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Castiel shuddered as another wave of whatever the hell type of spell it was flayed his body in a rush of agonizing fire. He ruthlessly suppressed the resulting swell of rage, refusing to succumb to the spell’s demands.
When he finally felt it was safe to open his eyes, his bleary vision was filled with green. Which was confusing, all things considered. After a few blinks to clear the residual haze, he was able to take in the rest of what he was observing; the very familiar face to which that particular shade of green exclusively belonged to.
Dean crouched at his side; waiting cautiously until the Angel was through the worst of the convulsions before leaning in and gingerly sliding the fallen blanket back over his shoulders.
Intellectually, Dean knew the damn blanket was completely useless, but it gave his hands something to do. Anyway, it was the act that mattered. He needed Cas to remember that he had people here who cared about him. It wasn’t much, but they currently had fuckall better to offer.
Sliding back in his chair across the map table, Dean glanced over to his younger brother. Sensing his brother’s attention, Sam paused in his work to look up from the glow of the laptop screen, a micro-shake of his head telling Dean he hadn’t found anything new.
Yet. They’d found nothing yet. They would. They always did. It was just a matter of price. And one way or another they’d pay it. Dean just hoped it would be his burden this time instead of Sam’s. His little brother needed a break from the shit show.
Castiel took several slow deep breaths, blowing his exhales out through his nose like an agitated horse. A few moments later he stilled, sagging in his chair. The calm didn't last. Not even a minute later, his upper body stiffened and he turned his head focus on Dean. The Angel's gaze sharpened, focusing with a disturbing intensity as he stared fixedly at the Hunter.
Dean went still, narrowing his eyes as he matched the Angel stare for stare. This was new. Even for Cas, that was an unnerving degree of focus. Definitely weird, but there was something oddly familiar in that particular gaze. It was a new look on Cas, sure, but Dean had been on the receiving end of that particular brand of intent plenty of times before.
Dean clenched his fists under the table. No fucking way. The universe would not do this to him. But what was he thinking; he was a fucking Winchester. Of course it would.
Well, at least there was a simple way to find out if his hunch was right. No fancy spells or super secret decoder ring necessary. Dean scooted his chair up close to where Cas was tethered. Time to test a theory.
He leaned in slowly, deliberately invading Cas’ personal space. Absently, Dean noted the previously steady sound of clacking keys falter and knew Sam was watching. No matter. If his theory were correct, Sam would know soon enough.
Sliding up until he was mere inches away, Dean made sure to hold Castiel's gaze while taking a deep, deliberate inhalation. Cas’ pupils instantly dilated and his entire body grew taut in response to being scented, confirming what Dean’s heavily suppressed second nature had been trying to tell him at him all along.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. He leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily.
“What?” Sam asked, clearly confused and unhappy about the fact.
Sam was accustomed to being the smartest person in the room; it grated him when he didn’t understand what was happening. Dean was fine with that. He’d never been anything but proud of his brother’s intellect. Well, occasionally annoyed, but mostly proud.
But this wasn’t something Sam would ever be able understand, not really. He couldn’t. It was a matter of simple genetics. Some folk had it and some… did not. And Sam was mercifully out of that particular loop.
“Dean. What is it?” Sam asked again.
Dean rubbed at his eyes. “That damned mad dog spell of Rowena’s. I think I get it. What it really does. Cas isn’t rabid, or going crazy, or any of that shit.”
“Then what is happening?” Sam repeated, his frustration showing.
Dean, really, really didn’t want to answer that question. “I think he's about to go into rut,” he admitted finally.
“What?” Cas and Sam both asked, nearly in tandem. It was almost comical.
“Angel’s don’t have second natures,” Sam argued.
That was true; Angels did not. But roughly a quarter of the human population was estimated to possess a dual nature: Alpha, beta, or omega.
Actually, it was quite a bit more than a quarter, but norms couldn’t naturally detect when another person had a secondary nature. And thanks to a whole fuck-ton of bias, most duals chose to stay firmly in the closet. But there was no hormone or special spray to hide them from each other. A dual always recognized another dual.
“Angels don’t,” Dean agreed with Sam’s assertion, his reluctance to even speak on the topic obvious. “But Jimmy Novak did. And he was an Alpha.”
“You’re kidding me,” Sam replied incredulously. “Jimmy. An alpha?”
Dean scowled. And that right there was the problem with nulls. They didn’t have the first clue about how to read a dual’s secondary nature. All they saw was the outer crap. Surface characteristics were the least of the signs.
Jimmy Novak may not be a giant, aggressive, testosterone-ridden Alpha. No. He was the better kind. A natural protector. The kind that made the tough choices in order to look after their own.
“I know he didn’t seem the type, but trust me, he was an Alpha.” Dean firmly told Sam in his ‘don’t argue with me on this’ tone. Sam quit arguing, accepting Dean’s verdict. Because Dean would know. Duals always did.
Sam took after their father, no matter how much he might try to deny it. And John Winchester had been a norm through and through.
Dean took after their mother. Like her father before her, she’d been born with a secondary nature, though ‘lone-wolf’ was an extremely rare sub-designation. Dean could only wish he’d picked up that share of the genetics lottery. But no.
“Jimmy Novak was indeed an Alpha,” Castiel confirmed. “But Angels take vessels with secondary natures all the time; our celestial essence overwhelms all of that.”
“I don’t know how any of that works,” Dean replied with a shrug. “But that spell did something to you, buddy. Now that I’m actually paying attention, it’s impossible to miss.”
He’d rather talk about his time in Hell in excruciating detail, recited in the form a haiku, than talk about his secondary nature. Especially with Sam. But there was no way around it this time. Sam and Cas both needed to understand.
Dean took a deep breath, instantly regretting it when the alluring cocktail of hormonal Alpha threatened to overwhelm his senses. With the experience of long practice, he wrestled his inner self back under iron control, ruthlessly suppressing the bitch until it went dormant.
Both Sam and Cas were staring at him expectantly. Dean sighed. “All I can tell you is something within you Cas, it escalated the relatively gentle A in Jimmy. I don’t know if it’s the spell doing something, or just you. Regardless, you’re kicking out Apex Alpha pheromones like a furnace. I don’t get how you’re even keeping it together as well as you are. Any other Alpha would be dry humping the chair leg about now.”
Castiel had gone very still, probably analyzing what was going on within his vessel.
“You’re right,” he agreed after a moment. “My vessel is toxically overwhelmed with mating hormones. The Angel-cuffs are helping me maintain control, but I don’t think it will last.”
“It won’t,” Dean replied sourly. “After a certain point, ruts can’t be denied. You screw or you burn up until it kills you. Not sure how that jives with your Angel mojo, but with that spell on board I’m not inclined to risk it.”
“What are we going to do about this?” Sam asked, a tad helplessly. This was one place where he was absolutely useless. Ever since he’d figured out that his big brother wasn’t just ‘off getting chicks’, he’d researched secondary natures of and on. The available information was spotty at best. Duals didn’t like to talk.
“Way I see it, there’s really only one way handle this,” Dean said with a fatalistic shrug. “We treat the symptoms.”
“Are you sure about that?” Sam asked.
“I’m not seeing another option,” Dean replied.
“What are you two talking about?” Cas asked, eyeing the brothers warily.
“You’re going into rut,” Dean told him bluntly. “You need a partner to screw if you want to live. Preferably an omega. Betas can manage okay, but they aren’t really built to withstand a rut-ridden Alpha.” His tone turned bitter. “Omegas are literally born to take it.”
“And you are an omega,” Castiel replied slowly. It wasn’t a question.
“Now he’s getting it,” Dean said. He turned to his brother.
