A/N: This is the prompt by sammygothispantieson I'm building this story up around: protective!possessive!top!alpha!hunter!dean!31, hurt!crazy!bottom!hermaphordite!abused!omega!sam!27, salvage!fic, featuring bobby! john! jodymills!cas!, crossdressing, eventually!mpreg, heat!circles!, alpha!beta!omega!dynamics,

So to say: I am not sure if I will be able to include ALL of the requested things in the story ... but I will try. I've never before written, nor thought about writing, something like this. It's HUGE for me and I'm quite uncomfortable with the m!preg thing. Then again it could be possible, since Sam's going to be a hermaphrodite.

I can't promise anything about this one. Hell, I'm right smack at the beginning of this story.

For the ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA thing: I don't do that whole extreme dub/con thing. Of course there will be some slight dub/con, since this is what it is – if you will even be able to call it that way. Everyone who knows "Storm's Last Season", will know that it's gonna be different. There will be Alphas and Betas and Omegas. But the Omega's won't be treated any lesser than Alphas or Betas. If anything, they're something precious. Something special. And since Sam's going to be hermaphrodite, he's going to be specially special.

SUMARY: Dean is an ex-hunter, working as a mechanic on the salvage of his surrogate-father Robert Singer, from Monday to Friday, 9-5, sometimes overtime. He quit hunting after a severe injury to his right calf and hip. He built a small house behind Bobby's where he's living. One day, a young man runs in front of his car, who's chased by a vampire. Something that will irrevocably change his life forever.

WARININGS: unrelated!wincest, mentions of possible torture!abuse of a minor!and/or grownup, sexual graphic!content ahead, FLUFF, love!story, mentions of violence, bad!language, high likely graphic violence or descriptions, body!deformation

!YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

The Alternative Universe

or ... how I put things to make this work and explain it to you BEFORE the story even starts, so you have a glimpse at what I think of how A/B/Os work in the universe I created:

The world is a mess.

Not just in our reality. Even in this one.

There are Alphas, Betas & Omegas. There are monsters. Demons. Angels. Hunters. There's Heaven, Hell & Purgatory.

There's Dean Winchester, an Alpha and Samuel Tristan Harvelle, an Omega.

In this world, Alphas get laid with Betas, Omegas or Alphas as well, because you can't do anything against love, can you? As well as Betas can fall in love with Omegas or Alphas or Betas and of course, Omegas can fall in love with Betas or Alphas or Omegas. No matter what gender.

Betas have the greater amount of the world's population. They are actually pretty normal in contrast to Alphas and Omegas. Why? Because, they're like the people in OUR universe. They don't have a knot – just saying, before someone's asking. They are usually the ones who have social tendencies when it comes to jobs, or in families. They are diplomats and not as driven by their emotions/instincts as Alphas and Omegas.

Alphas on the other hand can get very moody and have a higher potential to get agressive and violent and overly protective when it comes to their family, friends and specially mates/boyfriends or girlfriends/partners. Simply: People they are close to. Alphas mate for life and usually have a drastically lower divorce rate than pairs made of Betas & Betas.

They aren't as sex-driven as you may think. They are like you & me just more emotional – when it comes to something that's important to them.

On top of that, they've a pretty good olfactory system. They scent close to everything. But what's special about them? Well, they can scent their mates extremely well. Provided that it's their soulmate (if you believe in things like that. Not everyone does anywho. No matter if in our universe or in Fields Of Jasmine's one).

Soulmates: Soulmates are one soul split in half. They belong together – no matter what. No matter what gender, what race, nor if they're reborn as animals or plant (Don't judge me, that's what the lore says. Well, I've made up the lore. So yeah, it's because I SAY SO. Don't you guys dare argue with me about that). Yep, I've never heard about a plant being a human's best friend, but hey? What can I say?

Soulmates doesn't mean that they have to be in love either. They can be best buddies. Or an animal (preferably I'll mention DOGS). There's no rule about age-differences too. They can also be your brother or sister, mom or dad – or your kid. Always depending in which body you got born into.

Though, there's the lore that pairs find each other because of the bond of their souls. That one has to be memorized.

So we get back to the Alphas: Their dicks have knots.

