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Nearest Thing To Heaven

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“Doc says after that it’ll be like normal, pretty much.” His father scratches his ear and looks away. “After that first heat, kid. Gotta do what you gotta do.”

Dean nods tightly at the finality of that. “Yes sir,” he says, like always, as Sam leans in and gives Dean a goodbye hug.

He’ll leave. When the doctor’s done with him, a simple outpatient procedure, he’d said, Dean would grab his clothes out of the plastic bag on the chair in the corner and hitch a ride, get the fuck out of here. Wichita has a lot of trucks going through and a bus station, and Dean can maybe go to Bobby’s. He sure as hell isn’t staying at that Omega Centre place where they look after the unwed mothers and whatnot. Back to normal? Fuck, he’s never gonna be normal, but he can fake it ‘til he makes it.

At the click of the door, the doctor with stormy blue eyes puts a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Can you please get back up on the table, and I’ll scrub in and call the nurse and anesthetist?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean mutters. He steps to the table and gets back on his back, and then there’s a gurney like on TV and they move somewhere else. Dean lets a nurse put his legs in the stirrups. Then there’s a mask over his face and he’s breathing and told to count backwards from 100, and something cool between his legs.

“Poor little thing, they just left him here, didn’t even wait until he was in recovery.”

He’s out before he gets to 91.

 

Dean’s not going anywhere. There’s a thick wad of gauze in his crotch and a tube in his dick and something inside his ass, it feels like. He can flex his feet but his legs feel heavy. His throat’s dry and the room’s sort of dark. He manages a cough, and a few seconds later the door cracks open.

“Hey, how’s our patient?”

“Okay,” Dean croaks out, though he’s been better. “Thirsty.”

“I can fix that one, easy.” The tall dude in scrubs pours ice water from a pitcher into a styrofoam cup and puts a straw in. His voice is soft and sounds kind. Dean sips gratefully.

“Hungry, too.”

“Now, that’s a good sign, but you’re restricted to liquids tonight, maybe something light tomorrow.”

Dean frowns, and the nurse, his name tag reads Benny, pats his forearm. “Hmm. I’ll see if we can’t get you some jello or somethin’, cher.”

“Thought I could go…” home isn’t an option. The ratty furnished apartment on the north end of town where Dean and Sam shared a room with bunk beds is empty now.

“Omega Centre’s full up at the moment,” Benny says. “Should be a patient discharged tomorrow and we’ll slide ya in, but don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t need to go there,” Dean tries to sit up, and groans. “I could just go-”

“You just had surgery.” Benny folds his arms.

“Outpatient, the doctor said. That means-”

“Your care’s signed over to Dr. Novak, and what he says, goes.” Dean gives him a dirty look. The guy’s obviously an alpha. Benny just shakes his head and pats his arm again. “Hey there. He’s a good doctor, knows his patients’ limits. Speakin’ of which, any pain between your legs?”

Now Dean thinks about it, there’s a dull ache there, where his balls used to be. For the first time since he found out that he was an unpresented omega, that his testicles weren’t supposed to have dropped in the first place since he’s just shooting blanks anyway, that his cock isn’t actually “small for a beta” but big for an omega, he chokes up.

He reaches a tentative hand down, past his cock, and everything’s...still there.

“What the hell,” Dean mutters, shocked.

“Ah, sorry, we told you, but you were still kind of out of it in recovery. Dr. Novak said you were too distressed to move forward with the testicular removal even though your dad approved it, so he just cleared the obstruction in your channel for now. You don’t need to be castrated, but you’ll probably want to have it done later. You’ll see.”

He’s stuck in Wichita for a month or so until he has a heat and can go on suppressants and get back to “normal.” Dean turns his head to the side on the pillow and feels tears prick at his eyelids. He’s not sure if he’s angry or relieved or if it’s stupid omega hormones flooding his system, but he can’t help it. This day’s been a fuckin’ rollercoaster. It’s not like he’s gonna get smacked upside the head for crying, not here.

“Don’t you worry, little omega. It’s all gonna be alright,” Benny says softly when Dean’s sobs turn into hiccups, and hands him two Percocets in a little paper cup. He leaves a packet of tissues on the table.

 

That Morning

The day began with an appointment for Sam and Dean for checkups. They were moving on from Wichita, but the last school had wanted medical records and they didn’t have any, except for a thin folder with an old record of their immunizations. Their dad had said they’d get a clean bill of health and designation papers for the next town, the next school, wherever that might be. Dean already has a GED that he got back in El Paso, but he also has a responsibility: Sam. So he’s probably going back to high school in the fall. It’s fine. It’s not like it ain’t easy blowing off six classes a day and smoking behind the bleachers and sometimes successfully hitting on beta cheerleaders, and he can skip when Dad needs another set of eyes on a stakeout. He’d been doing that even before he’d been old enough to blow off school.