“Sammy, keep looking for that damn ginger witch. I’m going to the dungeon to get a second set of spelled cuffs. Hopefully they can keep Cas’ strength in check.” Dean rose, striding away down the hall.
“In check for what?” Cas asked Sam, his eyes glued on Dean’s form as he walked away. His lower half, always a fairly fine feature, was particularly enticing when in motion.
Sam sighed. “Sex, Cas. You need to burn off those hormones. The spell is setting your vessel’s Alpha nature into overdrive. You need to partner up. Dean’s an omega and willing.”
Castiel had always been aware that Dean’s secondary nature was omega. It had never been particularly relevant. It was just a part of him, no more noteworthy than the colour of his hair or his eyes.
But that wasn’t quite true. Dean’s eyes were exceptional. Castiel keenly remembered the time following his absorption of Sam’s insanity. He’d spent weeks walking the world’s natural beauty trying to find a colour that matched the green of Dean’s eyes. He never had found its equal.
He hadn’t been aware that he’d zoned out until Sam snapped loudly, calling his name. Cas blinked, reorienting himself. He gritted his teeth as another body length shiver of fire burned through his blood stream.
The Winchesters were correct. His vessel’s core body temp had risen to increasingly unsustainable levels for the last several days. It was only his Angelic nature that kept him functioning. But even as the mage cuffs were helping him contain the foreign energies building within him, they were hindering his ability to self-heal. Something would have to give, and soon.
“There has to be a different way,” Cas stated decisively. “I am not having sex with Dean due to some spell’s coercion.”
“Is that right?” Dean asked as he walked back into the room. He strode up to Cas and slid his wrist in front of the bound angel’s face.
Without conscious thought, Castiel leaned forward, his nose tickling the skin of Dean’s wrist as he inhaled deeply. He moaned slightly. He’d never smelled anything so enticing before. Without conscious thought, his tongue snuck out, licking delicately at the smooth skin.
“You completely sure about that stance?” Dean asked, smirking.
Castiel had thought he was sure. But with that one minor demonstration he knew with certainty that it was actually the exact opposite. His reaction to a scenting alone fiercely tested his waning control. If he was unbound, and a willing Dean stood before him… there would be no stopping his urges.
“Are you positive?” Cas asked Dean, almost desperately. Dean just had to tell him ‘no.’ He could use that to regain what tattered control was left to him.
Dean, of course did not do as he was supposed to. “Yes, Cas. I’m sure.”
That single 'yes' ripped away the last shreds of Cas’ control. He surged towards Dean, the cuffs on his wrists yanking his arms backward as reached the end of his tether.
Dean dodged the lunge; smoothly ducked low and forward, clipping the second set of cuffs onto Cas wrists and was back out of range in one rapid maneuver. The power in the cuffs flared, sending Cas stumbling backwards. Dean narrowly caught him before he collapsed. Sam was there a moment later and the two eased him back onto his chair.
“Sorry,” Castiel muttered, a newly familiar sensation of shame filtering through him.
“Not your fault,” Sam told him gently. “You’re spelled. We’ve all done things we regret under magical compulsion.”
“So true,” Dean agreed. He crouched by the side of the chair, unsnapping the cuffs from the floor chains.
“Let’s go, big guy. My room has a great bed. Memory foam and everything. You’ll love it.”
Taking Cas’ elbow, Dean hauled his friend to his feet. Cas allowed himself to be guided down the hall without complaint. His resistance was hanging by the barest of threads and he knew it.
Dean glanced behind them, locking eyes with his brother. ‘Keep searching,’ he mouthed. Sam nodded. There was no guarantee, or reason really, for sex to nullify the spell. It was just a stop gate.
Sam sat back at his computer. He knew he should be working on locating Rowena, but he discovered his fingers had typed ‘secondary nature- omega’ into the search bar. For all that he’d lived with Dean the vast majority of his life, he still knew very little about duals. No amount of prompting had ever gotten Dean to open up about it. Sam closed his eyes, searching his memories for what he remembered from their past.
He’d been 14 when he figured out Dean had a secondary nature. Dean had disappeared for several days and he’d returned looking exhausted, with bruises dotting his arms, obvious bite marks along at his neck, the injuries clearly visible despite the high neckline of his jacket. At first Sam had thought Dean had gone on a solo hunt, and he’d been quick to admonish his foolish older brother.
“I wasn’t hunting, Sammy,” Dean had replied shortly. “I just, had to take care of a few things.” As he’d walked by, Sam had caught the familiar odor of old sweat that meant his brother had gotten laid.
“Wait, you were having sex? For three days?” Then it had clicked. “Wait, it wasn’t just sex, was it? You’re one of them, aren’t you? You have a secondary nature. Is that why you had to go away? Were you in rut?!”
Dean’s gaze glanced away. His voice had dropped to a near whisper. “If only.”
Then their had father walked in. He eyes his eldest son in thinly veiled warning. “Never you mind that, son,” he’d told Sam. “Just let Dean go get cleaned up and we can forget all about this unpleasant situation.”
And that had been that. For another two years. Until Dean had again inexplicitly disappeared for another three days. And again he’d returned, a disheveled, bruised mess. Sam still clearly remembered Dean and their father arguing outside hotel their room.
“It’s not my fault!” Dean had told his father in uncharacteristic argument. “I’ve been taking the damn meds. It just got away from me.”
A moment later Dean had slammed his way into the grimy hotel room. “He acts like I wanted to go into heat,” Dean had muttered under his breath as he strolled past. “It’s not as if I have a choice in the matter.”
And that’s when young Sam had realized all his painstaking research on the dual-natured was useless. Because if his strong, brave, tough-as-nails, and yes, bossy, brother was an omega, then he literally understood nothing about what the sub-types really meant.
Dean never had been willing to talk to him about it. He’d reluctantly shared a minor detail here or there over the years, but they’d never had a real dialogue. And Sam couldn’t remember any more instances of his disappearing on them growing up. The topic only came up when Dean gleaned something useful during a hunt, and he still stayed fairly close lipped about the details.
Now that Sam thought about it, Dean had never, not even once, pulled a three-day disappearing act since hijacking him from college. He’d had plenty of sex, of course, the dude was an unabashed man-whore, but it had all been normal, one night stand stuff.
Maybe now, with Dean’s secondary nature out in the open, Sam might actually learn something. Reigning in his curiosity for the moment, Sam closed out the search window. He had a witch to track.
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Castiel allowed himself to be guided to Dean’s room, his mind already fogging. He wanted to think it through; ask Dean again if he was sure about this, but he lacked the willpower. He was burning up, and now that he understood what was fuelling the urge, it was all he could think about.
Dean eased him gently onto bed, reaching over to pull something up from behind the headboard.
“Lay down, Cas. Arms over your head. My willingness to bang you does not extend to broken bones.”
At Dean’s urging, Cas laid on his back, extending his double-cuffed wrists over his head. Dean neatly attached a chain to the cuffs, the other end leading to a heavy eyebolt drilled directly into the Bunker’s concrete wall.
“What? You think it takes me 15 minutes to grab a set of cuffs?” Dean asked, tracking Cas' gaze. “I took a few minutes to make some adjustments to my room’s decor.”
It was a reasonable precaution, Castiel decided. Without making the conscious decision to do so, he leaned upward, using his abs to lever his body up so he could take a deep sniff of Dean’s chest. He smelled so good.
Dean allowed him the scenting for a moment, shoved him flat and swung a leg over his hips and slid atop him, pinning Castiel to the bed with his thighs. “Hold on a damn second, you. There’s way too much fabric currently involved for this to work.”
