Chapter Text
Also, here is a picture of how I imagine Dean looks in this fic. He's just a baby!
You may continue reading. XD
There was a lot to panic about, and for all his strengths, Gabriel had never been someone who was particularly good at keeping his cool. Castiel had to be strong for both of them as he explained the situation and the attack that had just occurred to the crew at Mystery Spot. By the time everything had been explained and everyone was on the same page, it was an hour past when the restaurant was supposed to close and Castiel was exhausted.
He was ashamed to admit that he remembered Dean only when he finally left the office, the bandaged knife wound on his arm stinging as he pulled the door open, allowing fresh air into the small space. He, Gabriel, Grigori, and Gadreel all piled out of the office. Aleksandr had driven to the Den with the injured men after performing as much field medical assistance as he could provide with his limited resources. It was enough to get the three men that had been injured to Anna alive, so long as nothing happened to them on the way. Castiel hadn’t received any messages proclaiming a massive accident or anything, so he had to believe that the injured men had made it and were being cared for by his sister.
The restaurant was quiet when they all left the office. Grigori and Gadreel headed into the parking lot to start the cars so they could all go home as quickly as possible. The night was far from over. Gabriel followed Castiel out to the front of the restaurant, intent on helping him clean it up.
When the two Krushnic brothers got to the front, however, they found everything already finished. The counters had been wiped down, the chairs had been put up, the floor had been swept, the cups and napkins organized, the doors locked, the machines powered down, the dishes cleaned and stacked in their places, everything put away neatly where it belonged.
Gabriel leaned against the counter and groaned in relief. “That Omega is a fucking Godsend.”
Castiel stared at all the work Dean must have done and felt sick with guilt as he recalled what had happened in the parking lot. “I yelled at him,” he remembered, closing his eyes in shame. Of all the things that had happened today, he was surprised to find that that had been what he regretted the most. “I cursed at him and called him a fool.”
“What? When?” Gabriel demanded, sounding almost offended, as if he was the one who’d been verbally abused for absolutely no reason.
Castiel exhaled, clenching his jaw at his own stupidity. Damn it, what had he been thinking? “It was in the parking lot when we first pulled in. Balthazar was bleeding out and Dean was standing outside. I yelled at him to find you. I-I was stressed, and I didn’t think about what I was saying. I was… needlessly rude, to say the least.”
“Christ, Cassie, seriously?” Gabriel asked, sounding more exasperated than he had a right to be. “So that was why the kid came in looking like someone had just stabbed him in the heart.”
Castiel’s own heart clenched at that thought. He’d hurt Dean. The Omega was probably long gone now, already at home, so it was too late to apologize tonight. He’d have to wait until tomorrow, and his inner Alpha was not having it.
Castiel’s nerves were still frayed from the attack. He’d gone to speak with the Knights under a flag of truce, intending to attempt to understand why they’d sent two inexperienced gunmen after him. Instead of getting answers, he received a knife to the arm that had very nearly been in his neck if he hadn’t dodged it. The Knights, damn them, had no respect for the old rules of peace and negotiation. They’d attacked under the pretense of getting revenge for the men Castiel had killed, which was a foolish excuse for more reasons than he cared to count.
The result was a gash in his arm, three badly injured men back at the base, the equivalent of a political disaster, a serious conversation with his brothers waiting for him back home, and the knowledge that in his rage and panic, he’d shouted at the last person who’d deserved to be reprimanded. God, today had been horrible.
All Castiel wanted to do was find Dean and apologize. He wanted to wrap his arms around the Omega’s too-slender shoulders and hold him close, pet his hair and murmur pleas for forgiveness. He would get on his knees if it meant Dean knowing that he was sorry. He’d do anything the Omega wanted if it meant being able to take back what he’d said.
The amount of things he would do to mend any falling out with Dean was slightly terrifying. Castiel didn’t want to think about it, about just how much the Omega had him at his mercy. He told himself that there was no use going down that path, since there wasn’t anything he could do to fix the situation right now. Dean was at home, and Castiel needed to return to the Den to sort through the mess he knew was waiting for him. His older brothers were likely going to want to know everything about what had happened today. If they chose, they could take the attack as an act of war.
