49. If Not by Faith

The next morning dawns bright and warm. 

When Dean opens his eyes, it’s to Cas’s chest. He can’t see much of anything past the alpha’s dark gray shirt. At some point last night, he must have turned around – they’d fallen asleep, as they have before, with Dean’s back to Cas’s front, the alpha's arms snug around him, his knees pressed into the back of Dean’s own. 

But something is different, too. This time, Dean’s arm is also wrapped around Cas.

He stiffens a little, when he realizes it. It’s not something he’s done before, that possessive sort of hold around the alpha. Sure, he’s hugged Cas plenty, but he’d been awake. Right now, he’s got his arm thrown over the alpha’s body like Cas was trying to escape from him in the night, and Dean wasn’t having it. 

It’s presumptuous, this behavior. He’s acting like he gets any say in what Cas does, where he goes. Even if Cas didn’t literally own him, it wouldn’t really be his place as an omega to do that to his alpha. But even as the shiver of unease passes through him at the thought, he tightens his hold and lets out a breath. 

Cas wouldn’t care. Cas has got his arms around Dean, too; has got his chin hooked over his head in a way that, somehow, feels anything but possessive. Dean can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing against him. 

They’d stumbled to bed like this, all tangled together – Cas had helped him up the stairs. Had fussed and fluffed the pillows and blankets, gently scooting Dean’s unprotesting self around until he’d been satisfied with the arrangement. Dean hadn’t minded. It had been nice to not have to think. To not have to make any choices. 

Even with two full nights of sleep under his belt, he still feels remarkably tired. Almost like he’s been running a marathon. He doesn’t think his frantic sprint into the woods the day before yesterday accounts for the level of ache inside of him – knows that it’s more likely something to do with his battered brain. 

He’d done nothing but dream of Sam, last night. 

All good ones, weirdly enough. He’s had more nightmares than he can count of the day he left home – some that were just repeats of what had actually happened, more that spun out every possible thing that could have been worse. But last night, he’d dreamed only of Sam at his happiest. A vivid memory of a Christmas spent at Bobby’s, a day at a carnival they’d snuck into, fireworks watched from the hood of the Impala on a random Fourth of July. 

He tries to reconcile those memories of Sam with the man he’d seen last night, and finds that he can’t. 

Dean closes his eyes. Sucks in a tight breath, and fights down a wave of dizzying sadness that threatens to make him start bawling all over again. He doesn’t want to cry anymore. That shit is exhausting. 

But he can’t get the photo out of his brain. Can’t stop reeling over the fact that his baby brother is no longer a baby, and is now a man. 

Dean swallows. It’s so stupid that he’s shocked, stupid that he’s somehow hurt. He should be ecstatic that Sam is making something of himself, that he survived a childhood alone with their dad, that he’s been allowed to grow and prosper. He wants to be happy. On some level, he is – he’s tremendously relieved, so much so that he’d felt himself breathe properly for the first time in years the moment he’d lain eyes on that photo last night. 

But on another level, he’s just so terribly, bitterly sad. 

He lost so much time with Sam. Didn’t get to see him grow. Didn’t get to see him get acne or go to prom, didn’t get to see him get his license or get dumped or get a part time job or go to college, or a million other milestones he should have been there for, just like he had been for Sam’s first steps and first lost tooth and first day of school. 

Sam was not his son, but Dean had always been his parent right along with being his brother. Dead mom and a dead-beat dad – he hadn’t had much of a choice, really. But just like he’d told Cas last night; there’s nothing in the world he would have traded for Sam. For getting to be there for him.  

In the four seconds that he’d been able to stare at that photo, he’d tried to do years’ worth of detective work. Had tried to determine, based on the tight set of Sam’s shoulders and the frown on his face, whether his brother had suffered after Dean had left. Of course he doesn’t know. Has no idea. But he hopes that the fact that his brother is – was? – a law student means that he’s got nothing to do with John. 

Dean remembers all too well what the man’s reaction had been like when he’d figured out Dean had wanted to go to school to become a mechanic. The way his eyes had flamed when the pamphlet from that stupid career fair at the high school had fallen out of his backpack, an unthinkable lapse that had cost him dearly. So, no. He doesn’t think John would have let Sammy go all the way to California to go to school – and that’s gotta mean that Bobby took him in after all. 

At least, he hopes so. 

Cas chooses that moment to stir against him, so Dean can’t give it any more thought. He’s happy for the distraction. 