Once he was certain that Castiel would stay put, Dean raised his arms over his head, pulling both his top layer and undershirt off in one graceful maneuver. His bare skin was slightly pale, the warm flesh gleaming in the soft room light. Dean was muscular in the most perfect of ways, the gentle curve of his neatly stacked rows of abdominal muscles giving way to a trim waist. Two pert, brown nipples tipped a perfectly framed set of pecs, the peaks begging to be licked. Cas eyes danced across Dean's anatomy, at a loss as to where he wanted to look the most.
“Dean,” he muttered helplessly.
Dean’s response was to grind his pelvis against Cas’ trapped groin, the friction a delicious torment against his cock. The motion cast sharp relief on the fact that he was painfully hard.
“Easy, Angel,” Dean murmured, his low, whisky deep voice as compelling as siren song. “I gotcha.”
Taking that promise to heart, Cas settled into the bed, content to wait as Dean swiftly began disrobing him, working the small buttons of his shirt open, pulling his tie free and tossing it aside.
Dean paused his actions, taking in the expanse of newly bared skin with open appreciation. The overpowering, demanding entity within Cas calmed even further, pleased to be so admired by its chosen partner.
Getting Cas’ top half completely naked just wasn’t in the cards without removing the handcuffs, and Dean had no intention of making that mistake. Castiel may appear outwardly calm and patient, but believing that was a rookie mistake. The Alpha was just waiting for an opening to strike. Instead, Dean left the opened shirt on Castiel's arms, focusing lower. He unbuttoned the pants waistband, delicately lowering the zipper so that it wouldn't catch sensitive flesh before gripping the material with both hands and sliding down Cas legs, taking the clothing with him. Cas raised his hips to assist, groaning slightly as his erection was freed, the skin feeling overheated despite the bunker’s cool air.
Dean raised an eyebrow, focusing on Cas eager cock. “Not bad,” he told him, meeting his eyes with a wink.
Cas would have been embarrassed, or unsure even, if he was still Cas. But he wasn’t. He was heat and need and desire, and damnit he needed to be touched. He didn’t realize he’d bucked against his restraints until they pulled taut. His eyes flickered with electric blue as he accessed his grace, willing the cuffs away so he could take what he needed.
The cuff’s energy flared back at him, smashing against his power with all the force of a brick wall. Cas grunted, stunned, and fell to his back. Cas eyes sparked a few times as his aborted attempt to reach his grace died away.
“Please,” he whimpered. Everything hurt, he was burning up and he needed so much.
“Easy,” Dean murmured. He leaned down, now completely naked though Cas hadn’t noticed him stripping the rest of the way. “I’ve got you. You’ll be okay.” He covered Cas with his body, leaning for a kiss.
The Alpha kissed fervently back, his tongue demanding access that Dean did not refuse. Cas curled his legs, locking tight around Dean’s hips as he thrust up into his body. The inner self that had taken control sang in approval as it felt an answering hardness slide up against his own. When Dean eventually broke the kiss for a much-needed gasp for air, Cas latched onto his neck sinking his teeth in deep and sucking.
Dean groaned, tilting his head in acceptance of the marking. His hips ground down, meeting Cas thrust for thrust. Castiel didn’t realize how close he was to completion until his cock pulsed, filling the space between them with sticky fluid.
Dean sat up, thighs still locked around Cas’ hips. “There. That oughtta take the edge off for a minute,” he muttered softly.
Castiel disagreed. He still felt like he was burning up, his dick already throbbing with hints of renewed life. Dean must have read something of Cas’ thoughts in his expression, because he chuckled, the ass.
Dean leaned down from his perch; licking delicately at the bound Angel’s left nipple, his soft, warm mouth the most amazing sensation. Castiel had never felt anything like it. He moaned, pressing his chest up into Dean’s mouth for more.
His body vibrating with a deep-chested purr, Dean obliged, adding a sharp nip of teeth, followed by a wide lap against the abused nub.
“Yes…” Castiel hissed out. “More, Dean. I need more. Now.”
“Alphas,” Dean rumbled. “Always with the orders. Patience, Angel.”
While his mouth turned its attention to his right nipple, Dean swiped up a palmful still-warm come and wrapped his fist around Cas’ cock. He began to stroke rhythmically while his tongue continued to relentlessly tease the sensitive nipple. The noises Cas made for him were delicious, satisfying his inner omega that he was pleasing their partner.
It was more sensation than Cas could handle. He didn’t know what to do, whether to buck into the perfect glide along his dick or raise his chest into the sharp bite of teeth. He writhed, nearly bucking Dean off him as he tried some combination of both, seeking out more sensation in both places.
Then Dean’s mouth was gone, leaving the sting of cold air in its wake. Before Castiel had time to protest, the hand on his cock moved, gripping firmly around the base for guidance as Dean raised himself over Cas prone body and began to slowly sink onto his erection.
“Easy,” Dean grunted. “I'll need a minute, here. You ain't exactly small I haven’t done this in a while.”
Cas didn’t want easy. He wanted to thrust into his omega, split him open and own him. His grace flashed, crashing against the solid wall of the cuffs, only to be thwarted again. Growling, he gathered himself and thrust up the moment he felt the head of his cock slid into hot wetness of Dean’s body. Dean hissed, falling forward as Cas buried himself a good three quarters of the way into his hole all at once.
“Jesus, Cas,” Dean groaned. “Fuck.”
Cas took advantage of Dean's lower body position, licking at the heated skin of the omega's neck, temporarily satisfied now that he was properly inside his partner. Dean tasted like sweat and salt and leather. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.
Dean had gone completely still above him, panting heavily as he struggled to adjust the abrupt penetration. The small part of Castiel that could still reason pushed to the fore, easily taking control. Neither he nor his Alpha side wanted their partner genuinely hurt.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” he panted, forehead resting against Dean’s chest above him. “I’m trying, but I can barely control myself.”
“It’s fine,” Dean replied roughly. “You’re not exactly my first rutting Alpha. I can handle this.”
So saying, he lowered his hips, smoothly taking the rest of the Alpha's cock until the firm cheeks of his ass rested on Cas’ hips.
“Okay,” he muttered, letting out a fierce exhale. “Okay. Okay, I’m good. Go for it.”
Even as Cas opened his mouth to ask if Dean was sure, his hips took the omega at his word, thrusting hard into that tight, welcoming heat. He held back as best he could, wanting to go slow, to give Dean time to adjust.
Dean growled and bit him on the neck. “Do I look like some faint little flower to you?" Dean raised his eyes, his pupils lust blown circles of night in an endless backdrop of shimmering green. “I said go for it. Show me what you’ve got.”
That open dare was more than Castiel's could resist. Even as the physical chain faithfully kept Cas’ wrists firmly bound over his head, the mental one restraining his inner alpha snapped like kindling, and he began thrusting for all he was worth into his omega’s welcoming ass.
Dean sat back up to better stay astride Castiel's lap, gripping the headboard with both hands for leverage as he rocked downward, meeting Cas thrust for thrust.
“That’s more like it,” he muttered, his purr so vibrant Cas’ cock pulsed in appreciation. This was good; this was everything he needed. His omega was hot and perfect, taking him so well, rumbling in satisfaction as his needs were met and matched by Castiel's own.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, Dean energetically riding his cock, the bare skin of his chest and neck sweat-slicked and red with exertion. Cas hoisted himself into a partial sit, tensing his abs to hold the pose, licking and nipping at whatever flesh he could reach. If only he had use of his hands, he’d grab his mate, roll him onto his back and fuck him into the sweetest oblivion. But this was a more than satisfactory compromise.