Omegas. They're rare. They're precious – or at least they are when it comes to law and death penalty. Though, there's rarely an Omega killing someone. They're usually very emotional too, but they do not tend to hurt others physically. They rather cry. It's just in their genes.

They don't even end up in prison that often. Usually it's Alphas and Betas who do shit to end up there. And even if an Omega screws things up and ends up behind bars, they get special treatment. They get a cozy bed. More privacy. A better cell than Betas or Alphas. Hell, they even get better food ...

Some say it's because of a judge hundreds of years ago, who once was married to a female omega ... No one exactly knows what went down back then, but it surely wasn't something nice why she ended up in prison.

Anyway. That's none of our business. We've a story to tell and I don't want to bother you with not so very intersting details.

Omegas do scent others too. Just enough, so they know who are Alphas or Betas or Omegas – except it comes to their soulmate. THEN they do smell a whole lot more about the special person.

They are treated with utter respect.

Against most meanings, male Omegas can't get pregnant, because they're male, for fucks sake. BUT: They do lactate & they don't have a knot. AND one of the important things that were requested in the prompt were the heat-cycles. So yeah, I let those poor bastards go into heat ever two months for about three or five days. Though, it's not as massive as in other fics.

May a small fever, not feeling well, feeling a bit of the urge to have sex with someone. But only slightly. I guess we'll see about that in the story anyway ;D.

Of course there are exceptions from those rules like in any other universe. Just because someone's an Omega doesn't mean he can't kill someone ...

So, now that that's settled I guess we can move onto the story?

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Fields Of Jasmine

Four years ago ...

The young man's eyes were trained at the male looking figure in the clearing.

The light of the burning pyre and altar illuminated his silluette, showing a gun in his left hand and something that looked like a machete in his right one. The man's shoulders were tense. His whole body seemed to vibrate with energy and adrenaline.

Well hidden in the darkness of the trees and underwood, he watched the hunter carefully, not moving an inch and keeping his breathing even so not to be given away and drawing the hunter's attention towards him.

He knew better than that. He knew how dangerous it could be to be discovered by one of those men or women. Always eager to kill what wasn't human. And by all means ... Samuel Tristan Harvelle was sure about a lot of thing, but certainly not about his humanity.

The man shifted and his head turned towards where Samuel stood, emerald-green eyes piercing through the darkness.

Sam saw the man's eyes narrow, saw his eybrows furrow, even though he stood about two hundred yards away from him.

Time for him to go anyway. No need to be discovered.

The man would know, or at least assume something Samuel may not liked. Besides, it wasn't his plan to let himself be seen by any of this kind. He was a freak. A monster. In every single way. After all he had made himself a name and reputation so far, even when he was more of an urban legend. Samuel would dearly prefer if it'd stay that way.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was one of these days ...

Dean Winchester sat at the bar after a long day at work at Singer's Salvage and drank his last beer for the night, watching some pretty girls dance on the dance-floor. An amused smile traveled over his lips when Cassey brushed against him while she walked by.

Cassey. One hell of a girl. One hell of a sexy girl. A sexy girl he had a whole lot of sweet nights – and mornings – with. Sure, her attempt to gain his attention meant, that she was up for a couple of rounds of horizontal athletic exercises upstairs. Just Dean wasn't. Not today. Not since his damn calf and hip were giving him trouble again.

His whole leg felt stiff from his hip downwards. Well, it wasn't that bad. Someone who didn't kow would probably think, that he had a sore knee or ankle. Someone wouldn't even notice the slight limp whenever it was hurting if this someone didn't look that close at the ex-hunter.

But Dean knew. - He felt it. The ache. The pain. Deep down he knew where the injury had come from and what it had cost him.

It wasn't like he had LOVED to kill those monsters. He surely didn't. But it had been his job. Ridding the world from those bastards who threatened innocent humans. Dean Winchester had been able to do something good for the world. Well, at least he was telling himself that.

Sure he took over hunts every now and then, or helped another hunter out. Though, he prefered to use his talents in repairing cars for others more often now. Something regular and stable. Maybe he'd get to have a family too one day. May even kids and grandkids.

It felt kind of nice, this normal life. Well, at least as normal as it could possibly be to live close to another hunter – Bobby Singer – his surrogate father.