He’d managed to forget that he’s got his arm wrapped around the alpha up until this moment, when Cas shifts and lets out a soft sigh. He doesn’t let go, even though instinct tells him he maybe should, and he knows he made the right choice when Cas nuzzles down into his hair with a soft noise of contentment. 

“You’re warm,” he rumbles, still half asleep, and Dean smiles to himself. He’s glad his face is still buried in Cas’s chest – it means the man can’t see him blush. “What time is it?”

“No clue,” he says without looking up, shrugging a little. “I’m guessin’ sorta late.” 

Cas hums in agreement, making no move at all to check the time to be sure. Instead, he just holds Dean for a while, breathing softly against him. And for a moment, Dean gets to close his eyes and think about what it would be like to get to have this every day. Thinks about getting to wake up to this, Cas’s strong body and safe scent and gravelly morning voice, their pillows soft beneath them and their blankets warm on top.

He wants it. Badly. 

Eventually, they do have to get out of bed. Cas squeezes him one last time and begins to shift, and Dean takes that as his cue to sit up and rub his eyes. Cas stretches with a yawn, and Dean makes an effort – though not much of one – to keep his eyes off the little stripe of skin above his hips that reveals itself when he does. He can feel his cheeks warming slightly, but Cas doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy scooting to the end of the bed so he can awkwardly stumble up off of it. 

Dean, again, thinks about what the hell they’re even doing here. Two grown men curled up on a twin sized mattress, neither one of them with a single complaint about it. An alpha and an omega who are sleeping together but aren’t sleeping together, who exchange comforting touches instead of painful ones, who enjoy each other’s company. 

It makes him love Cas all the more, each time they do this. 

They go their separate ways for morning showers. Dean takes his time, relishing the routine and the novel feeling of a clear head. Their talk last night had helped him. He’s still sad, still guilty. But he’s got a direction, now. A purpose. 

Freedom. 

The thought makes him shiver, even in the warm water of the shower, and he wraps his arms around himself and bites his lip. It still doesn’t feel real. Feels like some far off dream that he’s being stupid to even consider. Something out of his reach, even now. 

Thing is, Cas says it isn’t. And Dean trusts Cas more than he trusts even himself. 

By the time he wanders downstairs, Cas is already working on breakfast. He scoots to the side without a word when Dean joins him at the counter, giving him a gentle smile as he starts the coffee pot and scoops eggshells into the trash. They make a good team, when Dean isn’t freaking out and dropping shit and cutting his hand open like an idiot. It reminds him of mornings at Bobby’s, somehow – the quiet ease with which they float around each other, the comfort of knowing where everything is and what the other person is going to do before they do it. The only thing missing is the low hum of the ever-present, staticy kitchen radio that filled lulls in the early morning conversation. 

“Hey, Cas?”

“Hm?”

“Can we…” 

Cas looks up when he trails off, a question on his face. He’s chopping up green onions and spinach to drop into their omelettes. 

Dean takes a breath. “Do you have a radio, or somethin’? Just… thought it’d be nice to have some music,” he says, feeling weirdly shy about the request. He’s still not used to being able to ask for things. Still not used to feeling safe enough to want things like this at all. 

Cas smiles at him. “I don’t have one, no. But you can play music through your phone, if you’d like. I think it’ll get pretty loud.” 

Dean digs it out of his pocket and hands it to him, and Cas abandons his cooking completely. He taps through a few options, downloading a new program that Dean hasn’t seen before. Squinting, he touches the little green circle and taps in some login information, explaining, “Balthazar insisted that I get with the times and sign up for an account. I have only really used it to listen to podcasts, but I am sure they have plenty of music options.” 

Handing the phone back to Dean, he returns to the cutting board. “There’s a search bar at the top, and you can ‘like’ the songs you want to keep in your library. That way they’re easier to find later.” 

Dean blinks down at the phone. “You mean I can search for anything?”

Cas shrugs. “As far as I know.”

As usual when presented with too many choices, Dean finds himself overwhelmed and stuck in place, frozen with indecision. He suddenly has no idea what he’d like to hear. Can’t seem to think of a single tape he used to own. 

When the silence persists a little too long, Cas looks up at him with a slight frown. “What about that band you were listening to the other day in the car? What was it? Zep Led?”

A small laugh bursts out of him, and just like that, Dean can breathe again. “Led Zep, Cas. Led Zeppelin.”