Dean was beginning to sag above him, muscles shaking with exertion. “C’mon, Cas, do it. I feel you; you’re near to bursting. Fucking knot me already. I need it.”
Cas was too far-gone to catch more than ‘need it’ but his body understood well enough. One, two more thrusts and he slammed home, filling Dean’s hole with a flood of come, shoving the hot, hard thing at the base of his cock through a tight ring of resistance, nestling into Dean’s heat and catching.
Dean collapsed heavily onto Cas chest, a new wetness at their locked hips telling Cas it was okay to stand down, his partner was as well-satisfied as he.
It was too quiet, the sounds of Dean’s harsh breathing overloud in the otherwise silent room.
The Alpha voice inside him faded, sated and content, allowing Cas full mental control over his body once more.
“Dean,” he murmured. His hands tugged ineffectually against the cuffs. He wanted to wrap his arms around Dean’s sweaty body, hold him tight, pet and caress. Instead, he lifted his face, nuzzling gently against Dean’s neck.
“Dean, please. I need you to tell me you’re okay. That I didn’t…”
“Idiot,” Dean interrupted him, voice heavy and languid. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m an omega, remember? My body is built for this.”
“But are you okay?” Not being physically hurt wasn’t the same thing as okay. He’d learned that lesson the hard way over the last decade.
“Yes, Cas,” Dean replied, clearly annoyed. “Given that one of us is chained to a wall, I could easily have gotten away if I'd wanted to.” Cas turned his head away, closing his eyes. Dean wouldn’t have left, even if he didn’t want something, not when Cas’ health was at risk.
“Christ,” Dean rumbled. “Have you ever heard of afterglow? Because you are seriously killing the mood, buddy.”
He dragged himself up to his elbows, turning Cas’ head so they were looking eye to eye. “I am fine, okay? You didn’t hurt me, you didn’t do anything I wasn’t completely on board with, and we are good. Now can you please shut up and let me bask for a damn minute?”
There was nothing but truth and a healthy dose of annoyance in Dean’s voice. He slid off Cas’ chest, careful not tug too hard at the delicate flesh linking them at the hip, and threw a leg over his Cas' thighs, cuddling close. Cas sighed in relief, setting his concerns aside so he too could ‘bask’ in the moment. Dean was by his side, safe, content, and the spell appeared to be quiescent.
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Dean opened his eyes some time later, aware that Cas, still safely shackled, was snuggled up next to him.
“Feeling better?” Dean asked, grinning slightly. He knew that he did. It had been way to damn long since he’d had sex that good.
“Yes,” Cas replied. The Angel paused thoughtfully as he turned his gaze inward. “I fear it’s temporary, though. I can already feel the drive building.”
“Yeah, it takes a lot more than one good lay to knock out a rut,” Dean agreed lazily. “We’ll get to round two soon enough.”
“You’re very calm about this,” Castiel told his friend. He wasn’t sure why, but Dean’s relaxed demeanor was inexplicably beginning to bother him.
“Well, yeah,” Dean replied. “I mean, it’s been a minute since I banged a dude, and even then I usually top, but sex is sex, and great sex is its own form of medicine.” Dean sat up beside him, weight on his left arm, grinning cheekily down, his right arm lazily draped over his chest.
Castiel nodded as if that made sense and all was well. But it wasn’t. He could feel it coming back. The compulsion was building, heat and need slowly taking root within his body once again. He was slowly burning up from the core out, and Dean was just so very…cool. Something deep inside Cas rebelled at that. He wanted Dean to be warm too. More than that, Castiel wanted Dean to be hot and to need. He wanted his omega to burn with him.
Castiel narrowed his eyes. Without any thought or warning, that inner thing inside him seized control. He surged up, claiming Dean’s lips in a searing kiss. Dean opened his mouth, welcoming Cas in.
There was no thought, no rational process in Castiel’s actions. He reached for his grace. Fighting against the magically enhanced Angel cuffs attempt to restrain access power, he ignored the wrenching pain and pulled hard on his Grace. He only had a moment before the cuffs firmly shut him down, but it was enough.
Dean’s eyes flew open and he rolled away fast, moving so far that he fell off the bed. He hit the floor, landing hard on his ass and continued some sort of crabwalk backwards until he hit the far wall.
“What the fuck did you just do to me?” He croaked, face going pale.
“I…I have no idea,” Cas stuttered. “I’m sorry? It was an accident. I don’t know what came over me?”
“You don’t know…” Dean sagged against the wall, barking out a harsh laugh that held no trace of mirth. “Right. Of course you don’t.”
Cas pulled himself to the edge of the bed, stopping only when the chains pulled taut. He wanted nothing more than to go to Dean, hold him, check on him. Something. Anything. But he had the feeling that, even were he able, Dean wouldn’t allow him anywhere near him at the moment.
“Please, Dean. Tell me what I did?” Cas asked. Distraught was still a fairly new sensation for him, but he’d felt it enough times over the last few years to recognize it keenly. “I can’t come over there, please come back.”
“No offense, Cas. But getting close to you now is the last thing I want to do. Be patient; you’ll get all the closeness you’re little Alpha heart desires soon enough.”
“Dean, I don’t understand. Please explain this.”
Dean swiped at his face with both hands, rubbing hard enough to leave red marks.
“Years, Cas. No, decades. I’ve been taking hormonal depressants in massive strengths since I first presented at fourteen. The dose was too high a dose for a kid; too high for an adult really. And even then, I was taking double. I think dad would have been okay if I’d been an Alpha. Maybe. But we are a Hunter family. We needed fighters, strength. Not a weak-ass omega that couldn’t even take care of his younger brother. Dad helped me get the pills.”
Dean dropped his head back against the concrete wall, eyes closed. “I quit having heats by 19. I didn’t have another one until I dug myself out of my grave and realized that my reincarnation had been just a bit too thorough. Thanks for that, by the way.
“My body was still mine, scars and all, but my blood was virgin pure. But that was okay. I knew what I needed to do to fix it, and they had better drugs by then. One or two crazy cycles, easy enough to hide with Sam disappearing all time and then I was good again.”
Dean raised his head to lock eyes with Cas. “You just cleansed me of all of that. It’s all gone. I can feel it, Cas, building inside me, and it won’t be denied.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Freaking Alphas. You just couldn’t stand to be the one out of control, could you?”
“Dean…I’m sorry.”
Dean sighed. He didn’t sound angry any more, just tired. “Yeah Cas, I know you are. Me too.”
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Sam raised his arms high overhead in a massive stretch. He’d had a nap, far far away from the bunker’s bedrooms, grabbed some lunch and gone back to Rowena-hunting. So far he had nada. The damn witch knew how to hide when she wanted to. He looked up at the sound of footsteps coming along the hall.
Dean walked into the map room. He leaned heavily against the wall, arms crossed across his chest. He looked awful. Sam wasn’t sure what he’d expected from his brother, probably something cocky or sarcastic, but not this.
“What’s wrong?” he asked rising. “Are you hurt? Did the cuffs fail? Is Cas okay?”
“Nah. I’m not hurt. Cuffs are fine, so is Cas.” He gestured for Sam to sit back down.
Dean hesitated. “However. There’s been a bit of a snafu. Cas did do something to me. Apparently his Alpha didn’t like being the only one out of his gourd.”
Dean awkwardly scratched at his arms, the behaviour making Sam nervous. Something wasn’t right with his brother. Dean shivered, arms tightening around his chest. He looked flush.
“Dean. What did Cas do to you?” Sam asked warily.
“I’ve been taking hormonal suppressants. For a long time. That’s how I’ve been keeping my dual nature in check.”
