Chapter Text
Alastair drives.
Dean's eyes are glued to the window. They're going on some sort of work trip, and alpha decided to take him with. This is the first time Dean's left the city in months, and he's so excited to go out. And Alastair's in a pretty good mood. So far, he hasn't forbidden Dean to look out the window, but maybe only cause of that blowjob in the morning. Dean really tried his best.
His jaw aches, now, and so does his side, where there's a giant, slow-healing bruise. But it doesn't matter, cause he can see other cars on the interstate, and people inside them; a rusty bridge over the road; a gathering of trees, too small to be called a forest. He doesn't know where they're going, but it's amazing to be out on the road again.
Almost like with dad, he starts to think, and immediately cuts it off. No thinking of dad.
Instead, when he glances back at Alastair, the alpha is glancing at him. Dean offers an unsure smile.
'Happy to be outside, pet?' Alastair asks, his hand landing on Dean's thigh, rubbing possessively. Dean resigns himself to the fondling, hoping it won't turn totally sexual, and it doesn't. Instead, Alastair leans forward and pops open the compartment. There's a map inside. 'Make sure we're on the right road.'
'Where are we headed?' Dean asks, unfolding the map.
'Kentucky,' Alastair replies evenly, turning up the volume on the radio. Dean's head snaps up at that, looking fearfully at the alpha. Alastair smiles knowingly.
'Haven't been to Kentucky in a while, hmm?' he drawls, switching the lane. 'Not since-'
The map rustles when Dean's hands start shaking. He grabs the door handle without thinking, a jerky, mindless movement, and Alastair barks:
'Don't.'
His hand falls back to his lap like someone switched off his batteries.
'I didn't -' Dean shakes, and thinks he might pass out. Not Kentucky , not the punishment center. 'What did - what did I - what-'
Alastair lets him struggle for a while more, calm and satisfied. Dean knows this game, knows it's a game in the first place, so he should get a grip, but he can't . Cause he only visits that center when he runs, and he hasn't - he would never-
'We're not going to the center,' Alastair says, finally, amused. Dean inhales, a big, loud breath, chasing away the spots dancing in his vision. 'Not unless you give me a reason to take you.'
'I won't,' Dean breathes heavily still, like something's lodged in his chest and doesn't budge. 'Promise.'
Alastair just hums. He speeds up. Dean doesn't like going this fast. He tries not to think about how his gut reaction was to open the door and jump out of the car, at this speed. He tries not to think about how Alastair’s just saved his life.
'It's a business opportunity,' alpha tells him, after Dean's calmed down a little.
'C-can I ask a question?' Dean asks, eyes fixed firmly on the map, tracing the routes to Kentucky. He feels so relieved, and so exhausted. He hates these cruel games.
'No,' Alastair denies, so Dean shuts up and focuses on finding the quickest road.
An hour later, they stop for a meal. To Dean’s surprise, Alastair allows him to follow him inside the gas station slash bar. They sit down in a booth. Dean's stomach growls.
'You can pick something,' Alastair tells him, pushing the paper menu across the table. 'One thing.'
Dean can't believe his own ears.
'Thank you,' he says, sheepishly. Maybe there's a catch, but it doesn't seem like it. Alastair's already lost in whatever's happening on the small TV hung above the bar. His fingers flex. They still have a lot of driving to do.
Dean settles on a burger, with enough ingredients in it to tide him over for at least a day. He'll have to eat slowly. Alastair approves with a grunt, and then places the order. Dean looks out of the wide window, at the parking lot. He can see families and truckers. There's a lanky teenager trying out his skateboard on the stairs, and he reminds Dean of Sammy.
When the waitress puts the plates on their table, Dean flinches, which earns him a long look from her. He mumbles his thank you and stares at the burger, tense. Is this a trick? It looks so good, and smells even better. His stomach growls again.
Alastair eyes him over his own meal, and smirks.
'You can eat,' he says. 'Don't be so jumpy, pet. There's no catch.'
