Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

--

Dean awakes with a throbbing headache.

He’s lying on a cold, hard surface, curled up in a fetal position, his hands like claws. He’s thirsty. His tongue feels several sizes too big. And his mouth feels as if it’s been stuffed full of cotton wool all night.

Dean tries to swallow and ends up coughing. He rolls over and tries to raise himself up onto hands and knees too weak and shaky to hold him. His arms give way first and he slumps forward, chest on the ground, ass in the air. A phantom hand caresses his ass and a phantom voice in his ear tells him that he’s a good boy.  Dean grits his teeth to keep from groaning. His swollen cock is pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans and Dean represses a shudder. He takes a tentative sniff and is relieved when he only detects his own scent. As much as Dean hates his own biology—and he does, with a fiery passion—it would’ve been so much worse if he’d been able to detect the scent of a Dom mixed in with his own pheromones.

Suppressing another groan (and the urge to shove a hand into his pants) Dean rolls onto his back. Jacking off won’t help him right now anyway. The hunt he finished up yesterday had been a bastard; a type of incubi that fed off the sexual energy of Subs. He managed to gank it good and dead, but not before it managed to let loose with its own special brand of dominant pheromones, leaving him hard and wanting and desperate for Subspace.  Dean runs a hand over his tightly-shut eyes and groans. He’s been successfully passing as a Dom for most of the past eight years—it’s really just a matter of attitude—but that doesn’t change his neurophysiology. No matter how much he swaggers, no matter how many pretty young Subs he tops, if he doesn’t reach Subspace at least once every couple of weeks, Dean’s health starts to suffer. He begins to swing from depression to mania; one moment so tired and depressed he can’t get out of bed; the next he can’t sit still, his behaviour impulsive and aggressive as he seeks sensation and takes stupid, unnecessary risks. Crazy shit happens to his brain waves too and if he doesn’t get taken down he can end up in a coma. It’s got something to do with neurochemical imbalances; Dean vaguely remembers learning about it in Human Development at school. During the hormone fluctuations of puberty, something happens to a Sub’s ability to adequately maintain their levels of dopamine, prolactin, oxytocin and a few other more recently discovered hormones that Dean can’t remember the names for.  Modern science calls it an Autonomic Nervous System Disorder and—Dean’s lips twist—it’s manifestation at puberty is how the submissive dynamic is officially diagnosed.

These days the condition can be managed pretty well with drugs. Unfortunately for Dean, the drugs are illegal in America. For which he has the Church to thank. According to them, the God and the Goddess made Doms in their likeness and then saw that the Doms were lonely. So they used the left over bits of cosmic Lego to make Subs, to serve the Doms and keep them company. Or some shit like that. Dad was never really big on Church after demons murdered his Sub and burnt his house to the ground. All Dean really knows is that the Church has some fucked up idea that Subs are meant to be the way they are and that medicating them would be sacrilege. Of course, Doms go through some hormone changes too; they get those annoying as fuck pheromones that provoke the desire to submit in Subs, but presenting as Dom is just considered the norm, while presenting as Sub is considered a deviation from the norm.  When Dean didn’t turn out to be the Dom that everyone was expecting, Dad wouldn’t look him in the eye any more and all of his hopes and dreams for the future turned to dust.

Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath and supposes he’d better make an effort to figure out just how screwed he is. He forces his eyes open and when he finally manages to focus he’s staring up at the grey steel squares of a cage roof.

Fuck.

He hauls himself upright and then drags himself backwards until his shoulders hit the back wall of the cage. He slumps against it and only then does he become aware of the collar around his neck.

Fucking Fuck.

He lifts a shaking hand and feels around the thick leather. He finds the buckle, but the collar is locked and Dean’s blood freezes in his veins. This is so not good. He casts about wildly, looking for something that will tell him where he is and, wow, he’s really off his game because the giant sign on the wall opposite the row of cages (his is the only one occupied) tells him everything he needs to know.

‘Department of Dynamics: Buffalo County (Nebraska) Garrison—Enforcement and Corrections Division’.

Dean is oddly relieved. He’s in a fuckton of trouble here, no doubt about it, but it could’ve been worse; he could’ve gotten himself legally bonded to some asshole Dom. He runs his fingers underneath the collar again, his expression souring. Of course, that might still happen.  

--

Gabriel Archangel is deeply engrossed in the client-file before him when the sub-monitor in client X-494’s cell chirps.   He glances up at the video monitor and watches as the boy rolls up onto his hands and knees and then slumps down onto his chest, ass in the air. It’s a nice view and Gabriel grins around his cherry Tootsie Pop.  The client rolls onto his back and then lies still for—according to the time-keeper on the monitor—a good couple of minutes, before taking an obvious deep breath and dragging himself upright. He shuffles backwards until he’s leaning against the rear wall of the cage and that’s when he finds the collar.

Gabriel watches closely as the client panics big time, fear-filled eyes darting around everywhere until they land on the Garrison’s emblem emblazoned on the wall opposite his cell. His reaction is interesting. Firstly, his expression changes from frightened to relieved, and his shoulders relax. Then his brow furrows and his mouth twists, and Gabriel slurps on his Tootsie Pop noisily before taking it out of his mouth and leaning closer to the monitor. The client is now resigned and irritated, but not scared, not cowed. And there doesn’t appear to be a submissive bone is his body.  The client notices the plastic water jug and cup sitting in the corner of the cell and crawls to it slowly. He’s obviously in a bad way and Gabriel has to supress the urge to go to him and hold him; to stroke his hair and hold his cup while he drinks, and to hand feed him small morsels of food.  Gabriel has to remember that the client brought this on himself by overdosing on Zero.  He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair before shoving the Tootsie Pop back into his mouth. He watches as the client forgoes the cup and gulps water straight from the jug, his head tipped back and his throat rippling in ways that go straight to Gabriel’s groin. Gabriel sighs again and looks away. He wonders how long the client has been taking Zero, if he’s ever actually experienced genuine Subspace.

Of course it would help a great deal if Gabriel had even the first clue who the client actually was; he’d had half a dozen different IDs in his wallet when he was brought in, all of them declaring him a Dom. Gabriel rubs a hand over his face. Whoever this guy is, he’s not the first Sub in history to try passing for a Dom. Gabriel frowns. Unless he actually is a Dom.  But then why would a Dom be taking Zero? Gabriel glances back at the monitor. The client is now sitting casually at the back of the cell staring up at the cell-cam with big green eyes that seem to be issuing a challenge. Well now. Gabriel has never been one to back down from a challenge.  He snatches up the client’s collection of IDs and heads for the Sub Cells.

--

The door into the Cells slides open and Dean tears his gaze away from the camera, ready to face whatever swaggering asshole Dom the Garrison has sent in to deal with him. One look at the short, baby-faced man who strolls nonchalantly through the door has Dean’s jaw hitting the ground.  The black leather pants, leather jacket emblazoned with the Garrison logo, black thigh-high lace up boots and tool belt complete with handcuffs, whip and short cane leave no doubt in Dean’s mind that this man is a Dom, but the Lord and Lady had clearly been having a joke at nature’s expense when they created this one.

“You’ve got to be fucking kid me!” he blurts. “Little short for a storm trooper, aren’t you?”

The Dom grins and pulls a—Dear Lord—a bright red lollipop out of his mouth and points it at Dean.

“Nice,” he says. “A fanboy after my own heart. So I guess this makes you Princess Leia then?”

Dean blinks and then lets loose with his most seductive smile. “I think I’m more of a Han Solo personally.”

The Dom tilts his head to one side, his eyes narrowed. “A Sub passing for a Dom.”

Dean’s heart beat stutters to a brief stop and then proceeds to beat at triple time. For a long moment he sits completely still, his head down.

--

When the client looks up, Gabriel is disappointed to see that the warm honest friendliness has gone from his eyes and been replaced with cold emptiness. His lips too, which had been quirked with genuine amusement, are now curved into a big, beautiful, entirely fake smile.

“Hardly,” the client drawls, “I just think Han and me share a certain roguish charm.”

“Uh huh,” Gabriel matches his tone. “And a certain disregard for the law too, I’d wager.”

The client rubs at the back of his neck and smiles crookedly before lowering his eyes and Gabriel suddenly has to use all of his training to tamp down the dominant pheromones that are trying to unleash themselves, and the thoroughly unprofessional picture his mind has just conjured of the client naked, in kneeling presentation position.

Gabriel moves slowly towards the cage and the client’s nostrils flare. When his eyes darken, Gabriel knows that he hasn’t been entirely successful in supressing his pheromones.

“Forgive me,” he says, “I haven’t introduced myself.  I’m Dom Gabriel Archangel.”

The client’s eyes widen. “You’re an Archangel?”

Gabriel sighs and shoves the lollipop back in his mouth.  “I know what you’re thinking,” he says around it. “Why is he working the Sub Enforcements and Corrections division in Nebraska when his family has been running the Department of Dynamics for generations, since before it even was a government department?”

The client raises an eyebrow. “Not at all, it makes complete sense. Your family runs things, of course they’re gonna want a family rep everywhere. As to why you personally ended up in the ass end of nowhere, well, you don’t exactly fit the Dom stereotype do you?” he tilts his head, eyes narrow and expression shrewd. “And I’m guessing you probably pissed off somebody important too.”

That hits a little too close to home for comfort and Gabriel decides he’d better get the conversation back on track, and fast.

“Well,” he says, “Now you know who I am. So,” he pulls the bundle of IDs out of his jacket pocket. “How about you tell me who you are?”

The client sits in stony silence and Gabriel nods. “Okay then, guessing game it is. You say stop when I get to the right name.” He reads the name on the first ID.

“Dom Ted Nugent?” No response. He puts that card to the back and reads out the next one.

“Dom Jerry Wanek?” No response.

“Dom Nigel Tufnel?” No response.

“Dom Kris Warren?”

The client’s head comes up. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s me.”

Gabriel nods. He sincerely doubts it.

“Okay Dom Warren,” he says, drawing out the name and raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You mind explaining to me how someone with a dominant dynamic manages to get himself strung out on Zero?”

The client—Kris—rubs the back of his neck again, it’s a nervous tic and Gabriel notes it.

“It wasn’t Zero,” he says finally. He shrugs and then straightens his shoulders. “I was Hunting an incubi. It did something to me with its pheromones.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “You’re a Hunter?”

Kris nods.

“Where’s your License?”

Kris rubs the back of his neck again. “I’m, uh, a little behind on my dues.”

“So you’re Hunting unlicensed?”

Kris looks up sheepishly from underneath his eyelashes. “Yeah,” he says. “And I know I gotta take my licks for that, but could we lose the collar? And get me outta this cage?”

Gabriel takes the lollipop out of his mouth and smiles widely. “Sure,” he says. “Just gotta check a few things out first, you know how it is.”

He flicks the client a small salute and punches out of the Cell block.

--

There’s a mustard yellow catalog envelope sitting on Gabriel’s desk. It contains the client’s blood work, tox screen and brain scan. Gabriel reads the results thoroughly, his lips pursed. He’s not surprised, not really. The results show that the client is definitely a Sub. And tales of hunting incubi aside, he is definitely suffering from a Zero overdose.  But the real kicker; the really brain-shattering piece of information; is that whoever he is, and Gabriel is pretty damn certain he isn’t Kris Warren, he isn’t in The Department of Dynamics’ database. At all. As either a Sub or a Dom.

Gabriel has finished his Tootsie Pop now and is merely chewing on the stick. Most of his colleagues are paper shufflers and none too happy at being assigned to the Sub Division; at this point they’d throw the client into the too hard basket and pass him on up to State; and that, Gabriel wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.  

He uses the Cell-cam to take front and profile stills of the client and then scans them into the Missing Subs Database and sets it to run an image matching search. He then spends the next few hours emailing the stills to every school district in the State, asking them to distribute them to all the High Schools in their district and have them check them against their student records for the last ten years. If he hasn’t got a hit from somewhere by the time he gets back from lunch, he’ll email all the surrounding states.

Gabriel turns reluctantly to the stack of paperwork in his in-tray. Most of it is stock standard and depressing as fuck; Subs reported missing, reports into suspected Sub-abuse, Subs petitioning to be released from Bonds. Gabriel always does what he can, but unfortunately what he’s legally allowed to do is frequently far too little. All Subs are required by law to be under the care and protection of a Dom. The Dom might be a parent or other relative, they might be a Guardian, or they might be a bondmate.  Gabriel’s been in the job long enough to notice a direct correlation between the reports into suspected Sub-abuse and the reports of Subs going missing. When the system fails them—and the system inevitably comes down in favor of Doms—a lot of Subs take the law into their own hands and go on the run.

Gabriel turns to the monitor and watches the Sub he’s got caged in his Cell block. He’s putting on a good front; all casual nonchalance and bravado. You have to look really closely to see the unease; the slight twitch of his jaw, the tightening and releasing of his thigh muscles. Gabriel wonders why he’s out on his own. Is he a runaway? A Sub who’s been abused and let down by the system? Or is he something more complicated. The fact that he somehow managed to wipe any trace of himself from the DoD Database speaks volumes about his competence and self-reliance. Gabriel’s jaw tenses and his eyes tighten. Whatever the situation, he can’t let this man end up committed to a State run Home for Subs, branded uncontrollable, a danger to his own health. Those places are soul-crushing prisons at best, sex-slave brothels at worst.  Gabriel isn’t sure he could live with himself if one of his clients got sent to one of those places. And Cas? Cas would never forgive him.

--

 Sub Fitzgerald comes out of the kitchens with lunch prepared for the client.

“Hiya, Sir,” he says, flashing his trademark goofy grin.

“Hey Garth. Life treating you okay, kid?”

“Sure is, Sir,” Garth heads toward the Cells and Gabriel glances up at the monitor, looks at the green-eyed Sub staring pensively at the bars of his cage, and then makes a split second decision.

“Here, kid,” he says, “let me take that.”

Garth is reluctant to hand the tray over. Taking food to the clients on lockdown in the Sub Division is his job and besides, he doesn’t seem to feel that a Dom should be serving which, frankly, pisses Gabriel off. He ends up having to use his Dom Voice and pheromones to get his way and when Garth finally backs off his expression is injured.

Gabriel sighs and runs a hand through his hair, knowing that he’ll have to find some way of making this up to the kid.

--

When Gabriel walks into the Sub Cells holding a tray of bite-sized morsels the client’s expression shutters off completely.

Gabriel sets the tray down outside his cage.  “Front and center,’ he says.

The client glares at him and belligerently refuses to move.

“Please,” Gabriel says. He hates having to compel obedience and he’s already done it once this lunchtime. Something of his emotions must show on his face because understanding flickers briefly in those expressive green eyes before the client’s expression returns to neutral. He stands, stretches, and then ambles to the front of the cage.

“Your bloodwork came back,” Gabriel says.

The client’s pupils dilate. “You took blood from me?”

“While you were out. It’s standard operating procedure for people brought in under the influence of drugs.”

The client frowns. “I told you—”  

Gabriel cuts him off. “We did a tox screen too. We know you’re a Sub and we know you OD’d on Zero.”

The client shuts down completely. Gabriel doesn’t think he’s ever seen a Sub manage to look so completely unapproachable before.

“You hungry?” The client doesn’t respond, just stares out over Gabriel’s right shoulder.

Gabriel sighs. “You got a name, kid?”

Nothing.

“Look,” Gabriel tries. “We both know that you’re in a world of trouble. You’ve confessed to unlicensed Hunting, we’ve got you on fake IDs, possibly identity theft, taking a banned substance and impersonating a Dom. On top of which you’re an unregistered Sub living outside the guardianship of a Dom.”

“I’m not a child,” the client hisses, voice tight with rage. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“Of course you are,” Gabriel agrees and the client’s eyes flick to his, surprised. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the law requires you to have a Guardian.”

“The law sucks ass,” the client raises his chin defiantly, eyes smoldering.  

“In a lot of aspects it does. And reform is slow. But none of that changes the fact that you are a Sub. And as a Sub you require regular body contact and regular immersion in Subspace.  You haven’t been looking after yourself, kid.”

“I ain’t a kid.”

“Then give me a name.”

The client glowers. “I’m just a Sub, right? You’re the almighty Dom. Isn’t my name whatever you say it is?”

Gabriel sighs. “Maybe I’ll call you Alec,” he says. “Short for Smart Alec.”

 The client inclines his head and then gives a shit eating grin. “Alec,” he says. “I like it.”

Gabriel snorts. “Good. My second choice was Dick.”

The look on the client’s face is priceless and Gabriel uses his distraction to press on. “You hungry?” he says nodding at the tray.

The client’s expression shuts down again. “I can feed myself,” he spits out.

“You can,” Gabriel nods, “but you need the body contact right now.”

“The hell I do!” the client’s furious reaction is instantaneous, his hands clenching at his side. “If you try anything with me, there’ll be body contact all right; my fist into your face!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Gabriel says sincerely.

The client deflates a little and then harrumphs. “Not yet, anyway,” he mutters.

Gabriel opens the slot in the door of the cage and unhooks the handcuffs from his tool belt. “Turn around, please,” he says.

The client has gone back to staring over his right shoulder. Gabriel sighs. “Please?” he repeats. “I really don’t want to have to compel your obedience.”

The client snorts and makes eye contact. “But you will,” he says, lips curling cynically.

Gabriel holds his gaze. “I will,” he confirms. “If you make me.”

The client closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, Gabriel sees the resignation in them, which only makes it more imperative that Gabriel gets some soothing and nurturing happening; the client’s prolactin levels are probably spiking badly.

The client takes a very obvious deep breath and turns around, obediently presenting his wrists through the slot for cuffing.

“Thank you,” Gabriel says, snapping the cuffs into place. “Take five steps forward and then turn and present standing, eyes on me.”

The client does as he’s told. Gabriel is expecting a sloppy, casual stance—a minor act of rebellion. Instead he gets military precision and perfect parade rest.  

“Beautiful,” he murmurs and the client’s ears flush pink.  “Kneeling presentation position,” Gabriel instructs and the client folds, dropping into place with a sensual ease that speaks of long and diligent practice.  He may have been passing as a Dom for goodness knows how long, but someone has trained him well.

Gabriel picks up the lunch tray and enters the cage. He takes the cage’s remote control out of his tool belt and calls down a cable which he hooks to the client’s hand cuffs. Gabriel doesn’t think the boy will try to attack him, but if he’s been hunting on his own he’s probably more than capable of disabling an opponent and making an escape bid, even wearing handcuffs. It pays to be cautious. Next Gabriel calls down a chair. He sits at the client’s side and encourages him to lean against his legs. The tray is balanced on Gabriel’s thighs and he runs a hand through the client’s hair. The client stiffens and then gradually relaxes as Gabriel continues the soothing touch. He picks up a crunchy cheese and bacon ball and holds it out to the Sub at his feet, telling him what it is. “These are to die for,” he says, “Dom Mills’s speciality.”

The Sub opens his mouth and Gabriel feeds him the morsel. The noise the kid makes as he chews is positively obscene. “Oh my God,” he moans, “this is one of the best things I’ve ever had in my mouth!”

Gabriel laughs. “I told you,” he says, offering him a second bite.

Gabriel sits with the Sub for the next ten minutes, feeding him and petting his hair. Despite his initial furious outburst at the idea of being hand fed, the client seems quite content to eat from Gabriel’s hand.  He seems to enjoy Gabriel’s fingers running through his hair too.  “How are you feeling?” Gabriel asks.

“Fine.”

Gabriel tightens his hand in the client’s hair and the Sub winces and then sighs, “I’m a little tired. I’ve got a headache. And I’m not exactly tap dancing with joy right now, but I’m doin’ alright,” he leans into Gabriel’s thighs. “Much as I hate to admit it, this helped. So thank you, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Gabriel says warmly.

--

The Missing Subs Database search program is flashing that it’s got a hit and Gabriel has an email from Broken Bow High School in Custer County too.

Both sources confirm that his mystery client is Sub Dean Winchester, born January 24, 1979 to Dom John Winchester (registered Hunter) and Sub Mary Winchester (deceased 1983). He was reported missing on January 26, 1997 by Dom Ellen Harvelle, who is noted on the report as his Guardian Dom, although a later annotation advises that the Guardianship was informal and hadn’t been recorded through proper channels.

The email from Broken Bow High describes Dean as an intelligent, athletic student with a disciplinary record as long as his arm. Gabriel is disappointed to see that he dropped out of school during his senior year, but the school seems to have felt that it was good riddance, that there was no real need for a Sub to have a high school diploma and that the bright, mouthy, physically-capable Sub was far more trouble than he was worth.  Gabriel is quietly furious on Dean’s behalf, and maybe some of that is transference, maybe he’s seeing far more of Cas in Dean than he should, but the school’s attitude really is pretty damn unsatisfactory.  

Gabriel makes a Face-time call to Dom Harvelle, shows her his credentials and explains that they’ve found Dean. Dom Harvelle (“Call me Ellen”) is teary and grateful for the information. She has a few choice things to say about Dean’s father who, Gabriel learns, pretty much dumped him at Harvelle’s Roadhouse in central Nebraska when he presented as a Sub and then hit the road with his younger son in tow, dropping in to see Dean for a day or two once or twice a year.  He turned up for the kid’s eighteenth birthday and gave him his old car—a black 1967 Chevy Impala that Dean apparently doted on—and the news that Dean’s brother Sam had presented as a Dom. John couldn’t stay, not even for Dean’s birthday dinner; he had a hunt lined up and Sam would be providing backup.

Dean went missing two days later.  Ellen is not surprised to hear that Dean managed to wipe any record of himself from the DoD Database. Nor is she surprised to hear how much trouble Dean’s gotten himself into. She offers herself as a Guardian and Gabriel thanks her for the offer, but she’s not family, she’s not offering to be a bondmate and she’s already managed to lose Dean once. Gabriel doubts the Judge will find her a suitable person.

He calls John Winchester next and gets a recorded message, along with a cell phone number for a Dom Bobby Singer and the instruction to call him “if it’s urgent”.  Gabriel thinks it’s urgent, although he’s not sure John Winchester would agree. He calls Dom Singer, who answers on Private and has to be persuaded to switch to Face-time so that Gabriel can show him his credentials. From Dom Singer, Gabriel learns that John is out on an extended solo hunt, tracking the demon that killed his Sub. John checks in with Singer every now and then, but not often and not regularly.  Dom Singer seems disappointed to hear that the DoD has found Dean and Gabriel suspects that he may have had some contact with the kid over the last eight years, perhaps even knew (or suspected) what he was up to.  Singer also offers himself as a Guardian for Dean, although not a bondmate. Gabriel leaves Singer his number and hangs up; hopeful that maybe he’s found a way to keep Dean out of State. When he runs Bobby Singer’s name through the system he finds that the Dom is recorded as having killed his Sub, Karen. Okay, yes, she was possessed by a demon at the time, but still, it won’t look good to a Judge. Gabriel can feel a headache starting behind his eyes and he rubs at his brow and temples with his fingers.  His desk phone rings and he answers it on automatic pilot: “DoD Buffalo County, Gabriel speaking.”

“Gabriel Archangel?” says a strong, young, male voice.

“Speaking.”