“I figured it was something along those lines,” Sam replied cautiously. “But since you obvious didn’t want to talk about it, I never asked.”
“Yeah well, Cas nullified them. All at once. He did some kind of damn Angel body cleanse and cleaned me out.”
Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m about to go into one hell of a heat.”
Sam cleared his throat, fighting back the deluge of questions. Was Dean okay? What did this mean? Was it different, or escalative if an Alpha in rut and an omega in heat paired off? The movies made it seem like that was the natural conclusion.
Instead, he asked the one important question. “What can I do for you?”
Dean finally stopped looking anywhere but at Sam. His eyes were over bright, the green so emerald it practically glowed. Emotions flittered across his nearly too fast to identify. Despair, rage, need, and finally relief.
It was in Sam’s instant acceptance that he was able to find that last one. It was enough that Sam had his back.
Dean rolled his shoulders, fighting the incessant itch at the back of his neck. “I need you to leave. Disappear for three, maybe four days. Instinct don’t much care about human ideals of basic decency. And I’m not going to be doing much thinking in an hour or two.”
Sam nodded slowly. “There’s no way to stop this?”
Dean shook his head. “Nope. Maybe Cas could manage something, but I’d have to take the cuffs off so he could fully access his grace, and right now they’re the only things allowing him to keep what control he has left. Good news though, I think the spell did its damage and dissipated. I’m not picking up that twisted scent off him anymore. Just good, old fashioned Alpha lust.”
Sam didn’t ask about the scent thing. Dean was usually careful not to mention how his superior senses relayed information to him, only what he’d picked up, and Sam knew not to ask. It was just one of the perks of the dual natured; every sense was intensified.
“Well, that’s definitely something,” he told his brother. “Okay. I’ll disappear. Do we need to do anything to contain Cas?”
“Nah,” Dean replied offhandedly. “Cas isn’t going anywhere. He’s this close to completely succumbing to his body’s demands. And an Apex Alpha in rut only wants one thing.”
Sam cocked his head in silent question.
Dean smiled bitterly. “A bitch.”
---------------------------
Dean said he was going get a quick shower in while he still could, leaving Sam to head to his room to pick up the always-prepared ‘go bag.’ He paused by Dean’s room.
Sam had to do this. He gently pushed the door open. Cas was sitting on the bed, curled up in a blanket. The bunker’s concrete wall sported a new, massive eyebolt, linked to a chain that led to the bundle of blanketed Angel.
Cas looked up at him bleakly. “I made a mistake.”
“Yeah, well. This is hardly the first time someone in this family did something they regret under the impulse of a spell. Dean understands.”
Castiel didn't appear convinced by Sam's assertions, though he let the matter drop. “And you?” Cas asked warily.
Sam sighed. “I’ve found that it’s always easier for the person who was wronged to forgive than the person who has to watch the fallout. But yes, we’re okay. This isn’t your fault.”
Cas nodded slowly. He looked wrecked. He also was bright red, a glistening sheen of sweat coating his face and neck. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” he admitted with a shudder. “Everything aches.”
“You won’t have to much longer. Dean will be back a few minutes and I’m leaving, “ Sam replied. “Just, promise me something. Even with the cuffs you have dangerous strength. If Dean gets hurt, don’t ask, just heal him.” Sam was fairly confident that between his fairly large brother and Cas, there would be some degree of damage. Those two burned hot around each other even without their dual-sides running the show. The next few days would be fairly epic.
Cas nodded. “As soon as I can get the handcuffs off.”
“Okay.” Sam scratched awkwardly at his mass of hair. “I’ll be back.”
Sam closed the door softly behind him. He caught up with his brother in the map room on the way to the garage. Just as well.
“Dean, hold up a sec. I have something for you.” Sam pushed a small black gym bag into his brother’s hands. “Call me if you need anything.” Sam turned and strode up stairs and out the solid Bunker door.
Dean tugged open the kit curiously. He couldn’t help it; he chuckled. It was an omega kit. Condoms, lube, snack bars, a sports drink, antibiotic cream, bandages, towelettes, a handful of other items.
This was so very Sam. The kit was clearly not something he’d come up with on the spot. He’d researched what omegas might need and painstakingly gathered those things, just in case. Some of it was unnecessary, the information probably from some medical site written by nulls. But a few of the items Sam had included were surprisingly insightful.
Dean pulled out a thin, black buckle-style strap with a heavy rounded patch at its center. It looked vaguely like a giant sized eye patch. But it wasn’t. Dean smirked. He wished he could have been a fly on the wall when Sam had bought that.
It was a gland guard. The device was designed to rest right across the lower medial area of the neck, covering the fragile mating gland with the sticky-backed, heavy plastic shield. The guards were actually quite effective, leaving the majority of the neck open for nips and licks while protecting that so-vulnerable spot from accident or temptation.
Dean grinned faintly. His brother really was awesome. He tossed the kit into the nearest chair on his way out of the room. He’d not be needing any of that. But it was still a nice thought.
Dismissing all thoughts of Sam, Dean continued purposefully striding through the hall. His Alpha would be near to losing it, and Dean needed to be ready. The game was just starting to get good.
-------------------
Dean spent another twenty minutes wandering aimlessly through the halls. Even knowing what he was up to, and clearly in agreement with the plan, twenty minutes was all the time his omega was willing to spend away from his Alpha.
Dean wandered back to the bedroom, slowly opening the door. Castiel was standing at the side of the bed. He stood tall and beautifully naked, every muscle stretched taut. He truly was a striking creature. Strong, powerful thighs, a narrow waist, cock standing eagerly at attention against a dusting of pale hair that treasure trailed up to a nicely chiseled set of six-pack abs and wider shoulders than one would think, their width typically hidden beneath the suit and rain coat.
His arms were still pinned up behind his head by the cuffs linked to the heavy chain, but the metal appeared very tight, straining against the pressure being applied to it.
Alpha Angel vs. iron chain; Dean knew which he would bet on. But he didn’t need to bet when he had an ace up his sleeves. Looking deep into his Alpha’s luminous blue gaze in clear challenge, Dean swiftly spun around and bolted.
Distantly, he heard the sound of crumbling concrete crashing to the ground. Guess he should have placed his bet on the wall to give first. For a few moments he could track his pursuer by the sound of metal clanking against the ground, but then that disappeared and all that remained was silence.
Dean grinned ferally. Now they could really play. He’d spent a good half hour roaming the halls, inundating them with his pheromones. His Alpha would have a hell of a time tracking him by scent. And with the cuffs in place, he couldn’t use some kind of Angelic tracker to cheat.
He paused, listening intently for the sounds of his pursuer. Just before he turned down a narrow hall passage to the left, he froze. Dean didn’t hear anything, but unlike him, Cas hadn’t had the opportunity to fill the bunker with his scent.
Grinning to himself, Dean spun back around and on near silent feet ran back the other way. Ha. It was a nice try, but his Alpha would have to work a hell of a lot harder to get him.
He managed to elude the Angel for a good while longer, using all his carefully honed senses to evade his pursuer. And the few times Cas had gotten close, Dean had smelled his need and frustration.
Dean approached the map room cautiously. He needed to go through there to get to the other side of the bunker, but it was an excellent place for an ambush. He carefully examined every shadow, quieting his breath and listening intently for the tell tale clink of metal to give his Alpha away. Nothing but silence.
Taking the chance, he padded silently through the room. And then he heard it. A nearly silent swoosh of air, followed by the soft landing of bare feet. Damn it. Why the hell hadn’t he looked up?
Cas had been on the landing, patiently waiting, only to leap over the rail right as Dean passed under the balcony. Clever hunter. Dean’s omega thrummed in approval. But Dean wasn’t going to make it easy for the Angel. Abandoning stealth, he took off at a dead run, pelting down the familiar hallway towards the control room.