'I just,' Dean whispers, his fingers curling around the sandwich. It's the biggest meal he's had in days, and on the road, too, expensive. He's scared. 'Um.'
'You've been good,' Alastair says, shocking him. He smiles, showing a line of straight teeth. 'It's true. I've been waiting for you to fuck up, but ever since that mess with my clean shirts, well. You've been good, omega.'
Dean can't help the way his cheeks flush, or the shy, happy smile that appears on his face. He's so rarely good. Alastair dishes out his praises like a handful should last him a lifetime. But whenever he does, oh... Dean just feels like he's glowing.
He doesn't smile all that much, and he doesn't know if Alastair likes it, but it definitely makes him horny. There's a spike of arousal in his scent and he stares at Dean for a couple of seconds, before leaning over the table and kissing him. Dean's pliant, welcoming, like always. He doesn't love it, but Alastair’s tongue is so insisting, there's heat pooling in his stomach, anyway. Unwanted.
'Eat,' Alastair says, letting go, and Dean does.
It's a great burger. And when he's done, he waits for his alpha to finish, patiently, watching some comedy show on TV. The two old men argue about their neighbor and when there's a joke, he laughs quietly, and Alastair laughs too. It's a good day, Dean decides, alpha's foot resting against his under the table. Almost relaxing, and on the road. Away from the house.
They drive until it gets really dark, and then some. Dean keeps dozing off and forcing himself awake. Eventually, Alastair stops at some motel by the road. He checks them in, telling Dean to wait in the car. Dean doesn't want to wait in the car. The place is sketchy, looks like a dump from the outside, and he doesn't like how the manager glances at him through the window of the office. His gaze is hungry. There's also some men, alphas, playing loud rap from their car radio, drinking and yelling and cursing, just a few meters away. Dean curls up on the seat, knees to his chest, and wraps his hands around his collar.
Alastair's back soon, and they exit the car together. Dean falls in place right behind him, clinging to his back like a shadow, eyes on the ground. But no luck. The alphas from the car notice them and two of the huge men approach them.
Dean cringes away. They might think they're an easy target; an omega in his thirties and an older, gaunt-looking alpha with greying hair. But they're wrong. They don't know Alastair.
'Whatcha got there, man?' one of them hollers. 'Wanna share your bitch with us?'
'No,' Alastair replies, simply, no doubt aware of the waves of fear rolling off of Dean. But it's not why he does it. He just doesn't like sharing Dean, not with random people.
'Think again, motherfucker,' the guy steps closer, so close that he pushes Alastair up the wall. Alpha just stares him down, unimpressed. The other guy grabs Dean by the back of his shirt and pulls him flush against his body. Dean gags on his alpha scent. He's so scared, his heart is pounding, even though he knows Alastair won't let them take him.
'Go to your room, old man. We'll send your bitch back when we're done,' the guy holding Dean announces, and despite the fear, Dean wants to smirk. An old man . They have no clue what Alastair really is.
'You'll hand me my bitch right now,' Alastair says, coolly, something glinting in his hand. A knife, already pressed snugly against the alpha's balls. 'Or I'll cut these off.'
This is the face he wears when he's most terrifying. It's so cold and unhuman, so blank and so monstrous. Dangerous. Calculated.
The alphas see it too, and they take the hint.
'Fuck,' the alpha holding Dean releases him, and he staggers a few steps before reaching Alastair. 'Come on, man. It's not worth it.'
The other alpha huffs and steps away from Alastair.
Who smiles.
Something fills Dean, something like lust and pride. Something like , because he doesn't care about Alastair nearly enough for those feelings to be real. He doesn't love him, he hates him. But Alastair's also his alpha, his unassuming but terrifying alpha who's just protected him without breaking a sweat.
'Come,' Alastair tells him, and opens the door to their room, blatantly not checking over his shoulder. Dean's checking for him. The alphas are back in the car, muttering curses, and Dean knows they won't bother them again.