“Right, of course,” he agrees, nodding seriously. “A leaden aircraft. Filled with helium. Sensible.” 

Dean snorts and searches it up, looking through the albums listed – looks like they’ve got them all. He scrolls all the way down and presses play on the first. It rings out loud and clear through the speaker on his phone, just like that. Like magic.

Smiling to himself, he sets it on the counter. “That’s a lot easier than rewinding a tape,” he says with a grin, and Cas gives him a soft smile. 

They return to cooking, and before long there are two omelettes ready to go. He and Cas eat them standing right there at the counter, Dean’s fingers tapping almost unconsciously on the counter to the rhythm of an album he knows by heart and hasn’t heard in years. He even sees Cas nodding along a few times, and it makes something in his chest give a strange little flutter. 

Dean has missed music. He’s glad he gets to share it, now that he has it. 

As they finish up, the album does too, and Dean shuts his phone off with a small sigh. It’s easy to do so when he knows he can access it any time he wants. 

“I was thinking we might take a walk,” Cas says casually, topping off Dean’s coffee without him having to ask. “Perhaps back to the lake? Just for some sun. You’ve been… cooped up,” he adds with a small frown, and Dean is sure he’s thinking of Dean’s breakdown on the dock as much as Dean is. 

The idea sends a small prickle of anxiety through him, for a reason he can’t identify. He pushes it to the side, because it had felt good to be out of the house the other day, as messed up mentally as he’d been. He knows he probably needs it. Knows that even the few hours he’d spent in the sunshine had been enough to turn his cheeks pink, and that he’d look a lot less like a damn corpse if he got some vitamin D.  

“Is that something you would be interested in?” Cas adds, a little less sure of himself. Dean blinks, realizing that he’s been quiet for too long. Cas is looking at him with a faint sort of concern – he’s probably used to Dean spacing out by now. 

“Oh – yeah, sure,” he agrees. “Sounds… nice.” 

Cas frowns at the lack of enthusiasm in his voice, but he visibly decides to let his question go without it being asked or answered. “The grounds around the house are extensive,” he says, needlessly. Dean has not seen any signs of life other than birds and squirrels since he arrived here – it’s obvious that they’re secluded, and he’s been grateful for it. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out and about on my usual trails. We could do some exploring later, but I figured we’d stick to the lake for now.”

Dean tries not to wince at the reminder that he has so thoroughly disrupted Cas’s life – so much so that the dude’s exercise routine has been upended. “Did you have somewhere in mind you wanted to go? Some other day, I mean.”

Cas shrugs, a small smile on his mouth. “I might.”

Dean grins. He likes this new side of Cas – the one that can tease him, even if it’s still very gentle. It’s nice that he sees him as something slightly less breakable. 

They end up packing an actual picnic, much to Dean’s amusement – sandwiches and fruit and water bottles all thrown together in a backpack. It reminds him of the field trips he used to get Sam ready for, brown paper sacks and sunscreen and mosquito spray tucked into his brother’s little backpack. He’d been determined that Sammy wouldn’t be singled out as the poor kid, even if Dean had to bend over backwards to pay for it.

As the sun rises high in the sky, Dean finds himself lacing up his boots again, far more slowly and carefully this time around. Cas has been in his office for the past hour or so, and it’s given Dean plenty of time to get ready. 

He stares at himself in the mirror. Frowns at his hair, and how long it’s gotten. Zips the alpha’s borrowed jacket up to his collarbone, some gloves already tucked into his pocket. Cas says it’s not too cold, but he’d rather have too many layers than not enough. 

If he’s ever cold again, it’ll be too soon. 

When he follows the alpha out the door, he is again struck by how very big the world feels around him. Now that he’s not choking on panic, he has time to notice even more than he had before. Can see little details that he’d missed, on his first frantic sprint into the trees. Little bees buzzing around dandelions. New buds on the trees. 

Cas is already a few steps ahead of him, but he stops when Dean doesn’t follow him. He turns back, concern etched into his face as he takes in Dean’s wide eyed stare. 

“Are you alright?”

He nods. He can smell Cas’s concern, pricking at him like the sharp aroma of burnt coffee, so he makes an effort to relax and gives the alpha a smile that he hopes isn’t quivering too much. 