He’d nearly made it when a body slammed against his, pinning him against the concrete Bunker wall hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs.
“Oomph,” he grunted raising his arms to push off against the wall.
“No, you don’t,” his Alpha growled in his ear, nipping reprovingly at the delicate curve where neck met shoulder. “I caught you fairly. You’re mine.”
Dean groaned at the bite, his body shuddering. Cas pressed his naked body tightly against Dean’s back, pinning him in place. His wrists were still cuffed together, but somewhere along the way, he’d managed to get rid of the chain entirely.
He reached around to the front of Dean’s neck, pulling the key to the handcuffs off the leather necklace he’d hastily tied on earlier. Dean bucked against him, making Cas snarl and press his cock against Dean’s denim-covered ass, pressing firmly with his hips. “Be still,” he murmured, hot breath and soft lips dancing along the sensitive skin behind Dean’s ear.
Dean obediently stopped writhing, whimpering at the teasing sensation.
Castiel reached over, unlocking the cuff around his left wrist. Dean caught his arm, their eyes meeting. Cas paused, allowing his omega to reattach the cuff to his right wrist. Together they did the same with his left. Now Cas’ hands were free, but he still wore a set of cuffs on either wrist. It should be enough to keep the bulk of his otherworldly strength in check. Probably.
Now that he had full maneuverability, he had a prize to claim. Cas reached down, sliding his hand into Dean’s jeans, gripping his cock and massaging the erection.
“Yes,” Dean groaned, the sound from deep in his throat. “More.”
“Do you deserve that?” Cas asked, biting a sharp red trail of teeth marks down the side of his neck. “You were so much trouble to find.”
Dean purred at the marking, tilting his head to allow better access. “If you couldn’t catch me, you didn’t deserve to have me.”
The hand at Dean’s crotch disappeared, moving away only long enough to unbutton his pants, sliding down the zipper and pulling the fabric down to pool at his ankles.
Castiel kicked at his omega’s ankles to spread them, deciding he liked them staying bound by the pants. He pressed one hand firmly between Dean’s shoulder blades, forcing him against the wall. “Stay,” he told him firmly.
“Make me,” Dean rumbled back, the tone more playful challenge than open dare.
That was good. Dean knew he was well and truly caught, and that happy little hitch in his voice told Cas that his omega was perfectly content with the current situation.
Since seeing Dean spin and flee from him back in their bedroom, all Castiel could think about that lovely ass. He wanted to taste it.
“If you insist,” Castiel purred. He slid to his knees, gripping a firm, round cheek in either hand, massaging gently. He spread them wide, leaning in to lick experimentally at the slick-wet hole.
Above him, Dean groaned, leaning heavily against the wall. He pushed his ass out, begging with his body for more. That was nice, but Castiel thought it would be even better if his omega begged out loud. But Dean was stubborn; Castiel would have to work to get him to that point.
But for now, he took another, deeper lap at that sweet hole, loving the sounds Dean made for him nearly as much as the taste of eager omega. He pressed his face in deep, tongue fucking Dean’s eager asshole. He’d never really appreciated not requiring oxygen as much as he did at this moment. It allowed him to take his time and enjoy the taste of his partner as much as he desired.
As it was, Dean was done before he was. The omega began squirming, panting heavily. He pressed one forearm against the wall, forehead resting against the arm as he struggled to stay in place against the waves of pleasure.
“Cas,” he groaned, “I can’t take anymore. I need…”
The idea of driving his partner to completion from this one act alone thrilled Castiel, and rather than stop, he redoubled his effort, defying the Angel cuffs enough to allow just a spark of grace at the tip of his tongue.
That was all it took. Dean stiffened, whimpering as he orgasmed, cock untouched. Castiel gentled his tongue, easing the strokes against Dean’s hole until it was clear even that was too much sensation. A shame. Dean tasted so good. He would definitely revisit that later.
He reached his arms around Dean’s quaking body, easing him to the ground. “I have you,” he murmured, stroking his arms and back, allowing the omega to settle against him.
It didn’t take long until the shuddering settled. Castiel wanted nothing more than to roll his omega over and take him, but he didn’t want the concrete floor to tear at Dean’s bare knees. That would have to wait until they’d found a bed. Or some softer flat surface, at least.
The map table was very flat. The idea of putting Dean on his back on that table, holding his legs high overhead and having him was too compelling to disregard. They’d definitely get that later. But for now, his dick was painfully hard and needed attention.
Castiel tugged gently on Dean’s hips. “You’ve rested enough. I need to be inside you. Ride me, omega-mine.”
Dean groaned. “Fine,” he grumped. “Make me do all the work.”
Castiel’s eyebrows rose at that blatantly incorrect assessment. Before he could give voice to his indignation, Dean had straddled his lap and was easing his well-loosened asshole gently down onto Castiel’s cock, rocking down until he rested entirely on the Angel’s lap.
Dean placed his hands on Cas’ shoulders for support, grinning. “Hold on tight,” he warned, and then he moved.
Castiel was aware that there was any number of things Dean was good at. He was the greatest living Hunter of his time. He was astute, and protective, fierce as a bear when protecting those that needed it. He was clever, and excellent with strategy. But Castiel had no idea just how good Dean was at riding a cock.
Dean had power on his side and used it, employing his arm strength to assist his thighs in fast, powerful movements, slamming down onto Cas’ lap with each thrust, squeezing the muscles of that delightful ass to tighten that perfect seal around his dick. Castiel felt himself approaching completion far sooner than expected, and he took Dean’s dick in hand, wanting his omega come with him.
Dean rested his forehead on Cas’ shoulder, panting heavy gusts of warm air as he continued to ruthlessly work his tiring muscles without sacrificing speed. But even he was unable to sustain such a brutal pace.
Cas stroked faster, wanting to see Dean’s face this time when he came. He leaned forward, gripping Dean’s face with both hands, looking into his shining eyes. “Come for me, Dean. Let me see it.”
Castiel could never have imagined how vulnerable that order would make his partner until Dean obeyed. The way his body shuddered, lost to the world, eyes rolling back as he gave up everything was both humbling, and the sexiest thing Castiel had ever seen. It was more than enough to make him follow, empting his load into Dean’s sweet heat.
Dean collapsed against him, panting. Cas was gulping for air as well, for all that he didn’t strictly require it to survive. But his body wanted it, and he lacked the focus to tell it otherwise. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his omega’s shuddering body, holding him close until they both dozed right there, naked on the concrete bunker floor.
--------------------
Sensing eyes on him, Dean turned his head, cracking his lids so he could take in his bedmate. Unsurprisingly, Cas was staring at him. He always seemed to be the first one to wake up after a post-coital nap. And they’d had more than a few of those over the last few days. What he could remember of those days, anyway. It had been one hell of a ride.
They were back in Dean’s room. They tended to end there, eventually. As the overwhelming scent of sweat and sex could clearly attest to. He’d definitely need to change the sheets before he could actually sleep in this room again.
Cas looked better. Subdued, clearly exhausted, but finally, completely free all traces of spell or hormones that had been riding him the last several days.
“What?” Dean asked, voice raspy. Damn, he was hoarse. He sounded like he’d been on a weeklong bourbon bender. No matter, a few salt-water rinses and some cough drops and he’d be fine.
Cas’ gaze trailed to Dean’s neck. He raised the hand that had been resting on Dean’s bare chest, trailing his fingertips along his neck. Dean knew exactly what he was doing. The Angel had left an impressive array of bites and bruises along Dean’s body over the last several days. He wasn’t sure exactly what state his neck was in, but the sting alone told him it was significant.