“We need to go back to base,” Gabriel said, as if he’d been reading Castiel’s mind. “We have to give a report. And you need to get that cut looked at.”
The last thing Castiel cared about right now was the gash on his arm, but he was too tired to argue with his brother. He nodded and followed the Beta out to the parking lot, where their SUVs were the last cars in the lot, both of the engines running as Gadreel and Grigori waited to drive back to the Den.
Castiel climbed into the passenger seat with Gadreel, Gabriel doing the same with the other car. As they began to drive, Gadreel said, “If it’s within my abilities to ask, Alpha Castiel, are we at war with the Knights?”
Castiel exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know. That’s for Alpha Mikhail to decide,” he said. He paused, knowing how insufficient that answer was, then added, “Most likely. We’ve gone to war for less than two attempted assassinations in less than two weeks.”
The only sign of tension in Gadreel was the tightening of his jaw and his grip on the wheel. “We’ll need to teach Dean to fight,” he said.
Castiel wasn’t sure why he was so taken by surprise about the mention of the Omega, but he was. “Why is that?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
“We can’t have any weak links. He should be able to defend himself,” Gadreel said. He seemed to remember, then, who he was talking to. “If you and Alpha Mikhail think so, of course. My apologies, I shouldn’t have stated my opinion as a fact.”
Castiel shook his head. “Less damage done when your opinion is correct, or at least agreed with,” he said.
Someone would have to teach Dean to fight. Castiel thought of the Omega being kicked around by Nikov, and his blood heated with rage. He didn’t want to imagine what that would look like if Nikov was replaced by an agent of the Knights of Hell, someone who wanted to do real damage. The thought made Castiel feel sick.
Yes, teaching the Omega to fight would be something he needed to take care of very soon. But first…
Castiel knew the situation was serious when he saw Mikhail waiting for him in the driveway of the Den, his hands clasped behind his back. To anyone looking on, the leader of the Krushnic bratva would look at ease and thoughtful. But Castiel saw the tension in his shoulders, in the angle his head was held, the rigid line of his jaw.
Gadreel pulled the car to a stop right in front of the Alpha leader, allowing Castiel to jump out. Mikhail gave Castiel a nod of acknowledgment as he hurried to his side. “How badly are you injured?”
“It’s just a scratch,” Castiel said. “Where’s Luke?”
“In the office. Where’s Gabriel?”
“Here.” Gabriel appeared with rare perfect timing, smoothing his golden hair into place. The men and women that were moving about the courtyard on their own business had slowed down a little to stare at three of their leaders gathered in one tense circle. Castiel could feel the weight of all the eyes on him like a leaden vest.
“Let’s go to the office,” Mikhail said, still the near-perfect picture of calm. “Lucifer is waiting there, and Anna. Are you injured, Gabriel?”
The Beta shook his head, and that seemed to satisfy their brother. He turned on his heel and led the way into the Den, parting a path through the small flow of people coming through the front doors.
Castiel knew how they looked, despite the relative calm Mikhail seemed to be attempting to exude. Their men weren’t stupid, and Castiel could see the apprehension in their eyes as they watched the trio pass. They knew something had happened. They knew something was going to happen. Castiel looked around him at the spacious room in the Den, and he suddenly wished Dean were here.
He would feel better knowing that all the members of their organization were under the same roof or close to it, especially with how aggressively their enemies were acting. His stomach churned at the thought of Dean, unarmed and unprepared, sleeping in his civilian apartment with no idea that they were essentially at war.
God, he needed to teach the Omega how to fight.
When he and his brothers finally reached Mikhail’s office, they found Luke pacing back and forth like a caged tiger inside. When the door opened and he saw them, he released a rather obscene string of curses and said, “It fucking took you long enough. Cassie, are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Castiel said, stress and exhaustion shortening his temper. He saw Anna hovering near the empty fireplace and growled. “I don’t need your assistance, sister. Thank you. You should be attending to the other men.”
“The other men are stable and don’t need my help right now,” Anna said, her tone somewhat sharp. “I can decide where to direct my attention on my own, Castiel, thank you. Let me see your arm.”
