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Story Warnings: so much angst…A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, self-mutilation
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It wasn’t hard to ignore the questions Gabriel forced upon you. There was just so much going on. The Apocalypse seemed to be moving so fast that there was no time to really stop and think. Between meeting Chuck Shurley at a convention with people dressed up as Sam and Dean and you, and tracking down the demon Crowley and tracking down Lucifer in Carthage…losing Jo and Ellen to the hellhounds, spending Christmas crazy in Glenwood Springs Psych Hospital, and going back in time to save John and Mary from Anna, there was no time to really slow down, no time to think about leaving.
But as Valentine’s Day approached, things slowed down a bit. You were able to think about leaving…and you were able to think about Mary Winchester. John’s first omega. John’s chosen omega. Dean hadn’t let you go to the Winchester home when you went back in time. He’d made you stay at the motel with Castiel. “You have her husband’s mark on your neck. That man who’s never met you. You wanna show up at their house and act like you’re, what, my omega?”
“I’m an asset and you wanna bench me because it might be weird? It’s not weird for their thirty-something sons to show up on their doorstep with a damn Angel on their tails?”
“We smell like family. We don’t smell like the Winchester pack omega!” Dean growled. He didn’t budge and you didn’t get to help in the fight with Anna and Uriel. You ended up stuck in 1978 until Castiel woke up and took you back.
Dean benched you because of your connection to John. He called you ‘Winchester pack omega’. That’s how he saw you. That’s all you were.
Valentine’s Day brought a hunt in Northern Georgia. Valentine’s Day brought organs in tupperware boxes at the morgue and Enochian symbols on hearts. Valentine’s Day brought an itch under your skin that seemed to only get better when you were next to Dean. Valentine’s Day brought a need, but not one you knew how to describe.
It was the hearts. Everything decked out in hearts, pinks, reds, whites, hearts, arrows, a damn Cupid was in town and Cas said it had gone rogue, but it was the hearts that got you. Symbols of love. What the hell even was that? What was love? Was it weakness and need? Was it feeling out of control all the time? Was it pining for a look? Longing for a touch? Was it wishing to hold his hand, even when he’s kissing you?
Not that he’d kissed you since you made it to town. Not that he’d eaten since you made it to town. Not that he’d done anything but get progressively more pissed off and aggressive.
Castiel was eating, though. John was sneaking pulls from his flask. Sam was sweating, flushed and feverish like an addict. You just wanted Dean to hold you. You just wanted soft kisses and to bathe in his scent. You just wanted Dean.
You sat in his lap, he pushed you off. You leaned against his shoulder, he walked away. You pressed your lips to his cheek and he asked if you were going into heat.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked.
Castiel explained it. Famine. You, Cas, Sam, John, all the people in this quaint Southern town were affected by the Horseman. Of course you were starving for Dean. What a completely omega thing to be starving for.
Dean was unaffected. Dean was annoyed by the effects of Famine on you, John, and Cas. He was pissed and worried about the effect on Sam. Both of your alphas ended up tied up in the bathroom, because Dean was afraid they’d both drink themselves to death. Dean refused to hold your hand as you staked out the Biggersons.
“Don’t make me tie you up, too, Y/n. I need my hands free for this.”
Not that having his hands free did any good. He could have held your hand as you entered the restaurant because the both of you ended up held back by demons for Famine to rasp at from his wheelchair while Cas munched on raw hamburger in the corner.
Famine said he was empty inside. “I see. That’s one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can’t fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex,” the Horseman said, eyeing you.
“Oh, you’re so full of crap,” Dean snapped.
“Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your family, lie to yourself, but not to me! I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can’t win…and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just…keep going through the motions. You’re not hungry, Dean, because inside, you’re already dead.”
There wasn’t a lot of time to think about it because Sam came in, covered in blood…and he saved you. Sam’s blood addiction saved you and everyone. But it wasn’t worth it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You sat on the basement stairs and stared at the panic room door. Sam was screaming, begging, trying to get everyone to let him out because he did what he had to do.
What he had to do.
What he had to do to save the world from Famine. What he had to do to save Dean. What he couldn’t stop himself from doing because he was a damn addict. Just like John. John and his liquor. Sam and his blood. Same damn hat.
And you…what were you addicted to? Affection. A little bit of attention…from the empty Winchester…the one who couldn’t give it to you. Not consistently…and not how you deserved. Your mind kept going back to Gabriel. Gabriel wanted you to get out, away from the Winchesters. There was only one way to do that.
You stood and stepped up the stairs, determination filling you. Dean didn’t even lift his eyes as you left the basement. John did, but he only followed you with his eyes for a moment before Sam’s pounding on the door took his attention. It gave you time to get to the library and pull open Dean’s duffel, digging through clothes, toiletries, and skin mags to get at the Angel blade at the bottom of the bag. You were up the stairs to the second floor, locking the bathroom door before John came up from the basement.
“Y/n?” he called up the stairs. You didn’t answer. You were too busy barricading the bathroom door with a chair. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”
You grabbed as many white towels as you could find in Bobby’s linen closet and sat on the vanity in front of the mirror, pulling your shirt off and tossing it on the floor. You were going to do it.