“Admiring your work?” he asked, amused. There was no point in being annoyed. One didn’t fuck an Apex Alpha if they weren’t prepared for a prestigious amount of marking. And Dean had certainly left his share of his own marks on Cas’ body during their time together.
Cas ducked his, dropping his eyes guiltily.
“Hey, I’m messing with you. It’s fine,” Dean reassured him. “It’s no more than I signed up for.”
Cas met his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. Apparently he found what he was looking for because he relaxed. He slid his fingertips along the back of Dean’s neck, his thumb delicately grazing the base of his neck.
“I’m surprised that my touching this area doesn’t bother you,” Cas admitted. “Many of these marks are perilously located. It’s flattering that you trust me this intimately, but I wasn’t exactly in my right mind of late.”
“Oh, I trust you plenty,” Dean replied languidly. He stretched out on the bed, letting his legs go long and lax. “That Alpha you got lurking inside though? Him, not so much. They like to pull some shit. But in this case it has nothing to do with trust. Have a look.”
Cas blinked. Earlier that morning, they’d both decided that Castiel was well past the worst of it and it was safe to remove his restraints. Without the cuffs, he had full access to his tattered grace. He couldn’t do much, but delving was simple enough. He turned his gaze inward, seeking to find what Dean was speaking of.
He found a few very minor rib fractures that he gently shored up. There was a moderately serious compression fracture on Dean’s left radius bone that he didn’t want to think too much about. Healing that as well, he slid his mind’s eye onward, leaving the superficial scrapes and bruises be.
Those were lesser injuries; he’d ask Dean about fixing them later. His mind focused on the spot of Dean’s neck where his thumb was still rhythmically stroking. The ever so sensitive mating gland.
His mind flinched away at what it found there, and he jerked back into physical vision, eyes wide as he met Dean’s steady gaze. “You don’t have a mating gland.”
Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s right.”
“There’s nothing there. It’s just a mass off scar tissue and healed muscle. Dean. What happened?”
Dean shrugged. “I had it taken out long time ago. Surgical ablation.” His gaze hardened. “Mating glands are weaknesses, a chink in the armour. Alphas and betas can resist a failed or forced mating. They get sick as a dog for a while, but they get through it. Omegas, though? My kind doesn’t survive a failed mating bite. We’re stuck. Trapped with whoever bit us or we die. I couldn’t have that risk hanging over me. Not and be able to do my job.”
Cas wasn’t sure whether Dean meant his job as a hunter or taking care of Sam. Both were interwoven in the core of Dean’s character.
“So you, what? Just decided to have it cut out?” Cas asked.
“That’s exactly what I did.”
Cas stared at him. “I wasn’t aware that those types of surgeries existed.”
“Well, they’re illegal as hell, so you won’t find it in a hospital. They aren’t complicated or anything, just delicate. You inject a boatload of neutralizer into the gland, flooding the receptors. Then you go in, basically cut a hole out of a hole, scar up the tissue really good to make sure nothing grows back, and keep it clean till everything heals.”
“That sounds…uncomfortable,” Cas replied cautiously. It wasn’t the word he wanted to use. Monstrous, torture, those were closer.
“Well, it wasn’t fun,” Dean replied with a shrug. “Hurt like a mother fucker until it all healed up. But it’s done and I don’t need to worry about it anymore.”
Cas wasn’t sure what to say. He had no idea why what Dean had done to himself felt so devastating to him. From a warrior’s standpoint, it was an intelligent choice. But from what he knew from Metatron’s mental dump, that gland was a very special link between mates. They felt things, knew each other in a deeply emotional, passionate bond. He couldn’t help but feel Dean had destroyed something precious with that brutally logical decision.
“Do you miss it?” He asked quietly. “The lost opportunity to bond intimately with your life mate?”
Dean snorted. “Do I seem like the ‘life mate’ type to you, Cas? Everyone that gets close to me ends up fucked up or dead. And are you suggesting that if Sam finds someone special, that relationship is less special because he’s a norm and doesn’t have an extra bundle of hormones and nerve endings at the base of his neck? Is his potential to love not as true as mine?”
“No, of course that’s not what I’m saying,” Castiel protested.
“Good. Then we don’t need to talk about this anymore.”
Cas nodded once in agreement. There was nothing else to discuss. Once it appeared Dean had settled down, Castiel raised his hand, sliding it down Dean’s arm. Both limbs were dotted with dark, finger shaped bruises from shoulder to hand. His wrists were littered with finger shaped purple rings from heavy restraint.
“Dean. Can I heal these?” He asked softly. “They look painful.”
“It’s not so bad,” Dean replied cautiously, leaning subtly away.
Sorrow filtered through him. Dean never leaned away from him, even after all the horrible acts Castiel had inflicted on his friend over the years.
“What did I do wrong?” he asked.
Dean sighed. “Nothing, Cas. It’s fine. And I promise, I’m sore enough to accept some healing. Here’s the thing. You’re still somewhat in Alpha mode. I already told you that you can’t necessarily trust that secondary nature. It’s a vicious, possessive little bastard. I think if you heal me it might try to drive you to attempt to restore something that I don’t want back.”
It was a fair concern, Castiel admitted to himself, considering that that inner Alpha had already drained all of Dean’s carefully cultivated hormonal blocks just to get him in the desired state. But there was no spell affecting his control anymore and Castiel was fully back in charge of his actions.
“I promise to leave that area alone,” he swore, more afraid than he’d care to admit of Dean’s answer. He already had the very real concern that he’d ruined something precious between them and they’d never get back to the easy trust they’d previously shared.
Dean cocked his head thoughtfully. “You sure you have a handle on it?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, then. Heal away. Won’t lie, it’ll be nice not having to see Sam’s stupid smirky face if I have to spend the next week sitting on a donut.”
It seemed like that would be callous on Sam’s part, but then Castiel didn’t always get the brother’s peculiar social interactions. He’d come to the understanding that the Winchesters had a very strange way of showing love and accepted it.
Castiel reached across the bed, relieved when Dean didn’t so much as blink as he gently settled his two forefingers against his friend’s forehead. Power came at his call, cool and smooth as he eased all the hunter’s aches. The Alpha in him, down but not quite out, bucked mildly at the action, protesting as Castiel cleared Dean’s skin, erasing the last several days’ worth of marks. Dean was HIS; the omega should proudly wear the bites proving his claim.
But Dean wasn’t his. This has been an act of charity, given in the name of healing. And then, thanks to Castiel’s lack of control, it became a raging monster borne of mutual need, as several shattered pieces of bunker furniture could attest to.
Castiel buried the Alpha’s voice deep inside until it went dormant, ruthlessly reclaiming absolute control of his vessel. Angels didn’t have dual natures.
He purged what scratches and bite marks he found until Dean’s skin was once again that of a scarred lifelong-Hunter, taking care to leave the pale, thin scar laterally along his neck completely alone.
Dean sat up, stretching muscles no longer sore from exertion and repeated slamming into hard, unrelieving surfaces.
“That feels so much better,” he rumbled in his familiar bass tone.
“My pleasure,” Castiel replied sincerely.
Dean rolled of the bed to his feet. “And on that note; I am badly in need of a very long shower. You good?” He asked Cas, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Cas replied. “I have regained full control of my vessel.”
“Good,” Dean replied. “That’s good.”
-------------
Dean stepped out of the shower, looking his body over. Cas really had done a slick job on the heal. His knees hadn’t felt this crackle free in months. He looked into the mirror, trying to decide if shaving was happening. Then he smirked.