Dean puts down the shitty gossip magazine he’d been flicking through when Sam swans out of the exam room.

“Alpha, when I finally present, maybe this year,” Sam had said, plopping into a chair. Dean handed him the old Gameboy he’s fixed like, four times. “Doctor says I’m probably gonna be really tall, too.”

“Sure, squirt,” Dean had snorted. It figured that his parents, an alpha and an omega, would have at least one alpha kid and one beta and that Sammy would turn out special, wasn’t that like the thing with the dominant genes and the Mendel peas in biology class? It wasn’t like he cared; 90-something percent or so were betas anyway, the default. Average. Nothin’ wrong with being average when you’re already the weird new kid several times a school year, though it’s not like anybody would pick on an alpha like Sam either, once he got a little bigger and more...alpha. When his name was called, Dean followed the nurse down the hall for his own exam. Ears and blood pressure and everything else checked out, he’d changed into a paper gown and after Dr. Cain examined his junk with a serious face, he’d had his legs put in the stirrups and been opened up so wide he could feel the air conditioning in his ass and prodded until he felt a sharp pain inside and a whoosh, and his insides had flooded with liquid.

“‘m I bleeding?” Dean had asked, suddenly dizzy and panicking and trying to sit up, but it wasn’t blood, it was slick, the slick he’d never gotten before. The doctor’s gloved fingers in the slippery wet of his omega channel that “would have to be dilated before he heats,” and he’d lay there quietly freaking the fuck out when his father was called in, dripping on the table while they discussed why Dean had never had an “official orientation exam.” Dean knew the answer to that one. Because they went to doctors, like, never. He’d even stitched up a knife wound on his dad’s leg himself, and his father was somehow able to get his hands on antibiotics and painkillers whenever anybody needed them.

“Thought he was just small down there,” John Winchester had said with a frown. “Sam’s already bigger than he is at 14, but-”

Dr. Novak spoke up. He was the guy Dr. Cain had called for, some kind of late presentation specialist. He slid his gloved fingers over Dean’s balls and under his cock, lifting it. “But his testes are also smaller than most, and though this is not an omega micropenis, just under three inches erect is far below average.”

“Could have been a grower,” his father had said with a shrug. “Not like I know much about male omegas. Assumed he was a beta.”

“I can tell that this is the case,” replied the doctor, and Dean can hear a note of...something in that. Disapproval, maybe. “We’ll run the other orientation spectrum tests as well. I take it he hasn’t had those, either?”

“No,” his father looked away. “I mean, I’m dominant. His mother’s....she was an omega, but dominant. Just assumed he took after us.”

Dr. Cain shakes his head. “You can’t assume. And the vast majority of male omegas are submissive.”

Dean had confirmed with the younger doctor that he got hard, but he’d never had a wet dream like Sammy does, and Dr. Novak had poked inside his ass and made his dick drip and tested it. Dean was sterile. Sperm-wise, anyway. Had ovaries, though. He’d still be able to be a parent as an omega. Ugh.

He’d been silent, and maybe in shock, as the doctors and his father had discussed his castration like he wasn’t even there.

“They obviously supplied some androgens, testosterone, before Dean presented, since he’s taller and more muscular than the average omega, and his penis is slightly larger, but since we’ve unblocked his gland,” Novak spread his hands, “he’ll be getting more omega hormones now.”

Dean had finally spoken up. “My dick gonna shrink?”

“No,” Dr. Novak had said, “and you will still have erections, but your primary orgasms will come from stimulation of your channel.”

“I won’t want that,” Dean had replied coldly, letting the back of his head thunk down on the exam table.

 

Dean isn’t in much better spirits by the time Dr. Novak makes it to his room the next day. He’d had to sit through a fuckin’ sponge bath from Benny and he’s not in the mood to be poked at.

“Hello, Dean.”

He’s also stark naked under the sheet and blanket, a reminder that omega subs have all these stupid rules that betas and alphas don’t. So until this is over with he has that to look forward to, and a bunch of bullshit like being spanked even if he didn’t do anything to deserve it, and who knows what else. Sullen, he glares at The View on TV as the doctor reads his chart.

“Dean.”

“What?” he snaps finally, and the doctor looks almost hurt as he sits down next to Dean’s bed.

“Dean,” he says again, softer, and taps gentle fingers on Dean’s wrist before taking his hand. “I asked how you were feeling today.”

“Like shit,” Dean hisses.