Dean blew out a deep sigh and waved the bartender to come over. He then pulled a bill from the inner pocket of his leather jacket, which once had been his father's, and laid it on the bar before he slid from the stool.

It was about time to get his ass home. After all he'd have to get up earlier tomorrow to patch up old Missy's Ford. A car which definitely belonged in a museum instead of on the road – just like its owner. Man, that old lady had some serious driving problems lately and she sure as hell belonged anywhere but the road.

What actually wasn't that much of a problem though. Everyone knew Missy Robins just fine. That old widow – or rather witch. Everyone knew about her driving habits and that it was better to get out of the way when you spotted her on the road.

Dean made his way out of the smoky bar and towards the back, through a dark alley, where his baby was waiting for him. To his surprise, he found Cassey leaning against the driver's side, her short jeans and loose top only covering the most intimate parts of her body. She wore a soft smile, as she toyed with the handle.

The mechanic couldn't do anything but grin at the fact that – though he was practically a half invalid – most women still seemed to fall for him. Something not everyone could manage. Dean figured it was his Alpha-gene and the fact that he was a Winchester. Winchester's always were lucky with the ladies.

As he approached his baby and the woman, Cassey pushed away from the vehicle, running slender fingers through her blonde long hair.

"Gonna take me home tonight?" she asked – hope and need dripping from each syllable.

Dean chuckled low and shook his head, his forest-green eyes lighting up in a way not everyone had the privilege to see. "Sorry, Cassey. - Not tonight, Sweetheart," he said and licked over his lower lip.

A disappointed sigh fell from her mouth and she cast her look down. "You around on friday? - I'd have a short shift ..."

Yeah, friday sounded pretty good to him. "Sure thing." He blinked his lashes at her. "Friday eight p.m.?"

She nodded. "I'll be waiting for you, Winchester," she said, as she walked past him and stole a pec from his cheek.

He slapped her rear lightly, before he was out of armreach and earned a low giggle. "See you on Friday," he heard her say, before the back-door of the bar slid in its lock.

Satisfied, and tired as hell, he slid behind the steering wheel of his baby and sighed, as he pushed the key into the ignition and called the engine of his beloved Impala to live.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It wasn't that far from the Salvage into town. Actually five miles covered the distance with woods.

Dean yawned and rubbed over his face, turning the volume of the radio up a bit. He never left the road before him out of his sight since it was high likely that some deer could cross the road in the darkness.

He hated those dark days, when the sun started to go down early and was ruining the last warm escapades of the year. It made his calf and hip hurt even more nowadays – man, he was getting old, wasn't he?

Sure, he was just thirty-one, but on some days he felt way older ... Something the job as a hunter brought along – at least when you lived that long. HELL, Dean had never thought he'd live that long, nor had he ever imagined to end up as a mechanic. He always had thought he'd die with a damn gun in his hands, fighting for his life.

And now? Now he was some civilian repairing cars ...

John's ash would do pirouettes if he'd know.

Suddenly the brights caught movement on the right side of the road, just where the light of the headlights started to fade into the night. Dean – who wasn't the slowest driver – Slammed onto the breaks, as the very next moment a very human-like shape appeared. It froze instantly, stopping dead in its tracks, when the Impala stopped just mere yards away from it. From HIM.

That was definitely not a deer – nor a bigfoot. That was a damn human, staring shocked and frightened into Dean's direction. Wide eyes, torn clothes and what looked like dirt and high likely blood were covering the guy.

For a long moment it was as if their looks met. Dean was pretty sure, this guy wasn't looking him in the eyes, since the headlights had to be blinding him from where he stood. Nonetheless, even over the distance, he could tell that the man was running from someone – or something.

That was about the moment when his confusion faded and his hunter-senses kicked in.

A second later, the guy tore his gaze away from the vehicle and his attention snapped towards something from where he had just came from. Then he started off and was gone in the underwood of the other side of the road.

Dean swallowed, his gaze glued to the roadside, while his hand searched for the gun, which was secured in a holster under his seat.

There was movement again, and a single man stumbled onto the road, a gun in his hands, before he could fumble his own free.