“I’m good, Cas.” He takes in a deep breath, then another. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

His eyes are hungry as they begin their walk. He takes in everything he’d missed the first time around – the tall pine trees, the slushy snow, the tufts of winter grass poking out here and there, the tracks of birds and mice and rabbits scattered throughout the mud. He catalogues the way the sun reflects off of the few remaining, dripping icicles, and the little spindly clouds in the sky, and the way their boots leave impressions behind him. Proof that they really are here. That he’s here. 

Dean might have doubted it, otherwise. He’s had dreams like this. 

Cas doesn’t fill the silence with words. Instead, he is content to let Dean be quiet, content to lead them along the paths in a calm, sure way that tells Dean he has spent a lot of time out here. Even in the stillness and the peace, however, Dean can tell that the alpha is tense, geared up to fight some unknown assailant in the trees. Dean figures it’s because he’s overwhelmed – figures that Cas is reacting to his scent, same as he always does.  

So, before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches out and threads their fingers together, stepping forward so that he’s at Cas’s side rather than trailing behind. 

He thinks that, maybe, this should feel weird – holding on to each other when it isn’t really necessary, when he isn’t even really upset. But it doesn’t. Hand-holding is tame in comparison to some of the ways he and the alpha have touched, and it’s natural and comfortable enough that he doesn’t feel the urge to question it. 

For a moment, Cas’s face goes slack – he has no expression at all. Then he grips his hand a little tighter around Dean’s and relaxes, his breathing getting more even. He doesn’t pull away.

Dean doesn’t let go, either.

They are swallowed up by the forest soon enough, the tree-cover so dense that he loses sight of home immediately. He doesn’t mind. He trusts Cas to bring him back, just like he had before. 

Hand in hand, they walk on. Dean listens to birds chirping and watches squirrels rush off into the trees for the first time in he doesn’t even know how long. And it’s stupid, but he’s emotional when he sees a cardinal flitting from branch to branch, feels something in his throat tighten as he watches a raven that tilts its head to the side and caws and watches him right back. 

He likes watching them fly free, like they’re supposed to. 

When they come to the clearing at the edge of the lake, Cas leads them confidently back onto the dock. Dean actually takes the time to look around and appreciate things this time. As they settle down on the wood, he tips his head back and sighs, the sun warm on his face. 

They eat without speaking much, food easily divided up between them. Cas peels an orange and splits the slices one by one, handing Dean pieces somewhat absently. Dean’s fingers don’t even get sticky. He cracks open his bottle and gestures at the alpha’s juice-covered hands, and Cas holds them out obligingly as Dean pours some of his water over them. 

It’s nice. Easy. It settles something inside of him that he hadn’t realized was unsettled in the first place. 

When the food is gone, Dean lays on his back on the dock. He closes his eyes. Feels the sun on his face. Feels peace descend on him like a blanket. He could doze here, he thinks. Strange as that seems. 

“I should have brought sunscreen,” Cas grumbles, and Dean can’t help the short laugh that bubbles out of him. He opens his eyes and turns to look at the alpha, who’s frowning down at him. 

“You’re funny,” he says, and he means it. It’s hilarious to him, for some reason, that in the last few months he’s gone from worrying about starving to death to… sunburn. Cas doesn’t seem to get the joke, though – he’s looking at Dean blankly, clearly waiting for an explanation. 

“A friggin’ sunburn ain’t exactly a hardship, considering some of the other shit I’ve dealt with,” he says easily, settling back with his hands behind his head. He’s determined to enjoy this – it’s been far too long since he’s been able to. But even as he relaxes, Cas tenses up, his scent curling with something far too close to anger. 

Slowly, Dean opens his eyes gain, stealing a glance at the alpha. His shoulders are hunched as he stares out into the water, a tight frown on his face. Dean sits up. As much as he trusts Cas, he can’t quite lay back with his belly exposed next to a pissed off alpha. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, trying to keep the unease out of his voice. He’s pretty sure Cas isn’t mad at him – though the scent of even faint irritation is still enough to make him wary. 

The alpha closes his eyes. The scent of his anger fades almost instantly. “I… apologize.”

Unwilling to let it go, Dean nudges him. “What were you thinking about?”

Cas gives him a look that very plainly says he should already know, but Dean just stares at him with his head cocked to the side. The alpha’s mouth twists. “I dislike thinking about you being in pain,” he says tightly. 

Oh. 

Dean hadn’t thought about it like that, but he should have. Of course Cas wouldn’t wanna think about the shit Dean had been through before he got here. “I’m fine, Cas,” he reminds him, nudging him again. “Thanks to you. And… pretty soon, I’m not gonna have to worry about anything like that happening again. Right?” 