“Could you please be more specific?” Dr. Novak asks with a concerned face, tilting his head like a curious bird, and Dean can’t help it; he huffs out a laugh.

“It’s just. Everything.” he shakes his head and tears threaten again. Great. He’s not just an omega, but a “highly submissive” omega. He might as well cry, he’s every cliche. He’s seen a shrink here for tests and everything. He’d been really cool. This guy seems cool, too. None of this is their fault.

“It’s quite a lot to take in,” the doctor says quietly.

Dean nods. “I don’t want to be...this.” He looks up when Dr. Novak rests a hand on his wrist.

“You’ve always been an omega, Dean, and a sub, but I know it’s a major adjustment finding out later than usual. We just want to make sure you adapt and that you’re healthy. “Dr. Novak squeezes his hand. “Did Charlie speak with you as well?”

“Yeah.” That had made Dean feel worse. The omega nurse or counselor or whatever had come in all sunny and cheerful with a book about presenting with a bunch of post-it notes stuck in it. Omega safety? Dean wasn’t worried about getting assaulted; he’d pointed out to Charlie that he was a big dude and could pass for a beta and would be taking blockers anyway (he didn’t mention the tactical knife tucked into his boots and the trunk full of weapons the Winchesters had) and Charlie had looked doubtful and remarked that Dean would be “so vulnerable” during his heats. So, fuck that. He could fight, and he was useful on hunts; it wasn’t like his own dad would sell him to bond out to some alpha asshole either. Or that he even could. Dean wasn’t some joybag petite omega like her, or like the night shift nurse, Garth. No one would want to mate and breed and dominate somebody like him anyway. He might as well just keep playing beta.

“Pointless,” Dean had said. “I’m gonna go on blockers and won’t even have heats.” He tells Dr. Novak the same thing.

“After your first, that’s entirely your choice, along with castration. It’s mostly cosmetic surgery at this point, though beneficial for other reasons.”

Right. If he mate-bonded to a traditional alpha and the alpha wanted that, it’s not like he’d get any say, probably. Dean looks away. Well, he just wouldn’t bond with a dominant alpha. He’d find a switch beta or something. That was most people anyway. Problem solved.

The doctor pulls the sheet covering Dean down to his knees, and he angles his own wrist out of modesty to cover his soft dick, but the doctor moves it so it rests at his side on the bed. “No, Dean. I need to see you.” Dean huffs at that.

“On that note, we need to discuss something.” Dean looks up as the doctor takes a breath. “The Omega Centre is full and your father informed me before he left that you don’t have health insurance.”

That’s probably the real reason why he still has balls. “Yeah, guess not,” Dean says. “I got enough money for a bus ticket, though. I can go stay at my uncle’s. Well, he’s sort of my uncle. I’ll be okay.”

“Is your sort-of uncle a medical professional? Or an omega? Or an alpha with omega children? Is he prepared to dominate you while you adjust?” The doctor asks, skimming knuckles up Dean’s stomach to the center of his chest before delicately smoothing over one nipple, then the other, until they’re both erect. “Highly sensitive here. Very good.” Dean bites his lip.

“Nah, beta. I don’t know if he’s a dom, but I think maybe? He yells a lot. Runs a junkyard.” He hasn’t seen Bobby for over a year, but he’s sure he’d let Dean stay there and help out or something. Pretty sure.

“Dean, you’ll be having your first heat within the month. You’ll need specialized care until it’s over, not to mention periodic exams, and we’ll need to calibrate your blockers and birth control, if you want them, with the proper hormone prescription. And you’re years behind in your submission.” He has both hands on Dean’s chest now, gently circling his hard nipples with warm fingers as he talks, giving them occasional flicks with his thumbs and pinching the peaks. It feels good, but it hurts a little, yet it feels...good. And it’s just a doctor touching him, but it’s hot.

“C-can’t.” Dean clears his throat. His breath’s a little labored and his cock’s fully hard now, the first time since he’d been handled during his first exam. He should probably be embarrassed, but fuck, he’s 18, and this Novak guy looks like he walked fresh off the set of Grey’s or Dr. Sexy. What does he expect? “Can’t afford your clinic, so…” Son of a bitch. He’s gonna end up in one of those state-funded omega training homes, lining up to be tied to a sawhorse to get his ass smacked twice a day and fucked afterward, isn’t he? Not like he wouldn’t bust out at the first opportunity.

“We do have spots at the Centre for omegas without insurance, but though I’m an attending there, I can’t get you admitted; the spots have gone to two omegas who are expecting and on late pregnancy bed rest.”

Dean raises a shoulder in a shrug.