The bloody option. The painful option. The only option.
Slicing into your neck around Sam’s didn’t hurt as much as the first time you tried. You were sure it was because you were using an Angel blade instead of an X-acto knife. You whimpered as blood started soaking the front of you, but you kept going. It was easier this time and that was good since you had twice as much work to get through.
“‘Mega! What are you doing?” John shouted from the other side of the door.
“Go…away…John,” you demanded through gritted teeth. You kept cutting. You were halfway through cutting Sam’s mark out. You couldn’t stop this time. You couldn’t let him stop you. Not again.
The doorknob twisted, but you kept cutting. “Open the door.”
“No.”
“Omega, open this door,” John tried the Voice, but the adrenaline from the pain let you push through it.
“Fuck off, John.”
“DEAN! BOBBY!” The room stook a bit as he tried to bust the door down.
“What’s wrong?” Dean’s voice came through the door as you were digging your fingers into the wound to pull the skin up and slice away the scent gland. “Do you smell blood?”
“Yes! She’s cutting her marks off!”
“She’s what? ‘Mega, what are you doing?” The banging got worse as you dropped a chunk of yourself into the sink. You ignored Dean as you wrapped a towel across your wound.
“What’s goin’ on?” Bobby’s voice filtered through.
“She’s mutilating herself! She’s cutting off her marks!” John exclaimed as you started to work on his mark.
There was silence for a moment. “That’s her choice,” Bobby eventually responded.
“She could die!” Dean exclaimed.
“She won’t. We’ll triage her.”
“No, we’re gonna stop her!” John shouted.
“Cas!”
“Yes, Dean?”
“Go in there and stop her. Right now. Stop her. Stop her right now.” There was another moment of silence as you forced yourself to cut into your neck on the other side of the pain radiating across your upper body. “Why aren’t you moving?”
“I have no intention to stop her, Dean. She is allowed to make her own decisions in regards to her existence and her body.”
“Cas, come on. She’s fuckin’ mutilating herself. She could die,” Dean tried but it seemed the Angel had made up his mind as well.
“No. She will not die. I will heal her wounds when she is done.”
“You’re just gonna let her-” John started.
“Yes,” Bobby and Castiel said at the same time.
“Baby, please, don’t do this,” Dean begged through the door. “I don’t know what triggered this, but please don’t. I can feel how bad this is hurting you, ‘mega. Please, please, stop.”
You kept cutting, despite the way his words tugged at your heartstrings. They were empty pleas from a man with nothing inside him.
“I think I’m gonna get sick,” Dean muttered as you twisted your fingers underneath the meat of your neck and pried the gland up to cut under it. “Fuckin’ stop, Omega.” Dean’s attempt at the Voice didn’t work either.
You fell as you climbed off of the vanity counter and wrapped towels tight around your neck, slipping on blood-loss and actual blood on the surfaces. You abandoned the blade in the sink, but you picked up the bits of flesh from the red-stained porcelain basin. You unwedged the chair with one hand and pulled it away.
When you stepped into the hallway, the group of men and Angel stared at you. There was fear in the men’s eyes and they all looked uncomfortable with the amount of blood down the front of their fragile little omega. You reached out and grabbed John’s hand with your free one, forcing his palm open and facing up so you could drop your excised scent glands into his hand. You looked directly into his bright hazel eyes as you closed his fingers around the evidence of your self-mutilation.
“Fuck being the Junction. We’re free,” you said before stomping away from him.
You made it three steps before you passed out.
~~~~~~~~~
Bobby was sitting in his wheelchair beside your bed when you woke. You were in no pain. Your blood-loss wooziness was gone. You weren’t hurt. You just felt…off.
“Been tryin’ to decide if that was the bravest damn thing you coulda done or the stupidest,” Bobby said, looking up from his laptop.
You sat up and stretched, before running a hand across the deep indentations on your neck where your scent glands used to be. You couldn’t imagine they were a pretty sight, but you didn’t really need them to be. “Is there really a difference, Bobby? Brave is just stupid but you know it’s stupid.”
“How do you feel?”
“Not quite right, but…better?” You kicked your legs over the edge of the bed and shrugged. “I’m gonna be okay now.”
“Can I ask…why now, girl?”
You looked away and shrugged a bit. “You know about Famine, right?” Bobby nodded. “Castiel’s vessel had him addicted to cheeseburgers and John must’ve downed more Wild Turkey than I’ve ever seen him drink in all the time I’ve known him and Sam, well…you know about Sam, but all I wanted was Dean. Just a touch, a kiss, a sweet caress, but…he’s dead inside. He’s broken. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t love me. It’s a fluke that I’m bound to him through my soul. Just like it’s a fluke that I’m bound to John.”
You stood and looked in the mirror over your dresser. “It was a wake-up call. I thought I could be little omega badass and be with Dean and be myself and have some sort of power over myself and maybe over them, too, but it was stupid. As long as I had those marks, as long as John and Sam had power over me, I couldn’t be free. I couldn’t even leave their vicinity because I would get sick.” You smiled in the mirror. The scars were ugly. There were literal concave areas in your neck now…but you were happy to see them. You were happy for what they represented. “I can go wherever I want now. I could ride out their crap Apocalypse in Cancun or Tahiti. I could go hunting in African, Asia…I’ve always wanted to see Thailand.”