The room is dingy, but the sheets seem clean. Dean has time to notice that, while Alastair drops the keys on the table and takes off his shoes. In the tense, loaded silence, Dean knows what’s coming. He stands in front of the bed, watching closely as Alastair tugs the belt out of the loops in his trousers, and brings it down onto the table. It snaps loudly, making Dean flinch out of his skin. He feels a rush of - something at this game that they’re playing. Fear, arousal. It’s hard to tell, but it fills him so fast, he’s dizzy with it.
‘I have to protect your slutty ass everywhere we go,’ Alastair says, tonelessly, finally turning around to face Dean. His eyes are gleaming in the dark, and he smells so possessive. Dean’s still trembling, like there’s electricity in his veins. He reeks of the alpha who’s just grabbed him, and he feels so unsteady. He wants to be held, in any way he’ll get, he wants to be comforted and assured that he’s safe.
So, without being told to do so, he strips. It’s both obedience and an invitation, he thinks. And when Alastair strides towards him purposefully, when he grabs him angrily and pushes him onto the bed, he welcomes the touch. Alastair might be staking his claim, but Dean wants to be claimed, too. He wants to forget the asshole from before and he wants to know he’s still wanted here, that he has his place.
The next morning, they leave the seedy motel and keep driving. Dean gets their route wrong once, but he doesn't even get corrected for it, so alpha must really be in a good mood. They stop by a lake, and Alastair lets Dean have his leftover fries. They're cold, and so is the half cup of his coke, but Dean's happy anyway. The lake is huge and sprawling, and he loves the tiny colorful boats he can see on the horizon. He scoots closer to the low railing and looks down at the clear blue water.
'There's fish,' he says, dumbfounded, before he realizes what he's doing. He tenses, but Alastair just snorts, amused.
'Sure is,' he leans over the railing too, next to Dean. 'It's a lake, stupid.'
Dean hesitates, but alpha seems peaceful, just looking over the water.
'I like it,' he admits meekly. He glances at Alastair to gauge his reaction.
'You ever been out on the lake?' alpha asks.
Dean shakes his head.
'I had a boat,' Alastair tells him. 'Well, my pop had. Used to work on it a lot when I was a runt. He had to sell it, eventually. He always had more bills than brains.'
Like you, Dean thinks, and absolutely does not say.
'Did you ever go out on the open water?' Dean asks. Alastair doesn't talk about his life before him too often. 'Like, the ocean?'
'No,' Alastair shakes his head. 'That's dangerous. Sides, pops drank enough to sink the boat in a puddle.'
That's new. Dean had no idea Alastair's father was a drunk.
'My dad used to drink too,' he shares, seemingly out of nowhere. He doesn't talk about his past life, either. Like an unspoken pact between them.
'Yeah?' Alastair asks, looking at him closely. Dean drops his eyes. He left an opening in his armor and Alastair will strike, he knows it. Drunk so much cause he got a whore for a son? 'That why you were pretending to be a beta?'
What? That's not what Dean expected. He frowns.
'No,' he says. 'Why?'
'I just wonder,' Alastair says, turning to look back at the lake. 'Who fucked you up so badly, you felt like you needed to pretend.'
'What, cause being an omega's such a dream?' Dean snarks before he can stop himself. What the fuck. He freezes, a wave of fear crashing over him. 'Sorry, I didn't mean it. I-I swear. I know what I am, please-'
'Shut up,' Alastair says, but it's light. 'There's nothing wrong with being an omega. You don't have to do shit but be obedient, and someone always takes care of you. You don't have to pay for anything, hell, you get a roof over your head, food and a knot. Don't sound like that bad of a fate to me.'
Dean's got his lips pursed before he can say anything. Wouldn't be smart. Alastair's right, too. He just doesn't get how high the price is for all those amazing things he supposedly gets for free. Funny, considering the thing he wants the most is freedom, and it's one he's never going to get.