“This is Sam Winchester. I hear you’ve found my brother.”

Gabriel sits up straight. Sam is a family member and a Dom and Gabriel smacks himself in the head because Bobby had straight up told him that Dom Winchester senior was on a solo hunt and it hadn’t even occurred to him to wonder where Sam was.

The answer to that, Gabriel learns, is Stanford University, where Sam is a pre-law student, currently interviewing for law school placements. He hasn’t spoken with his father in four years.

“Dom Winchester,” Gabriel says, but he is silenced by a derisive snort.

“I prefer the honorific Mister,” Winchester says snippily. “I don’t wear my dynamic on my sleeve and as far as I’m concerned the only person who has any need to even know my dynamic, is my partner.”

Gabriel processes that for a beat. “Your...partner?” he says finally.

“Jessica,” Winchester says.

“Jessica. She’s your…?”

“Partner,” Winchester says.

Gabriel grins. Oh, he really likes Sam Winchester. He has the sort of moral outrage that only college students can ever truly muster. He may be same-dynamic oriented, he may be a-dynamic or he and Jessica may be a stock standard D/s couple. The point is, in Sam’s mind, it’s no-one’s business but their own. Cas would love him.

“Mister Winchester,” Gabriel says, his tone mild and devoid of judgement, “irrespective of your views on the current laws around Dynamics, your brother is currently in a lot of trouble,” he briefly outlines the likely charges against Dean, “and he needs a suitable Guardian Dom if we want to keep him out of State.”

“This is insane,” Winchester says tightly, “Dean’s been living and surviving as not only a Dom, but a solo Hunter for the last eight years, and suddenly you want to lock him up ‘for his own good’ because despite all evidence to the contrary you think that his being a Sub means he’s not competent to survive on his own. Tell me you see the logic-flaw in that argument!”

“Sure I do,” Gabriel says easily. “But that doesn’t change the law.”

“The law sucks ass,” Winchester spits, unknowingly echoing his brother.

“And one day,” Gabriel says, “maybe you’ll be able to change it. But in the meantime, I have to do the best I can for my clients with the laws I have to work with. So. Are you prepared to be Dean’s Guardian Dom?”

“Yes,” Winchester says immediately. “But Dean’s in Nebraska and I’m in Palo Alto, and I’m in the middle of all these law school interviews. And I don’t have any money because my Dad disowned me when I quit Hunting to go to college. I got a full ride, but honestly, I can barely manage to support myself, let alone somebody else. Not that I think Dean would need me to support him, but the law requires me to be capable of supporting him in order to be considered a suitable Guardian. God and Goddess be damned! This is insane! We have to keep him out of State, Gabriel. It’d kill him.”

“Sam…can I call you Sam?” He gets a grunt in the affirmative. “You’re probably right; I don’t think the Judge will want to put the burden of a Sub Guardianship on your shoulders. I’ve already spoken to Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle. Both of them are willing too, but I doubt the Judge will consider either of them suitable. Your Dad,” there’s a disparaging snort from Sam, “isn’t available. Is there anyone else? Anyone at all that you can think of?”

There’s a lengthy silence and then Sam says. “There may be someone I can call. Someone who may be able to help.  When…How long do I have?”

“He’ll be going before the Judge tomorrow afternoon.” 

Chapter Text

The Buffalo County Garrison of the Department of Dynamics is relatively small. There are three staff members in the Sub Division (one per shift), nine in the Dom division (three per shift), four in Admin and Accounts (day shift only) and three in Cleaning and Catering (day shift only). With the exception of one in Admin and two in Cleaning and Catering, all the rest of the staff members are Doms.

When Victor Henriksen comes in at half past three to take over for the afternoon shift, Gabriel is reluctant to leave. The shift handover takes a little longer than the usual half hour, because they have a client in the cells and Gabriel is surprised by how unwilling he is to leave Dean in the hands of another Dom.

Victor picks up on it immediately. “It’s okay, Gabe,” he says, slapping Gabriel on the back. “I’ve been in this job a long time. I know what I’m doing.”

“Right,” says Gabriel, “it’s just…”

“Go home, Gabe. I’ve got your boy.”

Gabriel pulls a face. “He’s not my boy, Victor.”

Victor’s expression is shrewd. “No. But you think maybe he could be.”

Gabriel sighs. “It’s just. He’s been passing as a Dom for eight years, taking Zero.  And I…he…you…” Gabriel runs out of steam.

Victor kindly fills in the blanks. “It’s SOP for us to put Zero addicts into Subspace before lights out and you don’t like the idea of anyone other than you putting Dean down.”

Gabriel nods and then runs a hand over his face. “It’s just…I don’t know how he’s gonna take it. And I don’t want him to get into any more trouble.”

Victor’s expression is thoughtful. “Tell you what,” he says, “if I have any trouble with the kid, I’ll call you. How’s that?”

Gabriel grins. “I’d really appreciate that. Thanks Victor.”

Even so, Gabriel doesn’t leave straight away. He spends a couple of hours catching up on paperwork and it’s not until Sub Fitzgerald comes in with the client’s supper and asks to be buzzed through to the Cells that Gabriel closes down his PC and packs everything away. He apologizes to Garth before he leaves, and clamps down on the urge to take the tray from him and go and spend some more time with Dean. 

Gabriel stops on the way home and buys a banana and caramel pie. He wonders if Dean likes pie as much as he does. He wonders how the kid managed to get under his skin so quickly and completely.

--

Dean prowls the cage for the…actually he’s lost count of how many times he’s paced out his cell, checking every section for potentially exploitable weaknesses. So far, all he’s been able to determine is that he’s not getting out of this cage until someone lets him out.

Which sucks balls.  

Dean slams a hand against a wire wall and then retreats to the rear of the cage and slides down onto his ass. He sits with his knees up and his elbows resting on his knees, staring moodily at his socked feet. The bastards had even taken his boots.

A Sub had brought him some supper, maybe half an hour ago and Dean had been left in solitude to feed it to himself. If he’s honest with himself (and Dean is usually honest with himself, no matter how much he may lie to other people) being hand fed at lunch hadn’t sucked as badly as he’d thought it would. Partly that was because of Gabriel. Dean sort of maybe kind of likes the guy a little. And partly—Dean sighs and scrubs a hand over his forehead—partly it’s because of his submissive nature.

No matter what conclusions the DoD might have drawn based on his behavior, Dean knows that he’s a Sub; he just doesn’t think that fact defines him and he hates that others do. So what if he enjoys sitting at his lovers’ feet, having his hair stroked and being told how good he is? So what if he enjoys being tied up and then sweetly tortured with a combination of pleasure and pain until he’s begging to be allowed to come?  So what if he gets off on being dominated in bed; on being told to bend over and present his ass for a deep, hard fucking? None of that stops him from being a competent, capable adult and he resents like fuck this idea society has that he’s somehow less than a Dom; less intelligent, less knowledgeable, less able to achieve high office, less worthy of equal pay. The law won’t even let him take legal responsibility for himself; Gabriel hasn’t brought it up yet, but Dean isn’t stupid. If they can’t find someone to take Guardianship of him, he’ll end up in State. Dean rubs a hand across his forehead and wonders if Gabriel will let him have any Tylenol. 

The door into the Cells swings open and the man who walks in is every bit the type of swaggering asshole Dom that Dean has come to hate.   

“Center of the cell, Sub Winchester,” his voice drips arrogance. “Kneeling presentation.”

Dean’s blood boils and he stays exactly where he is, his lips curling into a sneer.

The Dom repeats his instruction, this time with lashings of pheromones and his Dom Voice. It’s a struggle, especially after the messed up reaction he had yesterday to the combination of Incubus pheromones and Zero, but Dean manages to resist. Even manages to spit out a ‘fuck you’ from between his clenched teeth.

The Dom smiles, all bared teeth and snarky eyebrows. “Well now,” he says, “I see what’s got Gabriel so interested.” He raises one eyebrow and Dean really wants to smack the smug expression off his face.

The Dom introduces himself as Victor Henriksen and then quirks his eyebrows annoyingly again. “So, you want out of this cage, boy?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

Victor smirks, flicks open the slot in the cage door and gets out his handcuffs, jangling them at Dean.

Dean gets to his feet with a sigh and cooperates while the Dom cuffs him. When Victor repeats his ‘center of the cell, kneeling presentation’ order, Dean does as he’s told. He’s not happy at all when Victor shackles his feet and puts a leash on him. Still, a trip out of his cage is worth the humiliation. It may give him valuable information that could help him to escape.

“So where we off to, Vic?” he asks.

The Dom smacks him on the ass and mutters something inane about manners.

“Just something we’ve gotta take care of before we bed you down for the night,” he says.

Dean doesn’t like the sound of that and he steels himself for action, becoming hyper aware of his surroundings and the heat of Victor Henriksen at his back.

They go down past the row of cages and through a door at the opposite end of the cell block. Dean is so focused on the Dom at his back that it takes him a moment to work out what’s going on. When he does, his reaction is a violent one. He breaks the hold Victor has on his leash and spins to face him. “No fucking way,” he says.

“It’s standard operating procedure for Zero addicts,” Victor says. “It’s for your own good.”

“Bullshit,” says Dean, “you’re just a sadistic fuck. There is no world in this entire universe where I would allow you to beat me.”

Victor sighs and reaches for the leash and Dean shuffles backwards, sidestepping the spanking bench in the center of the room. “Don’t think the cuffs’ll stop me from hurting you, Vic,” he says.

Victor crosses his arms and examines Dean through narrowed eyes. “You’re really gonna fight me on this?”

Dean smirks. “Every step of the way.”

“Okay, then.” Victor steps out of the cell and locks the door behind him.

--

Gabriel drops his keys on the hall stand and heads straight for the fridge. He places the pie inside and then plucks half a bottle of Moscato off the middle shelf (thank the Goddess for screw caps) and pours some of the white wine into his usual crystal wine glass, conveniently situated on the draining board.  He gulps it back without really tasting it and pours himself a second glass, which he savors.  There is a steak marinating in the fridge and Gabriel has been looking forward to it all day. Now it just looks lonely and forlorn, sitting all by itself in the marinading dish. Gabriel isn’t so lacking in introspection that he doesn’t know why that is.

Gabriel accepted a long time ago that he was destined to live out his life alone. He’s a member of the local D/s club and he plays when the mood strikes him, but no-one has ever made him yearn for more the way Dean Winchester has. And they haven’t even had sex or scened together. The sentence feels like it needs a ‘yet’ on the end of it and Gabriel takes another gulp of wine, because that line of thinking? Totally unprofessional. Dean Winchester is a client. A vulnerable young man. And Gabriel has absolutely no business thinking that he’s sex on attractively-bowed legs.

Gabriel busies himself with potatoes. He enjoys cooking and hopes it will distract him. He preheats the oven and then peels, slices and seasons two potatoes, ready for roasting. When the oven reaches the right temperature he slips the baking dish inside, and then makes a salad. HHHe waters his plants, checks his email and answering machine and then goes and pan fries his one lonely steak. He eats alone at the kitchen bench, because it just isn’t worth setting a table for one.

Gabriel is putting his dirty dishes in the dishwasher when his cell phone rings. He assumes it will be Victor and he answers without looking at the caller display, his chest tightening.

“Archangel,” he says brusquely.

“Dom Archangel,” the voice isn’t one he was expecting. “This is Dr Milton.”

“What can I do for you?” Gabriel is impressed that he manages to keep his voice calm. If Dr Milton is calling him on his work phone, there must be a serious problem.

“I was asked to call you by Sam Winchester. Apparently you have his brother Dean in custody and Sam is very keen to ensure that he doesn’t end up in State.”

Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Although when he thinks about it, he shouldn’t be surprised that Mister Winchester knows Dr Milton, the head of the Sub Rights Association. Gabriel had been quietly impressed by Sam Winchester when they’d spoken; the fact that it’s Milton himself making this call tells him that he’s not the only one who finds the kid impressive.

“We all want that, Dr Milton,” he says, “there’s just the minor matter of finding a suitable Guardian for him.”

“The SRA is more than happy to help with that,” says Dr Milton.

And that should be good news, right? If the SRA decides to shine a spotlight on Dean’s case, if one of their members takes on Dean’s Guardianship, then he certainly won’t end up languishing in a State run Home for Wayward Subs. This is a good thing. So why has Gabriel’s stomach soured?

“You have someone in mind?” he asks, trying (and mostly failing) to keep his tone neutral.

“Several someones,” Milton’s voice is careful. Damn. He caught Gabriel’s reticence. “Sam tells me that Dean goes before the Judge tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s right,” Gabriel clears his throat. “I, uh, I spoke with Mister Winchester this afternoon.”

Milton’s tone is cool. “Sam Winchester is an active member of the SRA. We look forward to being able to help him ensure the rights of his brother.”  Milton hangs up.

Gabriel’s other cell phone rings almost immediately. The caller ID is blocked, of course, but Gabriel knows who it is.

“What’s going on, Gabe?” his little brother doesn’t bother with introductions.

“What do you mean, Cas?” Gabriel prevaricates.

“Why weren’t you happy when I told you that the SRA is going to find Dean a Guardian?”

“I am happy.”

Cas laughs. “Yeah, you’re happy and I’m a Dom.”

Archangels were Doms. It was an unwritten law of nature. Archangels bonded with Subs and they produced Doms.

When they were kids, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Cas would be a Dom. He had a genius-level IQ and he was bossy, determined and rebellious.  It had been Gabriel who the family was quietly worried about; carefree and irreverent, devoted to his baby brother, smaller than your average Dom. When Gabriel presented as a Dom, the family was relieved. When Cas presented as a Sub, the family was stunned, horrified and outraged. Cas was summarily pulled out of the prestigious Prep school he’d been attending and sent to a Sub Finishing School.

Six years Cas’s senior, Gabriel was away at college when the shit hit the fan and when a shivering, dishevelled, absolutely furious Cas turned up at his off-campus apartment, Gabriel wasn’t going to send him away. He faked Guardianship papers for Cas and enrolled him at the local high school.  Cas was grateful and Gabriel was happy to help; a mind like Cas’s shouldn’t be silenced just because the owner of said mind was a Sub.

Their father and older brother Michael turned up a week later and dragged Cas back to the family home. Dad was furious with Cas; even more furious with Gabriel and a lot of nasty stuff was said about Gabriel not being fit to be anyone’s Dom if he was going to let a Sub walk all over him the way he’d let Cas.

Cas just kept running away, though, and turning up on Gabriel’s door step. And when he gave an interview to the university’s campus newspaper [Head of DoD Guilty of Gross Sub-Abuse – insider tells all] which was picked up by the syndicated press, Dad decided to make Gabriel’s Guardianship of Cas official and washed his hands of them.

Cas joined the fledgling Subs Rights Association and worked his way to the top, making it bigger and better than ever, a real force to reckoned with. Gabriel earned his undergraduate degree in Dynamic Development and went into the family business.  His father thought that keeping him perpetually assigned to the Sub Division was some sort of punishment; he was an old-fashioned Dom, completely unable to understand that Gabriel was exactly where he wanted to be.

Cas had always been so vehemently independent, so outraged by his need for Subspace, that Gabriel had always assumed he was a-dynamic. He’d even bought Zero for the kid a couple of times, against his better judgement.  So when he came home one day to find a naked and collared Cas kneeling blissed-out at the feet of Gabriel’s best friend Anna Milton, to say he was surprised would be putting it mildly. They bonded after Cas earned his first degree. He wasn’t the first Sub in history to earn one, but he was the first Sub to earn a double-degree in Biomedical Science and Law. And he was the first collared, bonded Sub to earn a post graduate degree in Neurophysiology. And Psychology. And a Masters in Dynamic Development. Always had to one-up his big brother.

“Gabriel?”

Gabriel breaks off from his trip down memory lane.  “I am happy for Dean,” he says. “It’s just. He’s a real firecracker, you know? Got under my skin in a way no-one has since Kali.”

Cas snorts. “Yeah, cuz that was a healthy relationship.”

Gabriel shrugs. “It was college. Everyone experiments in college.”

Cas concedes the point. “So,” he says. “You like him, huh?”

Gabriel reminds him that they are not, in fact, in middle school, but yes, in different circumstances, he would definitely have been tempted to woo Dean Winchester.

“Here’s an idea,” says Cas. “Why don’t you offer yourself as Guardian?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gabriel snaps. “I’m his DoD officer. That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“You’re only his DoD officer until the court case,” Cas says mildly. “I can’t think of a single reason why the Judge wouldn’t find you acceptable.”

“Well there’s you, for a start.”

Cas snorts. “Our relationship is no longer a matter of public record, as you well know. But even if it was…look how well I turned out! It’d definitely be a point in your favor.”

Gabriel knows that a significant number of old-school ‘traditional family values’ Doms would beg to differ on that score, but he diplomatically doesn’t say anything.

“Think about it, Gabe,” Cas says. “You’re actually kind of perfect for Dean.”

Gabriel thinks about it. Really hard. Dean hates the fact that the law requires him to have a Guardian.  If Gabriel was his Guardian, surely he would hate Gabriel? Gabriel doesn’t want Dean to hate him.

“I can’t,” he says finally. “What if he hates me?”

“What if he doesn’t?” Cas counters, and in some ways, that’s even scarier.

His work cell rings and Gabriel checks the caller ID. It’s Victor. He asks Cas to hold on while he takes Victor’s call.

“Your boy won’t let me put him down,” Victor says. “Promised to fight me every step of the way, so I’ve left him in the spanking cell to cool his heels for a while. How do you want me to handle this?”

Gabriel tells Victor that he’ll come in and deal with it. He hangs up on Victor and picks up his other cell phone.

“Cas? I’ve gotta go. Can I call you back?”

Cas hesitates. “Not after half past ten,” he says. “I’ll probably be tied up. Literally. Anna has plans.”

--

By the time the door into the punishment cell opens again, Dean has worked himself into a state of furious exhaustion. But the swinging of the door rallies him and he surges to his feet, ready to face off against Victor.

Only it’s not Victor.

It’s Gabriel.

He saunters over to the spanking bench and sits down. Dean watches him warily. Gabriel reaches into his jacket pocket and Dean tenses, expecting a paddle or a hairbrush or something. Gabriel pulls out a bag of Gummi Bears.  He selects a couple of red ones and jams them into his mouth before half turning and offering the packet to Dean.

“Gummi Bear?” he says. Dean thinks he says. The words are a little mangled by the candy in his mouth.

“Your colleague wants to assault me,” Dean says tightly.

Gabriel sighs. “My colleague wants to help you achieve Subspace.”

“Well I don’t want to, not like this.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel nods. “I get that.”

Dean sniffs. “I seriously doubt that.”

Gabriel stares at him, brown eyes penetrating green, and Dean sees him come to a decision. “I’ve been there, you know. Subspace.”

Dean can’t quite supress his surprise at that and he gravitates subconsciously to Gabriel’s side.

“Why?” he asks, sitting down next to him on the spanking bench.

Gabriel produces a key and gestures for Dean to turn around. He takes off his cuffs, and the leash, and then bends down and unlocks, then removes, the ankle cuffs.

“Thank you,” Dean rubs at his wrists. “Are you gonna answer my question?”

Gabriel’s smile is tired. “In my final year of college I met this incredible girl, Kali. She claimed to be same-dynamic oriented and, hey, it was college, everyone experiments in college. Turns out she was actually just a stock-standard Dom, with a really nasty sadistic streak who got a kick out of coercing other Doms into subbing for her,” his grin is sheepish. “Being with Kali was one hell of a ride, but a complete mindfuck. I’m not into that. Mind games. I’m more of a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of a guy. Anyway, Subspace was nice. But I really didn’t like what I had to go through to get there.” Gabriel looks hard at Dean. “I suspect you’re more like my little brother; it’s not so much the ‘what’ you object to as the ‘who’.”

Dean takes a deep breath and then lets it out very slowly. “I like scening as much as the next Sub,” he says, “but, yeah, I don’t like being forced into doing it with just anyone because of my shitty biology. I like for there to be a connection between me and the Dom,” he laughs shortly, “but I’m not exactly most Doms’ idea of the perfect Sub, so you can probably guess how many times I’ve been, you know, really into it when I’ve had to scene.”

“Which explains the Zero,” Gabriel comments.

Dean admits nothing that could be taken down and used in evidence against him.

“Feel free to tell me if I’m wildly off-base here,” says Gabriel after a pause, “but I feel as if we have a bit of a connection.”  

He’s not off base, but Dean doesn’t want to admit that out loud.

“You know,” he says, shifting subtly away, “you guys could do with some throw rugs and a few candles in here. The ambience sucks.”

Gabriel’s smile is wicked. “Candles hey,” he says. “Should I assume you’re into wax play then?”

Dean feels his face heat and ducks his head. “Look,” he says, “if we’d met at a bar…but I can’t. Not here.”

Gabriel scrubs a hand over his face and when he meets Dean’s gaze again his puppy dog eyes would rival Sam’s. Not that Dean has seen his little brother in forever. And not that now is a really good time to be thinking about his little brother. Gabriel puts a hand on Dean’s thigh; it grounds him.

“I wish we’d met at a bar too,” he says, and Dean can see the honesty in his expression. “But we’re here, now, and, much as I wish things were different, your choices here are limited. This is going to happen,” his voice is firm and Dean is a little bit turned on, despite himself. Gabriel waits quietly, eyes watching carefully as Dean accepts the inevitable and comes to terms with it. “Your first choice,” he says, when Dean nods his understanding, “me or Dom Henriksen?”

“You.” That’s a no-brainer. Dean wouldn’t let a Dom like Victor touch him with a ten-foot pole.

“Your second choice,” Gabriel’s voice is softer now, strong, but gentle. “Do you want me to put you over the bench or over my lap?”

Dean feels his face heat again. He really likes the intimacy of being over a Dom’s lap, but he’s a fair bit bigger than Gabriel and it could end up being awkward. He rubs at the back of his neck and thinks about it, figures Gabriel wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t think he could manage it and if he’s going to submit to Gabriel, maybe he should start trusting him to know what he’s doing.

“Your lap,” he says, and the shot of embarrassment he feels when his cock jumps, just makes it jump again.

“Final choice,” Gabriel says quietly. “Paddle only, or a combination of my hand and the paddle, as I see fit?”

He’s not really supposed to offer that. This is supposed to be clinical; a DoD officer taking a Sub down for medical purposes, but the fact that Gabriel just knows what Dean needs, knows that he needs to feel that skin on skin connection in order to properly reach Subspace, only confirms to Dean that submitting to Gabriel is the right thing to do.

“Both,” he says. “Please.”

Gabriel tells him to stand up and he stumbles to his feet, heart beating rapidly.

“Pants down,” Gabriel’s crisp tone will tolerate no disobedience and Dean does as he’s told, unzipping his jeans with shaking fingers and peeling them down his thighs.

His cock springs, ready and eager from the confines of his shorts and Dean resists the temptation to cover his groin, because it’s not his place to decide what Gabriel will look at; a Dom has the right to see every part of his Sub. Still, it’s a relief when Gabriel tugs him in between his spread legs and lowers him over his left knee.

