he went to speak with Azazel after his shift was finally over, his boss simply told him he’d better be gone for two weeks or he’d be fired. Azazel always got sore when it came to the government-mandated paid leave. He hated giving away money for no labor.

The only highlight of Dean’s day was when he passed an intersection on the walk home and suddenly sensed the quiet, calm presence beside him. It was as if all the worries and stresses of his day were somehow just a little less horrible, a little less crushing.

“Heya, Cas,” he said tiredly.

“Hello, Dean,” the familiar rumble replied. “How are you? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” Dean sighed, glancing over to where Castiel was walking quietly beside him, silent and graceful. “I, uh... I’ll tell you when we get to my place.”

Castiel, God bless him, didn’t push. He merely frowned and nodded.

They walked in calm, companionable silence the rest of the way. Dean’s knees felt weak when he staggered up the stairs, but everything was worth it when he opened the door to his apartment and saw Castiel waiting for him, the window still partially open to let in the cool night air.

Castiel came forward with a concerned frown, hand twitching as if he almost meant to reach out and touch Dean. “What did you want to tell me? You look exhausted, Dean. Are you alright?”

Dean didn’t reply for a moment, just collapsed onto the couch with a ragged sigh. His chest felt tight, his eyes hot. Fucking emotions. They always got harder to control the closer he got to heat. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t make it through this conversation without breaking down in tears.

“I cut myself,” he started, holding up his hand. For some reason, the sight of his bandaged fingers—the blood already beginning to bleed through—and Castiel’s calm face made his chest spasm with the need to sob. “Uh... I... I’m not—I…” Dean paused, taking a deep breath, struggling to get his stammering under control. “I’m gonna be out of commission for the next week or so.”

Castiel’s voice was shockingly gentle when he asked, “Why is that, Dean?”

“I’m, uh... I’m going into heat soon?” Dean sniffled, horrified by his own lack of control. God, Castiel probably thought he was disgusting, sitting there and crying like a fucking baby. “I—fuck, I... I’m sorry.” He sniffled pathetically again, hanging his head so he didn’t have to see the disgust or disappointment on Castiel’s face.

“Why are you sorry?” Dean jumped. Castiel was suddenly right there, kneeling in front of him, something soft and gentle on his face. He looked almost concerned. Not... not angry. Not disgusted or ashamed or disappointed. It gave Dean the courage to scrunch up his face and sniffle a little more.

“I dunno,” he mumbled to his shoes, humiliated and ashamed of himself. “I just f-figured you were gonna b-be angry ‘cause you n-need the information.” He shrugged. “Not gonna be allowed at the d-diner, so I guess I c-can’t help you there.” Dean wiped at his face, ashamed of his tears, and bit his lip at the throbbing pain of his fingers. Fucking hell, everything just sucked.

“That’s alright, Dean,” Castiel said. “Your heat isn’t something you can control, nor is it something to apologize for.” He sounded so sincere. Dean looked up at him through clumped eyelashes, feeling stupid and sad. Castiel wasn’t looking at him, thank God. He was frowning around Dean’s apartment instead. “You’re going to spend your heat... here?”

Dean sniffled, huffing out a bitter laugh. “Where else can I spend it? An alley? This is all I’ve got.” Unbidden, more tears and misery rose from Dean’s chest. He found himself choking out some harsh truths before he could think not to. “I hate it here. I hate how small it is, and how nothin’ works right, and how it always smells like mold. I never talk to my brother anymore and the only people I do have think I’m a knot-hungry slut that’s good for nothing but givin’ blowjobs in a back alley. But I got nowhere else to go.” Dean wiped fiercely at his eyes, as if pressure and harshness would make the tears go away. “I thought I was finally doing a good thing, helpin’ you and your friends with the Demons or whatever, but now I can’t even d-do that.” Dean sniffled angrily, fighting back his whimpers of frustration. “I don’t even know why I’m tellin’ you this. You don’t deserve my bullshit. I don’t even know why you’re still here.” He tried to glare at Castiel, but all that came out was a watery frown.

“Dean, you are much more than your biology,” Castiel said, and how could his voice still be so gentle? It wasn’t fair. “Your heat is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you think of Alphas as any lesser because of their ruts, or Beta women as lesser because of their menstrual cycle?” When Dean shook his head, Castiel put a warm, glove-covered hand on his knee. “Then why are you any different?”

Dean sniffled and shrugged, biting his lip to fight back any sounds that wanted to escape his throat. “I never liked my heat,” he admitted quietly.

It was true. He’d spent most of his childhood heats locked in his room or a closet, if his father was home at the time. He hated being locked in the closet, since it was dark and cold and cramped. After that, his heats had always been something to be ashamed of, something to ride out as quietly and unobtrusively as he could. Even when he’d been in college and had had a variety of very willing Alphas to help him through, he’d never asked a single one of them.

“How long do you have until your heat?” Castiel asked. His hand was still on Dean’s knee, warm even through the fabric of his thick black gloves and Dean’s work uniform.

“I’ve got a few days,” Dean said, wiping harshly at his eyes to dry them. “Ain’t got anything to nest with, so maybe a little longer.”

“You have nothing to nest with?” Castiel asked, eyebrows rising. He looked… incredibly concerned. “That’s horrible, Dean. Omegas are supposed to nest during heat. It makes them feel safe and cared for.” He frowned. “Gabe is the Omega expert in our family. He said it was especially important for Omegas who don’t have a mate. Why don’t you have any nesting supplies?”

Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t afford ‘em.” He snorted, glancing around his apartment. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to nest here.”

“Why not?” Castiel asked, though he sounded like he already kind of knew.

Dean snorted. “Neighbor’s a crack addict, there’s a gang of teenagers downstairs, and the Alpha across the hall creeps me out. It’s not safe here. Gotta feel safe if I want to nest.” He eyed Castiel, frowning a little. “You know that.”

“I do,” Castiel admitted. He sighed, the hand on Dean’s knee tightening ever so slightly. “Perhaps it would be best if you went somewhere else for your heat.”

Dean stared at him, wondering if he’d missed something. “Did you not hear me say I have nowhere else to go? I don’t exactly have a summer house on the coast, Cas.”

Castiel rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I know that, Dean. But I do.”

“You have a summer house on the coast?” Dean asked, eyebrows rising.

“No, not a summer house on th—oh, for God’s sake,” Castiel groaned. He shook his head. Dean read the faint amusement on his face and smiled despite the drying tear tracks on his face. “I don’t have that exact thing, Dean. But I have a home here in the city. It’s not far, though it is in a... a nicer district.”

“Don’t you live with other assassins?” Dean asked, frowning. He’d heard Castiel mention something about a mansion before, like a big headquarters.

“I do, but I also have a place I can go to that’s meant specifically for me,” Castiel replied. “I’m not there often, but I do own it. It’s... funnily enough, it’s closer to the diner than your apartment is, though on the other side.”

Dean’s eyes widened a little. “Oh. That’s the rich district.”

Castiel rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly. “Yes. It’s paid for with blood money, but... well, you’ve already come to terms with that, right?”

“Cas, I regularly cook instant mac and cheese for you, sometimes while you’re covered in other people’s blood,” Dean said. “I’m fine with what you do, so long as you don’t hurt the people who don’t deserve it.”

Castiel gave him a little smile, something unreadable shining in his blue eyes. “I appreciate that, Dean.” He squeezed Dean’s knee gently. “What do you think? Would you like to stay at my other home for the duration of your heat?”

If Dean had had anything in his mouth, he’d have spit it all over the Alpha kneeling in front of him. “What? What the hell are you talking about?” he squeaked. Of all the places he’d seen this conversation going, that was the last he’d expected. Or maybe it wasn’t, but he’d been too afraid of it to mentally touch it with a ten-foot pole.

Castiel frowned. “That was the whole point of me telling you about my penthouse. I was offering a place for you to stay during your heat.” He withdrew his hand from Dean’s knee, leaving a patch of cold where his warm glove had been beforehand. “If you don’t want to do that, it’s completely fine, Dean. I would also be happy to leave you alone in the penthouse, too. As I said before, I don’t need to be there.”

“You’re offering to take a street rat into your penthouse apartment and then leave me there?” Dean asked, dumbfounded. If he didn’t know Castiel better, he’d think the Alpha was playing a cruel joke on him. Castiel didn’t even understand normal jokes, though, so that wasn’t possible.

“First, you aren’t a street rat,” Castiel corrected. “Second, I wouldn’t just leave you. There’d be meals and things delivered, and—”

“Dude, are you hearing yourself?” Dean interrupted, too shocked to bother being polite. “You sound batshit crazy right now. Why the hell would you offer someone like me that kind of shit?”

“Because you’re my... my friend,” Castiel replied, swallowing through the stammer in his sentence. “You’re someone I respect and... and care about. You don’t deserve to spend your heat somewhere that you don’t feel safe. I have an empty penthouse that I hardly ever use. Why wouldn’t I offer it?”

“Because I’m me,” Dean said, like that made sense and would clear everything up. He felt a little like he’d been slapped. Castiel thought of him as a friend? He... cared about him?

“Yes, you’re Dean,” Castiel replied, sounding a little exasperated. “Would you like to spend your heat somewhere other than this hellhole? I would be happy to provide a safer, more comfortable space.”

“I couldn’t do that to you, Cas,” Dean said quietly.

“Do what to me?” Castiel demanded, sounding almost upset. “The only thing you’d be doing for me is giving me peace of mind! It kills me that you live here, sharing space with criminals and lowlifes who even I would spare a second glance to.”

“Not all poor people are criminals and lowlifes, Cas,” Dean muttered. It was kind of off topic, but the Beta woman downstairs was very kind. He didn’t appreciate her being lumped in with the people Castiel was talking about just because she couldn’t afford—

“I know that, Dean,” Castiel sighed. “I have a large amount of respect for the poorer demographic of our society, especially since they typically earn their living the honorable way, unlike myself. But that’s not the point.” He looked at Dean, something almost pleading in his blue eyes. “You can’t pretend like you trust your neighbors not to take advantage of you when you’re at your weakest and most vulnerable.”

It stung. Dean knew, of course, that he could take care of himself on a normal basis. He never really feared for his own safety, except when he was walking home alone at night. But in heat, with his body weak and his hormones and emotions running wild, he wouldn’t be at the top of his game at all. It was a painful reminder of just how pathetic he and his designation were.

“Not sure I can trust you either,” Dean bit out before he could think, hurt and angry. He felt raw and vulnerable, and he lashed out before he could think to do anything different. His eyes widened immediately after as he realized what he’d said, Castiel’s face flashing with something that looked almost like betrayal.

“No, I suppose you can’t,” the Alpha said. He made to stand.

Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist without thinking, his mind screaming at him for potentially ruining the one good thing he had right now. “No, Cas, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Please, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He tugged on the Alpha’s wrist, urging him to come back. “I didn’t mean to offend you, I just got scared. Please, Cas, I’m sorry.”

Castiel sighed and pulled his wrist from Dean’s grip. For a heartbreaking second, Dean thought Castiel was leaving him. The Alpha didn’t move toward the window, though. He just stood a few feet away, half turned away from Dean, face stony and set. “You shouldn’t trust me. You shouldn’t.” He turned to look back at Dean, something heartbreaking and vulnerable in his blue eyes. It was the most emotion Dean had ever seen out of him.

“But I do,” the Omega whispered. “I trust you to break into my apartment at all hours of the day. I trust you to not take advantage of me when I’m sleepy or tired or sad, even though you could easily hurt me any way you wanted.” Castiel flinched at that, but Dean pushed on. “I trust you to walk me home from work every night. I trust you to stand in my kitchen and eat my food and give me food in return. That’s... that’s the most trust I’ve given anyone in a long time.”

Dean was shocked to realize that it was true. He hadn’t trusted anyone like he did Castiel since he left Sam to go to college. In fact, he could probably count on one hand how many people he truly, deeply trusted. It seemed Castiel had somehow managed to make his way onto that list, even in the short time Dean had known him.

“Do you trust me to provide you shelter during your heat?” Castiel asked. He turned pleading eyes to Dean. “Do you trust me to give you a safe space, somewhere you might feel comfortable and cared for? I know you feel like you don’t deserve it, but please, if you won’t do it for you, then do it for me.”

Dean wanted to ask why Castiel even cared. He wanted to ask why this had ever been a conversation in the first place. He wanted to ask how this could be a possibility, if this was a joke. How could someone like Castiel even consider someone like Dean a friend? How had Dean gotten so lucky?

Will you put your hand on my shoulder? Will you at least try to match your handprint to my mark, if only so I know there isn’t any possible way someone as perfect as you could be for me?

Dean didn’t say any of that. He didn’t ask any of the questions swirling in his brain, didn’t voice any of the doubts sinking in his stomach like stones. Instead, he read the vulnerability and concern in Castiel’s eyes and nodded softly, just once.