Cas must hear the little edge of nervousness in his voice, because his gaze softens. He reaches out to hold Dean’s hand, and of course Dean lets him. “Very soon, Dean. I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” 

Dean watches as Cas pulls a clipped stack of papers out of his bag – now he knows what the alpha had been messing with in his office. The corners flutter in the slight breeze, but Cas holds them firmly. 

They look like legal documents, which immediately makes Dean’s stomach cramp with anxiety. The only papers he can think of that would apply to him are his contract papers, and his training records, and Dean would very much like to never have to think about those things again. 

But, as Cas begins to flip through the small pile, Dean releases a slow breath. There are no contact papers, of course. No training records. Logically, he knew better. He knew Cas wouldn’t really have a reason to bring those particular documents here. It’s still nice to have confirmation. 

“I’ve gathered all the requirements together and it's...” Cas pauses, his eyes flicking up from the papers to look guiltily at Dean. “Extensive.” 

Dean finds himself swallowing. He hadn’t given much thought to the process itself, only to the eventual outcome. It makes sense, he supposes, that granting a slave their freedom isn’t simple. If it was, it would be too easy for auction houses to lose their stock. The papers are starting to look menacing again – he’s not sure that he’s ready to throw himself head first into this. Not sure he’s ready to take on the challenge that this is going to be. 

Hell, he’s still not sure that he even deserves it. 

Cas probably senses some of that nervousness, because his voice softens a little. “There are some things that are fairly simple, and don’t require anything except the proper paperwork. Balthazar and Jody take care of that, for the most part – they’ll have already sent the initial request through. Once it’s approved, we can start to work on the rest.”

Dean fiddles with his zipper, frowning at the fluttering papers. “What’s the stuff that ain’t so easy?”

The alpha makes a face. “Well. There are quite a few… boxes to check. Unfortunately. The first – and easiest to achieve – is your immunizations. We need to get those up to date, which shouldn’t be too difficult. I didn’t see a record of them in your file… but, to be fair, I gave it a cursory glance. There were… more pressing things at the time. But of course they’re important. I’m sure they’re documented.” 

Dean makes a half strangled noise. “I don’t think–”

“I mean, there are – there are other medical records,” Cas is saying, nearly to himself. His scent is something past uncomfortable. “So, surely they’ve documented your–”

“They don’t care about that shit,” Dean interrupts, his voice high and a little closer to anger than it should be. “Come on, Cas. You gotta know better. The records they bothered to put in – those are just there because they affected my price.” 

There is a beat of silence between them. Dean can feel his heart pound a little harder in his chest, can feel flickers of anger somewhere deep inside of himself. He doesn’t even know who he’s angry at. Doesn’t know why he’s even bothering to be pissed. Of course shot records aren’t in his damn file. What kind of slave owner gave a shit about things like that? Gave a damn about him at all, past his ability to bend over or suck some sick fucker off? 

Surely Cas knows this already. Surely he’s just trying to be nice. Surely he knows as well as Dean does that before he came here, he hadn’t been given drugs that weren’t meant to hurt him since he was a fucking child. 

He feels his hands tighten into fists. But the instant he looks up at the alpha, the little flashes of anger sputter and die.

Cas looks… small, somehow. Weary. “Yes,” he says softly, giving Dean a weak, apologetic smile – it looks like it could shatter to pieces at any moment. “You’re right, of course. I’m giving them far too much credit.”  

He rubs the back of his neck, more hesitant and unsure of himself than he’s been in days. He looks as though he wants to say more on the subject. Looks as though he wants to explain himself. But he doesn't. “Pam can take care of it, if it’s okay with you. She’s good at figuring those sorts of things out, of course. She’ll be sure you get the right ones.” 

Dean’s shoulders slump. There’s no point in being angry – he knows better than that by now. He doesn’t have a choice, as per usual, and this isn’t even a big deal anyway. He shouldn’t have said a word. He takes a breath, and waits for the next blow. 

But Cas has paused, and he’s looking at Dean with a question on his face. It takes Dean longer than it should to realize that he’s waiting for permission. For... consent. For Dean to actually agree. 

When he understands that, he feels his throat tighten again - only this time, it's not with anger. It's with gratitude. 

“Yeah,” he chokes out, his voice more strangled than it has a right to be. “That’s. Yeah. Okay.”  Cas looks at him with steady concern, of course, but Dean doesn’t know how to explain. 