The man's gaze snapped towards the Impala, an utterly grim expression on his face and a snarl on his lips. He stopped.

Dean pulled the weapon into his lap as he trained his gaze on the man. He knew him. This guy was Henry Savanger, owner of a bar in the center of Sioux Falls, known for its G-rated events every other weekend.

The hunter had spared those so far, not quite into the whole S & M thing as others might in this town. Other than that those events were strictly private. He had heard about other things going on there too ... backrooms and the possibility to rent one of them with provided company.

Something the hunter didn't need either. He could have whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Anyway. Obviously there were more dubious things going on as he had thought. So far, Dean knew nearly everyone who lived in this town ... and he didn't know the young man who seemed to be on the run from Henry.

And that was that.

Henry Savanger turned towards the car, pointing the gun at the driver's side. "Out!" he called.

Dean huffed out a breath. He didn't know Savanger better than anyone else. Not enough to know him personally anyway ... He hadn't even repaired the man's car so far.

"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed, sliding the gun behind his back and into the belt, before he pushed the door of his car open - ever so slowly. After all, he hadn't stopped hunting to die by a bullet through his head or chest from some human scum ...

Savanger's eyes reflected and lit up silvery as he tilted his head to the side slightly.

Dean's lips drew a tight line, training his look at the man on the street warily. He showed one of his hands outside the car, while he acted as if he needed the other one to brace himself to be able to stand up. Again he didn't look away and kept on glaring the guy to death – if that'd only worked.

No such luck though.

The ex-hunter slid with his still hidden hand to the backside of his seat while he rose slowly into a standing postion and pulled a machete from the backside of his seat in the same motion, holding it close to the outer side of his thigh so that it stayed hidden from the other man's few. At least for now.

Savanger cocked the gun and trained it at the Winchester, as the ex hunter's head appeared above the driver's door.

"Wrong time, wrong place, boy," he called out with a mischievous grin.

"Looks like it, Henry." Dean made a step away from the car, the lower half of his body still hidden behind the door.

"Hands up, Winchester. - Both of them." He waved the gun at him. The man's eyes reflected the light once again as he shifted. "So that I can see them."

Dean pursed his lips as he made another step away from the car. "You ain't no human, Savanger. What are you?"

The man chuckled, blowing out a sigh. "Am I?"

"Vamp or Shifter?" The ex-hunter made another step away from the car so that he was standing out in the open now, though, still holding the machete at the side of his leg, well hidden from the man's view.

Savanger showed him his perfectly white teeth, licking over them as a row of fangs penetrated his gums.

Dean huffed out an annoyed breath. How could he possibly not see? Had he gotten that rusty? Savanger had crossed paths with him so many times in town. How couldn't he have noticed?

"Vamp," he growled, the stinging scent of terrified omega penetrating his nostrils and setting off a flood of adrenaline and endorphines in his bloodstream.

Like every alpha, Dean wasn't immune from the sharp stench of an omega in need. Though, something about this one smelled ... off. Moss. Wood. And something sweet ... something ... like Jasmine.

"You gonna shoot me? Think that's a good idea?"

Savanger grinned slyly. "Oh, don't you worry, Winchester. Aint no piece of you'll be left when I'm done with you. You'll just disappear."

"You think so, huh?" Dean's lips curled up into a feral smirk. "Bobby wouldn't buy it though."

The vamp huffed out a breath. "Old town drunks I can handle, kid. Don't you worry." He thrust his jaw forward.

"Oh ... guess that's a thing then ..." The very moment the words came over his lips, he pulled the gun and swirrled around in a half-roll over the cool concrete as he pulled the trigger. Despite the fact that he hadn't had a gun in his hands in over a year – at least not with the intent to use it – he hit the guy dead in the chest.

Savanger staggered back, gasping, the grip on his gun easing. It slid from his hand and as it hit the ground, a shot echoed through the night. Dean got back on his feet as fast as his hip and knee allowed him to, and limped a few steps towards the vampire, gun still trained at him.

"Didn't know vamps are goin' after human omegas now, bitch," Dean said as he stood right in front of the creature. "Why would you do such a thing? - He's gotta be missed. Someone's lookin' for him."