“...so you’ll be staying at my home until your heat has passed.” Dean looks up, shocked. “I have a spare room, and Charlie does home visits as well. She’ll be able to look in on you and help you adjust before your heat.”

“I can’t -- I-” he protests, but Dr. Novak shakes his head, folding his hands in his lap casually like he hadn’t just been feeling Dean up.

“Your father has signed an official responsibility order and I’m your Alpha of Record for now. But the food will be at least slightly better than hospital food, and my sister has just given me a...Play Station? Or something like that. It’s still in the box, actually, so perhaps you can figure out how to use it. We can get you some library books as well, if the books I have don’t appeal. We’ll work on some submissive training, and I promise you’ll be comfortable and well looked-after. What do you say?”

He looks like he hopes Dean wants to do this, like he has a better option. Like he can say no. He knows what an Alpha of Record means when you’re an omega.

It means you can’t say no.

Age of consent is 16. Age of independence is 18. But unless they’re mated off sooner, omegas aren’t officially emancipated until they’re 21. Need an alpha’s permission to do anything, even get a job. Because they’re vulnerable or some shit. This is just great.

Dean sighs, assessing. He can maybe go to Bobby’s, but it’ll be obvious he’s under 21 and unbonded with no guardian; are they gonna let him buy a ticket and travel alone? Nobody’s going to hire him under those conditions either, and he doesn’t have enough for more than a night or two in a dive motel. He probably reeks of unmated omega now, so it’s definitely not safe for him to run some moneymaking pool games in shitty bars until he’s on blockers, and he’s not getting far without his own car. He guesses he can stick it out and play nice until his heat’s over. If it sucks too much, he can bail once he’s out of the clinic, and it’d be easier to ditch this guy’s place than a training facility; they’re like fuckin’ jails. “Yeah, I guess. Looks like I don’t have a choice.”

“That’s settled, then.” The doctor rises. “I’ll examine your channel now,” he says, and Dean groans as the bed is raised with a pedal and Dr. Novak puts on his gloves, and he’s made to slip down to the end and spread his bent knees. “Get them wider apart for me. Yes, just like that. Perfect, Dean.”

The doctor ignores Dean’s fiercely erect cock after an idle glance, but he brushes at a loose wisp of barely-there hair that had begun falling out when the “correct” hormones started to flow. “The pubic hair is nearly gone. Good.” Benny had said he’ll have no hair left on his torso within a few days. It’s not a big deal, he thinks. Some guys manscape. He tried it once and it itched like hell growing back.

He winces as the taped-on bandage on his undercarriage is taken off, and the doctor presses cool fingers outside his hole. “Your stitches are internal and will dissolve on their own, but you may be a bit sore.” He slides his thumb behind Dean’s balls and presses in, and he flinches. “Still tender, though.”

His fingers dip lower again and Dean feels a tug at his entry. “Dean, I’m removing this.”

“What is it?” He’d felt something back there, but hadn’t really wanted to investigate.

“Just an absorbent plug, because of your heavy initial flow of slick. We wanted to keep the gauze dry for 24 hours.”

“Great. Yeah, sure, take out my ass tampon.” Dean rolls his eyes as the cotton plug comes out and is replaced by the doctor’s fingers. He still feels disturbingly wet there. Wet and open.

“Slick production is healthy. I’m concerned about your channel, though.” Dr. Novak goes to the counter along the far wall and opens a drawer, taking something out of a plastic seal. “So we’re going to insert a dilator for a few hours to give your entry a stretch. You should use them regularly before your first heat.”

“Won’t need it for anything.”

“Well,” Dr. Novak says after a long moment, “It would be malpractice not to ensure your functionality as an omega is as normal as possible after a late presentation. What you decide to do with that afterward is your call.”

Dean looks away, mouth twisting.

“Hey.” he looks back up at the doctor. “This...is my job, Dean. I wouldn’t let you walk out of here with an untreated broken arm, either.”

“Yeah, I get it.” At least the doctor treats Dean like an adult instead of a dumb kid. He bites his lip as the thick dick-shaped thing slides inside him. He can feel it against his inner walls, but it doesn’t really feel uncomfortable except where it stretches him open. “Makin’ a mess,” he mutters.

The doctor smiles. “There’s disposable padding underneath you. Don’t worry; you’re supposed to be producing slick like this. It’ll taper off this week and you shouldn’t experience these levels again until your heat, except when you’re...”

“Horny?” Yeah. Great. He can hide a boner under his layers, since he’s not exactly hung anyway, but this would be a whole other level of bullshit.