Chastised and unwilling to take his anger out on anyone else today, Castiel sat down on the edge of Mikhail’s desk and began to stiffly strip off his shirt, exposing the hastily-wrapped gash on his right bicep. Anna set a metal box of supplies down beside him and went to work as Mikhail began to mirror Luke’s pacing, his handsome face tight with tension.
“Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning,” he ordered.
Castiel proceeded to tell his brothers about how he and his group had arrived under the white flag of truce, only for that peace to be ripped apart within fifteen minutes of their arrival. “They almost didn’t try to conceal their intentions,” he said, teeth gritted both with the pain of Anna disinfecting his wound and the deep-seated rage that he felt toward the enemy organization. “I saw the strike coming from a mile away, which is perhaps why I’m still sitting here. They went for my jugular.”
“Fucking bastards,” Luke swore. “Those fucking pigs.”
“This is an act of war,” Mikhail murmured. “We can’t let this go unanswered.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Luke said, fists clenching and unclenching. “This is our chance to rid this fucking city of those dirty rats once and for all. We can weed them out for good.”
“War is never a good thing, Lucifer,” Mikhail snapped. “Chance for elimination or not, we’re still going to lose good men and women to this fight. The Knights are a powerful organization.”
“We need all of our people ready for battle,” Castiel dared to say. “The Knights aren’t above using dirty tricks, including going after Omega soldiers.”
Mikhail stopped pacing. His blue eyes felt too piercing, like they saw too much. “You’re talking about Dean.”
Castiel lifted his chin, telling himself that he might as well be confident about what he was proposing. “Yes.”
Anna tied off the bandage she’d been wrapping around his arm and quietly began to pack up her box of supplies. If she sensed what was coming, she didn’t let on. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure Mikhail wanted a fight, especially right now, and he had a feeling that the problem he’d brought up would be surprisingly well-received with his brother. Mikhail had a soft spot for Omegas, soldier or not.
“He can’t fight at all?” Mikhail asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not that I know of. He has experience with weapons, but only in hunting animals,” Castiel said.
“Then you’ll teach him what he needs to know,” Mikhail decided.
It was such a quick decision, such a precise echo of what Castiel had been hoping for, that for a moment he didn’t know what to say. Luke spoke before he had a chance to come up with a response. “What? You want Cassie training a new recruit? He’s our best enforcer, we need him in the field—”
“Castiel is perfectly capable of doing multiple things at once,” Mikhail cut in, his voice taking on a familiar edge. “Don’t question my decisions, Lucifer.”
“Mikhail—”
“That’s Alpha Mikhail to you.”
“You’re a pretentious fuck, Alpha. I want to bash your teeth in half the time I see you,” Luke snapped. It was a dangerous thing to say to the head of one of the most powerful Russian bratva branches in America. Luckily, Mikhail and Luke fighting was a regular occurrence. Castiel didn’t fear for his brother’s life, even as Mikhail’s eyes flared with blue fire.
“I could have your tongue cut out if I wanted to.”
“Save it, you asshole. We have bigger fish to fry.”
Castiel didn’t know whether to be frightened or grateful that the twins had deemed this matter more important than their near-daily argument about power and authority. On the one hand, it was nice to hear an end to their bickering. On the other, it was a true show of how big this problem was. A war with the Knights of Hell had been brewing for a long time, and now that it was finally here, it looked like it was going to be bloody.
The brothers talked about their strategies and what needed to happen. Mikhail was going to officially declare war in a day’s time, which meant they had twenty-four hours to begin preparation for increased fighting and special operations. That meant larger influxes of weapons and ammunition, and the specialized training of new recruits.
Castiel expected Mikhail to lump Dean in with the newer recruits that would need training, but Mikhail said the Omega’s training would be separate. “He’s not a real soldier,” he explained. “He just needs to know the basics of how to defend himself. I trust your judgment when it comes to that.”
Castiel couldn’t deny that part of him was excited about training Dean. He liked that option better than the one that involved a random stranger training the Omega. He wasn’t sure why, but that idea didn’t sit well with his inner Alpha, not that he cared much about its opinion. His inner Alpha was untrustworthy at best.