'What do you think, Dean?' Alastair insists. Dean startles; he almost never uses his name, feels so weird to hear it in his voice. He just shakes his head, refusing to rise to the bait. But maybe it's not a game. Doesn't seem like one. Seems like this entire trip, Alastair's in a genuinely good mood. 'Oh, come on. I know you'd rather be a beta any day,' he rolls his eyes. 'I just don't get why . You're clearly made to be an omega. You submit so beautifully, when you do submit.' He raises his hand, slowly, and brushes Dean's neck, clasps a hand on his arm. 'You fought me more than most omegas would dare. Is it so hard to be obedient? You like it when you're good. You like it when we spend time together and I don't have to correct you,' he cups Dean's cheek, and even though Dean flinches, he runs a thumb over it, and it doesn't hurt. Everything in Dean strains not to lean into it. 'So tell me, why would you rather be a beta?'
Dean exhales, their faces so close. Alastair's grey eyes are curious, even though Dean's not supposed to look.
'Maybe I'd rather be an alpha ,' he says, and it's hard to keep the challenge out of his voice. He averts his eyes immediately. Those short bursts of courage are going to be the nails to his coffin.
Alastair laughs, though, genuinely amused.
'This is why training you never gets old,' he says, chuckling and throwing an arm around Dean's shoulders. Dean's stiff like a rock and almost too scared to breathe, at this point. 'This is what I like about you.' He guides Dean away from the lake and back to the car. 'You know you could end up in the center in Kentucky, and I know how much you don't wanna go, and I know that you're trying to keep yourself in check. But you just can't help yourself, can you?' He ruffles Dean's hair, almost affectionately. Or maybe with true affection, Dean never knows with this psychopath.
'You asked,' Dean ventures, uncertain if it's time to indulge Alastair's curiosity, or if it's too late to save himself. This is why Alastair loves these games so much. They're designed so that he always wins.
'I did,' Alastair nods. 'And that was fine.' Suddenly, he turns around and slams Dean against the side of the car, a hand around his neck, tightening. 'But if you don't stop being such a little shit, you'll pay.'
Dean nods back, jerkily, best as he can. He knows it's just a warning, but it doesn't stop the heart pounding in his chest. The grip tightens even more, until he can't breathe, and then Alastair lets go.
Dean slumps and coughs.
'M'sorry,' he wheezes. And he means it. He's not often this insolent. He'll have to figure out a way to thwart those... unwanted bits of bravery that spill out of mouth.
Otherwise, Alastair will figure it out for him.
'You don't look too excited,' Cas says. Dean pouts at him from behind the - whatever the hell this is. A net-like hat to complete this ridiculous ensemble.
'I look like the man on the moon,' he complains. 'And. I dunno. Not super excited about being swamped by a bunch of stinging insects, yeah.'
'Bees do not sting unless provoked,' Cas tells him. Unlike Dean, he seems stoked to be here. Eyes shining, a wide smile on his face. Dean would kiss him if they weren't wearing the stupid hats. 'It's going to be great! I'll show you how everything works. Come on. Just keep your suit on at all times. You might be allergic.'
Dean sulks a little, but it was his idea from the start, and he really wants to make Cas happy. So he trails after him, out of the preparatory shed, into the sunny field. There are so many beehives, all looking like funny, small apartment blocks. They're all painted a different color, and some are just brown like the wood they're made from. Dean can see and hear the bees buzzing in the air, around the hives.
'It's incredible how they're able to build such intricate structures,' Cas muses, and Dean frowns.
'Looks like a buncha boxes to me,' he says, and realizes his mistake as soon as the words are out of his mouth. 'Oh. You mean the - oh. Right.'
'Yes, the honeycomb,' alpha chuckles. 'I love how symmetrical it is.'
'It's where they store the honey, right?' Dean asks, and wants to kick himself. It's literally called a honeycomb . He just feels kinda - a little stupid next to Cas, who's already brimming with all the bee knowledge. They had to pay extra for Dean to be allowed to come inside, and it knocked him off his balance a bit. They've only been on this road trip for a week, and it's already more expensive, cause of him. It's obvious a place this... funky, isn't meant for omegas. It's one of the entertainments for the educated people, getting to visit a bee... farm, or whatever, and Dean feels...