“Aroused, yes.” Dr. Novak gestures at him to move back up the bed, and when Dean tries to close his legs he whimpers at the feel of the thick dildo thing sticking out of him. “Careful.” Dean can feel himself leak on the padding, and reaches for the sheet and light blanket, but the doctor stops him with a hand on his arm. “No, Dean. You will remain exposed for your dominant until I leave the room, unless I tell you otherwise.”

Dean’s eyes go wide. Was he starting already? “Wait a min-”

“So yes, your slick production and scent are fine.”

Wait. What? “I have a scent? Already?” Dean makes a face.

“Yes. I take it you can’t detect your own scent yet? Or mine?”

Dean squints at him. He knows, of course, that omegas and alphas can smell each other and betas can’t; novels are full of people raving over the scent of hothouse orchids or candy apple or whatever bullshit smells their mates have, but he doesn’t smell anything out of the ordinary besides hospital disinfectant and cafeteria coffee on his own breath.

“Nah, but I knew you were an alpha right away.” Dean’s pretty good at being able to tell. It helps when your dad’s a bounty hunter. “I can tell sometimes.”

A smile, as the doctor presses on Dean’s inner thighs with strong fingertips, then pushing the dilator in a bit deeper. Dean sucks in a breath at that.

“Yes, but you should be able to scent me, and Benny. Omegas like Garth and Charlie too.”

“What do they smell like?”

Dr. Novak laughs. “Charlie’s difficult to describe. Sweet green tea, maybe? Garth mostly smells like milk and talcum powder these days, but he’s nursing and has twin babies at home.”

Dean thinks. “Actually, yeah...I smelled baby on the dude.”

“Well, that’s not really omega scent. He smells like mated omega, mostly, and that’s a bit hard to describe, too; a mix of his own scent and his mate Bess -- roses and hmm...almond? You’ll develop the ability soon, hopefully.”

Weird. “And Benny?”

“Hmm. Cinnamon toast. Not so great if you’re hungry. Then it just makes you want to have some breakfast.” The doctor winks. ‘Presumably his omega partners find it irresistible, but most of the patients here say it’s calming.”

“What, uh…” Dean swallows. “What about me?” If his ass smells like candy apples now, Dean’s going to throw himself out the window.

Dr. Novak leans in and breathes in near the warm curve of Dean’s neck, not his leaking ass, thankfully. He’s kind of embarrassed that he’s still obviously hard, and it’s weird just talking like this, naked, with some kind of medical dildo up his ass. “Your scent is still faint,” Dr. Novak says, leaning back and blowing out a slow breath. “But it smells, well, nice.”

“Nice,” Dean mutters. “Real descriptive. It ain’t like…”

“It’s masculine,” the doctor says, blue eyes on his. “Leather and perhaps...red cedar growing in a forest, after the rain. I think it’s very pleasant. When you’re not anxious and distressed.”

“Or pissed off.”

“Well, yes.” He pats Dean’s leg. “Much better than a typical 18-year-old beta, at any rate.”

“And what do they smell like?”

“Sweaty gym socks, acne cream, and Axe, mostly.” Dr. Novak grins. He ain’t wrong, Dean thinks. Even a beta can smell that.

“Not like it’ll matter what kinda tree I smell like once I’m on those blockers,” Dean leans back in the bed.

“No,” Dr. Novak says after a pause. “Then it won’t matter.”

The doctor holds off on checking Dean’s milk ducts. “I think you’ve had enough prodding for one morning, hmm? You did very well. You’ll feel better after some rest.” He looks at Dean like he actually cares a little.

Dean should be pissed off, still, but he’s not. He’s not getting dressed and leaving, but he could; his bag and clothes are right there.

He’s not going to the Omega Center, or worse. If he has to do, well, naked sub stuff, it’ll be in a house around blue-eyes here (at least he’s hot, right? And nice?) and not in front of an audience, so it’s not like anybody else will see him like that. He’s actually in a much lighter mood than before. “Okay. I’m okay, I guess,” he says.

“Excellent.” The doctor smooths the flat of the sheet near Dean’s leg with his palm. “Relax and recover this afternoon, Dean. I know you’ll be good for me and keep that dilator in until the nurse removes it.”

When Dr. Novak leaves, he quickly pulls the covers up to his chin. And a few minutes later after he’s sure he’s alone, he jerks off quietly and carefully cleans up with a tissue.

 

-- The Day Before --

 

“You’re newly-mated, Cain,” said Balthazar. “Not to mention, fresh off your honeymoon! It wouldn’t be fair to Colette. You know how demanding it is, pulling A of R duty for that long. And aren’t you on heat leave next week?”