“Okay, Cas,” the Omega said quietly. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

~>>>~

Castiel still wasn’t sure he wasn’t going insane.

He had never had anyone inside of his home, aside from himself and the cleaning staff. Even his brothers weren’t allowed there, and though Gabe and Luke were pranksters at the best of times, even they knew to respect safe spaces. They all had different places they went to feel comfortable and to get away from the hell that was their lives sometimes, and this was Castiel’s.

He was bringing Dean to his home.

He’d said things, in that moldy apartment. He’d admitted things, had begged Dean to let himself be taken care of. He’d practically taken his attraction to the Omega and shouted it at him. The fact that Dean was even near him, still wanted to even look at him, was a miracle.

Castiel knew what he was. The young woman that he’d killed last night knew what he was. He was a monster.

And he had the audacity to sit beside something angelic like Dean and pretend he wasn’t.

Dean, beautiful Dean, who woke up extra early in the morning so he could fix one of his neighbors’ motorcycles before work so they didn’t have to walk four miles like he did. Dean, who offered Castiel a sandwich with a gun pointed at his head, simply because he couldn’t think of anything else to do in that situation but be kind. Dean, who put up with Castiel’s odd personality, laughed at his stupid jokes, endured his awkward silences. Dean, who was as much of an angel from heaven as Castiel was a demon from hell.

Nothing in the world could have convinced Castiel to not offer Dean his apartment for the duration of his heat. The thought of Dean, vulnerable and sick, surrounded by the filth and danger of the place he lived in, made Castiel feel physically ill. It made the Alpha’s skin crawl. At least now, mixed in with the guilt and shame and confusion of whatever was going on inside of him, he was able to feel content that Dean would be safe.

The Omega was obviously exhausted. He’d passed out three seconds after the taxi took off. His bandaged fingers, the white gauze and tape of which were now stained a dirty brown, were curled loosely around the plastic bag he’d used to collect whatever he wanted to bring with him to Castiel’s apartment. To the Alpha’s knowledge, it contained a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, and some other items. No favorite blanket. No hoodie he couldn’t part from. No pillow that always made him feel safe. Just some clothes and toiletries.

It made Castiel angry.

There were plenty of assassins who weren’t as ethical as he was. Hell, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ‘ethical’ himself. There was nothing good about killing bad guys, no matter how bad they were. It was still killing. It was still wrong. Yet he and his fellow killers had been blessed with wealth and power that could buy a thousand blankets, pillows, stuffed animals. Basic things that Dean couldn’t have but definitely deserved.

The Demons, too, were perfect examples of bad people with power. They had ungodly amounts of wealth at their fingertips. Why was someone like Dean living in the slums while people like Alastair and Azazel could stand to buy out an entire skyscraper of living space? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair. Dean was the kind of person to donate four million dollars to child cancer research. The people with that kind of money typically used it for other things.

Castiel thought of his own massive bank account, stuffed full of money painted crimson with people’s blood. He didn’t use his money for anything, really, and he felt guilty about it. He could be doing more for Dean. He should be.

The taxi stopped outside the massive building Castiel called home. He thanked the driver and handed her a wad of cash, then reached over and gently put his hand on the Omega’s shoulder. “Dean? Dean, we’re here.”

He’d taken off his gloves and packed away his armor shell into the little carrying case he could put in his back pocket. He was only wearing a dark shirt and his black cargo pants, now. His weapons had been skillfully hidden, his knives tucked into the folds of his clothing. His hand, bare of gloves for the first time in a long time, looked strange against the dark red fabric of Dean’s flannel.

“Hmm?” Dean hummed, peeling bleary eyes open. He blinked at Castiel. “Oh.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Castiel said, the endearment slipping out before he could stop it. Thankfully, Dean was too sleepy to notice. As the Omega sat up, Castiel gently took his bag of belongings from him. “Let’s head inside.”

~>>>~

If Dean hadn’t been fully awake before, he certainly woke the fuck up once they got into the building.

Despite the fact that it was nearly midnight, the lobby of the building Castiel lived in was abuzz with activity. Some people were standing around wearing fancy suits and dresses, like they’d just come back from having dinner or going to a play or whatever rich people did in the city at night. Some people were rushing around with luggage, looking as if they had somewhere to be. Through it all, Castiel quietly led Dean to the set of elevators on the right wall, pulling a silver card out of nowhere. He slid it into the slot near the elevators, then stepped back beside Dean to wait patiently for one of the elevators to come down.

Dean stepped closer to him on instinct. It was crowded and crazy down in the lobby, and Castiel felt like the rock in the center of a hurricane. His presence, ever-steady and calming, was soothing to Dean’s overwhelmed brain. Even when he got close enough to brush against Castiel’s arm, the Alpha didn’t protest or push him away.

The elevator, thankfully, was quieter. On the fortieth floor, an elderly Omega and Alpha couple got on. They got off a few floors later, leaving Dean and Castiel the elevator for the rest of the ride up to the ninety-fifth floor.

The room that awaited them when the elevator doors finally opened was massive. Castiel’s living room alone could have easily fit most of Dean’s one-bedroom apartment in it, if not all. The grand space was decorated with pleasingly aesthetic colors of white, gray, navy blue, and splashes of silver. Dean stared in awe at the large crystal chandelier, then at the floor to ceiling windows on the far wall.

“What do you think?” Castiel asked, sounding almost apprehensive.

“It’s beautiful,” Dean breathed. He walked a little deeper inward, feeling as if he was soiling the shining hardwood floors with his boots. “Wow. The view is amazing. Everything’s just so... shiny.” He peered at a row of sparkling glasses, then at some strange crystal figures on a nearby table that arced and swooped colorfully. “This is incredible, Cas.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Castiel replied, sounding relieved. “I can show you the guest bedroom, if you’d like. You seemed exhausted earlier.” Dean was exhausted. He happily followed Castiel through the large room and into an even bigger one, then down a hallway. Castiel gestured to the room at the end. “That’s the master. This is the guest room. If you don’t like it, you can take the master, but I—”

“Whoa,” Dean muttered, causing Castiel to falter with a small smile.

The guest room was enormous. The bed itself looked as if it was almost as big as Dean’s entire room back in his apartment, piled high with thick blankets and plush pillows. There was an honest-to-God TV in the room, mounted on the far wall, and a mini fridge in the corner. Dean stared around the space with wide eyes, feeling kind of faint.

“Dean? Do you like it?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Dean said quietly, voice small in the large space. “I’ve never been in a penthouse suite in my life.”

He looked back at Castiel, whose smile was warm and reassuring. “You’re fine, Dean. It’s alright.” He came up to stand next to Dean, practically exuding waves of calm and comfort. “I can put your things away while you take a shower. The water pressure here is amazing.” He gave Dean an awkward little wink, which had a smile breaking out on Dean’s face despite how overwhelmed he felt.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

Castiel showed him the bathroom, which was just as spacious and fancy and beautiful as the rest of the place. The water pressure was amazing, and the variety of soaps and shampoos available made Dean’s hands shake a little. He didn’t know which was the least expensive, so he just went with a random one and found himself exiting the shower smelling like mint and sweet citrus.

He’d set out a shirt and some sweatpants for himself. The worn clothes looked weird on Castiel’s white marble bathroom counters, but Dean didn’t think it looked necessarily bad. Just... weird. He pulled his shirt on and his sweatpants up, then exited the bathroom quietly, looking around for Castiel.

The Alpha was nowhere in sight. Dean left the bathroom door ajar so the steam could dissipate, then padded down the hallway with his dirty clothes bundled in his arms. When he reached the guest bedroom, he heard the sounds of someone messing with the bedding. When Dean poked his head inside the room, he was greeted with a massive pile of pillows and blankets on the bed, along with a lightly-panting, content Alpha.

“I got all the bedding I could and tried to—fuck, Dean—” Castiel turned to stare at Dean, eyes wide as saucers in his head.

Dean stared back, clutching his dirty clothes tightly, suddenly very nervous. “Y-Yeah? Is everything okay?” Castiel looked like he’d been slapped, or surprised suddenly with a very loud noise.

“You-Your... Your scent,” Castiel breathed. “I can... I can smell you.”

Dean cringed, realizing what the problem was. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—I forgot my scent blockers at my house, I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Don’t—Don’t... Don’t apologize,” Castiel cut in, voice sounding tense. His body was practically vibrating with something, which was insane. Was he alright? Was Dean’s scent really that bad? The Alpha answered that question in the next few seconds. It looked like he was breathing through his mouth. “Your scent is amazing.”

“It’s... good?” Dean asked, dumbfounded. “You don’t look like you think so.”

“I’m trying to control myself,” Castiel bit out, his voice bordering almost on a growl. Dean shifted nervously at that, still not entirely sure what the hell was going on here. He was getting scared. “Your scent is amazing and I wasn’t prepared for it. I’m sorry. I’m usually able to control myself better than this.” Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, taking several deep breaths through his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Dean offered, still unsure of the situation.

“You... You don’t have to apologize,” Castiel replied, shaking his head. He gritted his teeth, impressive jaw muscles flexing. It would have been hot had Dean not been so on edge. “I’m going to let you rest now. I’ll... I’ll come back and check on you in an hour or so. Feel free to get some sleep or watch TV or... or whatever you need.”

With that, the Alpha abruptly stalked toward Dean, past him, and out of the room. The door clicked shut firmly behind him, leaving the Omega standing alone in the middle of the bedroom, his only company the massive pile of blankets on the bed and his own intense confusion.

~>>>~

Castiel leaned so far over the balcony railing he almost fell off. To the glowing street far, far below, he gritted out a frustrated, “Fuck.”

He could still smell the phantom traces of Dean’s scent. It was amazing. It had literally made his mouth water, and if that wasn’t disgusting and perverted, Castiel didn’t know what was.

Dean’s apartment had always smelled sort of sweet, like he’d recently baked something in the oven, but it had always been marred by the overpowering scents of mildew and rotting wood, cigarette smoke and car exhaust. That sweetness, now uninhibited by cheap chemical blockers and the smells of a decaying apartment, was breathtaking. Literally.

Castiel didn’t even know what he would have done if he hadn’t left that quickly. He was sort of afraid of the possibilities. He felt like the worst hypocrite in the world, offering Dean a supposedly safe space and then nearly jumping on him the second the Omega took off his scent blockers.

The Alpha closed his eyes, feeling slightly sick. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster. He could probably look back at any one of his decisions and question whether or not he should have made it, though for some reason, the outcome wasn’t one he would have had any other way. Dean was here, for now. He was safe. He would be safe for the duration of his heat, even if that meant Castiel locking himself out of his own apartment. Not that locks on windows had ever stopped him, but still.

Taking a deep breath of cool night air, Castiel released his death grip on the balcony railing.

He went to turn around, hearing the phantom footsteps a split second before he did so. Only Michael’s lightning-fast reflexes saved him from getting Castiel’s knife through his throat.

“Mike?” Castiel rasped, heart pounding. He was really on edge. He needed to calm down. He should have heard Michael’s approach sooner. He’d been too busy wrestling with his thoughts of Dean to even realize that technically, it was his job to protect Dean now. As long as the Omega stayed with him, he’d be safe, and that meant from other assassins too.

“Castiel. I have bad news,” Michael said, tossing Castiel his knife back. It glittered darkly in the light of the moon, which was visible through the city haze overhead.

“I assumed so, since you’re here,” Castiel replied. He sheathed his knife. “What happened?”

“The Demons finally made a move. You remember how Dean was telling you about those unmarked boxes?” Michael asked.

“I do,” Castiel confirmed, frowning as he leaned against the thick glass of his balcony railing.

“They must have caught wind of our awareness of their base,” Michael said. He was the very picture of calm, standing easily on Castiel’s balcony, save for the clenching of his black-gloved hands. That and the glow of his blue eyes in the moonlight solidified the fact that they were in deep shit. “They kidnapped Ishim three hours ago.”

“Why am I just hearing about this?” Castiel demanded.

“We’re in lockdown. Luke is gone, though his abduction hasn’t been confirmed. He could very easily just be hiding out in one of his safehouses. You know he’s bad at sending confirmation messages on his location,” Michael said.

“He’s gone?”

“Yes. He left a good four hours before Ishim was taken. They killed Jariel and Laiea, then took Ishim with them. The security cams on a nearby bank caught it all. Kevin Tran hacked them,” Michael said. Before Castiel could speak, he held up a hand. “I’m here to tell you that you’re being ordered into lockdown too. We can’t go rescue Ishim now. Not yet. We need to give them time to cool off.”

“Michael—”

“Ishim can handle a few weeks of torture,” Michael said firmly. “I trained him myself. I would expect the same from y—”

“A few weeks? You want to go into lockdown for a few weeks?” Castiel demanded. “Has it ever occurred to you that they want that? That they’re trying to get us to draw back so they can complete whatever it is they’re hiding?”

“Why would they take Ishim, then? Killing two of our members is enough of a signal,” Michael pointed out.