Bobby wheeled around and looked you in your eyes. You could see sadness hiding behind the old redneck’s smile. “Yer just gonna leave us then, huh?”
You smiled brightly and nodded. “Yes, sir, I am. I am going to take the advice of an Archangel and put miles and miles between myself and the Winchesters. It’s what I deserve.”
“Yeah, it is, girl,” Bobby said, grabbing you and pulling you down into a hug. “You better keep yer cell phone on, Y/n, and you better email me every goddamn week and you better stay safe and-”
There was a crack to his voice and there were tears in your eyes but they were happy. You were happy. You were free. You were leaving. “I will. I promise, Bobby.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What happened to ‘I’m not going anywhere’?” Dean’s voice stopped you as you turned the key in the trunk of Bobby’s Firebird.
Your Firebird. A going-away present from the closest thing you had to a father. “That was before.”
“Before what?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the driver door.
“Before I could leave. I was stuck with John or Sam before. I’m not now.”
“And you’re not gonna stay for me?”
You had to fight down a scoffing laugh. “Dean…what for?” You shook your head as you dropped your bags, weapons in one and clothes and toiletries in the other, in the trunk. “If Georgia taught me anything, if Famine taught me anything, if the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that I will always be starving for you.” You stepped up in front of him and looked up into his eyes. “And it hurts a hell of a lot more to be starving to death right in front of a full buffet than miles away from anything edible.”
“You had me. Baby, you have me and-”
“No, I didn’t. Not really. Not ever. You don’t want me.” You gasped a little before you reiterated, “You don’t want me. You want the Winchester pack omega, the Junction…and I’m not willing to play that part anymore.” You pushed him out of the way and he moved, allowing you to get into the car. “Gabriel was right. I don’t need to be anywhere near this Apocalypse. The Apocalypse you and your brother started that I have no place in if I’m not a magnet for your brother.”
You sat in the driver’s seat and smiled tightly at him. “At least now you know that Lucifer has no reason to keep me like a pet.”
“Y/n.”
“Good luck, Dean,” you said, pulling the door closed and turning over the engine. It roared to life and you held in tears as you drove out of the salvage yard.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You woke up and immediately downed a suppressant pill. First thing, every day. No other option. Cutting out your two major scent glands obscured your omega identity, you didn’t smell like one anymore and your hormones were in a storm. The suppressants mellowed that. They were full of hormones. They weren’t exactly replacing the ones lost but they were leveling you out enough to function…and that was enough.
You put on your jacket and left the motel, heading for the roadhouse across the highway. It was a hunter roadhouse and it was a hunter motel. It was good to be around hunters that weren’t Winchesters. But their names kept being brought up.
They were legends. Of course their names kept coming up.
“Started the damn Apocalypse. Brought about the whole End,” you heard from your left as you dipped a french fry in ketchup. “Winchesters need to be dealt with. Especially Sam.”
You kept your head down and focused on your food. It wasn’t your problem. Sam and Dean dealt with Gordon Walker, they could handle Roy and Walt Johnson. They were just a couple betas, simultaneously high on life in such interesting times and scared out of their minds at the idea of bearing witness to the End. They were as dangerous as they were stupid, but you weren’t worried.
“Someone’s gotta take those pricks down. Sam let the Devil out of his Cage.”
“Not to defend those assholes,” you started. You couldn’t keep the words from leaving your mouth. “But you can’t really make a determination to take someone down when you don’t know what happened.”
“And you do, bitch?” Roy asked, turning in his chair to look at you.
“First off, I know your momma taught you better than to talk to a woman like that, Roy, so apologize in her memory before I kick your false teeth down your throat,” you threatened.
“Oh, hey, Y/n!” Roy greeted as you stood. “We, uh, we didn’t mean nothing by-”
“Why are you backtracking now?” Walt asked.
“Because Roy keeps up with the gossip. That’s how he knows that Sam opened the Cage.” You stepped closer and put your hands on your hips. “I used to travel with them, Walt.”
“She’s their omega,” Roy grumbled.
“Not anymore.” You pulled your turtleneck away from your skin to show the missing marks. The grown men, hunters with scars of their own, recoiled a little. “I have no loyalty to them, but I was there in the direct aftermath of the Cage opening, so believe me when I say that you have a partial picture.”
“So, Sam didn’t let Lucifer out of Hell?” Roy challenged.
“Yes, he did. But he was manipulat-”
“Manipulated into starting the end of the world?!” Walt exclaimed.
“You didn’t think he did it on purpose, did you?”
The men looked between each other for a moment before Roy shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Whether he meant to or not, he did it. He started the end of the world. There’s no forgivin’ that.”
“No one is asking you to forgive it, Disney. I’m asking you to think shit through before going after these men. Don’t bite off more than you could possibly chew.”
You set a ten dollar bill on your table and walked away from the men. You considered warning the Winchesters, but you didn’t want to start a conversation with any of them. They could handle a couple beta hunters.