The spanking bench is the long saw-horse variety, with a vinyl-padded top and vinyl-padded knee rests. Gabriel is sitting on one of the knee-rests and he arranges Dean in such a way that his head and torso are resting on the knee-rest, with his feet on the ground, legs trapped between Gabriel’s legs, and his upturned bare ass is sitting high on Gabriel’s thigh, perfectly presented for spanking.

Gabriel places one hand in between Dean’s shoulder blades and one on Dean’s ass. Dean tenses, but all Gabriel does is run his hand over the muscle of his backside in a way that’s nice and relaxing and Dean pillows his head in his folded arms and lets himself float.

“I’m going to start now,” Gabriel murmurs.

The hand on Dean’s back slides underneath him, around to his chest, and Gabriel pinches his left nipple. The pinches get progressively harder and after about a dozen Dean is squirming enough to earn himself a light slap on the ass. Gabriel moves to the other nipple and repeats the process. He’s talking constantly now, telling Dean how good he’s being, how pleased he is that Dean is taking the nipple-play so gracefully.  He tells Dean that he’s going to count down from twenty and when he reaches zero, the nipple play will be over. The pinches and twists that follow are hard and fast and Gabriel moves from one nipple to the other in random patterns that Dean can’t predict.

“Good boy,” Gabriel says when the countdown is over. Normally Dean hates being called a good boy; he’s a 6ft1 manly man who hunts monsters for a living. But Gabriel manages to say it in a way that’s not patronizing and Dean allows himself to bask in the Dom’s approval, just for a little while.

Gabriel rubs Dean’s ass soothingly for a moment and then suddenly his hand is gone. The smack that lands on his left butt cheek is sharp and stinging and is quickly followed by a second sharp slap on his right cheek. Gabriel alternates cheeks; left, right; left, right, and Dean’s bottom heats slowly as he listens to the rhythmic slaps and the soothing cadence of Gabriel’s voice telling him how well he’s doing, how strong he is, how proud Gabriel is of him. He settles into his first light endorphin hit, relaxing as his Oxytocin levels begin to slowly build.

Five, or maybe ten minutes later, Gabriel stops smacking and starts rubbing Dean’s bottom soothingly. “You’re doing great,” Gabriel tells him. “We’re gonna go harder now, just for a minute or two, get that second endorphin hit happening.”

The next smack is brutal and Dean gasps, his shoulders tensing as he pulls away. 

“Easy,” says Gabriel.  The next slap still hurts, but Gabriel has dialled it down a bit and it’s a good pain now, not something Dean wants to move away from.  By the time Gabriel stops spanking him and starts kneading his sore, hot cheeks, Dean is panting ragged breaths into the circle of his arms.  

“Such a good boy,” Gabriel says. “You’re taking this beautifully.”  He continues to touch Dean lightly, rubbing and massaging at the scorching skin of his aching bottom.   Eventually the soft touches become light slaps, but Gabriel’s stream of gentle praise and reassurance helps Dean stay relaxed and pliant.

“Good,” Gabriel says. “Gonna give you another couple minutes of hard, direct pain now.”

The spanking that follows is harder and more painful than the previous session. Gabriel’s solid hand smacks down with forceful blows that rob Dean of his breath and make his eyes fill with tears. It hurts, but it’s not too much; he can accept this level of pain now and he doesn’t feel any need to pull away.

Once again, the brief session of intense spanking is followed by a long period of gentle touch, which is almost as painful, because Dean’s ass is blistered and any handling hurts.

The constant sound of Gabriel’s voice is reassuring as he encourages Dean to relax and to accept the sensations that he’s experiencing.

“Gonna give you another hard spanking,” Gabriel whispers in his ear. “Gonna paddle you this time,” something hard and cold rests on Dean’s inflamed bottom and his breathing hitches. “Brought this from home,” Gabriel murmurs. That somehow makes it more personal, more intimate, and Dean barely bites back a moan. He’s suddenly aware of his hard cock, throbbing and leaking against Gabriel’s thigh and he squirms, seeking friction.

The first slap of the paddle is shocking and Dean claws at the vinyl beneath him, his breath driven from him as all his nerve endings fire and sweet, sweet pain sweeps over him, up his spine and down his legs. Dean’s got a good buzz going now and the paddle slaps and slaps and slaps, and Dean whimpers and writhes, his face streaked with tears as he gives himself over completely, accepting Gabriel’s control of his body without question; revelling in it. A fog of white hot light begins to lick at the edges of his mind and he feels himself slipping slowly into Subspace.

When he comes back to himself he’s sleepy and sore and sticky. Gabriel is running a hand through his hair and Dean allows himself a moment of feeling utterly blissed out before he groans softly and stirs.

“You were magnificent,” Gabriel says, as he helps Dean into a sitting position. Dean hisses as his battered ass connects with Gabriel’s thighs. He thinks he should probably feel a bit silly, sitting on the lap of the smaller man, but mostly he’s just enjoying the way Gabriel’s arms are wrapped around him.

“How are you feeling?” Gabriel asks.

“Awesome,” Dean responds. He sounds drunk, even to himself.

“You slipped into Subspace beautifully.”

Dean’s mouth twitches in a sloppy smile. “Yeah. Doesn’t happen like that very often. Was good.”

Gabriel’s answering smile is pleased and he pulls Dean against his chest and cuddles him tightly, petting his hair absently.

As Dean comes back down to Earth he becomes aware of the snot and tears on his face and the fact that he is sitting in a wet patch. Oh Goddess. He came all over Gabriel’s leg and the Dom didn’t say a thing. Dean starts to apologize, but Gabriel waves him away.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, pulling a clean handkerchief out of his pocket. “Here. Blow.”

He wipes Dean’s nose and eyes and then helps him take off his jeans. Dean uses the handkerchief to wipe the come off himself, while Gabriel digs about in a cupboard that’s recessed into the wall and comes out with a pair of sleep pants. Dean winces when the cotton of his shorts comes into contact with his sore ass and Gabriel has to hold him steady while he puts the sleep pants on. He’s clumsy with drowsiness, heavy-eyed and sleepily compliant as Gabriel guides him back to the cage.    

There is a sleeping mat in his cage, the type he and Dad and Sammy used to use when they camped out for Hunts, back when Dad was still expecting his eldest to grow into a big, strapping Dom.  Dean swallows around the bitterness in his mouth and leans into Gabriel for comfort.  Gabriel makes Dean drink all of the water left in the jug; four glasses; and handfeeds him a bunch of Gummi Bears. He then uses his remote control thingy to call down a pillow and a blanket from the complicated storage system they seem to have above the cages.

Gabriel settles him on the sleeping mat and covers him with a blanket.  When he starts to move away, Dean grabs his wrist.

“Stay?” he says. “Just for a while?”

“Of course,” Gabriel settles beside him and begins to stroke his forehead softly. Dean falls asleep to the comforting feel of his Dom’s fingers in his hair.

--

Gabriel drives home on automatic pilot. He puts his keys on the hall stand and then wanders blankly into the kitchen. He stands there for a moment, wondering what the hell he came into the kitchen for, and then he shakes himself and gets out his other cell phone. Dean’s spunk has dried on his jeans and Gabriel’s cock is rock hard and begging for release, but he doesn’t care about that, can’t care until he’s spoken to his brother.

“Cutting it close, Bro,” Castiel says.

Gabriel glances at the clock on his microwave. Shit. It’s 10.27pm.

“Sorry,” he says, meaning it. “Tell Anna I’m sorry too.”

“Tell my ass you’re sorry,” Cas grumbles, but he doesn’t sound too upset.

“I’ll make it quick,” Gabriel takes a deep breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll offer myself as Guardian for Dean.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the phone.

“What made you change your mind?”

“He wouldn’t let Victor put him into Subspace. But he submitted to me beautifully. It was,” Gabriel has to pause, to get his breathing under control. “It’s supposed to be clinical. Some people would say I was unprofessional. But it was what he needed and I…” Gabriel runs out of steam, overcome by the intensity of his emotions.

“Gabriel,” Cas says, “please tell me I’m not going to have Sam Winchester on the phone demanding the SRA presses indecent assault charges against you.”

“What?” Gabriel frowns. “Goddess above, Cas! No. Of course not. I mean, I used my hand for some of it instead of a paddle, but it was more about the, the emotional intensity, you know? It was…probably the best connection I’ve ever had in a scene.”

Cas is silent for a long moment and then he audibly sucks in air. When he speaks again his tone is brusque. “Alright.  This will go better if a Dom from Dean’s family of origin gives approval. So I’ll get Sam to draft a letter and email it to you at work in the morning,” Cas pauses. “Sam may be resistant at first. I may have to tell him why I trust you so much.”

Gabriel nods. “Do it.”

So what if it puts his job in jeopardy? Dean is worth it.

Chapter Text

Dean wakes all of a sudden, feeling calm and refreshed. He’s in a DoD cage and he’s just had the best sleep he’s had in…ever. He stretches and rolls onto his back and fuck!  His ass is maybe a little tenderer than he’d realized.

Dean gets up, feeling rested and energized.  He uses the can in the corner of the cage and wipes his hands and face with the wet wipes provided. The water jug has been filled sometime during the night and Dean helps himself to a plastic cup of water. His ass doesn’t hurt at all if he doesn’t touch it. Dean pokes at it and grins. Gabriel sure knows how to give a spanking.

The door into the cells slides open just as Dean is considering whether or not he should put his jeans on. It’s Gabriel and he’s carrying a tray.

Dean can’t quite help the smile that lights up his face. “Aw baby,” he says, “you brought me breakfast.”

Gabriel’s answering grin is maybe a touch relieved. “I did,” he says. He approaches the cage and Dean surprises them both by dropping to his knees, legs spread and palms resting on his thighs. His embarrassment, when he realizes what he’s just done, is crushing and it’s only years of training that keep him from folding in on himself. The throb of pain from where his heels are digging into his ass helps ground him too.

“Dean?”

He keeps his eyes lowered.

“Look at me, Dean.”

Dean finds himself unable to resist a direct order from the Dom, even though a subtle sniff tells him that Gabriel isn’t releasing any pheromones. He thinks that maybe, deep down, he doesn’t want to resist. The look on Gabriel’s face is hard to decipher, but Dean thinks he sees awe and pride and something that he shies away from naming.

“Thank you,” Gabriel says. And then, “I’m supposed to cuff you before I come into the cage.”

Dean starts to move, but Gabriel stops him. “I trust you, Dean.  Cross your wrists behind your back.”

Dean complies and Gabriel unlocks the cage. Once again he calls down a chair with his remote control and sits down at Dean’s side.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Gabriel asks.

“Great, actually. I slept really well. My ass hurts a little, but it’s a good kind of pain.”

Gabriel’s eyes are focused on him, watching him intently, and Dean has the sudden thought that the Dom sees far too much, sees right through him to the parts of himself he tries to hide.

Gabriel has brought warm, butter croissants and he pulls them to pieces and feeds them to Dean who is maybe, possibly, a bit of a tease, making sure to close his lips around Gabriel’s fingers and suck the butter off them seductively. Gabriel doesn’t squirm; he’s far too controlled for that, but Dean can see the heat in his eyes.  Dean figures that if this were your typical morning after an intense scene, the next thing his lips wrapped around would be the Dom’s cock. He’s surprised when he realizes how disappointed he is that that won’t be happening.

Dean finishes eating and Gabriel wipes his hands before encouraging Dean to lean against his legs. He gently massages Dean’s shoulders and tells Dean he’s pleased at how loose and relaxed his muscles are.

“Is there anything you need?” he asks.

“A cup of coffee would be nice. Black. Two sugars.”

Gabriel promises to see what he can do. “So,” he says, “You’ll be going before the Judge this afternoon.

Dean closes his eyes. “How quickly do you carry out the sentence around here?”

Gabriel tells him that it’s always within twenty-four hours, unless there’s an appeal.

Dean nods. “What am I likely to get?”

Gabriel purses his lips. “You’re facing serious charges, Dean. The unlicensed Hunting alone carries a penalty of one hundred licks. So does failure to live under the Guardianship of a Dom. The rest of the charges? You’re looking at another one hundred and fifty licks, combined,” Dean can feel the color draining from his face. “The sentence would be broken up into a number of sessions,” Gabriel says, “you wouldn’t get all three hundred and fifty at once,” he clears his throat, “but I’m actually hoping that we’ll be able to get you a suspended sentence.”

“Really? How?”

“You won’t like it.”

Dean snorts. “I bet I’d like getting my ass strapped three hundred and fifty times even less.”

Gabriel nods. “You haven’t been under the Guardianship of a Dom for the past eight years. The law says that you need one; that you’re not competent to fend for yourself without one. We’re going to argue that if you haven’t had a Dom to manage and correct your behavior, then you can’t be held legally liable for it. We’ll get you a Guardian Dom and ask the Judge to suspend the sentence. So long as you stay with the Guardian Dom and keep out of trouble for a set amount of time, the sentence doesn’t get carried out.”

Dean is tense against Gabriel’s leg and he imagines that his scowl is probably impressive. “How long?” he demands.

Gabriel shrugs. “That’s up to the Judge. Could be six months. Could be five years.”

“You’re right,” Dean says, “I don’t like it. The Judge is gonna stick me with some arrogant, asshole Dom who’s gonna beat me and rape me, and there won’t be anything I can do about it and…” Dean takes a deep breath and manages to reel himself in. “I think I’d rather take the licks.”

“I would never advocate something that wasn’t in your best interests, Dean.”

Dean snorts. He’s heard that before. Gordon, in particular, was really fond of telling him it was for his own good while punishing him in horrible, painful, humiliating ways.

 Gabriel’s hand cups Dean’s chin and lifts his head, forcing him to meet the Dom’s eyes. “I would never allow you to be placed with someone who would beat you or rape you,” his expression is ferocious. “I hope you can trust me on that.”

Dean closes his eyes. He does trust Gabriel; but Gabriel won’t be the one basically owning his ass. “You got someone in mind?” he asks, meeting the Dom’s eyes again.

Gabriel’s eyes slide away. “Yeah,” he says, “but I don’t want to say too much in case it doesn’t pan out. Just…trust me. Please, Dean?”

He lets go of Dean’s chin and Dean nods his head. What choice does he have?

Gabriel asks him if he owns a suit. Dean has a couple that he uses when he’s impersonating FBI agents so he nods in the affirmative and Gabriel offers to go to Dean’s motel room and pick up a respectable outfit for him to wear before the Judge. 

“Thanks,” all Dean’s unlicensed weapons are in his car, the worst the DoD will be able to find in his motel room is his stash of Zero and some more fake IDs.

Gabriel hugs Dean before he leaves and runs a soothing hand up and down his back.

After he’s gone that funny-looking, skinny Sub comes in and brings Dean a coffee.

“Thanks, uh…?”

“Garth. And you’re welcome.”

“Hey, Garth?” Dean says as the Sub turns to leave. “What’s Gabriel like to work with?”

Garth beams. “Gabriel’s awesome. All the Subs here like him.”

“What about the Doms?”

Garth pulls a face. “Depends. The ones who are big on old-fashioned protocols and so on don’t approve of him, but I don’t think he really cares. People say he’s stuck in the Sub Division because he’s a disgrace to his family name, I mean, he’s only a distant cousin to the main family, Dom Charles Archangel’s nephew’s nephew’s cousin or something, but Archangels are supposed to set standards, you know. But you know what?” Garth lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think he likes working with Subs who are in trouble.”

“Thanks,” Dean says and sips at his coffee as Garth makes his way out of the Cells.

Now he gets it. Gabriel’s got a hero complex; saving the poor abused Subs in his care is just what he does. Dean should’ve known better than to let himself get attached; Gabriel is nice and caring and supportive to everyone; all the Subs like him. Of course. How stupid of Dean to think that maybe he was somehow personally important to the Dom.

--

Gabriel doesn’t join him for lunch and Dean misses him. And then gets angry at himself for missing him. He’s nice to everyone; you’re nothing special, Winchester. It becomes his mantra.

Gabriel turns up about an hour and a half after lunch, with a suit bag and one of Dean’s duffel bags. He smiles (and Dean’s pulse does not race) and apologizes for missing lunch. He has Dean strip down to his shorts and then cuffs him and leads him to the showers. The first thing he does is sit Dean down on a slatted-wooden bench seat, which causes Dean’s ass to spark with pleasure/pain.

“Knees apart,” the Dom says, and then wheels a stool on castors in between Dean’s spread legs. He sits himself down and hands Dean a bowl of warm water. “Hold that.”

Gabriel lathers Dean’s face and throat with shaving foam and then carefully draws a razor over the area, rinsing the blade in the bowl of water every now and then, until Dean is hairless and smooth.  No-one else has ever shaved Dean before and he finds it surprisingly soothing. It also turns him on, just a little, but then again, he’s a guy with a healthy libido who hasn’t had a lot of action lately; at this point it doesn’t take much to turn him on.

Gabriel clears away the shaving gear and takes Dean’s handcuffs off.

“Shower,” he says, handing Dean a miniature bottle of shampoo and tiny bar of soap.

Dean peels off his shorts and heads for one of two shower stalls. There are no privacy screens.

“Hmm,” he hears Gabriel say from behind him, “no bruising or swelling, barely pink. Nice job, Archangel!”

Dean blushes slightly and then turns the shower on before turning to face Gabriel, a shit-eating grin pasted onto his face.  “So,” he drawls, “do I have to be careful about dropping the soap?”

Gabriel folds his arms, raises one eyebrow and looks decidedly unimpressed, and okay, that was probably uncalled for. Gabriel’s been nothing but kind and professional and Dean trusts him. He’s just feeling horny. And unsure of himself. Usually, Dean knows exactly what people want from him and if he wants it too, he gives it to them. Gordon has been the only person (not the only person, his subconscious reminds him; Dean tells it to shut up) to successfully force Dean into giving things he didn’t want to give and Dean has promised himself that will never happen again. He allows himself a moment of introspection as he soaps himself and realizes that he’s trying to goad Gabriel into making some kind of move; into hitting on him or putting him in his place, making it clear he wants nothing that Dean has to offer.  He slides a sideways glance at the DoD officer, standing a respectable distance away, arms still folded, and sighs. Gabriel isn’t going to play that game; he’s too professional to resort to anger and he would never make a move on a client.

Dean towels off and dresses in his suit; charcoal-grey, with a pressed-white shirt (which was definitely wrinkled the last time Dean saw it) and a tie patterned in different shades of green. His black shoes have been newly-polished to a high-gloss sheen and when he straightens from tying his laces he opens his arms wide and spins around slowly.

“Well? What d’ya think?” he asks Gabriel.

Gabriel tilts his head to one side and then smiles, a slow, genuine smile. “You scrub up good, Winchester.”

--

The Courthouse is small and unimpressive. The Judge is sitting on an ordinary desk chair behind an ordinary office table. She isn’t in robes; she’s in a black pants suit, her kicked-off high-heels lying askew beneath the table. She has a manila folder on the table in front of her and she opens it and glances at the top sheet.

There’s a long table in front of the Judge, big enough for maybe six people to sit at. Gabriel sits on the chair at the end and motions for Dean to kneel beside him. Dean’s hands are cuffed behind him, which makes kneeling gracefully a chore. He manages it anyway, but doesn’t try to keep the scowl of annoyance from his face. The floor is surprisingly soft and Gabriel puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. Dean can’t manage to stop himself from leaning in to the reassuring touch. The Judge notices and smiles benignly at him, which makes Dean’s expression sour.   She laughs and looks up at Gabriel. “You’ve managed to land yourself a live one, I see?”

Gabriel murmurs a polite agreement.

The charges against Dean are read out and the Judge asks Gabriel a whole lot of questions about Dean and his background. Gabriel surprises him by being able to answer them very accurately, despite never having discussed Dean’s life and motivations with him ever.  Dean scowls at the carpet. It seems like Gabriel and the Judge are going to sort this out between them, without any input from Dean.

“Excuse me,” Dean says eventually.

The Judge frowns. “Instruct your client to remain silent,” she says to Gabriel.

Gabriel looks at him and raises an eyebrow.

“What if I want to add something?” Dean whispers.

“Turn to look at me and I’ll excuse myself to Judge Moseley and we’ll have a quick discussion. Do you want to add something?”

“No. Not yet. I just wanted to know if I was allowed to have a say.”

Gabriel apologizes to the Judge and they resume their conversation about the serious impact living without a Dom has caused to Dean’s health and well-being, both physical and emotional. It’s all blah, blah, blah and Dean is completely zoned out until Gabriel starts talking about his brainwave patterns.

“Sub Winchester has been self-medicating with Zero,” Gabriel says, “but what he hasn’t realized – what a lot of people fail to realize, despite the public health campaigns—is that Zero might help with the neurochemical imbalances, but it does nothing at all for the brain wave issues. If Sub Winchester keeps living like he’s been living, he’ll be permanently comatose by fifty.”

And okay, Dean isn’t actually expecting to live that long; he’s a solo Hunter after all, but to hear it put so starkly makes his stomach churn.

The Judge rifles through the papers in the manila folder, head down and lips pursed.

“Alright,” she says, “I have a Temporary Guardianship Order here nominating yourself,” she nods at Gabriel, “as Guardian, with an accompanying letter of approval from Dom Samuel Winchester. I’m going to approve that Order. Sub Winchester is sentenced to three hundred and fifty Licks, to be wholly suspended for twelve months. During that twelve months Sub Winchester must remain under your Guardianship and he must not engage in any prohibited activity. After twelve months we’ll reassess.”

She stamps a bunch of papers and hands one of them across to Gabriel. “He’s free to go.”

Gabriel shakes her hand and stands up, but Dean is still stuck on the fact that Gabriel volunteered to be his Guardian and Sam somehow found out about it and gave his approval. Why didn’t Dad give his approval? Dean swallows around the sudden lump of fear in his throat. Is it possible…could Dad be…

“Let’s go, Dean,” Gabriel says.

Dean goes to stand and then freezes in horror when he realizes that Gabriel has clipped a leash to his collar.

Gabriel leans in close. “It’s mandatory when you’re leaving court,” he says, “Like the way they make you sit in a wheelchair when you leave hospital. I promise I’ll take it off as soon as we’re in the car.”

Gabriel keeps his promise, unclipping the leash and throwing it in the glove box with a shudder as soon as Dean closes his door. “I hate those,” he says.

Dean huffs. “You hate them,” he mutters.

Gabriel stares at him, his brown eyes wide and sincere. “I know you must have questions,” he says. “But how about we get home first and then we’ll talk?”

Dean fakes a smile. “You’re the Dom,” he says.

--

Gabriel’s house surprises Dean. It is a tan-colored ranch-style family home with a double garage and a carefully manicured front lawn. The only thing missing is a white picket fence. He’s even more surprised when Gabriel clicks the remote to open the garage and he sees Baby parked inside.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gabriel says, “I took the liberty of retrieving her from outside Cunningham’s. I’ve taken care of the parking ticket too.”

“How did you find her?” Dean asks.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “A nice car like that? Left parked outside one of the town’s better bars? The local PD found it for me in ten minutes.”

“But how did you know it was mine?”

“There’s not a lot I don’t know about you at this point, Dean. I also took the liberty of bringing all your stuff here from your motel room and settling up the account.”