“They could have been backed up against a wall. Or just being erratic. Mike, it’s Azazel, you know—”

“I know.” Michael ran a hand through his dark hair, huffing out an angry breath. “I know. But if they’re kidnapping our members and Luke is AWOL, we need time to regroup and consider our information. Give it three weeks. Ishim can hold out that long.”

“And if they kill him?” Castiel demanded.

“They won’t,” Michael said grimly. “If there’s one thing I know about the Prince brothers, it’s that they like to play with their toys.” They both shuddered in revulsion, likely thinking of Gadreel. He still hadn’t spoken a word since his rescue. His mind had been fractured.

“Very well,” Castiel said slowly. “I’m ordered into lockdown for three weeks?”

“Yes. Effective immediately,” Michael said. He sighed. “I hope that we can figure out what’s going on before then. Until that happens, I’ll keep you updated. You’ll be staying here?”

“I—yes,” Castiel replied, realizing he couldn’t explain to his brother that his source of information was currently sleeping soundly in his guest bedroom. That wouldn’t bode well, either for the teasing or the credibility of Dean’s information. “Yes, I’ll be here.”

“Good. Stay safe, little brother.”

“You too, Mike.”

Castiel stayed out on the balcony long enough to watch Michael vault over the railing and land on the next balcony, then the next, until he was out of sight. Then, with a heavy sigh, the dark-haired Alpha went back into his apartment.

He tentatively scented the air, a little relieved to realize he couldn’t smell Dean. That changed as he got closer to the guest bedroom, the air growing sweet with the warm, comforting scent of a content Omega. Castiel bit his tongue as he quietly opened Dean’s door and peeked inside, squinting in the relative darkness of the room to peer at the mound of blankets on the bed.

It took a second to locate Dean, since he’d managed to burrow himself into the majority of the bedding, but Castiel picked him out fairly easily once he knew what to look for. Dean looked to be curled up on his side, facing Castiel, and he—

Good God, he’d found the bee.

In the days before Jimmy retired, Castiel had sometimes had to watch his daughter, Claire, when he went on missions. She never really knew where her father was, but she was intelligent and had been able to guess well enough that he was probably in danger. She had never been able to sleep at night, so Castiel had bought her a stuffed bee. He’d found it in the back of the closet when he’d been frantically digging for blankets and pillows and had just decided to lump it in with everything else. It seemed Dean had found it within the massive pile and decided to hold it.

He looked... adorable.

His hair had dried after his shower, making it soft and fluffy against the blankets he was curled up in. His plush pink lips were parted in a little ‘o’ as he breathed deeply, long, thick lashes spread across high cheekbones that were tinted pink with warmth. Dean had curled one of his arms around the stuffed bee, bringing it to his chest, and it looked almost as if he’d been scenting it. He was sleeping peacefully.

Castiel, fighting against the tug in his chest, slowly backed out of the room and made to close the door behind himself. As he did so, he snuck one last glance at Dean, then stopped dead.

Dean was wearing a soft T-shirt, the fabric rumpled and half-hidden under all the blankets. The sleeve of the left shoulder had ridden up, exposing Dean’s skin, and it was there that Castiel could see a red mark.

Dean, sleepy on the couch, bent over in an uncomfortable position and snoring softly.

Castiel’s hand, resting on his shoulder, his mouth open so he could urge the Omega to wake up and go to bed.

The electric spark of something, too strong to be static electricity but too weak to really garner Castiel’s attention.

Castiel stepped into the room.

Dean didn’t move as the Alpha came closer, nor as he stood right beside the bed and looked down at him. Dean’s sweet scent was strong here, so much so that Castiel found himself bending down to nose along his jaw before he could stop himself. Covering the action with another, Castiel reached out and gently pulled the sleeve of Dean’s shirt up, exposing the mark on his shoulder.

Shit.

There it was. A large, red, raised handprint, the mark of soulmates touching each other for the first time. The hand was almost perfectly defined, as if Cast—as if the person had managed to settle their whole hand there at once.

Castiel held his breath, reached out with fingers that trembled lightly, and gently placed his hand against the mark. The brush of his skin against Dean’s, warm and electric, sent shivers through him. His fingers and palm fit perfectly, every inch of his hand lining up with the mark on Dean’s shoulder.

The Omega snuffled in his sleep and held his bee closer to his chest, completely unaware of the Alpha imploding beside him.

Castiel’s hand fit the mark on Dean’s shoulder. It was in the exact place he’d put his palm, too, that night many months ago when he’d tried to help Dean get to sleep. Castiel remembered that, remembered all of his interactions with Dean. He stared at the way his hand fit over the Omega’s mark, knees weak.

What was he going to do? He’d accepted a long time ago that he’d never meet his soulmate, and that if he did, he wouldn’t burden them with his presence in their life. Who wanted to know that the Alpha they were destined to be with killed and tortured people for a living? Castiel had resigned himself to being alone.

But Dean... Dean knew about his job. He knew that he killed people, and he was okay with it. Dean didn’t care. Dean was already in Castiel’s life, and now, it looked like he was meant to play a much more important part in it than either of them realized.

There was no way Castiel was going to be able to keep this a secret. It was Dean’s body, so he probably already knew about the mark. If he hadn’t already asked about it, though... it had been many months since Castiel had marked him. Maybe Dean didn’t care?

Or worse, maybe he didn’t know.

Castiel gently pulled his hand from where it was resting against Dean’s shoulder, looking down at the sleeping Omega. Which was worse? Leaving Dean to a life of loneliness, constantly hoping to find the Alpha that had accidentally marked him? Or telling him that the Alpha that he was meant for was a killer? At least if Dean didn’t know, he had a chance with someone else. Castiel had a horrible feeling that Dean would give up his happiness for his Alpha’s in a heartbeat; that was just the kind of person the Omega was. It made the Alpha sick to think of Dean being unhappy simply because he felt like he was obligated by some sick joke made by the universe.

No, it was better if he never figured it out.

Castiel backed away from Dean, heart jumping in his chest as the Omega gave a soft whine in his sleep. Dean soon shifted, cuddling his stuffed bee closer to his chest, and continued to snore quietly. Castiel crept out of the room carefully after that.

He went to his own bed and laid there for hours on end, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the feeling of Dean’s skin underneath his hand. He couldn’t fall asleep, not with the memory of how perfectly his hand fit the mark on the Omega’s shoulder.

When the sun rose hours later, spreading golden light across the city, the Alpha was still awake.

~>>>~

Dean woke up warm.

He squeezed his eyes shut and savored the feeling, since it wasn’t often that he felt so comfortable and safe. His springy mattress and ragged blanket didn’t often provide that kind of feeling. Come to think of it, he was really too comfortable. The scent of fresh air and sweet laundry detergent was not his—

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he shot up.

He was laying in a massive bed, the mattress piled high with blankets and pillows and comforters that made a sort of nest, with him in the middle. Squished against his chest was a smiling yellow stuffed bee. The spacious room around him was filled with early morning sunlight.

It took Dean’s brain a second to come back online and remember where the hell he was. Once that actually happened, he relaxed, the tension bleeding from his body.

He was at Castiel’s place. In his apartment, his guest bedroom. The Alpha really had gone overboard with the nesting supplies, Dean realized with a small smile.

He rubbed his fingertips experimentally over a particularly soft-looking blanket, something warm twisting in his chest at the feeling of the fabric. Something that soft would be better off at the base of the nest, so Dean moved it there. He fluffed a few pillows, creating a sort of barrier, and then draped some blankets and more pillows over those. His bee went into the center of the nest, where he piled a few more of the fluffier blankets. Dean arranged some more pillows, grunting as he yanked one out from underneath his own knee to put in place somewhere near the headboard of the bed.

It was only when Dean had finished arranging bedding and crawled into the very center, arms around the stuffed animal he’d been given, that he realized he’d basically just nested for the first time in his entire life.

Dean stared at the nest he’d made, eyes wide. It... hadn’t been that bad. Not fun or amusing, like some Omegas claimed, but... satisfying. He felt content. Warm. Safe. He... felt good. He also really wanted to show Cas.

Dean clambered out of the nest, legs feeling a little wobbly. His whole body was warm, like his internal heater had been turned up a few degrees. It wasn’t too bad, not anything more than noticeable, but it was something that Dean noted as he poked his head experimentally out of the guest room. The hallway outside was empty.

Frowning at the lack of Alpha, Dean padded off in search of Castiel. He scented the air instinctively, poking his head into various rooms to try to catch any indication of the Alpha’s presence. Nothing.

Frown deepening, Dean ducked into the main room and the kitchen, still searching for the Alpha. He eventually circled back to the bedrooms, figuring Castiel could still be asleep. When Dean poked his head into the master bedroom, however, he found the bed empty, save for some rumpled sheets.

Slightly confused, Dean dared to enter the bedroom, blinking around. He only realized he’d brought his stuffed bee with him when he set it down on the bed, poking into the bathroom and walk-in closet. Castiel wasn’t there.

“Cas?” Dean called, feeling slightly upset. He wasn’t angry and he wasn’t scared, but he was... off. He didn’t like that Castiel was gone. Part of him wanted the Alpha to be there, so he could pull him to the guest bedroom and show him the nest. It was a weird urge, but an urge all the same. The other part of Dean was just sad that he was all alone. Where had Castiel gone? Had he decided to leave, like he’d offered when he’d first proposed Dean coming to stay with him? Dean didn’t like the thought of that at all.

Frowning, the Omega sat down on the big king bed. The sheets were still rumpled, though they were cool to the touch. Dean buried his face in the pillow instinctively, searching for a scent, and chirped without meaning to when he found one. It was faint, just the smallest trace of honey, ozone, and rain, but it was there. Dean snuffled at the fabric of the pillowcase for more of Castiel’s scent, then began searching for it in the sheets of the bed.

He only realized he’d been effectively burrowing himself into the Alpha’s bed when he heard a noise and popped his head up, eyes going wide as he spotted Castiel standing in the doorway to his master bedroom. He was wearing a suit and a tan trench coat, a combination that would look ugly on anyone else but somehow made the Alpha look cute.

“Dean? I looked everywhere for you,” Castiel said, coming into the bedroom. He gave the Omega a small smile. “What are you doing?”

“Lookin’ for your scent,” Dean muttered, embarrassed. “Sorry. I, uh, I wasn’t thinking. Stupid heat.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling a little ashamed of his behavior. Had he really just invaded the Alpha’s bed without permission?

Castiel chuckled softly, seeming thankfully unfazed. “That’s fine, I understand.” He held out one large hand, an offering to help Dean off of the bed. Dean ignored the hand, instead opting to grab his bee and slide off the mattress himself. The blue-eyed Alpha quirked an amused smile at him. “I brought breakfast.”

“Is that where you were?” Dean asked, trying not to sound accusatory. He didn’t think he managed it.

Castiel put a hand on the small of Dean’s back, guiding him through the doorway and down the hall to the kitchen. The Omega wasn’t sure if the touch was meant as an apology or a distraction, but it registered as both. “I was. I cannot cook anything worth eating that can be qualified as a ‘breakfast food,’ but I didn’t want to make you cook anything.”

Dean, who’d smiled at the Alpha’s air quotes, flushed slightly at the thoughtfulness that had gone into the gesture. “That’s nice of you,” he mumbled to the floor. “Could you... Could you tell me where you’re goin’ next time? I woke up and you were gone.”

Before Dean could register how needy and pathetic that sounded, Castiel’s hand rose from the small of his back to rest between his shoulder blades, a comforting gesture. “Of course, Dean. I’m sorry for not alerting you to my departure.” He paused, hesitating, then sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to leave much anyway, so you don’t need to worry about that anymore, I suppose. Breakfast and groceries are about as much freedom as I have right now.”

“Why?” Dean asked as they entered the kitchen. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Castiel handed him a warm takeout box, presumably with food inside. “I can’t tell you everything, for your safety,” he said, looking at Dean with serious blue eyes. “The main point of interest is that I won’t be going on missions for a while. It’s for the best.”

“Okay. That’s fine, Cas,” Dean said, trying not to feel too relieved. It was kind of a selfish feeling, since he knew Castiel might be in danger or something, but he couldn’t help but be glad that the Alpha was going to be staying with him. Going to get breakfast was fine, but that was probably the most Dean’s Omega could take before he started getting restless. He sat down at the dining table when the Alpha prompted him to, waiting for Castiel to sit down with his own box of food before opening it. Dean promptly groaned aloud at the stack of pancakes, butter, powdered sugar, and maple syrup that greeted him. “This looks amazing, Cas.”

The Alpha smiled, evidently pleased with himself. “I’m glad. The breakfast place in the lobby is very popular.”

Dean happily dug into the food, all previous anxiety and discomfort forgotten. He talked Castiel’s ear off about culinary school and how he was only a few weeks out from getting his degree and blowing out of there. The Alpha was kind and supportive, something Dean was still getting used to. He didn’t think he’d ever heard the words ‘Good job’ and ‘I’m proud of you’ from anyone but his younger brother before.