The Chief of Surgery rolled his eyes. “My omega is well-aware of my professional responsibilities…” he trailed off as the head staff psychiatrist, also an omega, shook his head slowly.

“Really?” Balthazar added a scathing look. “I mean, really, though? Of course, we can get him a placement in the Wichita training school. It’s not bad.”

Castiel thinks of the omega’s gruff father, the smell of whisky breath before noon that definitely wasn’t part of his alpha scent, such a contrast to his son’s emergent bracing-yet-warm omega aura. He’d signed Dean Winchester over to the clinic specifically. Maybe he wasn’t the best parent, but if he didn’t have means or want to train his son himself, he could have simply dropped him off at the state-run facility. He could have also chosen any random clinic in the city to get his boys their shots and checkups, but he’d chosen the one attached to the best omega care centre in the region. Perhaps he wasn’t as surprised by Dean’s orientation as he’d seemed. Castiel didn’t really give a damn about the boy’s father, but it would be a shame to let the omega down again.

“I’m more than happy to take on the responsibility,” Amara spoke up, running a glossy fingernail over the photocopied photo of the omega’s obviously fake Alaska driver’s license clipped to the cover of his file.

Cain nodded, hands steepled. “Perhaps the obvious choice. He’s heterosexual.”

“He’s not,” Balthazar cut in. “He’s bi.”

“But he said-”

“In front of his father.” Castiel met Balthazar’s eyes. He’d overheard John Winchester putting down Cain’s “girly man bun,” among other things. Cain was a lot of things, but girly wasn’t one of them.

“Exactly.” Balthazar nodded. “He was basically outed as submissive with the delayed omega presentation. Daddy’s an alpha dominant and as hetero and heteronormative as they come, and he has some aggression issues. You can all work out how likely it is that he was ever aware that his son swings both ways. Dean didn’t address that, but he mentioned his bisexuality unprompted in our session after he was informed that anything he chose to divulge in the initial session would only be shared with clinical staff, with his permission.”

Amara surveyed the file, playing with her earrings; dangling alpha symbols. “But he has no experience with men at all. He may have thought about it, but now that his role is purely as the penetrated partner...”

“...and now he has a month or so away from his transient nuclear family where he can freely respond to a male alpha dominant without fear of judgment. Ideally a calm, patient, male alpha dominant whose speciality is late-presenting omegas…” Balthazar tapped his lips with his pen and gazed upward. “Whoever could I have in mind?”

Castiel’s mouth quirked. “I’d be happy to handle his training.”

After a 3-1 vote with Amara dissenting, Cain stood. “I have somewhere to be. Good luck, Castiel. That young man will need a firm hand.”

Amara pushed back her own chair. “That, and very intense scening. Let me know if you need an assist.”

“I will,” Castiel said solemnly. “Thank you.”

“See you, Amara. Nice earrings. Delightfully subtle.” Balthazar rolled his eyes and lowered his voice after she swept out. “They’d break that boy in half.”

“I expect so,” Castiel shook his head. “He’s anxious enough as it is. It’s not the same for the late-presenters.”

“Of course it isn’t. I would know. I was sixteen myself,” Balthazar confided. “But I was also fairly disappointed I hadn’t already presented as omega, and I was more than fine with it. Dean’s resistant. Which is...well, he doesn’t have to accept his designation after he gets through heat. Anatomically, he can absolutely pass for beta, and he has these flashes of assertive swagger unusual in submissive omegas. By the time anyone gets his pants off, they won’t care what he’s not packing.”

Castiel sighed. “I know. He knows that as well. He plans to go on blockers.”

“And despite all of that, you still need to hit his milestones before his heat. I think it’ll be easier for him to accept submitting to a dominant than the omega aspects, honestly. He’s been responsible for his brother since they were small, and the swagger is partially put on to cope with his father’s expectations. I think he’ll actually find structured submission a massive relief. He can finally be himself, once he figures out what that is. He’ll probably never be one of those docile omegas, but come on, they’re rare anyway. Lord knows that’s not me.” Castiel gave a snort at that. “I’d love to see him again for another assessment once he settles in.”

“There’s so much overlap.” Castiel pinched between his brows. “The usual daily spankings can’t happen because of transference from his father’s punishments. Chastity is standard, but he needs to transition his pleasure response from the penis first. He hasn’t ever had an anal orgasm. God, maybe Amara would have been better.” He played with a paperclip. I can’t give him what he needs. She can. He didn’t say the words out loud, but Balthazar knew what he was thinking anyway, if the look he gave Castiel was any indication.

“You love saving people,” the psychiatrist said. Castiel rolled his eyes. “All doctors do, you bloody idiot.”