“Right,” Dean nods curtly. “Because you own me now, so you own all my stuff too.”

“I have temporary Guardianship of your stuff,” Gabriel says lightly, “just like I have temporary Guardianship of you. C’mon. Let’s go inside.”

Gabriel’s house is nice inside too; spacious entry hall, farmhouse style kitchen; separate living and family rooms, a formal dining room, a study, a bathroom and a laundry. Dean gets the guided tour. Downstairs first and then upstairs, where there are three bedrooms and a bathroom. The master bedroom has an ensuite and all Dean’s stuff is on the floor next to the master bed.

Dean snorts and turns to Gabriel with wounded eyes. “So much for that pretty speech you gave me. You giving me a choice about this?”

“Let’s discuss it over coffee,” Gabriel replies, turning away and heading downstairs without waiting for Dean to respond.

Dean sinks to his knees beside one of his duffel bags and holds his face in his hands. He could leave. He could just…grab his stuff, get in his car and go. It seems like a sensible plan. Gabriel probably wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Dean searches through his duffel bags. All of his stuff seems to be accounted for, except for the knife that had been underneath his pillow at the motel. Dean’s lips curl. Big surprise his new Dom has confiscated that.

Dean gathers his bags and psyches himself up for a confrontation with Gabriel. He glances around the room that he’s never going to sleep in and his eyes light on the bed; on the pillow on the left side which looks rumpled. On a whim he steps across to it and lifts up the pillow. His knife is underneath it. Dean stares blankly at his large bowie knife until it begins to blur and then he wipes at his eyes and drops his duffel bags back onto the floor next to the bed.  He sits on the bed and concentrates on breathing, getting himself back under control. When the trembling has subsided he goes into the ensuite and splashes cold water on his face, before heading downstairs.

Gabriel is in the kitchen, changing the filter on his coffee maker.

“Coffee?”

Dean nods. “Black, two sugars.”

“I remember. Do you like pie? I’ve got a banana and caramel pie in the fridge.”

 “Sounds awesome.”

Gabriel tells him to cut them both a slice and they move around the kitchen together with the ease of an old couple who’ve been moving in tandem all their lives.

“So,” says Gabriel, once they’re seated opposite each other at the kitchen table, “You’re bound to have questions. Shoot.”

Dean has questions and then some. In fact he isn’t quite sure where to start. He takes a sip of his coffee; rich and bitter and then has a mouthful of pie which makes him groan out loud. “Oh, this is good,” he says.

“I take my desserts very seriously,” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows.

“Why are you doing this?” Dean blurts

“Why did I take on your Guardianship?”

Dean nods.

“I like you,” Gabriel says with a shrug. “And it seemed to me that we would probably get along well and enjoy each other’s company. Also, the idea of someone as bright and competent as you ending up in State makes me feel physically ill. Seemed like a win/win.”

Dean nods and runs a hand over his jaw. “Is my Dad dead?” he asks.

Gabriel explains the process that led him to Sam and Dean can feel his heart expanding with pride and joy as Gabriel relays his conversation with Mister Winchester.

“Yeah, that’s my Sammy,” he says fondly. “I can’t believe he ditched Hunting to go to Stanford. I bet Dad was pissed.”

“Cut him off as I understand it,” Gabriel says. “But your brother’s a smart kid. He got himself a full ride.”

Dean beams with pride.

“He wants to come and visit,” Gabriel says. “He’s busy with law school interviews right now, and you and I need some time to get settled anyway, but I told him he could come up for Thanksgiving, if you were agreeable. Unfortunately they’d already agreed to go to Jess’s family for Thanksgiving, and then they have Autumn quarter exams. Long story short, as long as it’s okay with you, they’re going to come up for Christmas. ”

“Hell, yes,” says Dean.

He eats some more pie and Gabriel sips at his coffee—some God-awful looking concoction with a ton of whipped cream on the top. There’s a long moment of silence, which Dean is surprised to find isn’t really awkward.

“More questions?” Gabriel says finally.

Dean pushes his empty plate away and picks up his coffee. “Maybe you could just tell me how things are gonna work and what you expect from me?”

“Okay,” Gabriel purses his lips and tilts his head thoughtfully. “I expect you to obey the law; no Hunting, no impersonating Doms, no going on the run, no taking Zero,” he pauses and looks hard at Dean.

Dean nods, in understanding, not necessarily agreement.

“As far as we’re concerned,” Dean’s breath hitches; this part will determine how likely he is to go on the run. “I’m a pretty low protocol kind of guy; most of the time we’re just gonna be two guys, sharing a house.  But there are some things I’m going to put my foot down about.”

Here we go, Dean thinks cynically.

“Firstly, you and I are going to share a bed. That doesn’t mean we’re going to be sexually intimate. You need a lot of body contact to help repair the damage your solitary lifestyle over the last eight years has caused to your health.”

Okay, Dean thinks, that doesn’t sound too bad.

“Of course you won’t be having sex with anyone else while you’re under my Guardianship, and you won’t be masturbating either. If you want sex, it’s going to be with me. But I won’t force the issue.”

Dean laughs. “Oh that’s rich. I’m a twenty-six-year-old guy with a healthy libido. We both know I’m not gonna be able to go a whole year without sex.”

Gabriel smiles ruefully. “Dean I like you a lot and I’m very attracted to you. I want you to submit to me sexually, but I don’t want a sex slave. I don’t want someone who genuinely doesn’t have a choice, someone who I can rape at will and they have no recourse. I want a voluntary exchange of power. If you don’t want that, that’s fine, we’ll keep sex out of the equation.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Can I think about it?”

“I insist you think about it.” 

“Okay. What else?”

“Like I said, I’m pretty low protocol, but every evening we’ll have a period of somewhat higher protocol,” Dean’s face hardens.  “A little before nine thirty every evening,” Gabriel continues, oblivious to Dean’s darkening mood, or perhaps just not caring, “you will go to our bedroom and get undressed. Your clothes will either go away or in the washing hamper, as appropriate. You will then come back downstairs, naked, and kneel at my feet. You are to be in place no later than nine thirty. This will be our time; no work, no phone calls, no computers, no television, just you and me, enjoying each other’s company.”

Dean doesn’t think that sounds too bad actually, except for…

“What if someone comes over? And what about when Sam comes to stay? I’m not kneeling naked in front of my little brother!”

“Okay,” Gabriel says, “that’s fair. If anyone is visiting, you don’t have to take your clothes off. And if someone knocks on the door during our time, you’ll go and wait in our bedroom. I’ll probably send them away, but if they have to come in for any reason, I’ll come and tell you to get dressed. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dean says, and it’s not that he doesn’t realize what he’s just agreed to so much as he doesn’t mind the idea as much as he’d thought he would. This is nothing like the crap that Gordon used to demand from him. Although…

“Are you gonna make me talk about myself in the third person?”

Gabriel shakes his head and then asks Dean if that’s something he would want to do.

“Hell, no. It’s totally dehumanizing. I hate it.”

Gabriel inclines his head and stares levelly at Dean, and Dean thinks for a minute that he’s going to ask, going to make Dean talk about Gordon, but he doesn’t, just takes a sip of his coffee and looks at Dean expectantly, waiting patiently for him to ask more questions.  Remembering Gordon makes him remember another couple of important points.

“What do you want me to call you?”

“Gabriel or Gabe.”

Huh. Okay. That’s…refreshingly different to the typical ‘Master’ crap that Dom’s usually come out with.

“Are you gonna punish me?”

Gabriel frowns. “What for?”

“Just in general. You know.”

Gabriel does that staring thing again where he seems to be looking right into Dean’s soul and Dean barely stops himself from squirming under the scrutiny.

“If we both agree that you need it,” he says finally.

Dean rubs a hand across the back of his neck. It’s a little scary how well Gabriel seems to understand him. “Okay,” he says.

Gabriel sits back patiently and gives Dean the time and space he needs to think. “If I’m not allowed to Hunt,” Dean says eventually, “then what am I gonna do all day?”

Gabriel grins and sits up straight. “Glad you asked. First, you’re gonna get your GED and then we’re gonna talk about college courses or trade certificates. Also, you’re gonna be working on a project with Sam, but I’ll let Sam tell you about that. Would you like to call him now?”

“I…what? Back up a second. I can’t go to college.”

“Sure you can, once you’ve got your GED.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Gabriel shrugs. “I think there’ll be something you want to do. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, huh?” Gabriel gets out his cell phone, taps the screen a few times and then passes it across to Dean. A cell phone number is highlighted. The name attached to it is ‘Sam Winchester’ and suddenly Dean can’t see the screen through the tears in his eyes. “He’s expecting your call,” Gabriel says softly. “You can go in our bedroom if you like, have some privacy.”

--

Dean presses ‘end’ on Gabriel’s cell phone, sets it down carefully on the floor next to where he’s sitting and then curls himself into a fetal position at the foot of the bed and sobs. It’s embarrassing how much he’s cried today. Dean blames the incubus venom and the first decent Subspace trip he’s had in years for his shitty hormone swings. Losing his freedom has been a punch in the gut too; in a way it’s almost worse that Gabriel’s being so kind. Dean remembers Gordon and reconsiders that. No. He’s lucked out with Gabriel; things could’ve been a lot worse.

And then there’s Sammy. Getting to speak to his little brother for the first time in over ten years…Dean’s bottom lip trembles as he tries hard not to start bawling again. Sammy’s voice is deeper, but he’s unmistakably him, full of outrage and courage, and determined to do what’s right, no matter the personal cost. Dean is so, so proud of the kid; he’s turned into one hell of a man, for all that he’s only twenty-two. Jessica is one hell of a lucky girl and Dean doesn’t give a damn what the nature of their relationship is; if Sammy is happy, Dean is happy.

Dean pulls himself into a sitting position and is startled to find Gabriel standing in the bedroom doorway, staring down at him, his face etched with concern.

“Hi,” Dean says, his ears turning pink. “I swear I’m not one of those needy hysterical Subs,” he says, “it’s just that the last few days have been…”

“A hormonal and emotional roller-coaster?” Gabriel finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “Did you need me for something?”

“Do you like bacon cheeseburgers?”

Dean answers in the affirmative, with possibly a little more enthusiasm than necessary, and Gabriel laughs. “Okay,” he says, “you’re a big fan of burgers. Good to know. Want to help me cook?” 

Chapter Text

For the third morning in a row, Dean feels a feather-light kiss on his forehead and hears the whispered words ‘have a nice day, beautiful’, before Gabriel slips from the bedroom. Like every morning since his bizarre new life started, Dean lies awake and listens until he hears Gabriel’s car pull away and then he rolls over and goes back to sleep.

He drags himself out of bed at ten o’clock and showers. He considers jerking off, but just like the previous two mornings, he doesn’t, for reasons he can’t adequately explain—it’s not like Gabriel will even know (except for how Dean thinks he might somehow be able to just look at him and tell).

Towelled dry and dressed in jeans, a tee-shirt and a plaid over-shirt, he pads downstairs with bare feet and wet hair and starts up the coffee maker.

Gabriel came home from work on Wednesday with a heap of GED study booklets. Dean flicked through most of them yesterday and thinks he could probably get a good score right now on every test except Social Studies. He might have to study for a week before attempting that one.

Which takes care of Week One at Casa Gabriel. What the Hell is he going to do for the remaining fifty-one weeks? He’s already flat out told his Guardian Dom—Dean pulls a face—that if he thinks he’s gotten himself some meek little housesub, who’s going to spend his days cooking and cleaning, then he’d better think again.

Dean fries himself some bacon and eggs to have with his coffee. He cleans up after himself and pulls another face when he realizes that he’s barefoot in the kitchen—thank the Goddess male Subs can’t get pregnant.

Gabriel has a decent CD collection, which Dean discovered yesterday when he was diligently inspecting the house in very thorough detail. He puts on Credence Clearwater Revival’s Greatest Hits and then wanders into Gabriel’s office and fires up the PC. There’s an email from Sam.  Sam is working on some major thesis that has something to do with workplace discrimination legislation. He’s still interviewing at various law schools, but no matter where he gets in, it’s not going to change the topic of his dissertation.  Sam did pre-law at Stanford and is quietly confident that they’ll offer him a full ride to law school. If that’s where he ends up, he has already spoken to the head of the SRA, Dr Milton, who has agreed to be his primary thesis advisor. Sam wants to use Dean as some kind of case study and has promised that Dean will remain anonymous, although really, it’s probably not going to be hard to figure out who he is. Also, Dean still hasn’t decided how much of the fucked up shit that’s happened to him in the last eight years he wants Sammy to know about.

The first questionnaire that Sammy has sent is pretty straight forward.

Question One: Describe your job in detail. Please reference any ways in which legislation around your dynamic impacts on your job.  

I am a Hunter. It’s what I was raised to be, and all I’ve ever wanted to do. But the Hunter’s Guild doesn’t allow Subs as members and it’s currently not illegal for them to discriminate on the basis of dynamic, so when I presented as a Sub, it kind of ripped that dream away from me. I’ve been Hunting unlicensed since the age of eighteen, which is illegal. Hunting involves finding cases where supernatural entities are causing problems for humans or having them referred to you, researching them and then dealing with them. This may involve helping a spirit towards the white light, or salting and burning their bones if they’re too angry to move on. It may involve exorcising a demon, or destroying a cursed object, or killing a semi-sentient creature. If I was a member of the Hunter’s Guild I could capture supernatural creatures and take them for incarceration at the Compound, but because I’m not licensed, I have no choice but to kill any creatures I find hurting humans. 

Question Two: Describe a specific incident where the biology of your dynamic impacted your job.

I was Hunting an incubus recently. It was a particular subtype that had adapted to feed off Subs specifically. The pheromones it released at me and the Zero in my system clashed somehow and I had a really bad reaction. I still got the job done and ganked the incubus, but then I keeled over. I came to in a DoD cell and the whole ‘passing as a Dom and Hunting’ gig was kind of up.

Question Three: Describe a specific incident where the biology of a person who is in the same job as you, but who is the opposite dynamic to you, impacted on their job.

Dean has just started to write about a Hunt Bobby had told him about where an angry spirit was possessing Doms and making them kill Same-dynamic oriented couples when the doorbell rings. Dean cocks his head and wonders whether or not he should answer. Gabriel didn’t leave him any specific instructions on what he should do if someone came to the door. Whoever it is leans on the button and the bell rings and rings and rings and fuck that, it’s too annoying to ignore.

When Dean throws the door open there’s a Dom standing on the doorstep. She’s old enough to be his mother and her head-to-toe leather outfit and severely-bunned steel-wool hair scream High Protocol. She looks him up and down with disdain and says, “Who are you?”

Dean leans against the door frame and folds his arms. “Who wants to know?”

The Dom’s frown is impressive. “I don’t tolerate rude Subs,” she spits. “You’ll lose the attitude and you’ll answer my questions and you’ll present properly before your betters.” The last part of the sentence is said with Dom Voice and lashings of compulsion pheromones.

Dean locks his muscles and breathes through it and then grins slowly.

“Fuck you, lady,” he says.

The woman’s jaw drops and her eyes tighten with fury.

“If you were my Sub,” she begins and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, but I’m not,” he says, and slams the door in her face.  

He knows all about what protocol-driven Doms like to do to mouthy, opinionated Subs, Gordon made sure of that.

He watches the woman let herself into the house across the road and is a little relieved that she’s just a nosy neighbour and not Gabriel’s mother or someone important to him. He frowns. Well. She might be a friend, he supposes, but Dean’s having a hard time imagining Gabriel wanting to spend time with a Dom like that. Still, if she complains about him, and Dean knows that she will, Gabriel might feel obligated to punish him; he’s a DoD officer after all, it might look bad if it seems as if he can’t even keep his own Sub in line. With that in mind, Dean decides to have a productive day, in the hope that it’ll keep his new Dom sweet. He finishes Sammy’s questionnaire and emails it back to him and then he spends a couple of hours cleaning the house, before settling down to tackle the packets of practice GED tests that Gabriel got for him.

When Gabriel arrives home at twenty past four Dean watches from the living room window as the woman from across the road rushes out to confront him in the driveway. When Gabriel finally comes inside he looks pissed, but Dean is ready for that. He’s in the kitchen chopping chicken and vegetables, ready for the casserole that the Dom is planning for tonight’s supper.

“Hi,” he says with a big grin, wiping his hands on a dishcloth and then grabbing the disgusting sweet white wine that Gabriel loves out of the fridge and pouring a generous amount into the Dom’s favorite crystal wine glass. “Figured I’d get started on the grunt work,” he says, as he hands the glass to Gabriel, “I’ll leave the complicated bits to the expert of course. How was your day?”

Gabriel takes a sip of his wine and then licks his lips. “Wow,” he says, “I feel like I should’ve called out ‘Lucy, I’m home!’ when I walked in the door.

Dean scrunches his nose. “Yeah, don’t push it.”

Oops. He’s supposed to be being an obedient, sweet Sub in the hope that it’ll keep Gabriel from punishing him.

Gabriel is grinning widely. “Now there’s the smartass Sub I’ve come to know and lo…care about.” He waves at the pile of chopped meat and vegetables on the kitchen bench with his wine glass. “Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture,” he says, “and you’re always welcome to help out around the place in any way you see fit, but I don’t need to be manipulated into treating you fairly, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean goes back to chopping vegetables. “Do you think you could buy some beer? That stuff you drink is gross.”

“Hey!” Gabriel looks offended. “It’s just sweet, is all. I have a sweet tooth. But yes, I’ll buy you some beer,” he clears his throat. “So. You met Hyacinth from across the road.”

Dean pays more attention to the carrot he’s chopping than is probably necessary. “Yep,” he says.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

Dean gives him a brief, succinct overview and Gabriel nods. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what she said too.”

“Are you gonna punish me?”

Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “Do you think you deserve to be punished?”

“Hell, no. I mean, I was rude. But so was she. The only difference is that society allows her to be a rude arrogant bitch but it has a different set of rules for me,” he takes a deep breath. “But. You’re a DoD officer. And I’m sorry if I just made your life difficult or whatever. If you want me to apologize to her, I will.”

“Would you mean it?”

“No.”

“Not a lot of point then, is there?”

Dean finishes off the vegetables and then wipes his hands on the dishcloth again and steps away from the bench. “I did mean it when I said I’m sorry if I’ve made things awkward for you.”

“Pff,” Gabriel waves him away. “I manage that well enough on my own. Besides, Hyacinth is everything I hate in a Dom. You’re ten times the human being she is. ”

After supper Gabriel opens the GED packet with the answer sheets in it and grades Dean’s test papers. Dean watches in disbelief as he scores in the high seven hundreds on each and every one of them.

“I didn’t do the Social Studies one yet,” he says, when Gabriel puts the final graded paper down. “I might need to study a bit for that one.”

Gabriel beams and throws his arms around Dean, hugging him tightly. “I knew you were smart,” he says, “I knew it. I’m so proud of you, Dean.”

Later, when Dean is upstairs taking off his clothes, he tries to remember the last time he felt this content. Maybe in those last few days with Cassie, before he told her the truth, that he wasn’t a same-dynamic oriented Dom, but a Sub, and she threw him out.

Dean sighs and puts his shorts in the washing hamper in the ensuite. The dirty laundry is rich with Gabriel’s scent and the scent of them both, mixed together, does interesting things to Dean’s libido. It’s been a while since he got laid; even longer since he wholeheartedly and willingly submitted to someone sexually.  The idea of Gabriel laying him out on their bed and fucking him into the mattress has him hard in seconds. He is so distracted by the delicious images flicking through his head that he almost doesn’t make it back downstairs by nine thirty.

“Everything alright?” Gabriel says as Dean settles naked by his feet.

“Yes, Gabriel.”

Gabriel’s hand closes in Dean’s hair and he closes his eyes and leans into the touch, enjoying the sensation of being petted. Gabriel moves from stroking his hair to massaging his neck and shoulders and then sliding his hands up and down Dean’s arms and torso before returning to grip his hair, pulling at it softly. Dean’s dick is straining against his stomach, but it isn’t troubling him. He’s happy and pliant and Lord and Lady help him, but he wants to serve his Dom. He nuzzles against Gabriel’s hand like a giant cat and hears Gabriel’s sharp intake of breath.

“Time’s nearly up, Deano,” Gabriel says.

Dean blinks. “Really? It’s been an hour already? Wow. I think I mighta hit the first level of Subspace, just sitting at your feet.”

Gabriel pulls Dean up onto the sofa next to him and Dean somehow manages to tuck himself under the arm of the smaller man.

“I think I want more,” Dean hears himself say. He didn’t mean to speak, but now that he has, he realizes the truth of his words. “I want to do this right,” he says, “give you everything.”

“Yeah?” Gabriel’s arm tightens around him. The Dom clears his throat. “Just so we’re clear, you’re talking about sex, right?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Just so we’re really clear, I’m talkin’ about you holdin’ me down, shovin’ your cock up my ass and fuckin’ me long and hard and deep.”

Gabriel makes a small sound that may possibly be a whimper and Dean grins.

“You’ll submit to me completely? I’ll be the one who decides whether you get to come or not?”

Dean groans. “I…yeah. I’ll be so good for you, Gabe, I promise.”

Gabriel kisses him then, slow and deep, his tongue plundering Dean’s mouth with assurance as his hands roam Dean’s chest, plucking at his nipples. Gabriel tastes like cherry Tootsie Pops and sweet white wine, which is kind of gross, but his strength is undeniable. Not that Dean intends to deny him anything. He melts into the kiss, let’s himself be well and truly had, and he moans in displeasure when Gabriel pulls away from his kiss-plump, spit-slicked lips.

“Behave,” Gabriel says mildly. “We need to talk.”

“Now?” Dean can’t help his exasperation and it earns his nipple a sharp tweak.

“I was thinking at work today, that it’s been five days since we put you properly into Subspace. I was planning to take you down again tonight—Friday seems like a good day for it, right? Gives you the weekend to slowly pull out of the headspace, without having to worry about school or work or anything.”

“I guess,” Dean says.

“But then that Demon Dom from across the road happened and I didn’t want you to misconstrue things and think you were being punished.”

Dean frowns. “I know the difference between what we did on Monday night and punishment.”

Gabriel nods. “You seem particularly susceptible tonight. So.”

“So,” Dean echoes.

“So I’m going to put you down deep.”

Gabriel is sitting in the middle of a three-seater sofa. He pats his lap and Dean stretches out across it, his swollen cock pressing against the Dom’s hard thigh in a way that feels oh so good. He wonders if Gabriel will start with nipple play again, but his train of thought is interrupted by a firm slap to his ass. The first set is harder this time around and Dean figures Gabriel isn’t easing  him into the spanking so much this time because he’s already got a light buzz going, just from the hour spent sitting at Gabriel’s feet. 

After about five or so minutes of medium impact smacking, Gabriel spanks him hard for a couple of minutes, the action driving his groin forward and making his cock rub deliciously against Gabriel’s thigh. It counters the pain beautifully and Dean is relieved when the Dom stops spanking his ass and starts stroking it lightly, not because the pain has stopped, but because he was getting dangerously close to the edge and he knows Gabriel isn’t going to give him permission to come any time soon.