Cas could just as easily have told him what they were gonna do. In fact, Cas could have told him nothing at all. Could have dragged him to the doctor by his arm or his wrist or his collar. Could have kept him from bolting with a simple command, or a leash or, worst of all, with a hand around the back of his neck. 

Cas could have ignored his terror – and Dean has no doubt that’s exactly what he would have felt – at the sight of a needle. He could have given Dean no explanation, could have let him sit with sick fear in his stomach as he waited for hours to figure out what he’d been shot up with, and what it would do to him.

None of that would have been out of the ordinary. No one would have batted an eye. Slaves don’t get to ask questions, and masters don’t take the time to explain. Slaves do as they’re told. Even as spoiled as he’s gotten here, Dean hasn’t forgotten that.  

And, yet. 

Cas refuses to treat him like that. Cas wouldn’t have even thought to treat him like that – he’d turn green if Dean took the time to explain his thoughts to him at all.  

He should be fucking grateful. He is. It’s just hard to accept, sometimes, that he’s landed himself an alpha who waits for permission for anything, let alone something that won't even hurt him. Something that Dean needs to be free. And, even though he wouldn't, Dean lets himself wonder what would happen if he actually said no. If he put a halt to it right here, because Cas has given him the option to.

Even thinking about disagreeing with the alpha makes something inside of Dean go rigid. But he forces himself to breathe. Forces himself to think. When he does, he realizes he already knows what would happen. Knows that Cas would accept it, wouldn't push him, would let him make his own choice. 

He's so painfully, horribly unfamiliar with kindness.

Exhaustion hits him like a wave. He wants to throw in the towel for the day already, and they’ve hardly even started. Really, it’s pathetic that he’s reacting like this. It’s not like he thought this shit would ever be easy. 

Not like he really ever thought he’d get the chance to do it at all.  

There’s a hand on his, warm and heavy, and Dean looks up sharply. Cas’s eyes are soft. 

“Dean, we don’t have to do this now,” he says, his voice gentle. With a flush of shame, Dean realizes that a lot of the shit going on in his brain must have become obvious in his scent. 

He takes a calming breath. Pastes on a light smile, shakes away the cobwebs of fear and disbelief. “It’s alright, Cas. Keep goin’.” 

Cas watches him for a moment, his blue eyes seeming to take in more than whatever pathetic picture Dean is trying to paint for him. Eventually, though, he decides to let it go. He turns back to the pile. Finds the next page. 

“There are some tests you’ll need to pass. One for general education, and a separate literacy exam. I don’t think you’ll have trouble with those,” he says with a soft smile, and Dean can’t help the little spark of pleasure in him at that. He douses it without mercy with a bucket-full of reality.

“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “Sure, I can read. But math is gonna kick my ass.”

“That’s why we have tutors, Dean,” Cas replies, smiling encouragingly. “Most of the omegas we take in have a fairly spotty education, but it’s easier than you think to fill in the gaps.” At Dean’s dismissive snort, Cas cocks his head to the side. “What?

Dean shrugs, unwilling to disagree, even though he’s pretty damn sure it’s gonna be hard for anything to get through his thick skull. There are more pages in Cas’s hand. No point in shooting him down so early in the game. “Nothing. What’s next?”

Cas huffs, quietly unconvinced by Dean’s bluster, but turns the page anyway at his defiant stare.

“You’ll need some sort of proof that you’re capable of getting a job. A GED, at least, and if possible, a certification in something. A lined up job offer would be even better.”

Dean chokes out a cruel laugh, not quite able to help himself. The world feels like it’s getting smaller around him, and he’s not sure whether he wants to keep laughing, or start crying. There are too many hurdles, none of which he feels capable of jumping over. “Are you serious? Cas, come on. I didn’t even finish high school. Even if I hadn’t – even if,” he struggles, drags in a breath and makes himself finish, “Even if I’d had the chance to try, I’d probably have flunked out. What makes you think I’m capable of getting a job?"

Cas quirks up an eyebrow, frustratingly unfazed by Dean’s outburst. “Because you are. You’re a person. You’re intelligent. You’re hardworking.” The alpha plows through even when Dean tries to interrupt. “You have something you’re good at. Something that interests you enough to pursue it. The requirement isn’t impossible to fulfill, as difficult as it may sound. We have lots of connections – tutors and teachers and volunteers from certification programs, not to mention businesses and people that will hire directly from us.” 