Out of place.
But Cas is completely unaware of Dean's shame and anxiety. He turns around, prompted by Dean's question, and exclaims enthusiastically:
'Not just! They also store their babies and pollen in the comb. Think of it as a multipurpose warehouse.'
'Huh,' Dean replies, his hand wandering to grab Cas's, though it's not the same through their thick gloves.
'There are three castes of bees in a colony,' Cas goes on, clearly getting into it. 'The queen bee, the worker bees - all female! - and the drones, the males. The drones only exist to mate the queen, and the females do all the work and tend to the young. They cannot produce any offspring themselves. They're fed a different kind of honey than the queen, and it stunts their ovary growth. And the drones, they're often torn apart by worker bees when they're no longer useful, or banished from the hive to die. Nature can be cruel,' he concludes, with far too much mirth on his face. It cracks Dean up a little. But then, he thinks he can relate.
'Yeah, I know something about that,' he murmurs.
'Nature didn't create you inferior,' Cas replies, the joy replaced by a sullen look. 'The society did.'
'Yeah, well,' Dean shrugs, wanting to leave the subject. 'At least nature created you hot, so.'
'And you beautiful,' Cas smiles broadly, seeming to get the hint. 'Let's see them up close.'
They find a guide by one of the hives, who goes on and on and on about how the hives are built so that the bees have the time of their life, and how in this joint, they don't replace their honey with the sugary solution but something with the actual honey mixed in. Dean fails to see how there's any profit from it, but if it helps the bees survive, hey, he's not gonna complain.
They're shown the honeycombs with bees crawling all over them. Cas thinks it's fascinating. Dean thinks it's kinda gross. He takes a step back when the bees start flying, but Cas doesn't, smiling that serene smile that Dean loves seeing on him. Alpha chats the guy up about what wood is the best for creating the hives and about their bee population number, and Dean's mind drifts. He looks at the tiny insects, doing their job, interrupted by three freaking giants in white impersonal suits. Talk about men on the moon. To those poor bees, they're the aliens.
He spots the queen, bigger and slimmer than the rest. Cas told him she can lay thousands of eggs in one go, for years, and when she's done making babies, she's useless like everyone else. Everyone has their purpose, Dean guesses. It kinda makes him sad. But then, he remembers what Cas told him, he always remembers that. Your purpose is being happy. It used to be being useful instead, being a good omega, but now... dying or retiring after he fulfills Cas's purpose doesn't sound so bad, he thinks. A whole lot of years of being happy. Yeah, he could do that.
Cas notices that he's smiling and looks down, and notices the queen.
'Dean, you found her!' he says as if Dean's been looking for the lost city of Atlantis, and not one distinct bee among like a hundred regular ones. Some bees lift off the comb and buzz dangerously close to Dean, who hurries away.
'You sure they're not gonna sting?' he asks.
'They only do to defend the hive,' the guide says. Dean flicks his eyes to him. Through the suit, he can't smell whether he's an alpha or a beta. 'And most of them die after the first sting. But don't worry, they're pretty docile, they won't attack you.'
Tragic, Dean thinks, that they die after they defend themselves. Kinda poetic, but also really fucking unfair. Still, he wouldn't wanna get stung.
'Let's try some of their honey,' Cas suggests, wrapping an arm around Dean. 'I can't wait to taste it.'
'Cas,' Dean asks, halting him. 'Did you use to do this, too? Build those hives and like. Touch the bees, and everything?'
'Yes,' alpha nods with a smile. 'I was only twenty, though, not very experienced. I got stung a few times. I always worried for the bees, I don't think they made it,' he admits with a forlorn look. 'After that, I did my best not to irritate them whenever I came close. Sometimes they sat on my hands, like so.'
And before Dean can protest, he holds out his hand towards the hive, slowly, and bees land on his glove. Dean stares, terrified.
'Alpha,' he manages, voice strung tight.