Speaking of Sam... “I need to call my brother,” Dean said after finishing a piece of cut-up fruit. It had come in a little plastic cup, complimentary to the meal. “Is that okay?”

“That’s fine, Dean,” Castiel replied easily. “Just... I would appreciate if you left the finer details of your current situation out of the conversation. Is that alright?”

“That’s fine, yeah,” Dean said immediately. “I wasn’t gonna tell him any of that stuff anyway. Gotta protect your identity and everything.” He gave the Alpha a winning smile, surprised and pleased when Castiel smiled back, something unreadable and warm in his eyes.

“You think of everything,” Castiel said, almost to himself. He stood, grabbed Dean’s takeout box, and headed back to the kitchen to throw the trash away.

Dean watched him go, admiring his figure in the suit. He hadn’t seen Castiel in anything but his black armor since he’d met the Alpha, so seeing him in what could be called civilian clothes was somewhat refreshing. Dean’s Omega brain, which was only just beginning to rev up in preparation of his heat, whispered that Castiel’s armor did nothing for the Alpha’s thick thighs. Dean tried to shake that thought off, embarrassed and a little bit ashamed.

He borrowed Castiel’s phone to call Sam since his own was back at his apartment, taking a step out onto the massive balcony to do so. It was windy so far up, but the unbroken stream of sunlight felt glorious on Dean’s skin.

The phone rang three times before it was picked up. “Hello? This is Sam Winchester,” a familiar voice said.

Dean smiled. “Hey, Sammy. I—”

“Dean, what the fuck?” his little brother interrupted, voice going from calmly conversational to righteously pissed in about two seconds.

“Hello to you too, Sammy,” Dean said, still smiling despite his little brother’s obvious agitation. It felt good to hear his brother’s voice.

“Yeah, you missed the opportunity for pleasant greetings when you refrained from calling me for three weeks straight.” Oooh, Sam sounded pissed. Dean had the good graces to wince apologetically, though his brother couldn’t see him.

“Sorry, Sammy. I had things I was doing. School and shit.” He smiled at Sam’s grumbling, knowing his brother couldn’t argue when he had ‘school and shit’ of his own. “How’s it going, kiddo? Did you get past that lawyer exam?”

“Aced it,” Sam said, as if there had ever been a doubt. “I’m heading to a new dorm on Wednesday.” There was a pause, and then he added, “Jess is coming.”

“Oh-ho, so Jess is coming too?” Dean crowed, smiling at a random skyscraper as he imagined his little brother’s blushing face. “Isn’t that convenient?”

“Yes, it’s convenient, Dean. Shut up,” Sam grumbled. Dean could practically see his bitch face.

“Sure, yeah. Super-duper convenient.” Dean grinned. “Aside from the lawyering and the—ahem, conveniences, how are things?”

“You’re such a jerk,” Sam complained. “And everything’s fine. You chose the right time to go AWOL, I guess, since nothing’s happening. How about you? Where are you? It sounds… windy.”

Dean tensed slightly, remembering his promise to Cas. “I’m still in the city,” he said, trying for casual nonchalance. “And yeah, it is windy. And fucking sunny, which is a rarity for springtime.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Sam snorted. “How’s culinary been? You’ve obviously been busy, if you haven’t been able to even pick up the phone to send a text. Is Zach still being a douche?”

Dean grimaced at the mention of his fellow culinary student. “Yeah, he’s still a dickbag. It’s fine, though. I’ve only got a few months left with those assholes anyway. And yeah, I have been busy. Unlike you, I’m finishing my last year. That means finals are a bitch.”

“I believe you,” Sam replied sincerely. “How’s work? C’mon, Dean, do I gotta pull this out of you?”

“Work is... good,” Dean replied, shrugging to himself. “It’s nicer now that I don’t have to walk home alone. And they finally fired Belphegor, which is good, because that guy was a douche—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam cut in, interrupting Dean mid-sentence. “You said you don’t have to walk home alone? Who’s walking home with you?”

“Oh,” Dean said. Shit. “Uh, did I say that? I didn’t say—”

“Dean, you said that and you know it. Who’s walking you home?” Sam asked. Dean winced, anticipating the excited rise to his brother’s voice before it even happened. “Who is it? Is it a guy?”

“Yes, but he’s a friend, Sammy.” Dean mouthed a curse as soon as the words were out of his mouth. That was textbook, movie-script deflection. Why the fuck would he say that? Why hadn’t he just said it was a girl or something? Sam would have bought that. Fuck.

“A friend, I see,” Sam said, already latching on. Fuck, he wasn’t gonna let this go. Damn it. “Is this guy a convenience too?”

Dean groaned, listening as his younger brother guffawed on the other end of the phone. “You’re a bitch.”

“I’m right. It is a guy. Is it an Alpha? Is he hot? Bet he is,” Sam said.

“You sound like a high school girl,” Dean grumbled.

“I don’t care. What’s his name?” Sam asked, and Dean stopped.

He couldn’t tell Sam anything about Castiel. He couldn’t say a Goddamn word. He’d promised the Alpha he wouldn’t mention anything, and while he’d stayed true to that, they were venturing into dangerous territory. Castiel had gone out and bought him breakfast this morning, had offered his whole damn apartment so Dean could be safe during his heat. The least he owed the Alpha was a little privacy.

“Sorry, Sammy. Can’t tell you,” Dean said. He could practically feel his little brother roll his eyes.

“Okay, fuck you. I’m gonna get that name out of you, Dean, if it’s the last thing I do. You’re lucky I have to be in class in a few minutes,” Sam said.

“Shit, Sammy, you have to be in class? What the hell are you talkin’ to me for?” Dean demanded, straightening and glaring at the same skyscraper he’d been talking to for the past ten minutes.

“You’re the one talking my ear off,” Sam accused, though his tone was gentle and playful. “I’m sure you have stuff to do too. Go hang out with your ‘convenience.’”

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Bye, Sammy,” Dean said, smiling.

“Bye, Dean. See you soon.”

The call ended.

~>>>~

Castiel was well and truly fucked.

If he’d thought there was any possibility of being able to forget about Dean after all this was over, said possibility was gone now. Thrown out the window, crushed on the street, and smashed underneath the tires of the cars driving below. Completely decimated.

How the hell could Castiel think he could ever forget Dean, when the Omega was so beautiful and so… bright? When he somehow managed to make Castiel really smile and laugh for the first time in years, when he somehow filled every room he walked into with light and joy? How could Castiel forget about him, when he had so many things to remind him of Dean?

Food, which the Omega got so excited about. Toothpaste, which he joyously stated was the ‘expensive, candy-tasting shit’ when he tried it the first morning. That damned stuffed bee, which Dean slept with every night, curled up in a fluffy little ball in the nest he’d made and gleefully showed to Castiel the first afternoon of his stay. Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean. He was imprinted into every thought in Castiel’s mind, every inch of his apartment, every fiber of his life.

How in the hell was Castiel going to be able to let him go?

He couldn’t, he realized, as he watched Dean bounce around his kitchen, excitedly naming off various appliances and tools that Castiel had never thought he’d use in a thousand years. He still didn’t quite understand all of the things Dean named off, but the confusion was worth it in exchange for Dean’s bright joy.

“Your TV is huge,” the Omega remarked one day, sometime in the middle of his heat. He’d spent most of the afternoon taking care of... needs. Castiel had tried to give him privacy, but he’d been relieved to see Dean emerge near dinnertime, face flushed and shoulders weary with exhaustion, but contentment too.

“It is. Unfortunately, I haven’t quite mastered how to use all the specialty devices yet, so I just use CDs and DVDs,” Castiel admitted.

Dean snorted. “I don’t know how to use the fancy shit either.” He labored for a moment to sit up, then squinted at the box of DVDs Castiel had. “What kinda shows do you have? I don’t see any—Oh, look! Magnificent Seven! I love that movie.” Dean reached for the movie with a hand that trembled lightly with exhaustion from heat.

Castiel sat forward and gently pushed Dean back to rest against the couch cushions. “I must admit I’ve never watched that movie,” he confessed, holding it up. “Would you like to watch it?”

Dean smiled at him, despite the pouting he’d been doing just a split second before at being pushed back onto the couch. “Yeah, please,” he said. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel smiled and began to set up the movie. Dean was so easy to please. Castiel could sometimes just say something, and the Omega would be happy and smiley and beautiful. It really was incredible.

Castiel made sure Dean was comfortable, going so far as to grab an extra blanket and his bee for him. The Omega blushed as he was handed the items. Castiel was glad he’d guessed correctly at Dean’s longing for his stuffed animal. It wasn’t uncommon for Omegas to become attached to a small, soft thing when they went through heat. Science said it was their bodies preparing them for when they inevitably had pups, but Castiel privately thought Omegas just liked cuddling things. Dean included.

The movie began, and for the first half, Dean talked nonstop about cowboys and the Wild West. He stopped several times, unsure of whether or not Castiel was annoyed, and each time the Alpha told him to keep going. Watching Dean talk about things he loved was way better than watching any movie, in Castiel’s opinion.

Eventually, he could tell that the events of the day and Dean’s heat were taking a toll on his body. Despite how much the Omega enjoyed the movie, he was starting to nod off, his head dipping down and then snapping back up again when he tried to stay awake. It was sort of painful to watch, so Castiel scooted a little closer to prop a pillow behind Dean’s neck.

“Mmm, thanks, Cas,” Dean slurred, giving the Alpha a sleepy smile. He tried to lay back and put his head on the pillow, but he missed by a mile and ended up careening sideways and into Castiel. The Alpha laughed softly at that, waiting for Dean to inevitably pull away and try again.

He didn’t.

“Dean?” Castiel asked quietly, underneath the sound of the guns and dynamite exploding on TV. “Dean?”

Dean responded by snoring softly, curling closer to Castiel. The Alpha couldn’t contain his pleased rumble then, gently adjusting the sleepy Omega so he’d be as comfortable as possible. Castiel made sure Dean had a tight hold on his bee, tucked the blanket around him, and settled in for the rest of the movie with a sleepy Omega plastered to his side.

Castiel didn’t even make it to the final battle of the movie before he was asleep too.

~>>>~

By the end of his heat, Dean was pretty sure he’d never had a better two weeks in his whole entire life.

The days during the height of his cycle were sort of a messy blur, but Dean remembered only the softness of his nest and the warmth of Castiel’s smile. The Alpha had remained a steady and comforting presence throughout Dean’s heat, and Dean remembered jacking off to the memory of his rumbling voice many times. It was probably something he would take to his grave, but he couldn’t deny that his orgasms always felt better when he had the image of Castiel in his head. He didn’t even feel that ashamed about it.

Well, kind of.

The end of his heat brought about the end of his fairytale-like stay with Castiel, though. Dean had to get back to work and school, and while Castiel’s apartment was closer to Purgatory, it was at least two miles farther from the culinary school. The Alpha broached the subject of a taxi or a car the last night they had dinner together, but Dean shut him down almost immediately. He wasn’t going to be lazy and live off of Castiel. He was going to finish school and then... well, Dean hadn’t really thought of that. He was mostly just focused on surviving finals.

He slept fitfully the night before Castiel was set to drive him back to his own apartment. Dean ended up laying in the nest he’d built for himself, staring up at the ceiling, hugging his bee, thinking of the Alpha only a few rooms over. He wondered if Castiel cared what would happen after this, or if Dean was the equivalent of just another person to him. That didn’t seem fair to the Alpha, but Dean’s demons wouldn’t let him release the thought.

The morning he left Castiel’s apartment dawned dark and cloudy. The drive to his own apartment was the same. The taxi driver dropped them off in front of the building, and Dean was grateful when Castiel got out with him. For a moment, they just stood in front of the stairs that would take Dean up to his place.

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean finally said. “I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll figure it out at some point.”

Castiel gave him a small, sad smile. There was something unreadable in his blue eyes, something that made Dean’s chest twist. “Of course, Dean.” The Alpha hesitated, then said haltingly, “If you... if you ever need anything—Help, food, a place to... a place to stay... Just call me, yes?” Castiel smiled at him, but there was something flat about it, like a soda without carbonation, or sunlight without warmth.

“Sure, Cas,” Dean said. He took a step back toward his own apartment, bag heavy in his hand. “I’m gonna, uh, go now. I’ll see you around.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean turned around before he had to see Castiel get into the taxi and drive away. He hurried up the stairs as fast as socially acceptable, not wanting to hear the taxi drive off either. He heard and saw nothing, which was good. He didn’t dare look at the street, just in case Castiel was gone. Or worse, in case he was still there.

His key stuck in his lock, like always. Dean wrinkled his nose at the smell of mold that permeated his entire apartment. It seemed worse now that he’d been gone so long. He dropped his duffel by the door and moved into the living room to open a window, maybe get some clean air, then stopped dead as he realized his window was already open.