Dean snaps his mouth shut over his protests. Cas has a sort of fire in him that he has never seen in the alpha before. He’s more determined about this than anything he's ever done for himself. More excited about Dean gaining his freedom than Dean himself is. Arguing – saying I can’t – won’t get him anywhere. Not when the alpha looks like that.

After a moment of silence, Dean lets out a breath. His voice is quiet. “You really know places that will hire omegas? Even–” 

Dean stops the words before they get out of his mouth. Calling himself a bitch male isn’t gonna do anything except piss Cas off - or worse, make him sad - and the dude is stressed enough as it is. “Even ones like me?” 

Cas nods, his shoulders pulled back in a fierce sort of pride. “More places than you think. And many of those jobs are… they’re good fits, for the residents,” he says carefully, thumbing through the papers again. “Lots of jobs outside the city, many where they wouldn’t be interacting with many people who would discriminate against them at all. Jobs on farms or apiaries, animal training, working from home. Things of that nature.” 

There’s a surge of longing inside of Dean that he hasn’t felt in a very long time – not since he was a kid. “What about…” 

When he trails off, not quite able to voice his hope, Cas squeezes his hand. Dean sighs. “What about mechanics? I… I wanted to fix cars,” he says, voice far too small and so quiet it’s almost pathetic. “Before. I thought – well, even after I presented. I figured that if I got good enough at it, someone would have to hire me. Even with my designation.” 

And wouldn’t that have been the dream. To earn money with a paycheck, to pay his friggin’ taxes. He’d longed for that kind of stability, longed for a day where he wouldn’t have to put food on the table by stealing it, or by using himself in ways that, even all these years later, he still can’t even think about without feeling sick. He’d dreamed of it, but he hadn’t even really expected it. He can count on one hand the number of places he saw while growing up that employed male omegas, and can’t think of any who let them do a so-called man’s job. 

Cas’s eyes are soft when Dean looks up, as if he has some idea of what Dean’s thinking. Maybe he does – he’s probably dealt with plenty of omegas who were in similar situations. “I’m sure we could find something of that nature, Dean. These days, people are more willing than you might remember.” 

Dean’s throat is tight. As much as he trusts Cas, he’s not sure he can believe that one. Not without proof. Again, though, there’s no point in shooting the man down before they’ve actually tried. So he nods, and the alpha relaxes a little. 

Cas smiles at him, returning to the packet. “Other than that,” he continues, flipping the page, “There’s just a psych eval'. It basically involves a general check up, and then a–” 

Cas stops mid-sentence, his mood dropping so quickly that it’s jarring. He’s still staring down at the paper, but his hands are gripping it a little tighter. “Ah. Right. I… managed to forget this part,” he says, the words small. “That’s what I get for leaving these sorts of things to Jody.”

He takes a breath. Struggles to explain, clearly guilty at having to bring it up at all. “It’s just… it’s a…” 

“A what?” Dean finally asks, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. He can feel himself getting tense already. 

Cas looks up at him, spooked like a deer in headlights. But he does eventually speak, his scent twisting as he does so. “It’s a risk assessment. They… want to know if you pose a threat.” 

Dean can only stare at Cas for a moment, the words clanging around in his head like pots and pans. “A… threat.” 

Cas winces. “A… a danger to anyone. They have to be sure that you won’t... ” he swallows, eyes flicking away, “That you aren’t planning to…”

When the pieces click together, Dean can’t help the bark of laughter. “Oh, God. They want to see if I’m planning on hunting those bastards down for revenge, don’t they?” 

Cas looks pained at that, but Dean, for some reason, can’t stop laughing. Because this is funny, isn’t it? It’s fucking hilarious. “That makes sense. You can’t blame ‘em! It’d be stupid to free me if I was a homicidal maniac, right? Fuck.” 

He spits the last word, suddenly finding the whole thing a lot less funny. “Fuck, Cas, what am I supposed to say to that? That if… if I found one of those alphas, that I’d, what? Shake his goddamn hand? Thank him?”

The alpha doesn’t have anything to say to that. But his eyes are hard, when Dean looks up to meet them. There’s a protective sort of anger there. Dean’s glad to see it. Because if Cas had agreed, had told him he should never consider violence, had told him to let it go… 

“No, Dean,” he says, his voice rock solid. “You’ll never see those men again.”