Strategizing lasted well into the night. Castiel was half-falling asleep by the time Mikhail finally adjourned the meeting, which was better than Gabriel, who’d dozed off half an hour before while sitting in Mikhail’s office chair. Castiel roused his older brother before dragging himself out of the room and toward his bedroom, his limbs leaden, his thoughts syrupy and slow.
Sleep for him was long but rather fitful. Castiel woke up after about eight hours of rest to find the sun beaming through the window he’d forgotten to cover. His head throbbed, whether from dehydration or just in general protest of how unrested he felt, he wasn’t sure.
It took Castiel a good four or five minutes to fully wake up. He snagged a cup of yogurt and granola from the breakfast hall, trying to remember what he had intended to do for the day. It took him four bites of his yogurt to recall the errand he’d been meaning to run, and the memory struck him like a bolt of lightning.
Immediately, the sleepiness that had clung to him since he’d woken dispersed. Castiel waited as long as his patience allowed to shovel down the rest of his yogurt before tossing the cup in the nearest garbage can and starting off toward the front doors of the house.
Outside the main building of the Den, the sky was overcast and threatening rain. Castiel strode across the lawn, past the building that had been constructed to act as the garage and toward the smaller building that had been originally intended as an actual four-car garage when the place had been built. It was a large, elegant brick building, sturdy enough to be used as storage for their less sensitive supplies.
Castiel nodded at the two young women that guarded the door of the building as he entered. They nodded back, one of them carrying a gleaming black shotgun in her hands.
Inside the storage, the stacks of boxes and crates made the space seem smaller and more intimate than it was. All the padding inside the boxes acted almost as soundproofing material, causing the air to seem still and lifeless. Castiel strode across the floor, boots tapping quietly in the large space. There were two large boxes at the far left side of the room, black and nondescript, their lids latched.
Castiel pried the clasp open on one and shoved the top to the side, looking down at the array of softly gleaming knives that awaited him. There were nine, all of them perfectly cared for and masterfully crafted. None were as specialized as the set that Castiel kept on his person at all times, but they were close. He needed to find two that would suit his needs.
Castiel located the smallest knife first, inspecting the cruelly-sharp blade. It was small, only around the length of a pencil. The handle was butter-soft, the blade sturdy and gleaming brightly in the artificial lights overhead.
This one would do. Castiel sheathed it and pocketed it, then looked for the second and last knife he needed.
The next one he chose was larger, about half the length of his forearm. Castiel found himself feeling almost nervous as he pocketed the wickedly-sharp blade, pleased with the selections he’d made, hoping they would be received well.
He spent the rest of the day with the knives in his pocket. He found some cloth and wrapped them up so their sheaths didn’t clank around or get jostled as he went about his business. By the time afternoon came around and he’d arrived at Mystery Spot to take over the shift from his brother Luke, he’d nearly forgotten about the weapons tucked away in the pocket of his trenchcoat. It was only when the doors opened and admitted a familiar smiling, green-eyed Omega that Castiel remembered the knives he’d tucked away in the back office.
He wanted to do something with them immediately, but there were two problems: one, Dean wasn’t smiling, and two, Castiel couldn’t see his green eyes. Well, he could, but not very well.
Nikov had struck Dean on the left side of his face, and the bruise had only just begun to go down a week and a half later. When Dean entered Mystery Spot, he had two black eyes, a fresh bruise swelling his right eye as well as his left.
Castiel stared at him as he walked in, hand frozen over the register. He couldn’t remember for the life of him what he’d been doing, and he didn’t care. His entire focus had zeroed in on Dean.
He was limping. He was fucking limping as he made his way up to the register to clock in, murmuring a quiet hello to Castiel without meeting his eyes. And that was when the Alpha remembered that he’d yelled at Dean yesterday. The icy feeling in his stomach condensed, forming a ball that felt like a small boulder inside of him, taking up space where his lungs might have expanded before.
It was times like this that Castiel wished he was normal. He wished he was a normal Alpha with normal social skills, wished he’d been raised by a normal family doing normal activities instead of bleeding his enemies dry when they dared to cross him and his brothers. Maybe if he’d been normal, he would have known what to say to Dean. Maybe if he’d been normal, he would have known how to apologize for being so stupid yesterday, for being so cruel.