“Call her in for his heat if you don’t want to tap one of the alpha contractors on staff.” Bal knew that Castiel never has sex with omegas when he’s their Alpha of Record. “But Amara would have the boy on a choke chain with her dick in his mouth and a set of giant beads up his arse the first day,” Balthazar said. “Trust me, I’m familiar with her methods.” Castiel raised his eyebrows, and Balthazar gave him a wink and a pat on the back as he rose. “You’ll do fine, I’m sure.”

 

Public Training Notes: Dean Winchester
Age: 18
Gender: Male Omega (late presenting)
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Sexual Experience prior to training: Top only, heterosexual, oral and vaginal.
Secondary Orientation: Submissive. Masochism Level TBD, Discomfiture (Humiliation) Receptivity Level TBD
Status: Minor (unclaimed and unmated)
Alpha/Dominant of Record: Dr. Castiel Novak
First Heat/Knot: (Omega within 30-day window) TBD
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 155
Hair: Lt Brown
Eyes: Green

Private Training Notes (following initial examinations and interview): Castration is postponed indefinitely; Omega (Dean Winchester) is experiencing psychological difficulty accepting secondary gender designation and may opt to retain testes and utilize hormonal blockers following first heat. Scenting capability not yet apparent. Alpha of Record (Dr. Castiel Novak) to protect and prepare Omega physically and emotionally for elements of initial heat prior to first knot and medically-induced lactation. Omega’s sexual experience is limited to beta practices (has engaged in mutual oral sex with female betas and in solitary and mutual masturbation.) He must be trained to depend solely on alpha-administered penetrative anal stimulation for orgasmic release.

Omega has not fully embraced his Submissive identity, but objections are token and he does obey, if reluctantly, and treats his Alpha of Record with appropriate respect. He was relieved to find that he will not be spanked/paddled nor receive impact-related punishment for submission maintenance (he has been punished this way by a parental figure; being struck makes him react with upset versus healthy obedience and submissive headspace). He is unfamiliar with most Omega Submissive protocols. Omega has selected a confidential safeword.

Training milestones prior to initial heat (according to Kansas and national Omega guidelines) include Traditional Submissive Positions for inspection, examination, and sexual reception, compulsory domestic nudity, and standard protocols in preparation for eventual mating by an Alpha Dominant.

 

The next night in the clinic annex, Garth rolls Dean on his side and gives him an enema, then (also without warning!) puts in a bigger dilator, and it’s not comfortable at all; it feels like it’s wedging his asscheeks apart, because it is, and he can’t find a good position to sleep in.

“On your belly’s good,” the nurse says. “Let’s put a pillow under your hips so your backside is elevated.”

“I don’t know why I need to do all this crap anyway,” Dean complains.

“Doctor’s orders,” Garth clucks. “But you’ll be glad you did when your heat rolls around, the first knot’s a real doozy, and you’re tight as a tick.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

“Oh, well...during first heat it’s necessary for omegas. Don’t worry, though. After that it’s slick sailing.” He leaves the room with Dean’s stuffed ass just hanging out in the open. It’s not cold in here, but still.

Dean makes a frustrated noise at the compounded indignities and drops his head onto his pillow.

 

The next day, Dean’s transported down two long corridors to the entry of the clinic and out to Dr. Novak’s boring silver Mercedes SUV, the duffle bag his dad had thought to leave with him on his lap. Dr. Cain had said wearing a hospital robe would be okay “if your alpha dominant prefers that you remain unclothed,” with a weird look at Novak, but fuck no, he’s not an omega like that, and his “alpha dominant” doesn’t say shit, and when they turn him over to a nurse to get ready to go, Dean pulls on a black tee and a flannel and his favorite jeans.

“Dude, I don’t need a friggin’ wheelchair,” Dean complains, but Benny insists, saying it’s a clinic rule. Benny still doesn’t smell like anything. Maybe hand sanitizer.

 

Dr. Novak’s house is the fanciest one he’s ever been in, except for that one time one of Dad’s bounty hunts took them to some drug dealer’s crib near Reno. But this place is classy. Dean supposes a doctor must make good money, if he’s got an $70,000 ride to drive five miles to work. It’s just one story, but there are wide plank dark wood floors and fancy silky-looking Oriental rugs and a big leather sectional sofa and real modern art (there’s one that looks like maybe a Warhol, Sammy would probably know) and real trees in pots, indoors. It smells nice, too. He gives Dean a tour, and Dean, walking gingerly (still doesn’t need a wheelchair, thanks, but his ass is still a little sore and he’s got a giant maxi pad thing in his pants just in case) notices a hot tub on the back deck and a pool the right size to do laps.