Gabriel’s hand moves downwards and slips in between Dean’s thighs. Dean obligingly spreads his legs wider and then moans when the Dom rubs his fingers lightly against his sac.  It’s not long before he’s begging; for Gabriel to stop the exquisite excruciating touch, or possibly for Gabriel to let him come, he’s not entirely sure which; but Gabriel just tells him that he’s a good boy, that he can take this, that he knows Dean won’t come without permission. And Dean wants to be good for his Dom, he does, but this is too hard; too intense. By the time his Dom finally starts spanking him again, Dean is sobbing into the sofa cushion, but he manages to back himself off the edge and doesn’t come without permission. Gabriel’s praise is effusive and Dean basks in it, not even caring that his ass has started to seriously smart. When he gets his next set of hard, intense smacks, Dean starts to float. He’s not disassociating; he’s done that before during really bad scenes and this is completely different. He’s not going under like usual either, though. Instead, he feels euphoric and hyper aware of his own existence.  When the spanking stops, Gabriel’s hand soothes over his hot, sore ass for an endless span of time, and then his Dom pulls at Dean’s hips, arranging him so that he’s kneeling with his ass high in the air and his legs spread as far apart as they can get on the sofa. A spit-slicked finger rubs across his hole and Dean whines and pushes back against it, earning himself a sharp slap. His lesson learned, Dean stays still and submits to his Dom’s gentle, probing touch.

When Gabriel reaches underneath him and takes a firm hold of Dean’s dick, the effort it takes to resist thrusting into his hand is staggering.

Gabriel spanks him hard, right over his crack. Two of his long, slender fingers slap sharply against Dean’s hole and Dean jerks forward, his dick sliding into the tight, warm, slightly damp tunnel of Gabriel’s fist. Dean whines as Gabriel spanks him again and again and again, driving him repeatedly into the Dom’s clenching fist.

“Please, please, please,” he chants, out of his mind with need.

“Come whenever you want to, Dean.”    

His orgasm punches out of him with the force of a rocket and Gabriel spanks him through it, not stopping until Dean collapses against him.

--

“Dean?” Gabriel says.

His Sub doesn’t respond, doesn’t even stir.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean’s eyes are glassy, his breathing slow and deep.

“Sleepy, Sir,” he slurs.

Gabriel helps him off the sofa, up the stairs and into bed. He goes back downstairs and cleans Dean’s come off the sofa and then returns to his Sub, who’s completely knocked out in their bed, snoring lightly. Gabriel watches Dean sleeping, a soft smile playing over his lips at how much younger the man looks when he’s not awake and posturing.

Gabriel heads to the ensuite, sets the shower to cold and jerks off quickly. He towels himself dry and then slips, naked, into bed beside Dean, who snuggles against him with a contented noise. Gabriel breathes into his Sub’s hair and starts to plan out their weekend.

--

Gabriel awakes to the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee. He opens his eyes and finds himself starting straight at Dean’s face, the younger man’s green eyes fixed on his own.

Dean is naked and kneeling on the floor next to the bed.

He smiles when he sees that Gabriel is awake. “I made you coffee,” he says. “And I hope you don’t mind, but I showered and prepped too,” his eyes dart away and he lowers his gaze. “You didn’t get to come last night.”

Gabriel reaches out a hand and lifts Dean’s chin; he wants those beautiful green eyes back on him. “I got something better,” he says, “a happy and content Sub. Besides, I jerked off in the shower after I put you to bed.”

Dean’s eyes dim unhappily. “You shouldn’t’ve had to do that.”

“It was my decision.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Dean,” Gabriel uses just a little bit of Dom Voice. “It was my decision.”

Dean doesn’t argue any further, but he doesn’t look happy either. Gabriel sighs quietly and pulls himself into a sitting position, plumping his pillows and leaning back against the headrest. “Come and sit up here,” he pats the bed beside him.

Gabriel really wasn’t expecting Dean to crawl to the end of the bed, ass swaying seductively, climb up onto the bed and then crawl to his side. Gabriel holds out an arm and Dean tucks himself underneath it. It’s impressive, really, the way Dean somehow manages to make himself seem smaller than he really is. Gabriel might be eight years older than his Sub, but he’s also a good four inches shorter.

“So Dean,” Gabriel says, “just out of interest, why didn’t you stand up and climb onto the bed?”

“You didn’t tell me I could.”

Gabriel reaches out for his coffee. It’s perfect; sweet and creamy, just the way he likes it.

Gabriel remembers the perfect parade rest he got from Dean, the first time he ordered him into a standing presentation position. He remembers thinking that someone had trained Dean and trained him well. Gabriel keeps letting the fact that Dean hasn’t had a registered Guardian Dom or Bondmate for the past eight years make him forget that he isn’t the first Dom to get his hands on Dean. And judging by some of Dean’s reactions and some of the things he has let slip, Gabriel suspects that Dean has had at least one High Protocol Dom. Which means Gabriel is going to have to do some re-training.

“Blanket rule,” Gabriel says. “Unless I’ve specifically told you to behave in a certain way, I want you to just act natural; do whatever feels right to you. Okay?”

“Okay, Gabe.”

Gabriel drops a light kiss on top of Dean’s head. “You were magnificent last night,” he says.

Dean squirms uncomfortably. He still looks unhappy and Gabriel realizes that his Sub is not going to be happy until he’s served his Dom in some substantial way.

“Alrighty,” Gabriel grins. “We’re gonna have some fun. Present for Use, please. And face out that way,” Gabriel waves a hand toward the end of the bed. “I wanna look at that gorgeous ass while I finish my coffee.”

Dean is in position before Gabriel has even finished speaking and Gabriel’s grin widens at his Sub’s eagerness. Dean’s ass is barely even pink anymore and if Gabriel looks closely (and he does) he can see that Dean’s puckered hole is glistening with lube.

Gabriel’s blood rushes south so quickly that he feels almost dizzy for a moment. Even so he takes the time to finish his coffee, admiring the view as he does so. And what a view it is.  Dean holds position beautifully and Gabriel savors the anticipation.

When he finally moves to Dean’s side and places a hand on his lower back, his Sub can’t quite contain a needy whine.

“Shh,”Gabriel soothes, “I gotcha, kiddo.”

He strokes lightly over Dean’s hole and then squeezes some lube out of the tube he’s brought across with him and coats his fingers thoroughly before reaching down to slide two fingers deep inside his Sub. Dean is well-slicked, but tight.

“You didn’t stretch yourself very much,” he comments.

“No, Si- Gabriel.”

Gabriel frowns and asks Dean why he didn’t stretch himself more.

“Wasn’t sure what you wanted. Some Doms don’t like it if you’re not real tight.”

Gabriel fingers him until he’s a little more stretched and then lubes himself up and sinks into Dean’s welcoming heat. His Sub groans, but resists the temptation to push back and Gabriel praises him. “Good boy, Dean. Gonna give it to you slow and deep and hard, just the way you need it. You just gotta lie there and take it.”

Gabriel grips Dean’s hips and rolls his own, shoving his cock up Dean’s ass in deep, slow thrusts. Dean holds himself still and takes the fucking he’s being given, breathy cries punching out of him every time Gabriel’s balls slap against his ass. The smooth heat of Dean’s ass is just about the best thing Gabriel has ever felt on his cock and it isn’t long before he’s rutting in hard and fast. He comes with a shudder, buried deep inside of his Sub, who shudders and whimpers and begs to be allowed to come.

“Later,” Gabriel says, pulling out. He reaches into a bedside drawer and pulls out a plug, which he pushes into Dean’s ass.  “Standing presentation,” he says and watches as Dean struggles to obey. When he’s in position, Gabriel can’t help but kiss the pout from his sulky lips and Dean relaxes under his touch. “Do you need a cock ring?” Gabriel asks. Dean considers it and shakes his head.

Gabriel showers and dresses while Dean cooks breakfast. He wears Gabriel’s ‘Kiss the Chef’ apron with the picture of the giant toad on it to avoid hot oil splattering onto any sensitive areas. As soon as Gabriel appears, he takes the apron off and brings two plates to the table.

“Where do you want me?” he asks, looking between the chair and the floor.

“Chair,” Gabriel says. “Handfeeding someone bacon and eggs is too hard.”

After breakfast Gabriel bends Dean over the arm of the sofa and pounds his prostate until he comes in thick spurts all over the black leather seat cushions. Gabriel’s lips twist wryly. He’s really going to have to invest in some good quality leather and fabric cleaners if they keep this up. In the meantime, he tells Dean to clean it up with his tongue.

They spend most of the weekend in bed, fucking, sleeping, and learning each other’s likes and dislikes. Luckily, they coincide. Dean likes nipple play and giving blow jobs, he enjoys light spanking and he loves being fucked. He’ll ride Gabriel if he’s told to, but he prefers to be on the bottom, in every sense of the word. He really likes being tied down and fucked and, even though he refuses to admit it, he enjoys a good cuddle and always responds well to petting and praise.

Dean is reticent to tell Gabriel the things he really doesn’t like and Gabriel eventually gleans that this is because previous Doms have used the knowledge against him. Gabriel is a little hurt that Dean still doesn’t quite trust him, but pleased when he manages to convince his Sub that his intentions are honorable.

Dean doesn’t enjoy anything involving knives or guns; he’s a Hunter, he doesn’t find the tools of his trade erotic in the slightest. On a related note, he doesn’t find bleeding or being choked anything other than horrible, probably because it’s happened to him too often on the job for him to see it as anything other than a huge negative, and he rules out single-tailed whips on the basis of blood too.

“None of those things are on my Fun List either,” Gabriel tells him. “I don’t like scat or watersports either.”

Dean pulls a face. “Good.”

“Anything else?”

“Cross dressing,” Dean says. “I had this Dom in high school, Rhonda, who really preferred girls, but she was too much of a sadist for all the female Subs at our school. So she started dating me, because I didn’t mind doing the rough stuff with her. But then she started forcing me to wear pink panties and corsets and make-up and…I didn’t mind the panties too much, but the rest of it I fuckin’ hated.”

It’s the most Dean has ever said about his past and Gabriel is delighted. He is less delighted when he learns that Dean has never had a Dom who permitted him to have a safe word.

“But I’ve given up control,” he says, brow furrowed and eyes confused. “I don’t get any say. My will and my body belong to my Dom.”

Gabriel grinds his teeth. “Yes,” he says, “you give blanket consent to certain acts and give your Dom control over those acts. But. You still need a way of stopping the scene if things go wrong. Maybe you get sick or injured during the scene. Or maybe you flashback to something terrible that once happened to you. Or maybe you just absolutely, truly can’t take any more because your Dom has pushed you past your limits. It’s like an emergency stop button and the fact that you’ve never been permitted to have one makes me want to hunt down every Dom you ever subbed for and whip the skin from their backs.”

Dean is quiet in the face of Gabriel’s fury.

“Impala,” he says eventually.

“What?”

“My safe word. Impala.”

Gabriel frowns. “Like the antelope?”

Dean’s look of horror is almost comical. “Like my car!” he splutters. “Chevrolet Impala. How can you not know that? It’s a classic!”

Later that night, Gabriel keeps Dean on the edge of orgasm until he screams Impala, and then praises him lavishly for using his safe word. He needs to know Dean’s limits, but more importantly, he needs to know that Dean will stop him if he gets it wrong. 

Chapter Text

When Dean wakes up Monday morning, he’s surprised to see the green figures on the bedside clock displaying 10.08am. He can’t believe he slept through Gabriel getting up. Then again—Dean stretches and rolls onto his back—he’s feeling boneless and refreshed and very well-used, so it’s not really surprising he slept so soundly.

When Dean comes back into the bedroom after showering, the smell of sex almost knocks him on his ass. His dick hardens immediately and Dean scrambles to get the sheets off the bed and into the washing machine. And then he opens the windows and sprays a ton of air freshener around.

He spends most of the day studying for the GED social studies test and when there’s a knock on the front door in the middle of the afternoon he figures it’ll be the Demon Dom from across the road coming to demand an apology.

It isn’t.

It’s a couple of Doms in dark suits who immediately flash DoD badges at him, introducing themselves as Officers Diana Ballard and Pete Sheridan.

“Gabe’s not here,” Dean says.

“We know that, Dean,” says Officer Ballard. “We’re actually here to speak with you.”

Dean glances from one to the other, but can’t get any kind of a read on why they’re here.

“Uh, shouldn’t my Dom be here for that?” he stalls.

“Not for this interview,” Officer Sheridan says. “Show us inside please, Sub Winchester.”

Dean does so, reluctantly. He sits them at the kitchen table and takes a chair opposite them. He doesn’t offer them refreshments.

Officer Sheridan seems a little pissed that Dean didn’t kneel next to them on the floor. He exudes Dom pheromones and postures a lot; trying to stamp his dominance all over Gabriel’s kitchen. Dean watches him out of the corner of his eye while Officer Ballard explains that this is a routine visit to make sure that he’s settled in nicely with his Guardian Dom and isn’t having any problems.

Dean tells her that everything’s going great and Sheridan snorts. And yeah, okay, most Subs would probably say that even if things sucked; it’s not like the system is ever on their side; but Dean doesn’t quite believe that it’s concern for the well-being of a Sub that’s provoking Sheridan’s skepticism. The Dom confirms it when he asks a series of intrusive questions, seemingly fishing for evidence that Gabriel’s a weak, crappy Dom, not up to the job of managing a wayward Sub like Dean. Dean takes great pleasure in giving him excruciatingly intimate details of all the different ways Gabriel dominated him in bed over the weekend.

“I’m tellin’ you man,”  he says, “if it was Gabe in that chair right now instead of you, I’d be on the floor, on my knees, just beggin’ to be allowed to suck him off.”

Sheridan’s face is an interesting shade of puce.  He turns to his partner and mutters something about inspecting the property to make sure Dom Archangel is providing a suitable environment for his Sub.

“I don’t think Gabe would like you pokin’ around,” Dean says.

Sheridan throws a court order giving him permission to do so on the table in front of Dean and takes off.

“Sorry about that,” Ballard says. “They have history.”

“Maybe you should go with him?” Dean suggests. “Make sure he doesn’t plant something?”

Ballard wrinkles her nose and gives him a stony stare of disapproval, but she goes.

Dean goes back to his studying. When the officers let themselves out twenty minutes later, Dean uses his cell phone to call Gabriel. Gabriel reassures him that it’s perfectly routine for the DoD to conduct a private interview with a Sub under a new Guardianship Order and that while Pete Sheridan is, indeed, a douche-canoe, Diana Ballard is a good egg. Still, when Gabriel gets home (earlier than usual) Dean insists that they go through the house together, looking for anything that might’ve been planted.

“What’s the story with you two, anyway?” Dean asks as they work. “Ballard said you had ‘history’.”

Gabriel has a cherry Tootsie Pop wedged in his mouth and he sighs around it.

“Pete works out of the Custer County Garrison,” he says. “It’s Department policy for Guardianships set up by one Garrison to be inspected by another. It’s supposed to demonstrate transparency, but in reality the expectation is that we’ll just rubber stamp whatever our counterparts have set up. I’ve inspected a few placements that Pete set up and had to report them as unsuitable, which resulted in the Subs being removed. The Doms in question weren’t happy and neither was Pete.”

Dean freezes with his hand down the back of the sofa cushions.

“So those Doms who were here today, they can force me to leave you, if they don’t think you’re suitable, and put me with someone else?”

Gabriel shakes his head and explains that, contrary to popular belief, the DoD has to actually have grounds for a Removal, and, except in cases of dire emergency, the Removing Officer has to obtain a Court Order first.

Having assured himself that nothing is hidden in the sofa, Dean moves on to the book shelf.  “What are the grounds for a Removal?” he asks.

Gabriel pulls a face. “Severe abuse or inadequate Guardianship.”

Severe abuse, Dean understands, although he wonders how ‘severe’ it has to be to qualify. He’s not quite sure what Gabriel means by inadequate Guardianship, so Gabriel explains that if Dean was living in Gabriel’s house, scoring and using Zero, going off on Hunts and not spending any time at all with Gabriel, then that would qualify as inadequate Guardianship and Dean would be removed.

Dean frowns. “So basically if a Guardian Dom’s too strict or too lenient, then the Sub’ll get Removed.”

At Gabriel’s nod, he makes a ‘huh’ sound and tilts his head thoughtfully. “What about bonded Subs,” he asks. “Do the same rules apply?”

Gabriel pulls another face. “In theory, yes. In practice,” he sighs. “When a Sub’s under a State Guardianship Order, responsibility for their welfare lies 100% with the State. When a Sub is bonded, responsibility for their welfare lies 100% with their Dom. Same deal when a Sub is under the Guardianship of a Dom from their family of origin or a private Guardianship arrangement set up by a Dom from their family of origin. Their Dom must, of course, obey the law, but anything that goes on behind closed doors is generally considered to be private family business and not the State’s concern. The Department is really reluctant to step in on issues of Dom Violence against Subs when it’s a family matter. They’ll usually step in if the Sub is breaking the law, but not so much if it’s the Dom.”

Dean snorts. “Figures,” he says. They work their way slowly through the downstairs area, before making their way upstairs.

“The last time I saw my Dad,” Dean says suddenly, “was my eighteenth birthday. He was talkin’ about bonding me off to some asswipe Hunting buddy of his,” he turns to Gabriel, his eyes wide with disgust. “Sounds like I did the right thing, getting the Hell outta Dodge. I reckon I’m a lot safer under a State Guardianship Order than I would be if I got bonded.”

He turns away to search under the bed for any planted evidence of Gabriel’s unsuitability and so he misses the brief look of sorrow that flashes across his Dom’s face.

“Unless you ended up in State, of course,” Gabriel mutters.

Dean frowns. “Yeah. Are those places really as bad as the rumors say?”

Gabriel slurps on his Tootsie Pop. “Yeah,” he says, “they are. The SRA has tried to get them closed down several times, but they’ve gotta tread carefully because a lot of very powerful people have a vested interest in keeping them running.”

By ‘powerful people’ he means Dom Lucien Archangel, eldest son of the DoD’s head honcho Dom Charles Archangel.  Lucien runs all the State Homes for Wayward Subs and the word on the Sub grapevine is that those places are little more than hard core brothels; Hell on Earth, Dean once heard the facility in Minnesota described by a Sub who’d been bought from there and had then managed to escape from her new Dom. It’s illegal, of course, to sell people. The fact that the State Homes can do so with impunity speaks volumes of their power and Dean is really very grateful that he didn’t end up in one.

--

Dean spends his days studying for the GED, filling out questionnaires for Sam and looking for Hunts. He’s not Hunting himself; he’s not stupid; but he does call anything he finds in to Bobby. The first time he calls Bobby, the older Hunter is equal parts relieved and pissed.

“You idjit,” he says, “what kinda damn fool Sub single-handedly goes after an Incubus that’s targeting Subs!”

“Right,” Dean snarks, “cuz I should’ve just called the Hunters’ Guild and asked for backup. He was killing, Bobby, and he was escalating. Even if I called you, a couple more Subs, at least, would’ve died before you could send help.”

The older man sighs. “I know, I know. I just…I got that call from the DoD and…the thought that you could’ve ended up in State just makes my skin crawl.”

“Yeah, I lucked out, huh? Sam says he told you what happened.”

“Sam told me you got placed with some DoD Officer,” Bobby says the words DoD Officer the same way he says the words rotting corpse, and Dean can’t help laughing. “Is he treatin’ you right? You’re not gonna get into trouble for makin’ this call are you?”

“Gabe’s cool,” he says. And then, because he can’t help himself; because Bobby’s the closest thing he’s had to a father in eight years, he adds, “I really like him.”

Bobby is cautiously pleased for him and he doesn’t start treating Dean like his brain fell out, just because he’s happily submitting to a Dom.

After that, Dean calls him daily, whether he’s got news of a Hunt to pass on or not.

He calls Ellen too. Bobby had been hinting that maybe he should and then he outright told him that his former Guardian had been updated on his whereabouts and was expecting his call. It went better than Dean expected. Ellen gave him a good telling off and then cried. He promised to keep in contact and he does. He didn’t mention that Ash has had his email address the whole time. Ellen isn’t stupid though; she’s probably got a pretty good idea that it was Ash who removed Dean from the DoD Database.

He talks to Sam sometimes too, but they’re awkward with each other on the phone. Dean has an old, crappy ‘dumb’ phone that can’t do Face-time, but they’ve Face-timed using Gabriel’s phone. While it’s great to see the fit, healthy, good-looking—and huge—man his little brother has grown into, Sam always stares at the fat, ugly DoD collar around Dean’s neck with disgust, which makes Dean feel really uncomfortable. Mostly they just exchange emails, which they’re both more comfortable with.

Truthfully, Dean’s a little worried about how things are going to go at Christmas.  Sam is passionately vocal about Sub Rights and while Dean appreciates his support, he wishes Sam would spend less time telling him how he should feel and more time listening to Dean explaining how he does feel.

“He’s still young,” Gabriel says, when Dean complains to him about it. “He’s still having trouble with the reality of checking his Dom privilege and listening to Subs telling him how to be an ally, rather than just assuming that he’s the expert because he’s a Dom. I think we all struggle with the concept at first. But don’t worry, my br—” he’s overtaken by a coughing fit, “Dr Milton will sort him out. You only want to get smacked down for subconscious dynamicism once by that man, let me tell you.”

“I didn’t know you knew Dr Milton too,” Dean says.

Gabriel busies himself at the stove. “We are related, you know,” he says lightly.

Of course. Gabe’s a nephew of a nephew of a cousin or something. Dean often forgets that Gabriel is an Archangel; he’s not at all like the more high profile members of his family.

“And besides,” Gabe continues, “we’ve met professionally.”

Which makes sense, Dean supposes. Gabriel is a DoD officer who works the Sub Division of Enforcement and Corrections, of course he’s going to have interactions with the SRA. Still, distant family or not, for a low ranked officer like Gabriel to meet the head of the SRA is a pretty big deal. Or maybe Dr Milton is only a toweringly heroic figure if you’re a Sub. Or Sam.

“What do you think of him?” Dean asks.

Gabriel begins to plate their supper and Dean goes to the fridge and gets himself a beer, before pouring his Dom a glass of wine.

“He’s impressive,” Gabriel says, “I have a huge amount of respect for him and I like him a lot. His Dom is a very lucky woman.”

Oh. Dean plays with the label on his beer. “So ‘smart, nerdy, academic’ is your type, then?”

Gabriel stares at him. “I’m sorry,” he says, “which part of my dick constantly up your ass did you miss? If you haven’t figured out yet that you are exactly my type, then I’m obviously not fucking you hard enough or often enough.”

Dean squirms and wills his dick to go down.

“I’m not sexually interested in Dr Milton,” Gabriel says. “I just think that his Dom is incredibly privileged to have a Sub like him bonded to her,” he pauses, and then adds, “you’re actually very like him, Dean.”

Dean snorts. “I didn’t fight for my rights, I hid; pretended to be something I wasn’t. And I’m not smart.”

Gabriel sighs. “I’ve got a bunch of GED practice tests that say differently. Speaking of which, did you book to do the official tests yet?”