Instead, all he did was stand there, watching numbly as Dean slipped away from him, taking the opportunity to apologize with him. He heard the Omega’s sweet, husky voice as he greeted the cooks in the back in accented Russian, listened as they greeted him back.
Castiel waited until he’d worked up the courage, and then he strode into the back to find Dean had already started on the dishes, ever the hard worker. “Dean,” he said, pausing when he wasn’t sure what else to say afterward.
“Yeah?” Dean looked up, squinting at him through both the bruises blackening his face. God, Castiel could barely see the green of his eyes. His stomach twisted with nausea. “D’you need my help, Alpha Castiel?”
“No, I… I need you to come into the office,” Castiel said, steeling himself, getting his inner Alpha under control.
Dean nodded, though Castiel didn’t miss the flash of worry on his battered face. There was another bruise on his jaw, dark and ugly. As he followed Castiel to the office, he looked as if he was doing his best to hide his limp. The thought of the Omega concealing his pain made Castiel feel sick all over again.
He felt almost relieved when he led the Omega into the office and closed the door behind him. The door was made of cheap wood, flimsy at best, but it still felt like Castiel was concealing Dean from anything that wanted to hurt him when he shut it and turned the lock. He gestured for Dean to sit down, eyes catching the way the Omega’s knees practically gave out when he collapsed into the chair on the opposite side of the desk.
“Am I in trouble?” Dean asked as Castiel finished shutting the door and made his way to his own chair. The Omega’s voice was soft, the tremble of it only barely concealed. Castiel’s heart clenched at the realization that Dean thought he was in here to be shouted at.
This is my fault, Castiel thought. This is all my fault.
“Of course not, Dean,” he said, fighting to make his voice as soothing as possible. He saw the way the tension drained minutely out of the Omega’s shoulders, relief flickering across his battered face.
“Oh,” he said. “That’s good. I… I wanted to say that I’m sorry for yesterday, Alpha Castiel. I didn’t mean to be so useless. Is… Is that guy okay? He didn’t die, did he?”
He sounded so fucking worried. He sounded like knowing if Balthazar was alright was his only purpose in life, like his entire existence hung on the man’s wellbeing. For what felt like the millionth time since he’d first met him, Castiel was taken aback by the depth of Dean’s kindness and empathy.
“Balthazar is alright. There’s no reason for you to apologize, Dean,” Castiel said. “Actually, it’s me that should be apologizing. I was cruel without reason, yesterday. You didn’t deserve to be shouted at, especially when you were only trying to help. I was stressed, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
Dean blinked at him, as if this was the first time he’d ever been apologized to, like it was some sort of novelty instead of something every human being deserved when they were wronged. “Oh,” he said, and somehow his voice was even smaller than before. “It’s okay, Mr. Krushnic. You didn’t say anything that I didn’t deserve.”
“No, Dean, that—” Castiel cut himself off, not because he should have, but because he didn’t know what to say.
Part of him was screaming that this was wrong, that he needed to do everything in his power to convince Dean that he wasn’t a fool, that he was the kindest, sweetest Omega Castiel had ever met. Part of him was roaring for him to fix this, to make Dean bright and happy again instead of small and scared like he was now. But an even larger part of him argued that this wasn’t his specialty, that if he tried to fix this, he might just end up saying something that made it worse.
You’re not a fool. You don’t deserve to be insulted or cursed at, Castiel thought.
Aloud, he awkwardly repeated, “You have no need to apologize for yesterday. I was at fault. I shouldn’t have shouted at you, so I am deeply sorry.”
Dean looked uncomfortable at the apology, same as before. “You were stressed, it’s fine.” He looked at Castiel with an expression that might have been intended to be earnest, or maybe even reassuring, but all Castiel could see were the bruises on his face.
“Dean,” he said before he could stop himself, “what happened to your face? Did you…?”
He didn’t know how to finish that question. He didn’t even really know how to start it. How could he even begin to wade through the tangled mire of the subject of Dean’s bruises? Castiel wasn’t a fool. He’d seen them on the Omega before. But professionalism and the desire to stay distanced from Dean had always held him back from asking. Until now.
Now, Dean’s face immediately hardened at the question. “It’s fine,” he said. “I had a disagreement with someone.”