The Impala's bright lights revealed a slowly growing red spot on the man's shirt. The ex hunter tapped with his machete on the man's shoulder. A seemingly featherlight touch though enough to throw the man off balance and backwards to the ground.

"Yeah. Silver. I know I know." Dean winked at him. "Ain't gonna put you down long enough, except it's stuck in your heart. Lucky me, huh?" He bowed over the gasping being with risen eyebrows and a satisfied expression on his face.

Dean patted with the tip of the machete against the man's cheek. "So ... you gonna tell me where your nest is? How long you've been around Sioux Falls? When you got turned maybe?"

The wounded creature snarled at him. "Fuck you!" it hissed.

"Where's the nest?" he asked again through gritted teeth. "Millers Farm? Huh? - When I'm thinkin' about it closer ... haven't seen anyone of the Millers for weeks ... Figured their car finally gave up on them and they bought a new one ... but they didn't did they?" he pursed his lips.

The vamp turned his head away from the ex hunter, staring at the seam of wood where the omega had disappeared.

"What about the omega? Where'd you get him?" Dean pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. "Did you kidnap him? Buy him?" At the second question, the vampire seemed to tense and his breathing quickened a bit "Black Market maybe?"

The vampire's gaze flickered towards the hunter, meeting his for a split moment, before he pulled it away from him again. There had been something in the man's dark orbs ... something that told Dean that he wasn't quite wrong with that.

"Good." Dean smacked his lips. "No need keepin' you when you're not talkin'." He straightened up again and rose the machete over his head, before he let it swish down, parting the man's torso from his head with a single smooth move.

Panting and with blood-splatterns on his face, Dean fumbled for the phone in his front-pocket, calling the only person that'd know how to deal with this kind of problem.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean gasped, gripping his right thigh with a groan. "Fangs." He didn't need to say anything more.
"Where are you boy?" the gruff, but familiar voice asked.

"Two miles ahead of the Salvage. - You can't fail me," he said and snapped his phone shut.

The next thing he did, was to scroll through his contacts until Jody Mills was underlined in a light blue.

He pressed the call-button.

Two rings later, someone picked up. "Dean?" a female voice asked sleepily.

"Jody. - Stumbled over a fang on the main road. Guy was huntin' an omega in the woods. - May be a nest."

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, as if the Sheriff was holding her breath. "You've got a name?"

"Savanger," he answered. "Henry. You might wanna check out the Miller's Farm ... You should take Jo and Joshua with you." He paused. "Me and Bobby gonna take care of the body."

"Meetin' at the hospital then?" was all Jody asked with her sleeprough voice.

"Depends. Give me a call when you're done." Dean could hear the rustling of clothes through the phone. Jody was already getting dressed and ready to head out. "Jody?"

The sheriff cleared her throat. "Yeah?"

"Take care. Don't forget the machetes," the ex hunter said.

There wasn't an answer. The line went dead.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

He needed to run. - Get away. This was his only chance. His last chance. Hell, and he'd die trying if it had to be. No one'd touch him ever again. EVER AGAIN. He wouldn't allow anyone to lay their filthy hands on him. He'd rather freeze to death out here or starve or whatever else fate wanted to throw at him.

The gashes and cuts on his soles and feet burned. Each intake of air tore through his lungs and felt as if they were on fire. Nonetheless he kept on running – as fast as his tired legs would allow him to. Adrenaline and the hope of escaping those merciless hunters, left him fighting against fatigue, exhaustion and pain.

Shit.

Henry was fast. He knew he'd get to him. He knew it was some kind of game for those monsters. If they wanted, they could've gotten him miles before. Henry could've gotten him miles ago. But that bastard obviously prefered to hunt him down the old fashioned way, like a deer or rabit.

It wasn't like he hadn't tried to get free before. At least in the beginning he had. But after all those months ... damn it, he didn't even know where to go. Hell, he didn't know anything but fear and terror and pain. He couldn't remember anything else but ... but THEM!

His foot caught in a root and before he knew it, he found himself face down on the forest-ground, shaking and panting and all of a sudden too tired to even try and get back on his feet, get back running.