“Nice joint,” Dean says, when the doctor shows him the sunny guest room with a brass bed and an antique-looking dresser, and puts his bag on a long, padded bench at the bed’s foot. He feels grubby and somehow lacking in comparison to everything in this house; he notices too late that his right sock has a hole in it. They take their shoes off at the door and put them on a shelf inside a closet made just for this, because of course they do.

“I had help from a decorator,” Dr. Novak shrugs. “Someone my sister-in-law Amelia recommended.”

“You let a lot of charity cases stay here?”

“Hmm,” the doctor replies. “I’ve only had family stay over since moving in last year; my brother Jimmy and his family, and my sister Anna, and my mother, and I’m willing to bet you’re less trouble than Naomi, at least. But you’re not a charity case, Dean.”

“Yeah. I’m literally a charity case.” Since the doctor’s so literal, and all.

“Well, to me, you are a patient of sorts, and a houseguest, and I’m looking forward to your company.”

Dean rubs his palms on his jeans. “You’re not gonna...” he hazards a glance at the doctor. “I don’t have to take my clothes off?”

“You certainly may, and if you’d be more comfortable nude, please do.” Dean looks at him like he’s nuts and gets a soft, wry smile in return. “But I won’t require it. I think you’ve had enough to get used to your first week after being hit out of nowhere with your orientation.”

Dean nods quickly, relieved. “Yeah.”

“There will be times when I’ll want you to undress, for examinations and training, and I do expect you to promptly comply, and of course submissives sleep naked, but the rest of the time, you can wear whatever you like. Deal?”

“Yeah. Okay. Do you want me to call you, uh...Master or whatever? Sir?” Look, Dean’s seen things. Porn things. Subs are supposed to-

“No. Definitely not. This isn’t…” the doctor grimaces and runs a hand across his jaw. “I won’t ask you to do that, Dean. Though ‘Alpha’ is fine, if you want to. Do that. So. Make yourself at home. We’ll eat after you’ve put your things away. I’ll...leave you to it.”

He leaves the room, and Dean sits carefully on the bed. The last time he’d been a charity case, at Sonny’s, there were no omegas staying there, but he’d gone to Robin’s to drop off a mixtape he’d made her (sue him, he had a crush) and he remembers her father taking it at the door and telling him Robin was “indisposed,” and he thought he’d heard her voice. He’d peeked through the side door window (seriously, sue him, he had a crush) and saw her bare-assed, getting her butt warmed with a paddle over her mom’s lap. He hadn’t even realized she was an omega sub.

Well, like Sonny’s, this is just another place Dean’s dad will pick him up from some night after about a month whether he wants to go or not. Not that he doesn’t want to get the fuck out of here.

He’s unable to remember the last time he’d actually totally unpacked all of his stuff except to dress or dump ‘em into a machine at a laundromat or at Bobby’s. He decides he could kill some time, so he does that, shoving his jeans and t-shirts into drawers and putting the two flannels on hangers in the closet that’s otherwise empty except for a fancy dark grey bathrobe, a couple of winter coats and a set of tennis rackets. He’s relieved to see the robe; what if there’s a fire and he needs to leave his room? He lays it across the bench at the end of the bed.

He has a couple of dogeared paperbacks he’s already read, and he stashes those on the nightstand, then opens the empty drawer and puts them away. This place is too perfect to mess up. Except for the robe. That’s staying put.

He makes his way down the hallway; there are other rooms there besides a bathroom across from where he’s staying. One door is cracked and it looks like the doctor’s bedroom, another door is locked, but it oughta be a breeze to pick. The other also has a standard Schlage lock AND a digital code thing. He supposes if it’s some kind of sex dungeon, he’ll find out about it soon enough.

With a sigh, Dean heads to the kitchen, where Dr. Novak’s dishing up the roasted chicken and potato salad they’d picked up on the way home.

 

Dean’s just waking the next morning when there’s a knock on the door frame. “Good morning,” the doctor says. It looks like he’s already dressed for work, and his hair’s still damp. “Did you sleep okay?”

He blinks. “Um. Yeah.” He did, surprisingly. Or not, since he hadn’t had a nurse bugging him every couple of hours. His ass had been dragging before he’d stumbled towards the bathroom and the bedroom the night before, and he’d felt warm hands on his shoulders stopping him as he’d started to crawl into bed. He’d stood there swaying as his t-shirt had been gently pulled over his head, and Dean belatedly unfastened his own belt and zipper.

A quiet voice.“Good, that’s good, Dean.” His clothes had been folded and set on the bench, the soft covers carefully drawn up over his bare shoulders. “Sleep well.”