Dean tells him that he’s filled out the forms and intends to go in tomorrow.

“Do I need anything from you?” he asks.

“Nope,” says Gabriel. “But call me if they give you any trouble.”

--

Getting behind the wheel of his Baby again feels a little like going home. Dean slides in a Led Zeppelin cassette tape, cranks up the volume and puts Baby into drive. The curtains across the road twitch and Dean waves and smiles at the Demon Dom scowling at him through the gap in them. He revs his engine extra hard for good measure.

Because nowhere in Kearney is very far from anywhere else, it only takes Dean five minutes to drive to the GED Testing Center, which is located at the local Community College.

There’s a hot blonde Dom behind the reception desk. She takes a quick look at Dean, notes the leather jacket with the collar pulled up, the combat boots and the swagger, and gives him the respectful nod that one Dom gives to another. Her whole demeanor changes when he gets close enough for her to see his collar.

“Well, hello, Handsome,” she says, stripping him with her gaze while none-too-subtly scenting him. “Is there something you need?”

Dean suppresses an eye roll and wishes that Gabriel hadn’t thrown out his DomScent artificial pheromone spray. He gives the Dom his most charming, flirtatious smile.

“Yes, actually. I’d like to register for the GED.” He puts the completed registration form and his last High School transcript (which Gabe made the asshats down in Broken Arrow email to him) on the top of the reception desk.

The Dom peers up at the paperwork. “They’re very hard tests, Sweetie. You’ll need to enroll in a course of study first.”

“No I won’t,” Dean says. “I just need to sit the tests. How soon can I sit for them?”

The Dom looks at the paperwork dubiously. “Why the rush?” she asks. “Does your Dom know you’re here?”

“Look, lady, I just wanna book to sit the GED tests. I’ve got all the paperwork, I’ve got the fee. Let’s just get me booked in.”

The Dom sits back and folds her arms across her chest, frowning up at Dean with disapproval. “Now then, Sweetie,” she says, “that pushy attitude’s, not very sublike, is it?” She smiles patronisingly. “Why don’t we try that again, this time using our sublike manners?”

Dean has a brief fantasy where he reaches across the desk and grabs the smug Dom by her throat.

He could play the demure Sub here; make himself less visible, lower his expectations, let the Dom treat him as some kind of lesser, more childlike creature; and he’d probably be able to get the booking made.

Or he could fight for his right to equal treatment.

As soon as Dean had presented, his Dad had done a complete 180 in the way he treated his son, monitoring his every word and gesture, constantly on his back about posture, policing the way he dressed, calling him out all the freaking time for unsublike behavior. Not long after he presented Dean was sitting on the sofa one evening watching TV with Sammy. Dad came into the room and looked at Dean with such disapproval that Dean started cowering on the spot.

“Close your legs, Dean,” he said in a despairing voice. “I won’t have you shaming the family, Boy. I expect proper, sublike behaviour from you. Sitting with your legs spread is as good as issuing an invitation to a Dom to come and take you.”

The conversation was still running through Dean’s mind when his Dad started teaching him the Sub presentation positions, all of which required him to have his legs spread. Doms were pretty fucked up, Dean decided. They expected Subs to be demure and virginal and complete sluts, all at the same time.

Dean looks up at the receptionist and smiles.

“We could try it again,” he says, getting out his cell phone, “or we could call the local branch of the SRA, who I have on speed dial, and tell them that the GED Testing Center is breaking the law and refusing a Sub access to education.”

The Dom scowls and takes his paperwork.  “The fee is $120.00,” she says.

Dean gets his wallet out and begins to count out the cash.

“We don’t take cash,” she says smugly. “Card payment only.”

“But…this is legal American tender!”

The Dom shrugs. “It’s company policy. The boss doesn’t want us carrying cash on the premises, for security reasons. Do you have a card?”

Dean used to have several, all in different names. Gabriel made him cut them all up.

He shakes his head and the Dom smiles; it’s a little too tight to be a triumphant smile, but it’s close. “Well then,” she says, “I guess you’ll have to come back when you can bring your Dom in with you, along with their credit card.” She turns back to her computer monitor, dismissing him.

“Can you take a credit card payment over the phone?” Dean asks.

She sighs and tells him that they can, so Dean calls Gabriel. Last time he called Gabriel at work the DoD had just conducted a surprise interview and inspection and Dean had been pretty freaked, so the fact that Gabriel answers on the second ring and is obviously concerned for Dean’s welfare isn’t unexpected.

“Everything’s fine,” Dean reassures him. “I just need to borrow your credit card. Apparently the GED Testing Center doesn’t accept cold hard American cash. Downright un-American of them if you ask me, but it’s policy apparently…You don’t have to come down; you can just give it to them over the phone…Okay. Hang on.”

Dean turns to the receptionist. “My Dom wants to talk to you. His name’s Gabriel Archangel.”

The receptionist pales, just a little.

Dean listens to a satisfying chorus of ‘Yes sir, yes sir,’ from the receptionist and when she hangs up and gives him the phone back her smile is fake, but she’s nothing but polite to him from then on. He books to do the Math and Science tests the following Tuesday, the Writing and Reading tests the following Wednesday and the Social Studies test the following Thursday.  Bookings made, Dean gathers up his receipts, his wallet and his cell phone and turns away from the desk.

“Make sure you give those receipts to your Dom,” the receptionist says.

Dean turns and gives her a small salute. “Thanks for your help, Sweetie,” he says.

Later that night, when Gabriel has Dean tied to their bed and is forcing orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of him, he tells Dean how proud it makes him that Dean stood up for his rights.

--

Dean sits the GED tests. He thinks he did alright, but the results won’t be available for eight to ten weeks; possibly longer given that they’re coming up to the Holiday period.

Dean puts the GED out of his mind and concentrates on answering Sam’s questionnaires and helping Bobby do research for Hunters.

Dean hates research. It’ boring and it makes his trigger finger itchy, but at least it’s something productive he can do. If he can’t save people and hunt things himself, then at least he can help other Hunters to do it.

But he’s bored and he’s miserable and Gabriel notices right away.

He comes home from work one day and sits Dean down at the kitchen table. Dean’s mind has already strayed to handcuffs and whipped cream, so he’s thrown off balance completely when Gabriel says, “I had a long chat with Bobby Singer today.”

Dean wrenches his mind around from kinky sex on the kitchen table to ‘oh shit, am I in trouble?’

“I’m not Hunting,” he says. “I promised you I wouldn’t and I’m not.”

“I know,” Gabriel rubs a hand over his jaw. “But you want to Hunt and from what Bobby says, you’re damn good at it.”

Dean stares at his Dom, heart squeezing and shoulders tightening.

“I trust you Dean,” Gabriel says, “right up until the point where there’s a Hunt close by, people are dying and nobody else can get there as fast as you. And then, you won’t give a damn about the law or yourself or the consequences, you’ll just go gank the monster and save the people.”

Dean drops his head, unable to meet Gabriel’s eyes, because it’s true. One day it’s going to happen. And he’s going to let his Dom down, even though he doesn’t want to, because his own conscience won’t let him do anything else.

“And in my heart of hearts,” Gabriel continues softly, “I won’t even be able think you did wrong.”

Dean raises his head slowly, his eyes uncertain.

“I don’t want you breaking the law, Dean,” Gabriel’s eyes are uncompromising. “The law sucks ass, but I can’t lose you to the system. I won’t. So,” he claps his hands together and grins wickedly. “We just have to change the law.”

“Oh,” says Dean. “Is that all?”

Gabriel tells him to call his brother. “Maybe he’d like to use his thesis to put the Hunters’ Guild under the microscope.”

All those questionnaires he’s filled in for Sammy float into Dean’s mind and the thrust of all the questions is suddenly blindingly obvious.

Back in Dean’s grandparents’ day, a Sub’s place had been in the home. End of story. No further correspondence will be entered into.  Of course, there’d always been Subs working the streets, or in brothels, but the best a Sub could hope for back then as far as legitimate, respectable self-support was concerned was to be under the Guardianship of a Dom who was prepared to pay them a small wage for duties above and beyond standard home duties. Usually this was caring for the children in a household which had lost its Sub. Occasionally it was secretarial work for a businessdom who worked from home. Nowadays, in theory, a Sub could work any job he or she wanted to, provided they had the permission of their Dom.  There were a lot of Subs in the workforce; mostly in the caring or service professions.  The biggest problem was that the workforce was, well, dominated by Doms and had been for generations. All the positions of power were held by a Dom and the general attitude was that Subs simply weren’t up to some jobs; like anything that involved being in charge or having power.  Sometimes a Sub did manage to break through the glass ceiling, but those Subs were always privileged in a host of other ways, such as Dr Milton who was a genius from a powerful, wealthy family.

The SRA had done great work over the last decade, getting Subs access to education without needing the permission of their Dom. They’d done great work getting legislation in place that prevented most workplaces from discriminating on the basis of dynamic.

But there wasn’t anything that legislation could do about entrenched attitudes, and those attitudes meant that where two candidates were the same in every way, except for their dynamic, inevitably it would be the Dom chosen for the role. And a lot of professions were exempt from the legislation.

The Hunters’ Guild is one of the oldest, most powerful guilds in the country. They are steeped in archaic tradition and they are exempt from discrimination legislation.

And Sammy? Sammy loathes them with a fiery passion. The Hunters’ Guild did their best recruiting in the aftermath of a supernaturally-caused death.  The ashes of their home in Lawrence had still been hot when John Winchester had signed an employment contract with the Hunters’ Guild. Sam blamed the Guild for their nomadic lifestyle, for their father’s frequent absences and for his drinking; for their failure to have a normal life.

Dean’s cell phone is out of his pocket and he’s calling Sam before he’s even decided what he’s going to say.

Sam is pleased to hear from him and immediately begins to ask questions about one of the answers he’d given on the last questionnaire.

“Shut up for a minute,” Dean says and Sam immediately falls silent.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” he asks when the silence goes on too long.

“Are you going after the Hunters’ Guild?” Dean blurts.

Sam’s silence tells him everything he needs to know.

“You’re gonna stop,” Dean says. “Right now. Target the cops or the military instead. The Hunters have way too much power.  They could turn up on your doorstep in the middle of the night and drag you off to the compound, tell everyone you’ve been turned. And by morning? You would be.”

The Hunters scare the crap out of Dean and not just because of Gordon. For all that Dean will happily impersonate a cop, the FBI or the NSA, he’s never been game to flash a fake Hunter’s license; he wouldn’t put it past them to have some kind of enchantment in place that would be able to tell and punish the fake Hunter accordingly.

Sam sighs. “All I’m doing is writing a thesis about labor laws and workplace discrimination,” he says. “But I’ve got Dr Milton’s backing and yes, the SRA are going to use it as a springboard to launch a new campaign. And yes, we’ll be targeting the Hunters’ Guild. But Dean, it’s highly unlikely that they’d go after me, especially if they’re already in the spotlight. It’d be easier for them to overturn their ban on Subs working as Hunters and then just practice the same kind of quiet discrimination that everyone else does.”

Dean frowns. “Well how does that help then?”

“A—Rome wasn’t built in a day, we’ve gotta take baby steps. And B—when they decide that they’re gonna start allowing Subs into the Hunters’ Guild, someone’s gotta be first. And no one would be a better first than you.”

Dean flicks his eyes up to Gabriel and then rubs a hand across his jaw “So…you’re doing this for me?”

Across from him, Gabriel rolls his eyes and gives him a ‘well duh’ look. Dean suspects Gabriel might have had a good idea what Sammy was up to all along, and just wanted Dean to get with the program.

“Dean,” Sammy’s voice is deadly serious. “Hang up. I’m gonna Face-time you on Gabriel’s phone. I need to be looking at you when I say this.”

Sam hangs up. Gabriel’s cell phone rings before Dean can freak out too much.

He crosses to sit next to Gabriel and looks at Sam’s earnest, puppy dog expression with foreboding.

“Man, I'm telling you, give me five minutes with some clippers,” he says, trying to diffuse the tension he’s feeling.

Sam pulls a face and runs a hand through his long bangs. “I don’t remember Mom,” he says abruptly. “And Dad was absent for most of my first ten years.  And I don’t mean physically—although he left us alone a lot more than he should have—more that he was emotionally absent. He made no attempt to parent you and he abdicated parenting me to you. Until you presented and then he was on your back all the time; it was like miraculously, overnight, you suddenly weren’t competent any more, and I just didn’t understand it. And then, suddenly, you were gone. He just dumped you at Ellen’s place and I never saw you again,” Sam looks like he’s about to cry and Dean shifts uncomfortably. Sam takes a deep breath, clearly making an effort to rein in the obvious emotion. “You were everything to me,” he says quietly. “Mom, Dad, Dom, Sub. Everything. And as soon as you were no use to him as a Hunter, he abandoned you. You know what he used to say to me, Dean? After I presented? ‘It should’ve been you, Sammy, you should’ve been the Sub. At least your brother wanted to Hunt.’” Sam blinks back tears. “If I can right that wrong, if I can give you Hunting, then maybe, in some small way, it makes up for me having all the choices that you wanted, but didn’t get.”    

Chapter Text

As Sam so rightly pointed out, Rome wasn’t built in a day and even if Sam and the SRA do manage to pressure the Hunters’ Guild into allowing Subs into the Guild, it could be years before Dean has any hope of being able to Hunt legally. Having that glimmer of hope helps somehow, but it doesn’t make him any less bored.

So Gabriel gets him a job at a local garage.  Premium clients get their cars cleaned for them as part of their service and most of Dean’s work is washing and vacuuming expensive cars. Occasionally he’s allowed to do an oil change, refill the coolant, change the blades on the windshield wipers or refill the washer fluid.  It’s hardly challenging work, and watching the douche-canoe Dom who’s in the third year of his Mechanic’s apprenticeship botch transmission jobs that Dean could’ve done with his eyes shut is frustrating, but it gets him out of the house and gives him something to do with his hands, so it’s worth it.

He still trawls through the newsfeeds for Hunts and reports them to Bobby, but having somewhere to go and something productive to do each day reduces his urge to pack up and leave considerably.

A few days before Thanksgiving, Gabriel casually mentions that he has a standing invitation to join Victor and his family for the holiday. Dean is kneeling naked at his feet enjoying the feel of Gabriel’s hand tightening and relaxing in his hair.

He tenses at Gabe’s comment. “Okay.”

“You want to go?” Gabriel sounds surprised.

“Hell no,” Dean shudders. “Do I get a say?”

“Of course,” Gabriel sighs. “We can just stay at home, if you want. We’ll be eating leftovers for a month, but I stuff a mean turkey.”

“Do you want to go?” Dean asks.

Gabriel’s fingers tighten in Dean’s hair. “I want you to enjoy the day,” he says firmly. “Victor would insist on High Protocol; you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

--

Gabriel banishes Dean to the living room to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on the television, while he cooks up a storm of walnut and cranberry stuffed turkey, roast potatoes, green bean casserole and pumpkin pie. After lunch they collapse on the sofa in a food coma and watch the Lions lose to Atlanta, followed by a tense, exciting game between the Broncos and the Cowboys, with the Broncos scoring a 24-yard field goal in overtime, to win the game. Dean falls asleep on the sofa and doesn’t wake up until midnight, when Gabe shakes him awake and drags his sleepy, uncoordinated ass upstairs to bed. Dean’s asleep again before his head hits the pillow. It’s the first night in weeks that they don’t have sex.

Gabriel is on call on Black Friday, but everything is quiet and he doesn’t have to go into the office; which is just as well because they’re both still so stuffed from the day before that they can barely move. The spend the day on the sofa watching a Clint Eastwood movie marathon, and that night, they’re still too tired and full from the previous day’s eating binge to do more than swap lazy hand jobs before falling asleep.

They make up for it over the weekend.

On Saturday Gabriel decides to experiment with Shibari.  He binds Dean’s arms behind his back, entwining the rope around his torso and arms in intricate diamond patterns, creating a sort of a harness. It takes him some time and Dean, who had been expecting to find the process of being tied up boring, is surprised to find that it’s actually relaxing, the pressure on his skin almost like a massage. Gabe binds his calves to his thighs next and then drags an A-Frame in from out in the garage and uses it to suspend Dean face down, with his spread legs tied to the frame.  Dean hangs, trussed up and helpless, swinging gently, and it isn’t long before he finds himself falling gently into a trance.

Gabriel watches intently as Dean swings in his makeshift harness, his skin beautifully patterned by the rope and his cock hard and leaking against his belly. Dean had grumbled when Gabriel first produced the rope, but so far he’s been nothing but calm and biddable. When his jaw goes slack and his eyes glaze over, Gabriel is delighted.

Fan art created by TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen

 

“Are you okay, Dean?” he whispers.

“Uh huh,” Dean’s voice is slurred, but he nods.

Gabriel spends a long time slowly and carefully opening Dean up and then he teases him with the prostate massager until he’s begging for release. Gabriel gives him permission and he comes all over the floor without his cock even being touched. Gabriel wipes the mess up and makes a note to get the carpet steam cleaned. And then he unzips and takes out his own swollen, aching cock. Dean’s face is flushed, his pupils are huge and his breathing is slow.

Gabriel grips one of his hands. “Are you okay, Dean? Squeeze my hand if you’re okay.” Dean squeezes his hand.

“So good for me,” Gabriel says. “You really are amazing.”

Dean smiles sleepily and Gabriel nudges his cock against his Sub’s lips. Dean obediently opens his mouth and Gabriel feeds him his dick, groaning when Dean relaxes his throat and swallows him all the way down. Before long, Gabriel is holding Dean’s head and fucking hard and fast into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. He comes with a shout, straight down Dean’s throat and when he pulls out, Dean is so deep in Subspace that he’s barely responsive. Gabriel unbinds him and then sits on the couch, cradling him in his arms until he finally stirs.

“Wow,” Dean says. “That was awesome.”

Gabriel grins. “Looks like we found another sure fire way to get you into Subspace.”

--

On Sunday Gabriel drags a free-standing fucking machine in from the garage. “I forgot I had this in storage,” he says.  He spends the morning tinkering with it, cleaning and sterilizing it and then, fifteen minutes before Kansas City is due to kick off, he pulls it into the living room and orders Dean to strip.

“But…football!” Dean says.

“You can still watch the football,” says Gabriel. “It’ll just be more fun this way.”

Dean isn’t entirely convinced, but submitting to Gabriel usually results in him having at least one earth-shattering orgasm, so he gets naked and allows himself to be positioned doggy style in front of the television.

Gabriel places a whole bunch of pillows (and towels—he learnt his lesson yesterday) under Dean’s torso and then cuffs his ankles to a spreader bar, so that Dean has no choice but to keep his asshole exposed, angled up and readily available. Gabriel smothers two fingers in KY jelly and works Dean open quickly and efficiently, before lubing up a fat eight inch dildo and attaching it to the machine. He places it at Dean’s entrance and then pauses. “You okay?”

At Dean’s nod, he sets the machine to run on its lowest speed-setting and the machine whirs and then thrusts up into Dean just in time for kick-off.

By the end of the first quarter, Dean is panting hard and straining for completion. The machine isn’t thrusting hard enough and isn’t positioned at quite the right angle to get him off untouched. Gabriel takes pity on him. Sort of. He undoes his pants and nudges his hard, red cock against his Sub’s lips. “Get me off before the commercial break finishes and I’ll let you come.” Dean looks up at him with glassy eyes and then sucks the head of Gabriel’s cock into his mouth, drinking it down with more suction than a vacuum cleaner, while using his tongue to great effect. As horny as Gabriel is from watching Dean get fucked by the machine, it doesn’t take long before he’s coming down his Sub’s throat.

“Please,” Dean says when Gabriel pulls off and tucks himself away. He sounds thoroughly wrecked and Gabriel has barely wrapped his hand around Dean’s dick before he’s coming, hard. Gabriel gentles him through it and then snaps a cock ring into place with a wicked grin. “You don’t get to come again until the game’s over,” he says.

He turns the machine up a notch and then settles back onto the sofa with a bowl of Gummi Bears.

By half-time Dean is a moaning, sweaty, writhing mess. Gabriel wipes him down with a cool, wet cloth and makes him drink a small bottle of water. He strokes Dean’s hair and tells him how well he’s doing, ignoring his desperate pleas. Dean has his safe word; he’ll use it if he needs too.

“You can take a little bit more for me, can’t you, Babe?”

Dean shakes his head frantically.

“Yes you can,” Gabriel says. He turns the machine up another notch. “And you know what to do if you can’t.” Dean swears vehemently and slumps down against the pillows. “Good boy,” Gabriel praises. And then he goes and gets a ball gag so that Dean can scream as much as he wants to without disturbing the neighbors. “You remember your safe signal?” Gabriel checks. Dean nods.

By the end of the third quarter, Gabriel is feeling pretty desperate himself. The sound of Dean’s muted groans, the smell of his sweat and his pheromones and the glorious sight of the fat dildo pounding his ass is almost more than Gabriel can handle. He breathes through his arousal and fixes his gaze on Dean’s swollen purple, leaking dick. If Dean can be this strong, if he can take this, then so can he.

Gabriel turns the machine down to its lowest setting. He wipes Dean down again and takes the gag off, giving Dean some more to drink. “You are so awesome,” he tells his Sub, massaging his neck and shoulders and running his hands along his flanks, “I am so proud of you right now. Just one more quarter to go and then I’m gonna take you off this machine and put my cock in you, give it to you hard and deep and slow, just the way you need it.”

Gabriel leaves the machine on slow but repositions it slightly, changing the angle so that every thrust will hit Dean’s prostate dead-on. He leaves the gag off.

The last quarter is the longest one in NFL history, or maybe it just seems that way to Gabriel. The moans and whimpers coming out of Dean’s mouth are just the prettiest noises he has ever heard and his Sub’s pheromones are screaming fuck me so loudly that Gabriel’s surprised half the Dom’s on the street aren’t beating down his door.    

When Dean starts to sob, Gabriel lets him cry his frustration into the pillows for a couple of minutes and then goes to him and strokes his back. The game isn’t quite over, but Gabriel doesn’t care. Dean has been so incredibly good for him. He turns the machine off and pulls it out slowly, running a hand soothingly across Dean’s lower back when he whimpers. “So good for me,” he says as he uncuffs his Sub from the spreader bar and moves it out the way, pulling Dean up onto his hands and knees. Gabriel unfastens his pants and pulls them down. He spreads Dean’s ass cheeks apart with his hands and then thrusts inside. Whatever resistance there might have been has been battered away by the machine and Gabriel is balls deep in one long slide. He rolls his hips and gives half a dozen slow, deep thrusts before reaching around and taking off Dean’s cock ring. Dean starts coming immediately and Gabriel jacks him off with firm, even strokes. Once he’s done, Dean collapses onto the pillows, his mouth slack and his expression sleepy. Gabriel keeps moving inside him, slowly and gently at first, and then, when he gets no complaint from Dean, he picks up the pace and rocks into him harder.

“You okay, Dean?” he asks

Dean stirs sleepily and looks over his shoulder at his Dom. “M’good,” he says.