Dean folds down on himself, dragging his knees to his chest. “You hope.”

“I know,” the alpha growls, and even though the anger isn’t directed at him Dean can’t help but hunch down a little further, his pulse jumping up. “You’ll never have to make that choice. They won’t get anywhere near you. Never again - you don't have to worry about that.” 

Dean closes his eyes. “That doesn't matter, Cas. Those people aren’t worried about me. They’re worried about – about protecting them,” he chokes out, heart twisting in his chest. He doesn’t know why he expected anything different. Maybe it’s because he’s gotten too used to being here, among people who want him to fight, who would cheer him on if he fought back. 

Most of the world doesn’t think like that. Most of the world wants him to be docile and meek and someone’s pretty little plaything. 

Dean’s never been able to be that – not when he first entered the trade, not when he was purchased and returned and purchased again. Not even under Alastair. Sure, he’d had his weak moments. He’d broken a few times, had given in just to make the pain stop. But right up until Hell had been blown to smithereens, he’d been resisting. Fighting back. 

If Alastair showed up now, Dean doesn’t know if he’d be able to actually get away. But he would lash out. He’d hit. Kick. Spit. He’d bite. Hell yeah, he’d be a fucking risk. So if his freedom is dependent on the idea that he’d lay there and take it with a smile… he’s never gonna get it. 

“Dean,” Cas says, pulling him from his thoughts with a gentle hand on his. Dean looks down at their overlapping fingers. At the way his are soft. Clean. Unbloodied and unbroken for the first time in a long while. 

But they’re still capable of violence, if it comes down to it. Even with his freedom at stake, even with Sam at stake, even with Cas’s happiness at stake… Dean knows he wouldn’t be able to hold it together. Wouldn’t be able to suck it up and take it like a good little pet, even if that’s exactly what he should do. Even if that's what he deserves. He hates himself for that. Hates that he knows he wouldn’t be able to do it, not even for something as important as this. 

It makes him feel like a coward. And trying to convince a shrink that he’d do anything less than scratch out Alastair’s eyes if he came near him now is gonna be near impossible.

“Dean,” Cas repeats. His voice sounds far away. “What are you thinking?”

“Is there anything else?” Dean asks without answering, feeling hollow. Tired. He can’t keep doing this. 

There’s a pause. He feels Cas looking at him – trying to figure him out. “No,” he says softly, after a moment. “But it is a challenging list.” 

Dean says nothing. He can’t. He feels like the words would choke him.

Cas’s scent changes. Grows softer, sadder. “If you’re not ready for this,” he continues slowly, squeezing Dean’s shoulder again, “I understand. But it's... well. It’s all here when you want it. I’ll support you, when you do want to try.”

Dean looks up. Cas is already looking back at him, his blue eyes huge and hopeful and almost scared. And maybe it’s that look that does it. Maybe it’s the fact that he fucking loves the man, and can’t stomach the thought of disappointing him. Not when he knows how much Cas wants this. 

“You already givin’ up on me?” he says, his voice light. “Come on, Cas. I never said I didn’t wanna do it.” 

An unsure smile flickers to life on the alpha’s face, and Dean thanks all there is to thank that his lie doesn’t somehow leach into his scent.. “You mean…” 

Dean swallows. Squares his shoulders, and unfolds himself. “I mean let’s just fuckin’ go for it. I don’t – I don’t know if I can,” he admits, the bravado fading, “but I’ll try.” 

For Cas, he’ll try. Or at least pretend he has a hope of succeeding. 

Cas exhales. His smile morphs into something soft. Something awe filled. His scent shifts too, into something like pride, and a sweeter scent Dean’s picked up on more than once but doesn’t know how to place. 

He flips the packet closed. Then he leans in, and draws Dean to his chest. Dean doesn’t really mind – he wraps his arms around the alpha too. And for a while, they just sit there, the cool breeze and the soft lap of the water the only sounds in the stillness. If Dean sniffles a little, Cas has the grace not to mention it. 

When they break apart, Cas is already fired up again. He takes Dean by the hand. Hauls him up, and launches into action.

“There are quite a few options as far as how to get started,” he says, laying out the roadmap for Dean with fire in his eyes. "We can look over different plans that Jody’s put together, and decide which path you’d like to take.” 

Dean half listens, but the words wash over him without much meaning. All he knows is that if he can get that smile to stay on Cas’s face forever, he’ll have done good. 

They walk back home, hand in hand.