'It's alright,' Castiel says. 'They're gentle, really. They just don't want to get hurt, understandably.'
Yeah, okay, but Dean would really rather go taste that honey now. Still, he stares at Cas, imagining him when he were twenty, fresh-faced and safe from his family, with the weight of the guilt on his shoulders. When Dean was twenty, he was still with dad, at least for a little while.
He's struck with an idea; he always forgets that he can do this, now, but he's glad he remembers in time. He fishes out his phone from the large pocket of the beekeeper suit, and snaps a photo of alpha with bees crawling up his arm. Maybe it makes Dean shudder, but he's sure Cas will want to remember this moment.
He's the sweetest alpha Dean knows. Well, most of the time.
They head back to the main building where they leave the suits, and Cas leads him to the tasting area where a cute girl in a yellow bee-patterned dress offers them honey to try. No doubt they want to get them to buy more, Dean knows, but they let him try despite the collar on his neck, so he's not complaining. Plus, alpha looks just smitten with the entire place. He gets them iced tea in plastic cups and three different honey samples plus bread, and sits down on a bench under a giant tree. It casts shade and Dean loves how sickly artificial the tea is, and he's so. Content. He can smell the grass and it's so warm out, so sunny. Cas can't stop rambling about the bees. Dean does his best to listen, but it must show on his face that he's still thinking about something else, cause-
'What is it?' alpha asks, stopping abruptly and leaning forward to grab Dean's hand. Dean likes that he's so casual with all the touches, even more now than before.
'Huh? Nothing,' he replies, offering a smile. 'Sorry, I spaced out.'
'I can smell something's off,' alpha insists. 'Have the bees scared you?'
'No,' Dean shakes his head, smiling fondly. Leave it to Cas to ask the most humiliating questions and make them sound sincere. 'It's just... I don't know. I'm happy, I guess.' He laughs, because he can't believe it. 'I'm happy, I just wish I could - I don't know. Not feel so... scared, all the time.'
'Dean,' there's that admonishing note in Castiel's voice. 'You have the right to be scared. What you've been through recently-'
'And always,' Dean interrupts him, rolling his eyes. 'Lately, with Wilson, and before that, with Alastair, and always, Cas. I've always been scared. I'm so freaking happy we're here, I just can't help but feel like... it's not right. Like I'm doing something forbidden, I dunno.'
'Well, you're not,' Cas rubs Dean's arm, soothingly. Dean let himself be persuaded into wearing a T-shirt, even though all his scars are on display. But Cas never pays any attention to them, and it puts him at ease. 'And as we go farther, the feeling will fade.'
'Yeah,' Dean lies, unconvinced. But even despite feeling so... unmoored, there's still so much he's enjoying about this trip. Like... everything . 'Okay, what's your favourite out of those three?'
'Hmm?' alpha blinks, caught off guard. Dean's holding up the honey samples and prays Cas will go along with it.
He does.
'Number two, I think,' he replies. 'It's a little more... tangy? Than the others.'
'Mhm,' Dean agrees, leaving the samples on the bench. 'I'll tell you what we're gonna do now. I'm gonna go and buy you a whole jar of it, as a gift, with my money. And-'
'Dean-' Cas interrupts anyway, looking frustrated.
'- and you're gonna let me,' Dean finishes, aiming for stern, probably just sounding pleading. 'Okay?'
Asking kind of defeats the purpose, but Dean can't just - just walk away and buy something with money. It may be his own, but it never feels like it. If it's not alpha's, it's Sam's.
'Okay,' Cas concedes, leaning back on the bench, and Dean leans in for a super quick kiss, honey still smeared on alpha's lips.
The plan is good until it isn't, cause the prices are fucking insane. Still, Dean can't back out now; he doesn't want to back out, so he settles on one of the smallest jars. He feels pretty pathetic, coming back to Cas, but the alpha beams at him like a five year old and cups the tiny jar in his hands like it's made of gold.
'Thank you, Dean,' he says. 'This is wonderful.'