For one heartbreaking second, Dean thought Cas was there. Then he realized that the figure standing in his living room was too tall, his shoulders not broad enough, body the wrong shape, hair the wrong color.

The blond assassin gave Dean a smile. “Hey there, Dean-o.”

“Who the hell are you?” Dean asked. The only reason he wasn’t more afraid was because the man was wearing a dark, shell-like jacket, just like Castiel’s. An Angel. He had similar blue eyes, though his were icier and... colder.

“My name is Luke,” the man said, smiling at Dean. It wasn’t a particularly nice smile, but Dean relaxed all the same. He’d heard Castiel talk about Luke. The Alpha had opened up once about his brothers Mike, Raphael, Gabe, and Luke. He’d spoken highly of all of them, and had gotten Dean rolling on the floor by the end of his tales of their many practical jokes.

“Can I help you?” Dean asked, trying to be polite but also wondering what the hell this guy was doing in his apartment.

The blond Alpha didn’t reply for a moment, merely smiled. “You’re a hard Omega to get a hold of, Mr. Winchester.” He stepped forward, all sinuous grace and dangerous elegance. Dean was reminded of Castiel, and the way he moved like a panther. He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to remain calm. He could trust Castiel’s brothers. The Alpha had said so himself.

“I’ve been... uh, busy,” Dean said, realizing he didn’t know if Castiel wanted him to reveal that they’d spent time together or not. At the knowing smirk on Luke’s face, though, he needn’t have even tried.

“Oh, I can see that. Or smell it, really. You reek of my brother’s protective pheromones,” Luke said. He wrinkled his nose slightly. “And he said he wasn’t in love with you...” The blond Alpha shook his head, lip curling in what looked almost like a sneer.

“Cas... talks about me?” Dean managed. He knew it sounded stupid, but he felt really off-balance. He needed to get a better grasp on himself and his emotions, and talking about Cas and what he might or might not have said was not helping.

“Of course he does,” Luke replied, rolling his eyes. “Only every time I see him. It’s kind of disgusting really. But that’s not why I’m here.” He gave Dean that unsettling smile again, all sharp edges and icy eyes. It struck Dean that this man was very similar to Cas, just without the dark-haired Alpha’s protective, warm, comforting presence. He was like Cas, but before Dean had gotten to know him.

Even then, the Omega wasn’t sure Castiel’s eyes had ever been so cold. “What is it you’re here for?” Dean asked, forcing his voice to remain steady. “More info on Purgatory? I thought, uh—I thought that was Cas’s job.”

Luke’s smile turned razor sharp. “I am here for your information, yes.” He took a step forward, and Dean tensed. Family or not, uniform or not, there was no mistaking the threatening undertones to the blond Alpha’s movement.

“What the hell is going on?” he hissed, getting defensive.

“Oh, you are a smart one, aren’t you?” Luke asked, sounding almost amused. “Cassie always picks perfectly.” His smirk suddenly turned nasty, more of a snarl than anything else. “I am here for your information, you little whore. Here to make sure you’re finished with it. For good.”

Dean was aware enough to go low when the Alpha reached for him. He kicked out at Luke’s knees, aiming right for the most vulnerable parts, but he was badly outmatched. Luke had high-tech armor and more years of assassin training than Dean had probably been alive. He dove out of the way and came up with a knife flashing in his hands, teeth bared in a snarl of rage.

Dean bared his teeth right back, using the element of Luke’s surprise to plan what he was going to do in a split second.

When the Alpha dove for him again, Dean swung at him. He managed to actually land a hit, which was surprising. Luke careened off course and slammed into Dean’s crappy cupboards, shattering one of them with a grunt. When he righted himself, his icy blue eyes were flashing red with Alpha rage.

Despite years of learning martial arts and going to therapy under Bobby’s supervision, nothing could quite fix Dean’s reaction to seeing real, true Alpha rage. It was something he’d learned early on from his father, something he and the scars on his back very intimately knew the consequences of.

He froze up for half a second, fear making his eyes go wide, and that was all the opening Luke needed.

He was on Dean in a second, straddling his shoulders and pinning his arms in a hold that Dean just knew he wasn’t going to be able to get out of. As hard as he tried to thrash, the impossibly heavy weight of a full-grown Alpha on top of him was too much.

Luke chuckled nastily and flicked out his knife, holding the frigid edge to Dean’s cheekbone. “Pretty Omega,” he crooned. “I wonder if Alastair will still want you if I cut your face to pieces.”

Dean bared his teeth at Luke. “You’re a fucking traitor,” he realized. “You betrayed Cas and the Angels.”

Luke shrugged, flipping the knife expertly through his fingers. “Was worth it, really. I’m tired of the religious, anal way the Angels are run.” He bared his teeth in a sickening imitation of a smile. “Besides, they don’t encourage the kind of fun I like to have.”

Pain flashed in a fiery line down Dean’s cheek and he yelped despite himself. The cut wasn’t deep, he could tell, but it could leave a scar and it definitely stung like a motherfucker. Hot blood ran down the side of his jaw and his temple. “You’re a sadistic bastard,” Dean hissed.

Luke laughed darkly. “Oh, I am, Dean-o. And I can’t wait for you to see just how much.”

He pulled out a rag and clamped it tight over Dean’s nose and mouth before the Omega could think to fight against it. Dean had just enough time to register a sweet-sour scent before the world was going dark and woozy, his eyelids slipping shut. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Luke’s grinning face, triumphant and darkly satisfied. Then Dean was being pulled over the edge into the abyss of unconsciousness, and he knew no more.

Chapter Text

Part Four

Castiel’s home was dark and silent when he returned from taking Dean back.

He stood in the empty kitchen for a moment, staring at the drying rack for his dishes, the garlic-mincer that Dean had showed him how to identify and use the night before. He looked at the fridge, which held the spaghetti and meatballs Dean had taught him how to make, laughing as Castiel somehow managed to get tomato sauce on his forehead.

Castiel smiled sadly at the empty, dark kitchen, then dragged himself to his bedroom. It wasn’t anywhere near a time when he was supposed to be in bed, but he didn’t really care. He felt lethargic and apathetic. His whole body felt slow and tired.

Castiel drew the curtains in his room and laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered Dean curled up in the blankets of his bed, searching for his scent. He thought of Dean curled up in his nest in the guest room, bee held tightly to his chest, hair fluffy and soft from taking a shower, cheekbones pinked with warmth, body relaxed and comfortable.

“Fuck,” Castiel cursed softly.

He laid in bed until the play of light got dark behind the curtains, until it was impossible to see anything but the dim outline of things in the dark. Castiel wasn’t hungry. He’d done absolutely nothing all day, save for think about Dean.

How the hell was he going to do this? He wasn’t even able to go out on a job. They were still in lockdown for another week or so. Without Dean to fill his days with laughter and excitement, what the hell was Castiel going to do?

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, the dim outlines of his room were gone and the only thing he could see was the red, glowing light of the numbers on his clock. 3:46 a.m.

Feeling disoriented and upset, Castiel pulled himself out of bed, yanking at his shirt aggressively as he did so. He didn’t feel very good. His skin itched, like he had a thousand insects running underneath his skin.

Stumbling a little as he exited his room, Castiel ducked out into the hallway and tossed his shirt to the ground, irritated by the feeling of the fabric on his skin. His pants went next, thrown somewhere in the hallway as Castiel staggered God-knew-where. He figured it out four seconds later when he yanked the door of the guest room open and found himself enveloped in the lingering scent of an Omega in heat. Not just any Omega, either. His Omega. His Dean.

Castiel stumbled over to the bed and fell into the nest, grunting in discomfort as he landed on Dean’s stuffed bee. The Omega had tucked it into the sheets before he’d left. Somehow, the adorable innocence of the action made Castiel simultaneously want to cry and scream at the same time. He settled for grabbing the bee and holding it tight to his chest, imagining it was a slender-waisted, broad-shouldered, green-eyed Omega instead.

Castiel burrowed into his covers, eyes squeezing shut.

It had felt almost physically painful to let Dean turn around and leave, to let him walk up the stairs of his apartment without looking back. Castiel knew he could go see the Omega at any time, would see him when he went to walk him home from Purgatory tomorrow, but it still physically hurt his chest to be distanced from Dean. If Castiel hadn’t already known they were soulmates, he would have suspected based solely on the intensity of his longing.

He drifted off to sleep again in the nest. The next time he woke up, the sun was peeking through the window of the bedroom. Castiel had somehow managed to toss Dean’s bee to the other side of the nest and was now cradling a pillow to his chest, which was admittedly more Omega-sized than a small stuffed animal.

Castiel sat up, feeling like shit. If he didn’t know that his rut was due in two months, he would have expected that to be the problem. He felt like death warmed over. His skin felt overheated and sensitive, like even the brush of soft fabric against it was irritating. He wanted to punch something badly, and he didn’t even know why he was so angry, which was making him even angrier.

With a huff, Castiel threw himself out of bed to stomp down to his training room.

Throwing knives and working out until his every muscle trembled turned out to be only a temporary fix. By the time Castiel had wobbled his way through a shower, he was already antsy and upset again, the normally long-lasting calming effects of pushing his body to its limits wearing off in a matter of minutes.

Castiel grumped back to the nest and angrily buried himself in pillows, scenting at the bedding for anything that smelled like Dean. The sweet scent of content, safe Omega was nearly gone.

Castiel laid in bed for another few hours, half of them spent wondering why the hell he felt so bad and wishing he could get up and actually do something, and the other half spent thinking of Dean. What was the Omega doing right now? It was late afternoon, so he was probably at work. Castiel felt a little better as he realized he’d be able to walk Dean home tonight. He was going to get to see Dean soon.

Leaving his apartment that night felt like a breath of fresh air. Castiel took the rooftops as his route, all too happy to stretch his legs a little. He found himself on the roof of a building opposite Purgatory at the end of his journey, his heart rate pleasantly fast. Castiel breathed in cool night air, kneeling on the edge of the roof he’d perched on so he could frown at the diner.

It looked... empty. More so than would be typical of a Saturday night. Castiel could see the lights on inside, but there were no cars around and no customers coming in and out. Odd.

Frowning, Castiel began to search for a pipe to shimmy down.

He landed in a puddle of rainwater on the concrete of the alley behind the building. Moving around to the front so he could spy on Purgatory better was easy work. Castiel frowned at the darkness of the ‘OPEN’ sign. They were... closed?

Maybe Dean would know what was happening.

Feeling slightly unsettled, Castiel took the short route to Dean’s apartment, becoming more relaxed as he got closer to the Omega’s home. The Alpha actually smiled a little as he scaled the wall, thinking of Dean’s face whenever he saw Castiel climb through the window. Ain’t you ever gonna use the front door like a normal person? Dean always asked.

Maybe someday.

Castiel heaved the window of Dean’s apartment up, frowning slightly. It was locked, which meant he had to pick it. He hadn’t had to pick Dean’s lock since the first few weeks they’d known each other. Maybe the Omega hadn’t been expecting him.

Castiel dropped into Dean’s apartment, boots quiet on the carpet.

He shut the window and glanced around, frowning at the dead silence. Even the ever-present noise of Dean’s neighbors seemed to be quieted, reduced to faint background noise.

Unsheathing a knife, Castiel stepped forward.

He moved through the hall to Dean’s bedroom, figuring the Omega might be asleep. But no, the bed was still made and Dean’s duffle bag—the one he’d taken to Castiel’s apartment—was still sitting on it, unpacked. Frowning even deeper, Castiel moved back to the kitchen, and that was where he saw it.

One of Dean’s bottom cupboards had been smashed open. The shards were cleaned up, accompanied by a sticky note pressed onto the board that read, ‘Call landlord.’ It would have looked exactly like an accident and a reminder, except for two things.

One, Dean’s handwriting wasn’t messy.

Two, the spice jars inside of the cupboard were still scattered and toppled over.

Feeling cold, Castiel looked over the apartment with a slightly different lens over his vision. He remembered the locked window, the unpacked duffel bag, the messy spice cabinet.

Purgatory.

Castiel turned and ran over to Dean’s window. He practically launched himself out of it, heart racing, and nearly toppled down the fire escape in his haste to get out and away.

He needed to find his brothers.

~>>>~

Gabriel had never seen Castiel so agitated before.

While Gabriel was a regular prankster and cared little for the emotional aftermath of his practical jokes, he had to admit that he cared about his little brother. And whoever had brought the blue-eyed Alpha practically to his knees with fear and anxiety was going to fucking pay.

Michael showed up four minutes after Gabriel did, all three of them standing on the rooftop Castiel had given them directions to. Well, two of them were standing. Castiel was pacing like a predator crammed into a tiny cage, and Gabriel was a little afraid of what would happen when he was released. He could just barely feel Mike’s disturbance beside him.