The wound in his side gave him a sharp stab, as he pried his hands into the damp ground beneath him and tried to get himself into a sitting position. His muscles protested, a whimper falling from his lips as he crumbled back to the ground, curling up into himself.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Bobby was there within fifteen minutes from the opposite lane of the road. He stopped his car mere yards away from the corpse and when he emerged, he carried a machete in one hand and a blanket in the other one.

Dean and he greeted each other silently with nods.

The ex hunter wiped his machete clean on his jeans and thrusted it into a sheath on his outer thigh, which he had gotten from the trunk of his car moments before.

No matter how bad his alpha-side wanted to storm into the woods, tracking the unmated, frightened omega down, he didn't. One of his rules was, to not go alone into the woods when there'd possibly be more than one supernatural creature out there.

Besides ... he was a gimp, so what the hell? He couldn't take care of all the poor bastards in this world ... At least not anymore. For Dean it didn't matter what he was. Alpha. Beta. Or Omega. He didn't care – he honestly didn't. Dean had said goodbye to the social order a long time ago, not quite cool with the idea of raising one humans well-being above each others just because they were born as omegas.

Actually, he felt pretty pissed off by them. After all it had been an omega - which were known to be gentle and nice and vulnerable – who had set their house on fire years ago and had killed his mother when he had been only three years old. It had been the very omega, who had gotten a lesser punishment than anyone else would have, just because he was what he was.

Because it was forbidden to kill an omega. It was forbidden to hurt an omega.

Of course, that didn't mean that he would have a nice life in prison after all. Omegas were what they were after all – rare breeding machines. Well, except this had been a male omega, so in this case, breeding machine wouldn't fit. Though, Dean hoped – from the bottom of his heart – that this bastard would pay for what he had done.

He could still remember – very vividly – how that bastard had grinned, when the judge had announced that he'd get a single cell with a canopy bed (he didn't say that, but it was high likely that way) and with quite some other extras another regular prisioner (alpha or beta) would've never gotten.

So yeah. Dean Winchester hated omegas for a very special reason. Besides ... he hadn't met a lot of them that acted like normal people anyway – except for a hand full of them.

Besides ... Dean prefered betas anyway. They didn't stink as bad as omegas and they weren't as bitchy as he had heard omegas had to be.

All in all, Dean Winchester was pretty pleased with how things were in his private life – no duties and all the rights.

Bobby Singer dumped the blanket – which came out to be two blankets – on the ground and spread the upper one over the headless corpse. He looked around and both his eyebrows rose, as he spotted the head, lying about a yard away from it. With a nudge of his foot, he rolled the head over and let it disappear under the blanket.

"Help me get in on the loadbed," Bobby said gruffly and started to wrap the dead creature up in the scratchy fabric.

Dean obliged without questioning and stalked over to him, where they managed to spin the body into a thight cocoon and threw it on the bed of Bobby's truck.

Of course they could've looked for the omega first. - But despite the fact that the sheriff knew about the supernatural and what Bobby and Dean had been doing – and were doing occasionally – in their past, she could not do nothing if someone would see a beheaded guy and Dean standing right next to him.

So they had to pack up the corpse before they'd do anything else.

Dean shoved the legs of the cocoon further up the bed and dropped them with a grunt before he whiped his hands off on his jeans.

"He can't be far. Looks like he's not in the best shape." Dean took a deep inhale, still being able to scent the omega's stench. Then he pointed towards the slope where the omega had disappeared. "Probably's somewhere hidin' in the woods ..." His voice trailed off as his gaze met Bobby's curious look.

"That ain't a wounded deer we're lookin' for, boy," the older man rasped.

"Omega. Bobby. Omega," Dean said. "They ain't better than that."

Bobby huffed out a breath. He handed his younger friend a flashlight and switched his own on. "Let's go," he muttered and took the lead as they crawled down the slope.

Dean cursed as yet another branch slapped him in the face. "Dude!" he called out. "What the hell, Bobby?"

The grizzled hunter muttered something.

"What was that?"

"Take care where you're goin'. Can't have you and him to carry back to the car, Idiot." The bearded man sniffed and grumbled yet another add to what he had said.

Dean shook his head. He knew that Bobby didn't share his opinion on omegas. Though, the older man didn't care either who got born as what. Actually, he hated the laws as much as Dean did, but he refused to let it out on others (specially omegas).