A few small, reddened bite marks had escaped the Angelic healing. The tiny marks peppered the skin over his left clavicle and up his neck, including a small, dark bruise that was clearly a hickie. Apparently the Alpha in Cas hadn’t quite given up without a fight. That was okay. That Cas was able to fight that inner boss enough to leave just these few marks was an impressive display of control. Very sexy.
He decided on a shave, wanting to clean things up as much as he could. Sam would be back any time and, while Dean’s brother was well accustomed to seeing him sloppy and out of control for any number of reasons, he wanted to at least appear like he had a handle on things.
Sam actually managed to stay away until afternoon, when the creaky sound of the bunker door opening preceded the welcome smell of O’Malley’s pizza.
“Dean? Cas? Everyone alive in here?” Sam called, making his way heavily down the metal stairwell.
“Still kickin’,” Dean drawled from where he was sitting at the map table, eyes locked on the pizza box in his brother’s hand with laser-precise focus.
Sam grinned, relieved to see his brother up and about and so relaxed. And hungry. Best possible outcomes. He disappeared into the kitchen to grab beer and plates, returning to see that Dean hadn’t waited for such extravagance before digging in.
As Sam returned, he eyed the back of his brother’s neck, overtly looking for, well he wasn’t exactly sure what. But all he saw was a smattering of faint teeth marks and a few hickies. Just a normal Thursday night in any other scenario.
“Keep staring, I might do a trick,” Dean told him leaning sharply to the side to snag one of the beers from Sam’s hand.
“Sorry,” Sam replied. “I couldn’t help it.”
Dean shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“What’s fine? Castiel asked, wandering into the room.
“He’s admiring your artwork,” Dean replied handing him a beer.
Castiel had no interest in the beer, really. There were a select few human consumables that he had developed a taste for. Beer was not one of them. But he’d come to realize that the brothers handing each other beers was a subtle ritual, a sign of caring for the other, though they probably didn’t recognize it as such. Including him in micro-behaviors such as this was a sign of familial affection and he’d decided some time ago to accept the bitter, hop-infused water with good grace.
Sam rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t help it, that bruise is darker than a plum. And, well, with you both lost to your secondary natures, I worried about…you know, an accidental Claim.”
Dean snorted, choosing to down a significant portion of his beer rather than acknowledge the question.
“Why would that concern you?” Castiel asked, distracted by Dean’s neck. He’d been aware that he’d missed or two marks, but he didn’t realize it was quite that many.
“It’s not an issue; Dean has no mating gland.” His gaze had turned back to Sam so he didn’t notice the warning glare Dean shot his way until too late.
“Jesus, man!” Dean growled. “Can you shut up? Is it possible? Would duct tape work? Or staples?”
“What?” Sam asked, confused. “Why? Isn’t that…standard anatomy?”
Dean looked about ready to spit fire. “Yes, it is. And this conversation is over. Thank you for the pizza, Sam. Thank you for running your trap, Cas.”
So saying, Dean stood up, dumped several slices of pizza onto Sam’s plate and took the rest of the box with him. He was hungry, damn it.
Castiel watched him go, face shadowed. “Dean, I didn’t…I’m sorry.”
Dean’s arm darted out as he walked away, flicking the Angel a firm bird before he turned the corner towards the bedrooms.
“I didn’t know that you weren’t aware,” Castiel told Sam. “He never told me it was shared in confidence.”
“It’s okay, Cas. You know Dean. Plenty to say about shit that doesn’t matter but he clams up the moment the discussion gets within a foot of personal issues.”
“There is that,” Castiel agreed.
Dean had at least acknowledged him, and while it hadn’t exactly been an expression of absolution, he wasn’t freezing Castiel out either. As long as Dean was actively communicating with him, the issue would usually blow over.
Sam reached for a slice of pizza. “Just give him a little while.”
A little while turned out to be roughly the duration of lunch, or approximately as long as Sam’s curiosity would be kept at bay. He paused a moment at Dean’s door. It was half open, revealing Dean splayed across the bed on his belly, eating cold pizza while Jaws III played on his little TV.
Sam knocked.
“I gave at the office,” Dean called out.
Sam grinned. Good enough. He came into the room, dragging one of the table chairs next to the bed and putting his feet up. Dean raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object. Sam watched the incredibly inaccurate shark movie for a while with his brother in companionable silence.
“So,” he began, glancing warily at his older sibling. “Can we talk about it?”
“Christ. You are a dog with a bone, you know that, right?” Dean grumped. He reached out for the remote, pausing the tv and rolling to his side.
“Fine. Let’s get it all out there. Yes, mating glands come with the gig. No, it’s not a birth defect. I was born with one like any other dual. I had it surgically removed. End of discussion.”
The hell it was. “When? And why?” Sam asked, “Why would you mutilate yourself like that?”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “ When I turned 21. And I had my reasons.”
“Okay, forget why. How did you do it? You weren’t exactly rolling in money back then, and under-the-table surgeons don’t exactly accept stolen Mastercards as a form of payment.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Dad paid for it, okay? It was my birthday gift. Are we done with the 20 questions? Because there’s a very angry fish I need to get back to.” He rolled back to his belly and pointed the remote at the tv, restarting the shark attack.
Sam sighed. “Fine.” He got up, returned the chair to its original place and left the room.
Sam’s mind whirled as he walked down the hall. The mating gland was supposed to be one of the best parts of being dual natured. It paired you with your mate/partner in a way that was insanely intimate, an unmatched connection between two people. At least, that’s how all the romcoms told it. He’d actually envied his brother the potential for such a deep attachment.
Sam didn’t understand. And what he didn’t understand, he researched. Hacking into private chat rooms was wrong, he knew that, but this was for Dean.
The few people willing to discuss having that particular surgery called it the worst pain they’d ever endured, most strongly advocated for therapy afterward. Those that chose the surgery were usually deeply damaged from bad relationships or childhood traumas. Others had family trying to force them to take a mate not of their choosing and felt this was the only way out. The individuals Sam profiled were a mixed bag, but they all had one thing in common. At the root of all their reasoning, it came down to trying to protect their most vulnerable spot.
Sam sat back, trying to remember if he’d seen anything growing up. He thought back to the several times his teenage brother had disappeared for several days. Dad had been so disappointed in him. Sam had been, too. It wasn’t fair that Dean left him alone for so long just to get girls. He’d been young and hadn’t understood.
But he wasn’t a child anymore. And from and adult perspective, he could better understand the weight of the situation placed on his brother with painful clarity. Their father needed fighters, warriors to carry on the Family work. Traits that popular opinion painted as very un-omega.
But it didn’t track. Omegas were very protective, caring. That didn’t mean weak. It seemed to Sam to be the exact opposite. Alphas protected through control. Omegas did whatever they had to do to keep those they cared for safe. It seemed to him that that drive could be every bit as ferocious a cocktail as Alpha dominance, and more viciously unpredictable. Not only that, he'd seen his brother with admitted omegas plenty of times in the past, from everyday people they'd committed to saving, even other Hunters. Dean seemed to hold them in same regard as anyone else, with the same expectations and without any judgement towards their own abilities. It didn't make sense. Except it completely did with the right context.
Sam was very sure that their father wouldn’t have seen omegas that way. Dean had always idolized their dad. It wouldn’t take much. A few words of disappointment in the fragile time just after a heat, voiced concern that Dean couldn’t do the job, a nudge about Sam’s safety, maybe a jab or two about weak spots. More than enough for Dean to decide that his dual side was a personal weakness that needed to be shored up by any means necessary. Dean would not only have agreed to the procedure; he’d have asked for it.
Sam loved their father. But sometimes he hated the man.
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