“They hurt you.” Castiel forced himself not to think of someone punching Dean, laying their hands on him in a way meant to bring pain. Those thoughts would only lead to the destruction of his self-control. “Dean—”
“It’s nothing,” Dean said. His voice was sharp, perhaps sharper than Castiel had ever heard it. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Disrespect, some distant part of Castiel’s mind said. Castiel had beaten men for less than the tone Dean had just taken with him. But he knew even before the thought had run its course in his mind that he wouldn’t dream of punishing the Omega for it. In many ways more than his fringe status, Dean was different from a normal bratva member.
“Okay,” Castiel said, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue. “My apologies.”
Again, Dean seemed uncomfortable with those words, but a second later, he brightened like a wilting flower that had been given the water it was starving for. “I’m gonna sign up for CPR classes, Alpha Castiel,” he said. It was a blatantly obvious attempt to direct the conversation elsewhere, but Castiel allowed it. “And the place I’m gonna go to offers classes on other things too, so I’ll know what to do next time something happens.”
For a long time, Castiel had believed that he had no heart. When his parents had died, he’d felt so numb that he’d figured something had happened to his emotions, to his inner Alpha. It had taken a long time for him to re-learn how to feel things. And right now, looking at Dean’s bright, hopeful smile as he announced that he was going to take medical classes… Right now, Castiel thought he remembered what it was like to feel love.
Bad word. A bad word to use.
“You don’t have to take classes anywhere, Dean,” Castiel said, the gentleness of his tone surprising even himself. “Anna could probably teach you, if you wanted.”
Dean only brightened further. “Oh, that’s awesome! She’s the doctor-lady, right?”
Castiel looked at Dean, soft youth and shining beauty, even when his body was so bruised and battered, and he said, “Yes, she’s the ‘doctor-lady’. She’s my sister. And speaking of your lessons, I have something for you.”
He got up, walking over to where he’d hung his trenchcoat on the wall. He could feel Dean’s curious gaze following him, resting on his back like the soft weight of a feather. Castiel pulled the cloth-wrapped knives out of the pocket of his coat and brought them over to the desk, clearing a few papers away so he could lay the package down in front of Dean.
“What is it?” Dean asked curiously.
Castiel’s lips twitched into a small smile despite his best attempts to keep a straight, stony face. “Open it,” he said, instead of answering the question.
Dean hesitated, then obeyed. His fingers were a little shaky, and Castiel thought he could see bruises on the Omega’s wrists, mottled blue and purple peeking out from underneath the cuffs of the too-big leather jacket on the young man’s shoulders. But even the rage those injuries brought forth was subdued by the sweet way Dean’s eyes widened when he unwrapped the knives, his mouth falling open in a little “o”.
“Whoa,” he whispered, hesitantly picking up the small one. “This is super cool. These are… These are real.”
Castiel couldn’t help his small laugh. “Yes, they’re real. You can unsheath them, just be careful.” He watched as the Omega did just that, adorable delight and wonder shining in his green eyes as he turned the gleaming blades over cautiously in his hands. “They’re for you,” Castiel said, holding his breath without meaning to. “They’re gifts. For the beginning of your combat training.”
The look of joy and gratitude Dean fixed him with would forever be burned into his mind, a pleasant memory despite the intense bruising on Dean’s handsome face. He looked so happy in that moment, so overjoyed by the gift of two simple knives. Castiel’s heart, small and shriveled as it was, swelled until he was sure it would burst apart in his chest.
“These are for me?” Dean asked, wonder-filled gaze flicking from Castiel to the two knives resting against the dark cloth on the desk.
“Yes. I’ll show you where to put them,” Castiel promised. “I’ll show you how to use them, too. Alpha Mikhail thinks that your training should begin as soon as possible.”
“Are you gonna be training me?” Dean asked. He sounded so hopeful, like it was all he could ever want.
God, this is dangerous, Castiel thought to himself. I’m going to fall down this rabbithole and never emerge.
This is going to hurt when it’s over.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’ll be training you for the most part.”
Dean beamed at him, bright and sweet and full of so much joy Castiel could practically taste it, and he said, “That’s fucking awesome, Alpha Castiel. I can’t wait.”