“What happened, Cassie?” Gabriel tried. He was tempted to reach out and just grab Castiel to stop him from moving, but he didn’t want his fingers broken.

“They took him,” Castiel snarled. When he turned, Gabriel saw the flash of Alpha red in the light of the moon. “They took Dean.”

“Who took Dean? Where?” Michael asked, calm and patient as ever.

“I don’t know,” Castiel spat. He came to a stop, standing with that deathly stillness only years of killing and hunting in the shadows could produce. “Someone took my Omega. He’s gone.”

Michael and Gabriel glanced at each other, both recognizing the possessive word in that sentence. “How do you know?” Michael settled on asking. Gabriel was grateful, because he’d been about to ask a different question, and he wasn’t quite sure it would have gone over so well.

“The window was locked,” Castiel snarled. “The duffel bag was unpacked. The handwriting was fucking messy, Dean has the neatest—”

“You’re making zero sense, here, Cassie,” Gabriel cut in, forcing himself to hold Castiel’s angry red gaze when the dark-haired Alpha whirled on him. “You gotta slow down and explain a little more.”

“Gabriel is right,” Michael agreed. “What’s the significance of those things you shared?”

“Dean never locks his window, not when he knows I might visit him,” Castiel snarled. “He would have unpacked his things immediately, I know he would have. And his handwriting is very neat. He never writes messy, not even when he’s in a hurry, it’s the most annoying thing—”

“How does that add up to someone taking him?” Michael interrupted, eyebrows rising. Gabriel had just been about to ask the same thing. In fact, the only reason he hadn’t was because he’d been busy processing the fact that Castiel and this Omega informant of his might be a lot closer than any of them had originally thought.

“The spice cabinet,” Castiel spat. “It was in disarray. Dean would never have left his spices like that, even if his apartment was burning down. The cabinet was broken.” He glared back at his two brothers. “Someone took him. I’m willing to bet Dean put up a fight and somehow managed to break the cabinet. He knew something was happening, he was trying to tell me he wasn’t just gone. He was fucking taken, and I’m going to get him back.”

Michael and Gabriel shared a glance. “That... sounds like a lot of speculation,” Michael finally said. At the low, rumbling snarl Castiel emitted, the oldest Novak held up his hands in an innocent gesture. “I don’t know the Omega as well as you do, Castiel, but it sounds like you could have misinterpreted a lot of things. What if he’s just on a grocery run?”

“He’s not,” Castiel hissed. “I know he’s not. Someone hurt him. Someone hurt my Omega.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said, cutting in before Michael could refute that statement and possibly get a knife in the thigh for his trouble. “Okay. Do you know who it might be?”

“The Demons,” Castel snarled. “Purgatory is closed, they would have—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Michael cut in. “That’s way more solid than any of the other stuff you’ve shared. Purgatory is closed? When? How?”

“I went there to walk Dean home from work, and the sign was off. There were no customers, but the lights were on,” Castiel said. “Something’s going on. Something big.”

“I’d say,” a familiar voice agreed. All three Angels whirled to see a familiar blond assassin smiling at them. Gabe felt his chest loosen slightly with relief.

“Luke,” Michael greeted. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Laying low, just like you suggested,” Luke said. He spread his hands apologetically. “Sorry about not sending you a message or anything. You know I’m bad at that.”

Michael snorted. “We d—”

“What do you know about Dean’s disappearance?” Castiel demanded, cutting through Michael’s sentence. Gabriel blinked at his little brother’s blatant rudeness. Castiel was typically the most polite of all of them, except maybe Anna. His lack of manners, even in the middle of a crisis, was telling.

“Too much, unfortunately,” Luke replied, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I saw that Purgatory was closed and was about to pay the kiddo a visit, but then I heard you demanding our presence and I knew. The Demons are planning something huge. I think if we get down there fast, though, we can get this sorted out before anyone else gets hurt.”

“Is Dean there?” Castiel asked.

“Almost definitely,” Luke replied, nodding. “Where else would they take him?”

Gabriel frowned, the echoes of an old memory suddenly flashing before him.

Are there snakes down there, Luke? You know I don’t like snakes.

There’s definitely no snakes, Raph. C’mon, you aren’t a scaredy cat, are you? Go down and look.

That’s mean, Luke.

Go look. There aren’t any, I know it for sure.

Will you be here?

‘Course. Where else would I be? Go on, Raph. Show Gabe you aren’t scared.

Raphael still had scars on his ankle from the snakes that had been in that ditch. They’d been young, but Gabriel remembered his brother’s screech of pain and fear when he’d been bitten. Luke had just laughed, delighted at the ‘prank’ he’d played on his sibling. It still chilled Gabriel’s blood to think of it.

Luke… was lying. Gabriel was suddenly sure of it.

Why the hell would Lucifer lie about something like this? He barely knew Dean, what did he stand to gain in any affairs regarding the Omega? Why would he lie? It made no sense. Maybe Gabriel was getting paranoid. There was no feasible reason for Luke to be lying right now. Gabe needed to actually trust his brother for once, like Mike was always saying.

Shaking his head at his internal conflict, he followed as Luke beckoned them in the direction of Purgatory. They had to save Castiel’s Omega, and potentially the future of their guild. There were lives on the line. This was no time to be doubting his brothers.

Still, Gabriel couldn’t help but feel uneasy as they leaped off the edge of the building and into the shadows.

Luke was sure of nothing unless he was lying.

~>>>~

Dean’s head ached whenever he so much as turned it.

The bright light overhead wasn’t helping, and if he’d been any less familiar with this place, he’d have guessed he was in some sort of underground torture facility. Unfortunately, he knew exactly where he was: The storage room in the back of Purgatory.

The boxes of food and ingredients had been moved elsewhere. The huge metal rack he was chained to was empty.

The Demons were smart, and unlike Luke, they knew not to underestimate Dean. They’d handcuffed both his arms separately so he couldn’t try to pick the locks on the metal cuffs. His arms were spread out and behind him in an uncomfortable ‘V’ that was attached to the massive steel racks that typically held food. Dean had tried to get free in the several hours he’d been here. He hadn’t succeeded in doing anything but bruising his wrists bloody and pulling painfully at his shoulders.

“Well,” Dean muttered to himself, “the culinary teachers are never gonna believe why I couldn’t do my homework.”

He yanked on the handcuffs again experimentally, then sat back with a sigh. He wasn’t doing anything but hurting himself. He was getting out when the Demons wanted him to, and not a second before.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait much longer.

The footsteps he heard right before the door opened weren’t ones he recognized, but the man they belonged to was. Dean felt a shudder of revulsion run down his spine at the leering gray eyes of Alastair Prince as he entered the storage room, keys in hand and nasty smirk in place.

“Hello, pretty,” he hissed.

Dean bared his teeth, grateful that at least he didn’t have to pretend to be polite in this situation. “Fuck you, dicksucker.”

Alastair raised his eyebrows. “Such a mouth on such a pretty Omega. That’s a shame.” He shrugged, dodging as Dean kicked out at him, and knelt next to the Omega faster than he could pull away. “No matter,” the gray-eyed Demon crooned. “That can be remedied. You don’t need a tongue for what I want to do to you, pretty.”

Dean felt nausea twist his insides. He worked up a ball of phlegm in his mouth, rallied his courage, and spat it right in the gray-eyed Alpha’s face. “Fuck you.”

Alastair reached up to slowly, deliberately wipe the spit off his face. When he looked at Dean again, the Omega could see flickers of red around his irises. He’d pissed the Alpha off, then. Good.

“Disobedient little slut, aren’t you?” Alastair hissed. “I could kill you right now, but my brother wouldn’t be very happy. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to have as much fun as I usually do with my toys.” He grabbed Dean’s face, and before the Omega could pull away, he felt a very familiar pressure on his throat. “I wonder what you’d look like with my name carved into your forehead, hmm? Or one of these precious things gone. Good thing they’re so pretty, or I’d have already carved one out.” Alastair grinned, tapping a thumb over Dean’s eyelid. The Omega shuddered.

“What’s with you and carving body parts off?” Dean gritted out. “Don’t you have another gimmick? I ain’t really gettin’ my money’s worth right now, man. This is fucking boring.”

Alastair grinned. “I did tell you I liked them fiery. You’re going to be perfect.”

“Alastair!” a familiar voice shouted from somewhere beyond the door. “Bring the Omega. Lucifer has returned.”

Alastair grinned at Dean. “Soon as we gut your Alpha and his friends, we can come back and have some fun,” he promised.

Dean pretended to be docile as the Alpha reached up to unlock his chains, only really struggling to keep up appearances. His mind was going a mile a minute, struggling to come up with a plan for escape. Castiel was coming here? It was a trap. It had to be a trap. Castiel was in danger.

He panicked, thrashing a little in Alastair’s hold, and felt a shudder of revulsion go down his spine as the Alpha curled a hand around the back of his neck, something that—despite the circumstances—had his inner Omega quailing. Damn his instincts. Damn his biology, too. Dean growled and flung his head back, connecting it painfully with Alastair’s collarbone.

The Alpha jostled him roughly. “Behave, you little bitch, or your Alpha’s going to have to watch me cut off a few fingers before he dies.” There was a pause, in which Dean was shoved roughly around the corner toward the main dining space of Purgatory. “That, or I’ll cut off his fingers, and make you watch.”

Dean didn’t struggle after that.

Instead of being taken straight to the dining room, Dean was pulled into Azazel’s office. His eyes widened at the group of men standing inside, all Alphas save for a singular Beta who had bigger shoulders than most of the guys in the room. Azazel, Dean’s boss, grinned at him as he and Alastair entered. “Hello, Dean Winchester. Long time no see,” the yellow-eyed Alpha greeted.

“Fucker,” Dean spat, clenching his hands to stop them from trembling. He could feel the weight of all those heavy Alpha gazes, some of them more interested than others. He bared his teeth at them all, glaring with hatred in his eyes as he turned back to his boss. “You fucking motherfucker.”

“So impolite. What are they teaching Omegas in school these days?” The yellow-eyed Alpha shook his head. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re gagging you,” Azazel mused. He signaled for one of the Alphas to step forward, a dirty piece of cloth in his hands.

Dean bared his teeth, attempting to snap at the man, which earned him a jostle from Alastair. “Behave, cunt,” the Alpha snarled.

Dean settled for just a moment, opened his mouth like a good bitch, then clamped down as hard as he could on the Alpha’s fingers the moment they were in range. The man holding the gag howled, sweet-sour blood bursting in Dean’s mouth. He held on, even as Alastair’s grip turned bruising and he was yanked away.

The punch came too fast for him to register. It knocked him to the ground and was soon followed by a kick that ripped the breath from his lungs. Dean groaned and curled into a ball on the floor, protecting the softest parts of his torso. He knew this game. He’d been in this position many times before, only it had been with his father standing over him instead of a group of random Alphas. He wasn’t sure which was more terrifying.

The kicking didn’t continue, thank God, but Dean was roughly heaved to his feet soon after. He was still fighting to get oxygen back into his aching chest, so the Alpha with the gag had no trouble wrenching his mouth open and shoving the cloth inside. He tied it painfully tight behind Dean’s head, slapping Dean hard for good measure. “Fucking bitch,” the Alpha with the bleeding hand snarled.

The group laughed and jeered. Dean, eyes watering with pain from being slapped, snarled at all of them as best he could around the gag.

“Settle down, boys. We still have some Angels to slaughter,” Azazel said once the laughter had died a little. “C’mon, Asmodeus. You’re blocking the way.”

He nodded at a white-clad Demon standing in front of the massive file cabinet that took up most of the right wall. There was some shuffling as the Alphas in the room moved around, trying to get away from the cabinet, and then Azazel was pulling open a cabinet drawer and doing something inside of it.

Dean’s eyes widened as the cabinet slid back and then to the side, silent as a ghost. Who knew the stupid office Azazel had sat in for the entire two years Dean had been here actually had a secret entrance? Dean could only stumble as he was shoved forward, out of the office and into the dirty passage beyond.

The gag in his mouth tasted muddy and gritty, which was disgusting when mixed with the aftertaste of that Alpha’s blood. The scent in the passage was earthy and damp, the way lit by naked bulbs strung together by thick wires. Dean stumbled on the uneven ground, wincing at Alastair’s bruising grip on his arms.

Azazel and the white-suited Demon led the way down the secret passage, Dean and Alastair right behind. The rest of the Demons followed, if the tromping footsteps were anything to go by. Dean silently prayed they weren’t going where he thought they were, but he remembered having a conversation with Castiel a month or so before his heat had hit. The sewers, the Alpha had said. The sewers could be the location of some secret base we have yet to gain intel on.

Dean sincerely hoped not, but as the walls began to change from dirt to muddy tile, he couldn’t deny that he knew where they were headed.