In truth he’s sore and a little shaky, but he always enjoys the sensation of Gabe’s cock filling him and despite his own discomfort he likes the fact that he’s making his Dom feel good.

Gabe starts thrusting faster, his hips snapping hard against Dean’s ass and Dean can’t quite contain the little hurt noises that escape from his bitten lips. Gabriel pounds in, fast and desperate, gasping and groaning as he chases his release, and Dean can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt, can’t pretend he doesn’t feel a deep-seated throb of pain every time Gabe drives in deep.

Gabriel fucks in deep one final time, his body going rigid as he comes, hot and wet, inside of Dean.  He pulls out carefully and then cleans his Sub gently before helping him stand and leading him over to the sofa. Gabriel goes to the kitchen and gets a fresh bottle of ice cold water for Dean and they sit together, their arms wrapped around each other, coming down from the high.

“Who won the game?” Dean says after a while.

Gabriel laughs. “No idea. You want me to find a replay?”

--

Dean is surprised to discover that he enjoys routine and domesticity.

He grew up on the road and once he took off at eighteen he never stayed in the one place long.  Not only was he breaking the law by living outside the Guardianship of a Dom, he was also breaking it by Hunting unlicensed, and a lot of the things he did to support himself were illegal too; credit card fraud, pool hustling, backroom poker games, even the occasional spot of prostitution if he was really down on his luck. So it had made sense to stay on the move. The one period in his life when he’d been settled had been the three years he spent at Ellen’s and that had been the most miserable period of his life. Up until he’d met Gordon, anyway.

It wasn’t that Ellen was cruel or uncaring; she’d done her honest best by him, but Dean was in a really bad headspace by the time she got him.

Ordinarily, juvenile Subs are managed by their Submissive parent because Subs can help other Subs achieve Subspace without feeling that it is in any way sexual. A lot of Doms struggle with that, unless they’ve been specially trained. Dean’s dad didn’t think the training was necessary, didn’t have time for it, and had refused to take on Guardianship of an adult Sub to help Dean out, preferring to try to manage Dean himself. That had been an unmitigated disaster, culminating in a nightmare, and his Dad had ended up dumping him at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, reasoning that Ellen would have an easier time managing him because she was same-dynamic oriented—her partner Bill had been killed on a hunt with Dean’s Dad a few years back. Besides, Ellen was already the Guardian of another Sub, Ash, so that was proof that she could do it.

Ash is a couple of years older than Dean and if it hadn’t been for him, Dean isn’t sure he would’ve made it. Ash introduced him to Zero and on the few occasions when that didn’t work, he was happy to fool around with him. Dean discovered pretty quickly that despite the fact that he hated the way most Doms looked down on Subs, he was neither a-dynamic nor same-dynamic oriented, and after a few months he stopped caring that his Dad might call him a slut and started batting his eyes at every Dom in school who looked at him twice. What did it matter if Dean Winchester had a reputation as the school bike? It wasn’t like he was looking to get bonded and it wasn’t as if he was planning on sticking around.

So discovering that he likes stability and domesticity is something of a shock.

It’s also kind of nice to be himself again, not having to worry about whether his true pheromones are poking their way through the spray-on Dom pheromones, not having to constantly police himself for undomlike behavior, not having to worry that he’ll get caught checking out a Dom and people will see through him and realize that he’s a Sub. He’s feeling comfortable and content for the first time in a very long time and he has Gabriel to thank for it.

Gabriel, who seems to be even more estranged from his family than Dean is.

Dean knows that Gabriel is an Archangel and he knows that the Archangel family is High Protocol. He also knows that Gabe isn’t, that he likes working in the Sub Division of the DoD because he feels like he can do some good there and that he’s pro law reform where Dynamics are concerned. It’s really no wonder his family doesn’t talk to him.  

Thinking about Gabe’s estrangement from his family gets him thinking about Dr Milton. Dean researched him online when he found out Sammy was working closely with him. Before he got bonded, he’d been Castiel Archangel. Everyone knew that. And everyone knew the story of how he’d run away from the Sub Finishing School his family had sent him to and gone to a friend for help. That friend had never been identified in any of the articles written about Dr Milton; all anyone knew was that from the time Castiel Archangel presented until the time he bonded with Anna Milton, he’d been helped by a supportive Dom, without whom, he frequently told interviewers, he never would’ve gotten anywhere. Dr Milton never names the mystery Dom, out of respect for his privacy, and he is always referred to in interviews by the code name Loki.  It’s good, Dean thinks, that Dr Milton had someone to support him. It’s just a shame that when Gabe’s branch of the Archangel family turned on him, he didn’t have someone to back him up.

--

Gabriel buys Dean a laptop. When Dean protests, he says it’s an early Christmas present. Besides, he says, it’s awkward them both needing to use the one computer.

Every evening after supper, Gabriel disappears into his study to do extra work on DoD cases and Dean either watches television (he’s become slightly addicted to Dr Sexy M.D.) or he trawls the internet looking for Hunts, emails Sam, or calls Bobby or Ellen.

Sometimes he hears Gabriel on the phone, but it’s just a background burble, Gabe is never loud enough for Dean to make out his words.

Until one night, about a week and a half before Sam and Jess are due to arrive.  Dr Palmer is looking particular sexy in his white coat and cowboy boots and he’s having a very compelling conversation with Dr Wang, the sexy but arrogant heart surgeon, when Gabriel starts cussing so loudly that Dean can hear every word he’s saying. He pauses his show and cocks his head to one side.

“No. No way,” he hears Gabriel shout. “Don’t you dare put that on me. You know I can’t…Are you serious?”

Dean gravitates to the study door and puts his ear against it. “Okay, okay. Goddamn it. What about Dean? What am I supposed to tell him?”

And that? That doesn’t sound good at all. It sounds as if Gabe is considering lying to him about something and that? That just doesn’t work for Dean. He can’t submit properly to a Dom if he doesn’t trust him or her completely.

Dean opens the study door and pushes it open. Gabriel turns and stares at him.

“Set it up,” he says into the phone.  He ends the call, his eyes still on Dean’s.

“Sounds like we need to talk,” says Dean.

--

Gabriel makes coffee and digs a box of liqueur chocolates out of the back of the pantry. They sit together in the kitchen and Dean lets the silence build, content to wait Gabe out.

“You know my family don’t speak to me,” he says at last, “black sheep of the family and all that,” he gives Dean a grin, but it’s strained and doesn’t fool Dean one bit. “You know the Archangel family is very protocol driven and you know that I’m not,” he looks at Dean, his eyes suddenly serious.  “I do everything I can as a DoD officer to make sure that the Subs whose cases come across my desk have proper access to justice. Sometimes I have to bend the law,” Gabe takes a sip of coffee and rubs a hand across his chin. “And sometimes,” he breathes in deeply, “sometimes I have to break it.”

Gabriel’s eyes are sad and wide and he looks at Dean as if he’s expecting condemnation or censure.

Dean sticks out his hand. “Hi,” he says. “Dean Winchester. Convicted felon.”

Gabriel huffs out a laugh. “I’m a DoD officer. I’m supposed to uphold the law.”

Dean helps himself to a bourbon-filled chocolate, the crinkle of the wrapper loud in the stillness of the kitchen. “This is gonna sound…religious or whatever,” he puts the chocolate in his mouth and chews, “but sometimes there’s a higher law. Sometimes, some laws are bad. And most good people do nothing because they don’t wanna get in trouble. Sometimes, the real hero is the person who risks themselves to challenge a law they know is bad.”

Gabriel grimaces. “I’m no hero,” he says. “In my own way I’ve been in hiding just as much as you have.”

 Dean nods thoughtfully. “Tell me about this law-breaking we’re about to do.”

Gabriel puts him hands over his face. “Can’t believe I’ve dragged you into this,” he mutters, before sitting up straight. “Tomorrow, after work, I’m gonna be taking delivery of a new St Andrew’s Cross. At least, that’s what the box’ll say. Inside the box there’s gonna be a Sub called Lisa Braeden and her six-year-old son, Ben.” He pauses and peers up at Dean, trying to gauge his reaction, but Dean’s face is blank. “Lisa is on the run from a rich, powerful, abusive asshole of a Dom and we’re gonna hide her and her son for a day or so while somebody else arranges some false papers for them.”

He’s watching Dean carefully, his body leaking tension, ready to spring into some kind of action if Dean reacts badly.

Dean grins widely. “Cool,” he says.

--

They’re both home when the delivery truck turns up. The delivery drivers wheel the big box inside and Gabriel signs for it out in the driveway, while Dean starts the process of unpacking.  Lisa, when she steps out of the box, is beautiful. Beautiful and terrified. Her eyes dart around looking for threats, landing finally on Dean’s collar. She raises fear-filled eyes to his. “Why are you wearing that?” her voice shakes.

She isn’t wearing a collar, although Dean can see a ring of pale, flaky skin where a collar used to be.

“Got into some trouble a while back,” Dean says easily. “I needed a State Guardian and Gabe stepped up to the plate,” he squats down and holds out his fist to the little boy clinging to Lisa’s leg. “Hey there, little guy. You must be Ben.”

The kid looks up at Lisa and when she nods he does too.

“Fist bump,” Dean wiggles his fist and Ben smiles shyly and makes his own fist, bumping it against Deans. Dean ruffles his hair and stands up.

“Cute kid,” he says to Lisa. “Kids are the best, huh?” It’s possible that he’s laying it on a bit thick, but Dean really wants Lisa to relax.

She folds her arms and raises her eyebrows at his comment. “Uh huh,” she says. “Name three kids you even know?”

Dean grins, putting every ounce of impudence he has into it. “Well, there’s Ben,” he says, “And my little brother Sammy was a kid, last time I saw him in the flesh.”

Lisa’s smile is both sad and understanding, but before she can say anything Gabriel comes back inside and Lisa freezes.

“It’s okay,” Dean say softly, running a soothing hand across her shoulders. “Gabe’s one of the good guys.” Lisa leans into his touch and relaxes slightly.

Dean crosses to Gabe and throws an arm around him. “Lisa, Ben,” he says, “I’d like you to meet my Dom, Gabriel. You can call him Gabe if you want. Or short-stuff.”

Lisa boggles at him and then glances up at Gabriel fearfully.

Gabriel gives her his kindest smile. “Hi Lisa, Ben. It’s great to meet you. I’m really glad we could help you out.” 

Lisa still looks untrusting and ready to run and Gabriel silently curses the asshole Dom who betrayed her trust and the gift of her submission so horrifically.

Dean squeezes his arm. “How about I show Lisa and Ben into the guest room?” he suggests.

Gabriel nods and stays standing stock still while Dean helps Lisa retrieve a large duffel bag from inside the box.

“We didn’t have time to pack much stuff,” she says apologetically.

Dean ruffles Ben’s hair. “Don’t sweat it,” he says, “you got the most important thing out, right?”

Gabriel doesn’t move until the three of them have disappeared up the stairs and then he breaks the box down and takes it out to the garbage before heading into the kitchen to get started with supper.

They don’t come downstairs again for an hour and a half and when they do, both Dean and Lisa are sporting red-rimmed eyes and Ben is in Dean’s arms, clinging to him like a limpet.

The sight of his Sub clearly distressed and another Sub who’s in his care equally distressed causes Gabriel’s protective instincts to surge and he’s across the floor and taking Dean (and by extension, Ben) into his arms before he’s really had a chance to think. The scent of fear radiating off Lisa spikes wildly and then begins to dissolve in the wake of the soothing, calming pheromones Gabriel is emitting. She gazes at him with big eyes, bewildered and confused, but she comes willingly enough when Gabriel opens an arm to bring her into his embrace with Dean. “Group hug,” he says.   

Dean tolerates the embrace for a little while longer and then pulls away, setting Ben down on the ground. “Dude,” he says to Gabriel, “how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t do chick flick moments?”

But he’s smiling and he smells thoroughly content, and his comment makes Lisa laugh, something Gabriel suspects hasn’t happened in a long time. 

Gabriel spends the entire evening checking himself for overtly dominant behaviour, but Dean is just wholeheartedly himself. As per usual Gabriel goes to spend an hour working in the study and when he comes out again, Ben is nowhere in sight—presumably he’s been put to bed— and Dean and Lisa are curled up on the sofa together watching Hunters: Miami. Dean hates the show, only ever watches it so that he can poke fun at the actors playing the Hunters and complain about all the inaccuracies. Lisa apparently thinks the lead Dom is hot.

Dean gets up when Gabriel walks in and makes room for him on the sofa, before disappearing out into the kitchen. He comes back with three mugs of hot chocolate, all topped with marshmallows and whipped cream. Lisa is up one end of the sofa, Gabriel up the other and there is plenty of room for Dean to sit between the two of them. Instead he settles himself down on the floor at Gabriel’s feet, and Gabriel realizes with a start that it is almost 9.30pm. His fingers are in Dean’s hair before he can stop himself. He remembers Lisa with a jolt of guilt and casts a furtive glance her way. She’s watching them out of the corner of her eye, a wistful expression on her face.

When the hour is up, Dean climbs up onto the sofa and settles under Gabriel’s arm with a content sigh. And then he holds out an arm to Lisa. Lisa hesitates for a moment, her gaze flickering between the two of them, and then she scoots across and cuddles up next to Dean.  Gabriel gives Dean a look of approval. Lisa is much more relaxed than she was when she arrived and—Gabriel subtly scents the air—her oxytocin levels have risen too.

Later that night, Gabriel pins Dean to their bed and fucks him long and slow and deep. Every deep thrust punches a cry of pleasure from Dean and the Sub makes no attempt to keep quiet, or to reign in his pheromones, which are advertising loudly just how content and thoroughly well-fucked he’s feeling.

--

The next morning while they’re cooking breakfast together, Dean mentions, in an off-hand kind of way, that he has the day off work.

“Told the boss you were getting a new St Andrew’s cross and, being a typical impatient Dom, you’d probably want to try it out straight away, so I probably wouldn’t be fit to work today.”

Gabriel’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times. “I…you...” he splutters.

“I’m a devious genius, I know,” Dean remarks solemnly.

“If I didn’t know you better,” says Gabriel, “I’d think you were angling for a spanking. You deserve one for that.”

There’s a gasp from the doorway, where Lisa is standing, looking horrified. “He beats you?” she says to Dean before turning to look sadly at Gabriel. “I thought you were different.”

Dean rubs at the back of his neck. “He doesn’t beat me,” he says. “He doesn’t even spank me all that often since we discovered Shibari. And even then, it’s only cuz it’s the quickest and easiest way to get me into Subspace. Trust me when I say that nothing abusive is going on here.”

Lisa nods her acceptance of Dean’s claim, but continues to shoot Gabriel wary looks throughout breakfast. Gabriel and Dean keep up a stream of witty banter and gentle teasing of each other until she relaxes again and by the end of breakfast both she and Ben are giggling at their antics.

“Well,” says Gabriel, as Dean starts to take the plates over to the dishwasher, “seeing as how some of us didn’t con our boss into giving us a day off, I suppose I’d better head into the office.”

“Yeah, okay, bye,” Dean says taking a handful of cutlery from Lisa and bending over to put it into the cutlery basket. Gabriel creeps up behind him and before Dean can straighten up, he lands a playful slap on Dean’s ass, following up with a lewd grope which makes Dean yelp and haul himself upright. At the table Ben laughs out loud.

Gabriel can’t resist grinding against his Sub’s ass and pulling his head around to nuzzle and bite at his jaw. “Don’t you have some breadwinning to go and do?” Dean gasps. He’s trying to sound put-upon, but the spike of lustful pheromones gives him away and Lisa clears her throat pointedly.

“Uh guys? There are children present!”

Gabriel steps away from Dean reluctantly and takes his leave while Dean finishes stacking the dishwasher and tries to get himself back under control.

When he finally turns to face Lisa she’s back at the table, sipping her coffee and watching him thoughtfully. Ben is sitting quietly next to her, drawing with his crayons.

“You really like him, huh?” she says.

Dean slides into the chair opposite her and nods. “Yeah. It’s crazy, but we work.”

“What about that ugly thing?” she nods at his collar and Dean explains that it has to stay on while he’s under the State Guardianship Order.

“You know it’s micro-chipped, right? If you run they’ll track you; if you try to get it off it’ll scream out an alarm, as well as report back to the computer that it’s been tampered with.”

Dean does know that.

“How long’s it been on?” Lisa asks.

“Seven weeks.”

Lisa raises an eyebrow. “And how long is the Order for?”

Dean rubs a hand across his jaw. “Twelve months ‘til I’m eligible for my first evaluation.”

Lisa adds some more sugar to her coffee and stirs it. “What then?” she asks, not looking up.

“I don’t know,” Dean admits quietly. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

--

Lisa and Ben’s new papers arrive early the next morning and Gabriel and Dean smuggle their guests into Gabe’s car through the garage and drive them to a rendezvous point where they meet up with the person who’s taking them on the next leg of their journey.

Lisa hugs Dean long and hard and wishes him good luck. And then she surprises Gabriel by hugging him too. “Thank you,” she says, “both of you. I’d forgotten that it could be good; forgotten that there were decent Doms out there. You reminded me of that. I hope I get as lucky as Dean one day.” 

Chapter Text

Sam and Jess’s flight will be arriving at Lincoln Airport at 4.00pm on Saturday December 18^th.  Sam plans to hire a car for the two hour drive to Kearney and Dean is expecting to see his little brother in the flesh, for the first time in over a decade, at around 6.30pm.

Just in time for supper.

Despite having been Face-timing and emailing with Sam for almost two months, Dean is nervous.

Things had been confusing in the six months leading up to Dean being dumped on Ellen and Sammy had been so young. What if he doesn’t respect Dean anymore? What if he treats him like some kind of helpless weakling?

Dean works himself up into such a state worrying about how things are going to go with Sam that Gabriel breaks out the ropes. He binds Dean tightly and suspends him from a makeshift harness and then stuffs him with a ball gag and a vibrating butt plug. By the time Sam and Jess’s plane lands, Dean is limp, drooling and glassy eyed.  Gabriel fucks him slow and deep while jacking him off and when they’ve finished he sends his loose, sleepy, stress-free Sub to have a nap, while he cleans up and packs everything away.

Dean wakes up to shouting and a scent-overload of dominant pheromones. Gabriel is telling someone to calm down, there’s a woman’s voice telling someone to calm down and there is another voice, demanding: “What did you do to my brother? Dean doesn’t nap! If you’re abusing him, I swear to the Lord and Lady that I’ll rip your lungs out!”  

Ah. Sammy.

Dean gets out of bed and pulls on sweat pants and a long-sleeved Henley. Probably better if Sam doesn’t see the faint diamond patterns mottling Dean’s skin right now.

He pads downstairs, barefooted and sleep-tousled and finds Sam bailing Gabriel up against the hallway wall.

“What the Hell, Sammy?” he says. “A guy can’t take a nap around here without you going all SuperDom, Protector of the Universe?”   

Sam gapes at him. “Dean?”

Dean spreads his arms wide. “The one and only.”

Sam lets go of Gabriel with a sheepish apologetic glance and throws himself at Dean. He hugs him tightly, giant arms swamping Dean. For all his obvious power and strength, Dean can feel him trembling and all his big brother instincts and urges come racing back. He hugs his little brother tighter, closing his eyes and just revelling in having Sammy in his arms. It feels a lot like coming home.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Sam whispers, and Dean can tell that he’s trying hard not to cry.

“Back at you, little brother,” he says, voice gruff with emotion.

They pull apart by unspoken mutual agreement, but remain standing shoulder to shoulder.  Sam casts another sheepish glance at Gabriel. “I’m sorry, man,” he says. “I can’t believe I went off on you like that. I’ve just been so…” he looks instinctively to the woman, who is standing off to the side, just watching them. She’s tall and blonde and really attractive, wearing tight blue jeans with black lace up boots, a low cut Smurfs top and a black leather jacket.

“Tense?” she says. “Stressed out? Nervous? A huge pain in my ass for the entire day?” She smiles at Dean and shakes her head. “If he was a Sub, I would’ve put him down deep, just to get him to relax. I’m Jess, by the way.” She steps forward and offers Dean her hand.

“Dean,” he can’t help the flirtatious grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I love the Smurfs. And I just gotta say, you are way outta my brother’s league.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Really, Dean?”

The Dom steps toward Sam and offers his hand. “Maybe we could try the introductions again,” he says, “this time, without your gigantic paw up against my throat.”

Sam shakes Gabriel’s hand and unleashes the puppy dog eyes. “I am so, so sorry,” he says.

Gabriel waves a hand at him dismissively. “Oh put those away. I understand, kid. I really do. But you might wanna rethink some of those instincts around your brother. He won’t stand for it,” he turns to Jess and shakes her hand too, before suggesting to Dean that he show them up to the guest bedroom.

Sam and Jess have a duffel bag each and they follow Dean up the stairs.

“So,” Dean turns and eyes his brother. “You’re both Doms.”

Sam swallows. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Nope. I don’t care who you love, who you bone or who bones you. So long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

“Thank you,” Sam says.

Dean waggles his eyebrows. “So how does it work then, do you switch it up? Or does one of you always play the Sub part?”

Sam face-palms. “Really, Dean?”

“Hey,” Dean holds his hands up. “I’m just curious. Here’s your room.”

Dean leans against the wall and watches while his brother and his partner put their bags down and look around the small, nicely-furnished room. They exchange a look and then Sam says, “If you must know, Jess and I are both a-dynamic.”

Dean gapes. “What? You just fuck and that’s it?”

“We’re not into BDSM,” Jess says gently. “We enjoy each other’s bodies in pleasurable ways, but we never incorporate pain or domination in our pleasure.”

“Oh,” says Dean. “Well…whatever trips your trigger, right? The bathroom’s right across the hall. Feel free to freshen up. Supper’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”

--

Sam and Dean slip back into the easy, comfortable relationship they had as kids without too much trouble.  They move in sync, have long conversations without saying a word and tease each other mercilessly. They go out together and choose a Christmas tree and Sam takes great joy in helping Gabriel to decorate the tree and the house, while Dean and Jess roll their eyes. Jess, Dean learns, is training to be a nurse. He makes appropriately inappropriate comments about her being welcome to examine him thoroughly any time, until Gabriel threatens to take him upstairs and spank him, which embarrasses both Jess and Sam immensely, and Dean not at all.

Gabriel buys a ton of Christmas candy and spends the week with a candy cane perpetually sticking out of his mouth. It makes him taste like peppermint, which Dean decides he prefers to Gabe’s usual cherry flavor.

So things are going well, but that’s not to say there aren’t some uncomfortable moments. Sam’s eyes nearly bug out of his head the first time Dean sits at Gabriel’s feet, and Dean’s cheerful revelation that he’d be doing it stark naked if Sam and Jess weren’t around does nothing to help with the narrow-eyed almost-glares Sam keeps sending Gabriel’s way. Sam winces whenever Gabriel calls Dean ‘my Sub’ and he looks perplexed whenever Dean refers to Gabriel as ‘my Dom’ and he seems to be having a hard time believing that Dean is really and truly happy with Gabriel.

Things come to a head on Christmas Eve.