Robert Singer didn't share the younger man's opinions though. He himself was way older and had met omegas by himself. He just didn't see them as the bitchy being as Dean seemed to think they were.

Sure, there were those petite, pretty things – omegas – which used their rights to their advantage, but most of them weren't as bad and behaved like everyone else did. They weren't different from alphas or betas at all. Just like there were alphas out there, who loved to pry with the fact that they were what they were.

He thought, that if it was a beta or alpha out there, needing help, Dean would act a whole lot different too. Just for the fact that they weren't omegas ...

Bobby stopped in his tracks and rose his hand, signaling Dean to stop.

The younger man did, his eyes narrowing, as he sucked in a deep breath through his nose. His nostrils flared as the strong smell of Jasmine, moss and wood shot straight into his brain, telling him that the omega couldn't be far anymore.

"He's close," Dean muttered, brushing past his older friend, the fact that he wanted to get this over with stronger than the need to be careful and think about how to narrow without scaring the hunted being off further.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam swallwed a choked sob and squeezed his eyes shut at the touch. He didn't know what to do. If he should say something, if he was supposed to say something. Hell, those voices were foreign and at the moment their words didn't make any sense. Not in his state of mind.

All he wanted was to be left alone.

All he wanted was to die right there, unable to take any of this anymore.

The stench of a the newly arrived alpha and a beta made him want to crawl away from the threat before him. Though he knew that no alpha would allow him to disobey. At least not the one who had him before. And before that ... well ... he didn't remember. COULDN'T remember.

The hand squeezed his shoulder carefully and despite the gentleness it hurt.

A pained whimper escaped his mouth and he tried to turn away from the touch instinctively, as pain started to radiate from his wounded side. Then the hand was gone for a moment and there was movement around him. The rustling of clothes and cracking branches.

For a moment he thought – HOPED – that those men would just leave him be. But he wasn't that lucky. Of course he wasn't. He was special – in some twisted freaky kind of way. He'd never be left alone. He'd never find the peace he longed for.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean shifted again and stood up, getting to the man's side. "Okay, kid. - Let's see if you can walk." He straightened up and hissed as the abused muscles in right calf and hip protested against the movement.

He gave Bobby a look.

The older man went to the other side, gazing quizzically at Dean.

"We're gonna try to walk you back to the road," Dean informed the omega. "You can lay down in the backseat." He kept his words cool and clinical.

The ex hunter held his breath for a moment, trying to keep the man's unique odor out of his nose and away from his system. He hated it. He fucking hated the smell that radiated from omegas. And he hated what this smell was doing to his mind, telling him to protect. Telling him to give IT shelter and take care of it.

That was ridiculous.

Dean sighed deeply and braced himself for some kind of struggle from the omega. Though, nothing happened when he shoved his arm under the man's armpit. Bobby followed his example and together they pulled Sam up slowly.

The younger man unfolded in an instant and let himself being helped up. The both of them wrapped their arms around the tall man's lower back and folded his arms around their necks for some leverage.

"Dude. - How tall are you?" Dean burst out surprised, when he realized that the guy had about three inches on him.

Sam didn't respond. He kept his head down, watching his own feet matching the alpha's pace as they started to walk towards the road. His whole body shook with the effort of trying to keep his long legs under him and trying to manage not to stumble over roots or even his own feet.

It were just a couple of yards later, that Dean started to take over more and more weight. He shared a short glance with Bobby.

"You okay there?" he tried to get a better look at the younger man's face. But no such luck. It was too dark and the omega's hair was too long, hiding most of the upper half of his face. "Kiddo?"

Sam blew out a shuddering breath. Nope, he wasn't going to make it any further. Not with the thumping and the spinning in his head. Not with the way his legs were turning into jell-o.

"Can't," he gasped.

Rather surprised, Dean tightened his hold around the younger man and pulled him in closer. "Just a couple of yards."

Sam's left leg gave out with its next step. So did his right one. All of a sudden, his vision grew grey and black at the edges, followed by a sudden change of hight.

... to be continued

THANK YOU to GOTHPANDAOTAKU for proofreading :)

please, guys & girls don't be a silent reader and let me know what you think about it.

It'd mean a lot to me :)