He stumbled when Alastair shoved him particularly hard, nearly falling right into a puddle of God-knew-what because of the way his hands were bound behind his back. He growled at the skinny Alpha, nose wrinkling in a snarl at Alastair’s chuckle of amusement.

They continued walking until Dean heard the echoes of their footsteps fading, indicating they were entering a larger space. True to his intuition, they entered a massive, tiled chamber soon after, the walls lined with many different drainpipes that looked big enough for Dean to fit into. A mostly-dry canal led through the center of the chamber, sewage floating sluggishly at an ankle-deep level.

It was lit in here too, lightbulbs stacked with crates in various places. Dean’s eyes widened at the familiar plastic packaging of illegal drugs. There was a lot of stuff down here. And if the four Angels standing on the opposite end of the room were any indication, this wasn’t even the half of it. The Demons weren’t stupid enough to reveal their full supply to the heads of the opposing gang.

Because that was who was here.

Dean recognized the tall, dark-haired Alpha first. He looked a lot like Castiel, actually, but his face was different and his eyes were harder. He was taller and slimmer, too, missing the thick muscle of Dean’s Alpha.

Castiel was standing right behind his brother, angry and practically vibrating with that quiet rage Dean had only seen once or twice. It scared him, while still making him feel unbelievably safe. Castiel was here. He was here. For the moment, everything was cautiously okay.

There was a very short assassin standing on the other side of Michael. He didn’t bear much resemblance to any of his brothers, save for the last one, at whom Dean narrowed his eyes.

Luke was standing right beside Castiel, a look of concern and quiet anger on his face. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say the fourth and final Novak brother looked like he was completely on board with this plan. Luke was a fucking traitor, though, and Dean realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that Castiel and his brothers didn’t know it.

“Hello, Angels,” Azazel greeted, throwing his arms wide. The Demons made a semi-circle behind him, Dean and Alastair in the middle. He only then realized that he probably looked like shit, his face cut open from Luke’s knife and bruised from the hits he’d taken in the office. His clothes were probably a mess too, dirty and full of various rips and tears. He tried his best to smile around the gag at Castiel, but the fury in the Alpha’s gaze told him he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“You have obviously been expecting us,” the blue-eyed Alpha, Michael said, eyes hard. “We’re here. What do you want?”

“I want to cut off your heads and drink whiskey from the cavity of your skulls, but that isn’t going to happen,” Azazel said. He grinned. “At least, not now.”

“What do you need with the Omega? He’s innocent and useless in this situation,” the golden-haired assassin said. Dean would have normally bristled at being called useless and innocent, but in this case, he was fine with it if it meant he could get out of here. The charged tension of so many on-edge Alphas in the room was making him antsy. Dagon, too. He’d just noticed the fiery female Beta off in the corner of his eye, and he didn’t like the look of the barbed bat she was holding.

“Oh, Dean?” Azazel asked, looking back at Dean. His yellow eyes glinted wickedly. “No, he’s perfect in this situation. Great for making sure you behave yourselves.” Azazel made a flicking motion with his hand.

Alastair kicked out at Dean’s knees, sending him crashing to the ground with a pained grunt. His hair was immediately grabbed and practically ripped from his head as he was forced into a strained kneeling position, knees aching from where they’d collided with the hard sewer tile. Castiel hadn’t moved, but Dean could see his enraged red eyes from all the way across the chamber.

“Let’s play a little game,” Alastair said, nasally voice echoing. “You’re going to comply with our demands. Every time you don’t, Dean-o here loses a finger.”

He reached down to grab at Dean’s wrist, and Dean heard the jangle of keys before he really understood what was going on. They were... They were freeing his hands?

Fucking idiots.

The second Dean could feel cool air around his wrists, he slammed his head backward, grunting in pain as it connected firmly with Alastair’s. The Demon howled in pain and fell backward, toppling into one of his friends. Dean scrambled, kicking out at one of the Demons that reached for him, and went backward instead of forward. They’d all been expecting him to run for Castiel, so he met virtually no resistance as he landed on top of Alastair.

Grabbing the gun out of the Alpha’s hip holster, Dean rammed the slide back and chambered a round, raising the barrel to aim it right at Azazel’s skull. Immediately, at least six other gun barrels were pointed at his own chest.

His former boss’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Impressive. I always knew you had some fight in you, Winchester. Unfortunately, that little display wasn’t—”

Dean whirled around the second he felt the displacement of air behind him and aimed down at the last second, firing right into Alastair’s left kneecap. The Alpha had been rising in an attempt to tackle Dean and regain control of the gun, but the moment the Omega fired, he went down with an agonized screech that rang throughout the chamber. Dean felt an intense wave of nausea roll through him at the sound, so powerful he almost bent over and vomited.

He barely managed a weak snarl at the Alpha currently writhing in agony on the ground, blown-out knee spitting blood all over the tile.

When Dean looked back at Azazel, the yellow-eyed Alpha’s eyes had hardened. “Drop the gun, Omega.”

Instead of answering, Dean lifted his chin in a physical show of defiance. Then, slowly and deliberately, he swiveled and pointed the gun past the line of defensive Demons, past Azazel, past Asmodeus.

Dean’s gun barrel came to a stop pointing just to the left of Castiel, right over his shoulder, where his blond older brother was watching the proceedings with unreadable blue eyes.

Those icy eyes widened as Dean’s gun came to a stop pointing at him. He could feel the surprise of everyone in the room like a physical weight, could see the Angels turn and stare at their brother in shock out of the corner of his eye.

Around the gag, Dean snarled and rammed the slide back.

With a soft click, the second round chambered.

~>>>~

Castiel had slipped a veil over his emotions, a glass wall through which he could see them but not feel them. It was a method he’d perfected over years of doing things that made him wake up screaming days, weeks, months later. It was a coping mechanism, if anything, and it was something he observed almost distantly as he realized that Dean was pointing his gun at Luke.

Surprise, shock, twisting disbelief. They all whirled around the maelstrom of anger and rage and fear that he’d been holding at a distance, that he’d been saving for after this encounter. And the intensity of those emotions almost threatened to shatter that wall completely.

Gabriel’s gun registered first, clicking softly in the tense silence of the room.

Castiel was shocked to see that his Omega brother was mimicking Dean’s direction, was pointing the barrel of his customized, pink-highlighted .45 at the very brother who had encouraged him to color it. Luke blinked at Gabriel with wide eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” the second-oldest Novak demanded, the first word anyone had spoken since Azazel had demanded Dean drop the gun.

“Gabe,” Michael said hesitantly, voice tight with fear and uncertainty. It was the most emotion Castiel had ever heard him show on a job, which made sense. There were now two guns being pointed at his twin brother.

“I had a bad feeling about this from the start,” Gabriel said, not taking his eyes off of Luke. “Why the hell would it be so easy to come down here? How did you just figure out where the secret entrance was? Why was Dean offered up on a silver platter? Why was it so fucking obvious? Because it was supposed to be.” He raised the gun slightly, eyebrows dipping in an expression of betrayal. “You’re a traitor.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Luke demanded, eyes still wide. “You’re basing this off whatever the hell that Omega’s doing—”

“Dean is sharp and has proven himself reliable,” Gabriel growled.

“Gabe, I’m your brother—”

“Exactly. And that’s how I know when you’re lying.” To Castiel’s shock, he could see real tears in Gabriel’s eyes, tears he didn’t think he’d ever seen in his jokester of an older brother, even when their father had been hit by a train. Gabriel... he really believed this.

“Gabe—” Michael started, voice trembling with an undercurrent of fear now.

“Might as well give it up, Novak,” Azazel said from the other side of the small sewage canal. “The slut ruined our fun.”

Castiel could practically hear Michael’s heart shattering, though how that was possible through the roaring in his ears, he had no idea. He watched as if from a distance as Luke dropped his defensive posture and traded his look of shock and pleading for one of smug confidence. “Shame, too,” he called back. “I was having a blast.”

He pulled out two guns of his own and leveled one at Gabe, then the other at Castiel.

“Luke, you...” Michael’s voice was soft, softer than Castiel had ever heard it. He cringed at the vile smirk Luke sent to his older twin.

“’Course I did, Mikey. You didn’t really think I’d let you run this shit after Daddy died, did you? I’m sick and tired of being second,” Lucifer hissed. “At least with the Demons, my talents are appreciated.”

“You kidnapped Dean,” Castiel realized, reading into the look in his Omega’s eyes. “That’s how he knew you were the traitor.”

“Not the best part of our plan, I’ll admit.” Luke shrugged. “He’s smarter than I gave him credit for. I underestimated him. Won’t happen again. But it doesn’t change the fact that yes, I did. And I have to say, I’m pretty proud of it.” He winked at Castiel. “Fiery one you got there, Cassie. He’ll look real pretty with Alastair’s marks all over his face.”

Castiel snarled, enraged at what his brother had said, sick at the nickname that he’d associated with so many childhood memories. Luke had invented ‘Cassie.’ Despite Castiel’s hatred of the name, he couldn’t help but feel physically nauseous at the use of it now.

“Why would you do this?” he demanded, frantically trying to work through how they were going to get through this. There were at least seven or eight Demons on the other side of that canal, and with Luke a traitor, they were badly outnumbered.

“I’m sick and tired of the bullshit at headquarters,” Luke snarled. “I’m sick and tired of being second, of being forgotten about. I’m tired of having to pander to the weak because Father couldn’t stand to get his hands a little dirty.” He bared his teeth at his three brothers, a sickening imitation of a smile. “You should’ve seen Gadreel’s face when I revealed who I was. That was what broke him. Not any amount of starvation, or agony, or—”

A gunshot rang out, startling Castiel so badly he had his knife in his hand before he even knew what was happening. Luke’s face had sort of frozen, but as Castiel watched, it slowly slipped into an expression of disbelief.

They all looked down at the crimson hole in the blond Alpha’s chest, then at the smoking, shaking barrel of Michael’s gun. The dark-haired Alpha had tears streaming down his face, his arms shaking so badly it was a miracle he’d been able to aim at all.

Luke fell backward onto the tile and didn’t move again.

For a moment, only dead silence reigned. Then Azazel kicked at a rock, sending it skittering into the canal. “Shame,” he said, shrugging. “That’s over. Time for the main event.”

Castiel saw him reaching for his gun, but before he could do so much as unholster it, another gunshot rang out. Everyone flinched. Only years of training allowed Castiel to recover and use the distraction to pull out his own two pistols and fire.

He knew, of course, that it was incredibly dangerous to shoot over at the Demons. Dean could get hurt, could get caught in the crossfire. One look at the other side of the canal was all Castiel needed, though, to know that his Omega was still one step ahead of all of them. He must have fired at the ceiling to create a distraction, then flattened himself to the ground once he realized the shooting was going to start. It was genius, but it was something that Castiel would have to focus on later.

At the moment, he had to duck out of the way as return bullets began to ring past, flashing and zipping through the air around them. A flash of pain arced up Castiel’s left bicep, signaling that he’d probably gotten nicked. He ducked and rolled, coming up behind a crate of what must have been several hundred pounds of cocaine. He’d never been more grateful for the density of all that powder than he was now.

Gunshots rang and ricocheted throughout the sewer cavern. Castiel could hear the shouts of Demons, the sounds of bodies hitting the floor. Somewhere near him, he could hear Gabriel cursing repeatedly as he loaded another magazine into his gun.

Peering around the crate was more dangerous than Castiel anticipated. He managed to get a few shots off, then realized he was about to get his head blown off and ducked back behind cover.

A series of very rapid gunshots fired, one after the other, and then everything was silent.

For a moment, Castiel could do nothing but crouch where he was, waiting with a pounding heart for more shots to ring out.

“They’re all dead,” a flat, familiar voice said.

Castiel poked his head out cautiously, eyes widening as he realized Michael had stood and simply started firing. “Mike, you could have died,” Gabe grunted, echoing Castiel’s thoughts as they both stood to eye the carnage on the other side of the canal.

The bleak, emotionless expression on Castiel’s oldest brother’s face had his gut sinking. He shared a glance with Gabriel, concerned for his brother. The other Angel looked back at him and shook his head slightly, a reassurance that they’d fix this later.

That was all Castiel needed. He tossed his gun aside and sprinted across the chamber, leaping over the canal in a single massive jump.

The tile on the other side was slick with blood, the canal running crimson with the lifeblood of the bodies laying across the other side of the chamber. And among them all...

Dean had flattened himself belly-down to the tile, his hands clamped tight on his ears, eyes squeezed shut. Castiel’s knees gave out as he reached him. He was filled with relief so strong it was almost sickening as it flooded through his entire body. “Dean,” he choked out. “Dean, look at me. Dean.” Castiel reached out and gently pulled at the gag to untie it, then immediately flung himself backward as the Omega lashed out.

“Get… Get the fuck off me!” Dean shouted, spitting the gag out of his mouth. “Leave me alone, get... get off.” Dean’s eyes widened as he realized who was kneeling in front of him, filling with heartbreaking tears just a few seconds after. “C-Cas?”