Usually, Gabriel uses Shibari to get Dean into Subspace, but it’s not something they can do in front of Sam and Jess and their bedroom is too small to fit the A-frame they need to suspend Dean. So the night before Christmas Eve, Gabe spanks him. Dean sleeps late the next morning and wakes up feeling relaxed and content. His ass is barely pink and doesn’t really hurt and he’s whistling cheerfully when he enters the frigid atmosphere of the kitchen.

“Whoa,” he says. “Who died?”

Gabe is frying bacon at the stove, his back studiously turned.

“Ah shit,” Dean’s face tightens. “Who died? Is it Dad?”

Sam clears his throat and then gets to his feet, inclining his head toward the living room. “Can we talk, Dean?”

They sit on the sofa and Sam runs a nervous hand across his mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asks finally.

“Uh. Yes? What’s going on Sammy?”

“It’s just…we heard… Your Dom beat you last night, Dean!”

“Really?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “That’s what this is about?”

“Of course that’s what this is about,” Sam hisses. “I know I was only a kid when you presented and Dad started beating you, but don’t think I don’t remember you screaming in agony for him to stop! Don’t think I don’t remember how bruised and welted your ass was; how you couldn’t sit for days; how miserable you were and how much you cried! I—”

“Dean?”

Sam breaks off when Gabriel comes into the room, followed by Jess. It’s only then that he realizes his brother is hunched in on himself and—a subtle sniff tells him— emitting waves of distressed pheromones.

“Dean?” Gabriel sits down next to Dean and Dean curls into the Dom’s chest.

“What the Hell?” Sam mutters, embarrassed by his brother’s open neediness.

 “So your Dad tried to manage you himself, huh?” Gabriel says softly against Dean’s hair.

Dean nods.

“And he didn’t get the training?”

Dean shakes his head. Gabriel squeezes him tightly. “I bet that worked well,” his voice drips sarcasm.

“Dad beat the shit out of him,” Sam says harshly, “once a week, every week, regular as clockwork.”

Gabriel’s look is assessing. “I can’t imagine the impact that must’ve had on you,” he tells Sam.

Dean sits up, abruptly pulling away from Gabriel. “Awesome though this little trip down memory lane’s been, I smell bacon.”

Gabriel puts a restraining hand on him. “Did your Dad manage to get you into Subspace at all?”

Dean laughs and it’s an ugly, broken sound. “Nope. Which made him even more pissed off at me, which made him hit me even harder.”

“And then you got sick? Because you hadn’t reached Subspace in nearly six months?”

 Dean closes his eyes. ‘Yeah.”

“So he sent you to live with Ellen, hoping she could do what he couldn’t?”

Dean shudders. He pushes up from the sofa and moves away, standing with his back to the three Doms in the room.

“Like clockwork, right Sammy?” he says, his voice distant. “Every Saturday night, after he’d spent a couple hours at a bar getting himself drunk enough that he could do it,” he pauses and Sam and Gabriel exchange a look.

“This one night,” Dean says finally, “I felt so shitty that I just…I couldn’t go through it again. So I took off. I thought that if I could just stay out all night, wait him out, then maybe he wouldn’t do it. I don’t even know; I was pretty much a mess by then with Subspace Deprivation Syndrome; who the Hell knows what I was thinking.”

Dean rubs a hand across his face and when he speaks again his voice is thick and shaky. “I got cornered by a group of college-age Doms in the park. They said they knew what I needed and they were gonna give it to me,” Dean sniffs wetly and rubs at his face again. “When I got home…after…Dad could smell them on me and he thought I’d gone out and let a bunch of Doms fuck me on purpose. He was…so angry with me,” Dean’s voice breaks and his shoulders tremble. “But you wanna know the worst part?” Dean wipes at his face and turns around, peering at them with tears streaming down his face. “That was the first time I reached Subspace. What kind of sick fuck relaxes enough to reach Subspace from their own rape? That’s what convinced Dad that I’d wanted it, that I was a slut. And that’s why he dumped me at Ellen’s.”

Dean scrubs a hand over his eyes again and Gabriel goes to him slowly and wraps him up in a comforting hug. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says. “Dean, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” Dean says.

“You were suffering from acute SDS. Anyone half way competent should’ve been able to put you down easily. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Why couldn’t my Dad do it then?”

Gabriel sighs. “Because he didn’t know how to without making it sexual. He should’ve done the training. Everything that went wrong? His fault, not yours.”

“Gabriel’s right,” says Sam, his own eyes red-rimmed with tears.

Dean looks directly at him. “Do you trust me, Sammy?”

“You know I do.”

Dean nods. “Then trust me when I tell you that I know when I’m being abused and when I’m not. And Gabe is not abusing me. He just gives me what I need.”

Sam studies him intently and then gives a brisk nod. “You’re really happy, aren’t you?” he says.

“Yeah, Sam, I am.” Dean lifts his chin, his expression mulish.

Sam nods again. “You know, after I saw the way Dad treated you, after I heard you’d been passing as a Dom, and, well, knowing that I was a-dynamic, I just kind of figured that you couldn’t really be happy living as a Sub. I figured you were going along with it out of fear or obligation or some kind of Stockholm syndrome. But…you’re actually happy.”

Sam sounds kind of incredulous and Dean wishes there was some way he could make his little brother understand. He shrugs. “I guess I found some kind of balance,” he says.

“Dynamic Equilibrium,” Jess says.

The men all turn to look at her. “The rate of loss is equal to the rate of gain,” they still look puzzled, so she explains, “You give up something of yourself by submitting to Gabriel, but he gives you another part of yourself back in return.”

--

In the wake of Dean’s revelations, the household spends the day walking on egg shells, treating Dean like some kind of invalid. It gets on Dean’s nerves and he ends up pulling his baby out into the driveway and giving her some much needed TLC.

He skips lunch, preferring to give his beautifully-tuned baby a wax and polish, and then spends the afternoon reclining in her back seat, listening to his cassette tapes and thinking about the past. He thinks about what Jess said too and figures that she’s right. He may not fit the Sub stereotype, but he’s definitely a Sub. What he has with Gabe works. It makes him happy. And he can see himself being with Gabe long after the DoD collar comes off.  Which means he should probably tell him about Gordon.

Sam and Jess take over the kitchen and bake beef and vegetable pot pies for supper, which go a long way towards improving Dean’s mood.  He’s also pleased to see that any lingering animosity there’d been between Gabe and Sam has gone; they’re thick as thieves in fact, talking animatedly about Sub rights, the SRA and law reform.

After supper they all watch A Charlie Brown Christmas, followed by Diehard, and Gabriel makes eggnog, which Dean drinks sitting at his Dom’s feet.

Dean is still uncharacteristically quiet when they go to bed. He strips naked and slips into bed beside Gabriel, burrowing himself against the older man.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Gabriel asks.

Dean shakes his head. “It happened, it sucked. I survived,” he sighs, “but while we’re poking at festering wounds, I should probably tell you about Gordon.”

Gabriel looks at him expectantly and Dean rolls over onto his other side, ass pressed against Gabriel’s groin, back against his chest.

Gabriel swallows and wraps a comforting arm around his Sub. If Dean can’t even look at him for this, it’s obviously going to be a tough conversation.

“I met Gordon when I was twenty-one,” Dean tells him after a while. “I’d stumbled onto a vampire Hunt, but Gordon was already on the Job. Officially. Sent by the Guild. I decided to shadow him, see what I could learn. When he went to clean out the nest, one of the vamps got the drop on him and I ended up saving his life,” he huffs out a humorless laugh. “I was so proud of myself. Anyway, Gordon insisted on taking me out to a bar to say thank you and we just kind of hit it off, spent the night getting wasted and swapping Hunting stories. I woke up the next day gagged and handcuffed to his bed. My DomScent had worn off during the night,” Dean shudders. “The way Gordon figured it, he wouldn’t tell the Guild I’d been Hunting unlicensed and I’d show my gratitude by being his slave. He kept me on a short leash,” Dean barks out a laugh, “literally, for eight months,” a single tear runs down his cheek and he wipes at it angrily. “I wouldn’t submit to him at first so he sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you…until there was almost nothing left of me. Eight months of slave positions, humiliation, punishment and rape and I fucking hated every second of it, but I didn’t lose me. I hung on, bided my time. He made me wear a collar like this one,” Dean touches his DoD collar, “micro-chipped and alarmed so that I couldn’t get away from him.”

“So how did you get away?” Gabriel asks softly.

“We were working a Hunt, an angry spirit that was abducting and killing kids. Gordon thought he had me completely under his thumb, so he was letting me off the leash a bit more, letting me help out, you know? Like a reward for being such a good little slave. We figured out where the spirit was taking the kids, but we got to the house too late and the latest victims were already dead.  The poltergeist went after Gordon, knocked him out cold, but she ignored me completely. Guess she didn’t think a Sub was any kind of a threat. To cut a long story short, I had enough time to figure out who she was, salt and burn her bones, clean up all the ectoplasm and then plant evidence that framed Gordon for the kidnappings and murders. Then I took off; phoned in an anonymous tip to the cops on my way outta town. Gordon was arrested, tried and convicted and, last I heard, he’s still in jail.”

“Ouch,” Gabriel says lightly. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Dean rolls onto his back and turns to look at his Dom. “He deserved it. He was a dangerous psychopath and he put me through Hell,” Dean clears his throat. “So anyway, that’s the worst of it, I guess,” he chews on his bottom lip. “I should probably tell you though, that I’ve, you know, only when I was really broke, let people fuck me for money,” he clears his throat again. “So now you know all of my dirty little secrets. Still think I’m a catch?”

Gabriel leans forward and presses his lips to Dean’s, licking his way into the younger man’s mouth and kissing him insistently until Dean is breathless and pliant beneath him.  “Yes,” he says. “I still think you’re a catch.”

--  

Gabriel reprises his amazing Thanksgiving lunch on Christmas Day and Jess makes both apple and cherry pies for dessert. Once they’ve all stuffed themselves stupid, they exchange presents. Dean gets a Hunter’s Journal from Sam and Jess and an auto-mechanic’s toolkit from Gabe; he gives Sam and Jess bookstore gift vouchers, and Gabe a four pound box of Gummi Bears and a book about rope bondage which makes Sam blush. They’ve just finished watching It’s a Wonderful Life and Dean is wondering if he can stuff in another piece of apple pie without exploding when Gabriel clears his throat.

“So Dean told us a few things about his past yesterday and it got me thinking about my own deep, dark secrets. Some of them you already know,” he turns to Dean. “You only found out about the extra assistance I give to the SRA when we had Lisa and Ben stay with us. Dr Milton told Sam about the level of my SRA involvement when we agreed that I would apply to be your State appointed Guardian Dom.”

“I had to know that I could trust him,” Sam said, “and knowing that he was part of the Underground Railroad like Jess and I are went a long way towards achieving that.”  

Dean nods. “But I’m guessing there’s more?”

Gabriel runs a hand across his mouth. “Dr Milton,” he says. “Cas…he’s my brother.”

“What?” Sam splutters. “But…no…Dr Milton only has two brothers; Michael and Lucien.”

Gabe nods. “I was expunged from the family records. My father is powerful enough to do that, you know. It was supposed to be my punishment for helping Cas, for being a disgrace to my dynamic, but in reality, it’s been more like my own private witness protection program.”

“Well, yeah,” says Dean. “I mean, your family are a bunch of heavy weight douchenozzles.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrow. “I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on Cas? Understanding for the first time that they’re not really about cherishing, valuing and protecting Subs, but about using and controlling them? I couldn’t bear it, so it was easier to just…go along with my banishment, lay low. Help out the SRA in small ways.”

Dean is staring at him. “You’re Loki,” he says.

“I am,” Gabriel concedes. “Also known as Gabriel Archangel; son of Charles, brother of Michael, Lucien and Castiel.”

“Holy shit!” says Sam. “You’re Loki! You’re…wow!”

“Yeah,” Gabriel rubs at the back of his neck. “More importantly, I’m done hiding. The things I know about the Archangel family; the things I know about the DoD… it’s time for me to stand up to them,” he turns to Sam. “If you’d like to interview me for your thesis, or for an SRA article, I’m all yours.”

Sam dashes up to his room and comes back with a mini tape recorder, a writing pad and a pen. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen someone giddy with excitement before. He gets to his feet and stretches. “I’m gonna put on a pot of coffee,” he points a finger at Sam and gives him a meaningful look. “You just remember,” he points at Gabriel, “he’s mine, okay?”

--

Sam and Jess leave a few days after New Year. Dean is sad to see them go and he’s going to miss his little brother like a severed limb, but he must admit that it’s nice to have the house to themselves again without having to worry that they’re going to freak out Sam and Jess with their sex life.

Back at work the apprentice—Trent—seems to have decided to dedicate the New Year to being a complete douchebag to Dean.  Dean learns that the kid failed an important exam just before Christmas and the boss is riding him hard. Taking it out on the only Sub in the company seems to be his coping strategy.

Dean is bent over vacuuming the interior of a Lexus when Trent comes up behind him, grabs his hips and grinds against him.

“Fuck off, Trent,” Dean says mildly.

“What’s with the attitude, Subbie? You know you like it. And it’s not like you’ve got a real Dom.” He gets a couple of fingers underneath Dean’s collar and tugs at it.

Dean backs out of the car and stands up, shrugging Trent off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Trent’s smile is cruel. “You’re under a State Guardianship Order, Subbie, it’s not like you’re bonded. All you are to your Guardian Dom is a convenient hole.”

“Fuck you, kid,” Dean says, turning away. “You don’t know shit.”

Trent grabs his ass. “What did you get in trouble for anyway,” he says, when Dean spins around and glares at him. “Pretty guy like you; cock sucking lips like those? It was whoring, wasn’t it?”

“Unlicensed Hunting,” Dean says flatly. He grins, slow and nasty, and watches Trent pale, just a little. “I used to spend my days gutting monsters,” he adds. “You, I could gut with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back. Just as well my instincts know you’re not any kind of threat.”

The sexual harassment stops after that, but Trent still speaks to Dean like Dean is shit on the bottom of his shoe.  The other mechanic, Eddie, is happily bonded and never gives Dean any grief and the boss, Hank, is decent enough, but he’s also old-fashioned enough to turn a blind eye if any of the Doms on his team harass a Sub. 

After a particularly poor service job Trent had done which had resulted in elderly Sub Johnson’s car breaking down a little way up the road, Dean now makes it a habit to check over the cars he has serviced when they come to him for detailing.  When he finds that Dom Barnes’s car has no brake pads, he calls Hank over and points out the problem.

“Why’re you lookin’ at brake pads?” Hank wants to know.

“You want something like Sub Johnson happening again? I know you’re too busy to double check all Trent’s work, so I’ve been double checking it for you.”

Hank strokes his beard and then asks Dean what he thinks he knows about fixing cars.

Half an hour and one thorough examination of the Impala later, Hank is offering Dean an apprenticeship, provided he passes the GED and can get himself into an auto mechanics course.   

Later that night Dean checks out what auto mechanics courses the local community college offers and finds out that there’s a very reputable course run at the Hastings campus of Central Community College, which is only an hour’s drive away.

A week after his conversation with Hank, Dean gets his GED results.  Included in the envelope is a letter from the Testing Center recommending that he sit for the SATs. Dean unfolds the results transcript and stares at it in disbelief. His lowest score is 773 for the writing test. His highest score is 798 for the math test.

Dean talks to Gabriel and Hank and Sam and decides that he doesn’t need to sit for the SATs. He wants to do the auto mechanics course at Central in Hastings and they’re more than happy to accept him on the basis of his GED results. Even better, Hank knows their head instructor, Jim, and on Hank’s recommendation they let him test out of doing both first and second year and end up offering him a place as a third year apprentice. 

“The problem with that,” Hank says when Dean bounds enthusiastically in to Hank’s office to tell him, “is that I ain’t got no need for two third year apprentices.”

Dean hangs his head. “Right. Of course. Trent. Yeah. Sorry,” he almost offers to let Hank pay him less, but Gabe and Sam would have his head if he did that. So.

Hank climbs to his feet and sticks his head out his office door. “Trent!” he hollers.

The apprentice appears. He looks from Hank to Dean and back again and frowns.

“Whatever he said, it’s bullshit. I haven’t done nothing to the little Subbie.”

Hank grins broadly. “You’re fired,” he says. “You’re making too many mistakes, failing too many tests and making us look bad.”

Trent glowers at Dean and Dean manfully resists the urge to poke his tongue out at him.

--

The SRA’s new campaign on Workplace Discrimination is kicked off by an article about Dean’s experiences as an unlicensed Hunter, which is quickly picked up by the syndicated press and goes national within a week. Dean is never named in the article, but given that it was written by Sam Winchester, it’s not going to be hard for the powers that be in the Hunting world to put two and two together.

The follow up article is an interview with Loki; also known as Gabriel Archangel. It’s powerful stuff, with Gabriel revealing, not only how he was excommunicated from the family for trying to protect his Sub brother’s rights, but also the threats they levelled against Castiel to secure Gabriel’s silence. Lucien took him on a tour of several State Homes and promised that Cas would end up in one if Gabriel ever spoke out against the family or the Department.

“Why are you speaking out now?” the interviewer asks.

“Because they’ve lost sight of the mission,” Gabriel says, “and they’re doing more harm than good. Doms and Subs are different but equal. If we lose that balance our whole culture suffers.”

There’s a whole lot of fuss about the article and news crews camp outside Gabe and Dean’s house for days, even going so far as to follow Dean to the garage and to class. Subs’ Weekly writes a sickeningly sweet article about the Bad-Boy Sub with the Heart of Gold who persuaded every Sub’s hero Loki to step out into the spotlight. The next time Dean sees that particular ‘journalist’ he shoots him with rocksalt.

Gabriel, meanwhile, is suspended without pay pending an investigation into allegations that he improperly used DoD resources to assist the SRA.  Dean is worried, but Gabriel just shrugs and sucks on his Tootsie Pop.

“I’ve been careful, Dean. They can’t prove a thing.”

“But money’s gonna be tight. I don’t earn anything like as much as you,” Dean frowns. “I guess I could—”

Gabe cuts him off. “Oh no,” he says, “I know what you do when you’re broke and there is no way in Hell I’m going to allow you to do that. This ass,” he reaches out and squeezes the ass in question, “is mine.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I was going to say I could ask Bobby for a loan.”

Gabriel slurps around the lollypop in his mouth. “I have a trust fund,” he says. “Well. It used to be a trust fund. I got control of it at twenty-five. I’ve never touched a penny of it because I didn’t want their money. But it’s there. To be honest, I probably never have to work again if I don’t want to.”

Dean blinks and then grins. “Use it,” he says. “Fuck ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Gabe nods. “Cas has been asking me for years to take a more active role in the SRA. I think maybe it’s time I did that. Maybe I’ll see what I can do about getting the State Homes shut down.” 

Chapter Text

Dean’s year under Gabriel’s Guardianship is almost up when Dean gets the call from Bobby. The Hunters’ Guild has voted by a slim majority to allow Subs as members, provided that they only actively Hunt with a Dom partner.

It’s something, Dean supposes, as he thanks Bobby for the head’s up and hangs up. He pops the cap on a beer and listens for a moment to Gabe yelling at someone on the phone in the study. He’s enjoying his new role as the Head of the Department of Dynamics. He was a key informant for the Senate Inquiry into Institutional Sub Abuse and in the wake of the ensuing scandal—his father’s resignation and quiet disappearance; Lucien’s arrest and prison sentence —Gabe was the popular choice to take over. It’s all very new, but there’s talk they might have to move to Washington.

And Dean? Dean is only months away from being a qualified mechanic and a free man. And now he has Hunting as a legitimate option too. Dean tips his head back and drinks deeply. His cell phone rings again and this time it’s Sam, calling to see if he’s heard the news about the Hunters’ Guild.

“It’s great news, huh?” Sam enthuses.

“It is. Not sure I’d trust a Dom I don’t know to watch my back properly, but it’s a start.”

There’s a short silence and some paper shuffling and then Sam says, “I’ve dropped out of college. I’ve got my undergraduate degree, but I’m not going on to do law. The stuff I’ve been doing with the SRA, it’s kind of made me an untouchable as far as the legal profession’s concerned.”

“Oh man,” Dean’s face falls. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Meh, don’t worry about it. I’m keeping busy with SRA stuff and Gabe offered me a job on his team too,” there’s another pause and then Sam says, “Jess and I might have to move to Washington if I take the job.”

“Are you gonna take it?”

“Yeah. Probably. Gabe says you guys’ll probably be there too and I’d like to have you close. I, uh, asked Jess to be my bondmate.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Um, that’s great, but, uh, pretty sure there isn’t a state in the union where it’s legal for a same-dynamic couple to bond.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, I know. But I asked her anyway and she said yes. Now we’ve just gotta wait for the law to change.  Just like you had to wait to be allowed to Hunt,” he pauses. “I never let my dues lapse, you know. Even though I told Dad I didn’t want any part of Hunting, I guess there’s always been a small part of me that understands why he’s so driven.”

“Okay,” Dean says, when the silence stretches out too long.

“I guess what I’m saying,” Sam says slowly, “is that if you ever want to Hunt, I’d be happy to be your partner. I mean, we’ll both do other stuff and we’ll each have our own home base, but if something comes up, Huntwise, we can deal with it together. That is, if you trust me to watch your back.”

“No one I’d trust more,” Dean says. “You and me, we’d make one Hell of a team. So yeah. Let’s get me signed up as an official Hunter, see where it takes us.”

Dean is onto his second beer and Dr Sexy M.D. is just finishing when Gabriel finally makes his way into the living room. He has a large glass of white wine and a feral grin.

 
“We got the fucker,” he says to Dean, “documented proof that the Warden of the State Home in Minnesota knew full well that Subs were being sold to the highest bidder. The number of Subs he saw sold, the amount of profit he made, he’s gonna do twenty to life!”

Dean chinks his beer bottle against Gabriel’s glass and they both drink.

“What about the Subs who got sold?” Dean asks.

Gabriel knocks back half of his wine and puts the glass down on the coffee table. “We’re putting together a team to track them all down. That’s what I want Sam for. He’s good at research, good at hacking and his training as a Hunter means he can handle himself in the field too.” Gabriel’s eyes are bright and burning with passion and Dean is so fucking in love with him that it actually hurts.

“Bond with me,” he blurts.

Gabriel freezes. “What?”

“Bond with me?” Dean rubs the back of his neck. “I mean…if you want to…”

Gabriel blinks and Dean begins to ramble. “I know that traditionally you should’ve been the one to propose to me, but—” He suddenly has a lapful of enthusiastic Dom.

“Yes, you sexy, crazy man! Of course I’ll bond with you!” Gabriel sticks his fingers underneath the band of Dean’s DoD collar and tugs on it. “I can’t wait to get this off you and give you mine, even got one already picked out. It’s slim and black and gorgeous and I was gonna ask you as soon as the State Guardianship Order was up, but this is even better, because fuck tradition! I love that you asked me!”

Before Dean can even formulate a response, Gabe’s lips are on his, his tongue demanding entrance as Gabriel claims Dean as his own.  

Dean savors the familiar taste of cherry and white wine. It’s really not bad, he decides. He could definitely get used to it.

The End.