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Castiel whispered, holding his arms out. “It’s okay.”

Dean nearly bowled him over, his entire body shaking with how badly he was trembling. His arms wrapped like steel bands around Castiel’s torso, the Omega clinging on with a sort of desperate fear that was both heartbreaking and relieving at the same time. Castiel wrapped one arm around the slimmest part of Dean’s waist, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of the Omega’s head in an instinctively protective gesture.

Dean sobbed into his shoulder, Castiel echoing him quietly, eyes squeezed shut, face pressed into the Omega’s hair. It was matted with blood and dirt, as messy as the rest of him, but it was there and he was alive. That was all Castiel could ask for. That was all he needed.

Later, he could worry about his robot of a brother, or about the dead body of his other sibling. He could worry about the limp, unconscious-but-still-breathing form of the Alpha who had tortured his soulmate later. He could clean up this carnage later, could take care of his bullet graze later, could wash the blood from his hands and mourn the dead later.

Dean was here with him right now, and that was all that mattered.

~>>>~

Catching a taxi was out of the question, seeing as they were all covered in blood. They ended up traveling through the back alleys of the city, sticking to the darkest shadows so no one would ask questions. Michael picked the lock on the back door of Castiel’s apartment building and they all made the long, long trek up the stairs to Castiel’s penthouse apartment. By the time they reached the top, Dean’s breath was sawing in his throat and his legs were trembling and weak.

Castiel shoved the door to his home open bodily, practically falling through it. They all staggered into it and promptly collapsed on the nearest surface they could find—Michael on the armchair, Castiel on the couch, Dean right on top of Castiel, and Gabe on the floor.

For a moment, there was silence, only the soft sounds of them all catching their breath.

“I stink of blood,” Michael finally said. He sounded almost normal, save for that tiny break in his words that Dean couldn’t help but catch. He looked up with the other two to stare at the oldest Novak. Michael was picking mournfully at his armor, which was beginning to flake with dried blood. “How many showers do you have, Castiel?”

“Just two,” Castiel replied tiredly. “You’re welcome to the one in the master. Your clothes are still in the guest section of the closet.”

Michael didn’t reply, just grunted gratefully and heaved himself up, limping off in the direction of Castiel’s bathroom. Dean watched him go, noting the curl of his shoulders and the angle of his hanging head.

“He’s going to take a while to get over that one,” Gabriel said as they heard the click of Castiel’s door shutting. Castiel sighed, shifting slightly so he could sit up more. He immediately put an arm around Dean to keep him from pulling away, his hand a heavy, comforting presence on the Omega’s shoulder.

“I know,” Castiel said quietly. “I wish... God, Gabe, I wish he’d never had to.”

“He had to,” Gabriel said, something steely in his words. Castiel didn’t argue, just nodded tiredly.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to remember what had happened down in that chamber. His jeans were still sticky with the spew of Alastair’s blood. God, the scream the Alpha had emitted when Dean had shot him—

“Dean, look at me,” Castiel ordered. Dean blinked his eyes open blearily, somehow unsurprised to learn that he’d started trembling again. Castiel’s face was unreadable, but his eyes were ever-patient and gentle. His voice was soft but firm when he said, “Let’s see if we can get something to eat, alright?”

Dean nodded numbly, allowing Castiel to pull him up and off the couch. Gabriel watched them leave from his position on the floor, something soft and sad on his face.

Dean felt better when they’d reached the kitchen, when he had an array of food in front of him to try to figure out how to put together. Food. He could make food. He could... he could make sandwiches.

Castiel was quiet as he watched Dean move around the kitchen, simply a solid, comforting presence in the entryway. The Alpha didn’t react as Dean pulled out all the ingredients for sandwiches, but Dean didn’t mind. He got to work, going through the old, familiar motions of creating something for people he cared about. Food fixed a lot of things. Food didn’t fix everything, but it was better than nothing. And a ham and mustard and mayo and lettuce sandwich was a good start.

By the time Michael had returned from Castiel’s bathroom, hair damp from his shower and his shoulders hidden in a large hoodie that Dean realized was probably Luke’s, the sandwiches were done.

The Omega quietly served one to the oldest Novak, who took it with a small, flat smile and a ruffle of Dean’s hair. Gabriel thanked him from his position on the floor, quiet and subdued. Dean retreated to the couch with his own sandwich and curled into the comforting warmth of his Alpha’s side. Castiel immediately wrapped an arm around him and held him close, kissing his temple lightly.

“I’m going to go back down later with some of the senior Angels to see if we can’t get the mess cleaned up before someone realizes the loud gun noises were coming from the sewers,” Gabriel said, breaking the silence. “We’ll dispose of the bodies.”

“Where?” Michael asked, voice breaking on that single word.

“Same place we always do,” Gabe replied. He hesitated, then said, “We can burn Luke.”

Michael flinched.

“We’ll let his ashes go over the river,” Castiel said quietly, “like we did with Dad.”

“Perfect,” Michael choked out, voice brittle and paper-thin. “Fucking perfect.” He put down his half-eaten sandwich and left the room without another word.

~>>>~

Dean wasn’t really sure how, but he ended up in the shower with Castiel sometime later. Michael and Gabriel said goodbye, each with a ruffle of Dean’s hair and a short, one-armed hug for both him and Castiel. The dark-haired Alpha was brief in his goodbyes, but Dean could tell they would be talking more in the coming days. It made him sad to see such grief on his Alpha’s face.

Castiel pulled off his armor. Dean helped him clean and stitch the bullet graze on his shoulder, whining only a little when his Alpha flinched in pain. Castiel was quick to rumble soothingly, calming Dean’s volatile instincts, but the damage was done. Dean felt raw and vulnerable, like even the smallest thing could set him off. He was also fucking exhausted.

Castiel cleaned his face gently, pinning a soft bandage over the cut on Dean’s cheek. He taped some sort of waterproof patch over it, then led Dean into the warm spray of a shower.

Dean was too exhausted to care that they were both naked. He pressed himself against his Alpha’s bare chest, relishing the miles of warm, soft skin he was being given access to. The water washed away the blockers Castiel was wearing, allowing his scent to fill the bathroom. The combined smells of protective Alpha and tired, hurt Omega made Dean a little dizzy. He leaned on Castiel for support, too exhausted to feel ashamed for being so needy.

Castiel washed his hair gently, and Dean pressed up against him to scent at his neck as the Alpha ran a soapy washcloth over them both. Once the smell of blood and the sewers had been washed off both of them, Castiel turned the water off and helped Dean out of the shower.

Dean lost time between getting dried off and climbing into bed. His whole body ached and his face throbbed, but everything felt better when he realized that it was Castiel’s bed he was climbing into. The sheets smelled of the Alpha, though there was a distinctly sad tang to them that made Dean whine pitifully. Castiel was quick to pull him close, replacing the sad, dejected scent with the scent of protective, comforting Alpha.

The bee was pressed into Dean’s arms. He squeezed it without thinking, tucking himself up close to Castiel’s warm chest gratefully. He sighed in relief as the Alpha’s warm arms came up to hold him a few minutes later, communicating to his inner Omega that they really were safe.

Dean must have drifted off, because when he woke up again, there was early dawn light streaming through the window. He was lying on his side, facing Castiel. His face was tucked into the space between the Alpha’s neck and collarbone, arms wrapped around the Alpha’s waist. One of Castiel’s arms was wrapped around his body, the other rested on his side, the Alpha’s right hand warm and electric on Dean’s left shoulder.

Dean looked up at Castiel’s soft blue eyes, feeling something catch in his throat. “So it is yours,” he whispered into the dim morning light.

Castiel smiled sadly, thumb leaving the perfect outline of his handprint to stroke the soft, unmarred skin of Dean’s shoulder. “It’s mine.”

“How long have you known?” Dean asked, not taking his eyes off Castiel’s face.

“For a while,” the Alpha admitted, confirming Dean’s suspicions. “I figured it out the first day of your stay with me when you had your heat. I... I never worked up the courage to tell you.” Castiel looked at him, something soft and insecure in his blue gaze. “How long have you known?”

“I suspected,” Dean replied quietly. “Didn’t know ‘til just now.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel whispered, and Dean didn’t know if he was apologizing for not telling him or for just being. He had a bad feeling it was the latter.

He released the Alpha slowly and hurried to cover the hand on his mark when Castiel tried to pull away. Dean pressed Castiel’s hand into his own skin, looking up at the Alpha’s blue eyes. “I ain’t sorry,” he whispered, feeling the pull of his bandages when he gave Castiel a little smile. “I’m lucky I get an Alpha like you. Better you than anyone else.”

Castiel clenched his jaw, obviously fighting back something, and drew Dean close to him. His hand remained firmly on the mark on Dean’s shoulder, the mark he’d been given months ago. “I love you,” Castiel murmured into Dean’s hair.

Dean huffed a soft laugh against Castiel’s collarbone. “Love you too, Cas.” He hesitated, recalling a thought from last night, then laughed again. “I’m glad I made you that sandwich.”

Castiel’s chest rumbled with his laughter. He finally moved his hand from Dean’s shoulder so he could squeeze the Omega against his chest better. Against the soft tangle of Dean’s hair, the Alpha whispered, “Me too.”

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Castiel was wearing his knives again.

Dean could feel them underneath the soft sleeves of the Alpha’s suit jacket. As he swayed slowly with him on the dancefloor, he looked into Castiel’s blue eyes and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Castiel murmured, almost as if it was something to be ashamed of. Dean squeezed his hands gently to convey that he understood, that he didn’t care, that his Alpha was loved. They both had bad days. Sometimes Dean woke up screaming. Sometimes Castiel begged his brother for forgiveness in his sleep. Sometimes Dean needed to make a ham sandwich and sit with Castiel at three in the morning, eating silently. Sometimes, Castiel needed to strap on knife sheaths he hadn’t used in years just to feel like he and Dean were safe.

Castiel twirled Dean gently, smiling as his Omega returned to his arms. Dean moved his hands to their places on Castiel’s shoulder and forearm, glancing over at where his brother and his bride were dancing. “Jess looks beautiful.”

“Mmm, yes. And Sam is very handsome. I’m glad you convinced him to go with the tie instead of the bow,” Castiel said. He gave a soft smile. “He looks very happy.”

“He sure does,” Dean agreed, smiling as he caught his little brother’s eye. Sam gave him a brilliant grin in response, then returned his attention to his beautiful bride. Jess, her blond hair curled and twisted up like a princess, laughed brightly at something he said.

“You’re very warm,” Castiel remarked as they danced past another couple. “Your heat is due in a week or two, yes?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. He grinned, giving Castiel a flirty wink. “Gonna mate me, Alpha?”

“This is not a discussion we should be having at your brother’s wedding,” Castiel grumbled, a hint of underlying growl in his voice. Dean just laughed and twirled away as the music rose and fell, soft and beautiful around them. As he came back, he caught the intensity in Castiel’s blue eyes. “Yes, I think I will.”

Dean smiled. “I can’t wait.” There was no trace of flirtatiousness in his tone. He was dead serious.

The thought of spending the rest of his life with Castiel was nothing but magnetic. Dean woke up next to him every day and went to sleep beside him every night, and it was the only thing he needed to be happy. He didn’t even need a fancy job at a fancy restaurant, working as an executive chef under some of the best in the world, though that was definitely a perk of moving down to Palo Alto. Having Castiel all to himself, happy and safe and working a normal job in the city, was another plus.

But Dean... Dean would be fine with just being with his Alpha, wherever that was. He was just happy he had Castiel.

The Alpha smiled, as if he could tell what was going through Dean’s head. He kissed him discreetly on the forehead as he went to spin Dean again, laughing at the goofy smile on the Omega’s face. They danced for a while longer, enjoying the wedding and the happiness of the people around them.

In a few months, they announced their own mating, and by the time the year was out, they’d gotten married just like Sam and Jess. Pups, at the moment, were off the table until they settled down a little more, but they remained a possibility. Dean loved it in California, since he could see Sam and Jess and be in the sun at all hours of the day. Castiel loved to see the freckles Dean got because of all the sunlight, so that was a plus too.

Castiel’s brothers visited sometimes, appearing sometime in the night to spend time with the pair for a few days before returning to where the Angels ran Lawrence uncontested. Michael and Castiel, thankfully, had learned to use the front door, but Gabriel still sometimes broke in through the window. They’d learned to just keep it unlocked.

And somehow, there was always ham, lettuce, mayonnaise, bread, and mustard in the fridge, perfect for whenever Dean had to make a sandwich. Of course, he’d never have to worry about an assassin breaking into his apartment ever again, would never again have to shakily keep a conversation going and pray that the Alpha with the gun pointed at his head wouldn’t pull the trigger. That Alpha had given up guns and triggers and breaking into apartments for good. He’d found something far more worthy of living for.

The sandwiches remained, though.

Just because.

The End.