Say Something
Pairing: John Winchester/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester.
Tags: Daddycest, Wincest, Omega Sam Winchester, Alpha John Winchester, Alpha Dean Winchester, Heat Induced Sex, Mating Marks, Biting.
Word count: 4.2k
Summary: Sam, who everyone always assumed to be a beta, goes into his first heat during a case. Almost a week later, finally sane again after an blurry yet intense heat, Sam has to deal with the aftermath and face his brother and father.
Sam was an omega, that much was clear after for a whole hunt the monsters kept making beeline for him, his scent near heat and presenting had been so strong Dean and John had to act quickly to not end up with one member less to their already small family.
The trip back to their motel room had been tense and quiet. The two alphas had the front, driver’s and passenger seat at the impala, keeping all the windows down to help air Sam’s old books and eucalyptus scent out of the car so as to not get it ingrained to the car’s mechanical parts and leather seats. Although John knew that they would need to clean the car afterwards anyway if the overflowing slick smell was anything to go by.
Usually family members were not to be affected by an omega when their family went on heat. Maybe a little nose twisting or being worried with the painful cramp whines but not affected by what the actual heat meant. Not aroused.
The Winchesters were far from being an usual common traditional family.
Dean and Sam had something going on for a few years now. Ever since Sam was fourteen and Dean eighteen, just freshly presented as alpha and eager to fuck anything he could put his paws on. Which just happened to be any chick he found in a bar and had Sam extremely upset, enough that they would fight frequently until one day Sam came undone and put all his feelings in the open.
Dean was his brother, only and exclusively and he did not want anyone else touching him.
After that Dean started to slowly leave the bar nights in order to stay home with Sam and one thing led to another and one day he just… woke up with his naked, spent baby brother’s limbs tangled on his own in a cheap motel bed.
It didn’t take long for John to find out, he was more aware of his children than the average parent due to hunting and monsters lurking in the shadows. He knew where they were every time and knew their reactions by heart… even if he didn’t let it show often. Even if, mostly, he kept distance from them, expecting that one day, if something off-ed him before his old-age time, his son’s would not feel as torn and broken as he felt when Mary died.
In John’s head it worked like this: better Dean than some stranger that could be anything in the monster-monster encyclopedia or even worse, a human-monster. The latter being the hardest to beat.
Years passed and the brothers hid it quite well from their father, they were extremely low-key about it… unfortunately for them, John Winchester had PhD in his children, so he already knew they were beyond hand-touching when he first arrived back from a hunting trip and just to listen to the many moans and pleads coming from Sam as he stood outside the motel bedroom they had been crashing.
It was okay. For the longest time they thought Sam to be a beta anyway, treating him as such since he did not present a heat or rut at the usual presenting age of twelve. They had strayed so far from normalcy that John did not even have what took in him to be frowning at the incestuous relationship nor to act like a conservative, traditional parent lack of presenting at the right age.
Sam’s a beta? Didn’t present yet? Great, that meant they wouldn’t have to be double worried with him on hunts or having him seat out some because of the complications that could come with being an omega.
The relationship between the two brothers went on for two years with John turning a blind eye to whatever happened. In the end this extra layer of connection between the two kept Sam less aggressive and more pliant and Dean quicker, more swiftly and precise on hunts his baby brother accompanied them on. Even if Sam was not around, the promise of going back to his mate kept him a well oiled machine, as precise as he could be with his current experience.
It was one fateful night when John “got to know”. He had not meant to but he went to the nearest bar and when he come back he did not stop to listen like he often did when sober, did not stop to see if Sam was letting out all those sweet, sweet moans, wet whines and adorably begging for more of his brother, no, John simply walked in that night and the two boys were mortified.
While they took their time being mortified and putting clothes back on, John stood there, sobering up slightly, just enough to commit to his mind the image of his youngest son naked slim body, covered in sweat and his pretty cock flustered pink.
“We can explain.” Dean had stuttered that night, clothes haphazardly put on before he had Sam protectively behind him. “We know this is fucked up…”
John had to stop him there, a shake of his head before exhaling and dropping his shoulders so his boys would know he meant no harm.
“I knew it.” He said simply moving to his bed, head spinning and cock half hard at the pheromones - when did old books start to smell so good? - still coming aroused from both boys in waves. “I’m not mad.”
“Then why didn’t you say something?” Sam, always to the point, always so precise, still held a certain innocence in his sixteen years old eyes. For the moment all the defiance was gone, giving its place to a deep confusion.
How could he explain to his sons that it had been too long since Mary? Too long since anyone, really? No matter how drunk he got he never managed to go forward with anything but few flirts. Was he supposed to tell them it didn’t take long hunting monsters, thinking how they thought to defeat them, before you became one of them? That he would listen for many times to his older son getting his baby brother off when he could have simply walked away?
John chose silence, but not before affirming once more “I’m not mad” as he covered himself with the beaten up blanket from the more and turned his back to them.
That’s why now, in the car with Sam in full heat John was not only having to keep Dean in control by every once in a while holding his shoulder to keep him from jumping to the back seat but he was also having to grip the wheel twice as hard to not stop the car and jump Sam himself.
“De… it hurts…”
Was the only thing penetrating through the quietness of their trip back to the motel.
They had been about to stop when both alpha’s eyes widened, Sam letting out a louder moan than the previous as both men on the front seats felt their ruts get triggered. Shit.
John stopped the car carelessly in front of the motel, getting out of the car as Dean, already on his feet, grabbed Sam princess style and walked inside, John quick on his heels, both alphas enough to keep others from approaching.
Then they locked themselves in the bedroom for five days, the only time anyone would see one or other of the alphas would be when they left for food and water but still in that primal state they didn’t register those moments properly. Just blurry images of vending machines and feeding Sam before they were inside the omega, kissing him, thrusting into him, licking him, getting him off.
When they woke up on the sixth day the room was wrecked, bed broken as the three of them crammed into the surviving mattress part of it.
Their bodies ached but they felt deeply pleased with it. It was too early for regret to set in but John was too old for such intense activities for such long time so his first reflex upon waking up had been to put sleeping Sam’s arm away from his chest and stand up the best he could to take a shower and wash away the sweat and liquids sticking to his naked body.
Imagine his surprise when Sam, who even amidst a haze they had managed to cover up to the shoulders with a blanket after their last sparks of rut had been ridden from their systems, wailed loudly and held John’s arm, alarming Dean enough to have him up.
“Alpha, please! Don’t leave me!” It didn’t sound like Sam at all, which was weird because the heat had ended already- should have ended already, there were no cramps in sight if not a few flinches from the ache from past days activities ravishing the young omega’s body.
“Sam, your heat is over, baby. You have to take deep breaths.” Dean, spooning his baby brother, tried to calm him down but even if Sam curled closer inside his hold he kept staring at John with desperate eyes, shaking his head and gripping his wrist.
They stared at each other for a few minutes, John to Sam and then John to Dean. While he and his oldest son tried to communicate Sam tried to move to pull John back into bed with them, which made him flinch intensely because he could barely move. But that was expected.
What wasn’t expected was that John and Dean flinched too, feeling Sam’s discomfort on their own bodies, the urge to calm their mate down and make sure he was safe, overpowering them.
Wait, mate? Both alphas exchanged a stare wide eyed, Dean, being closer to Sam, slowly peeled away the covers from the omega so he could see his neck properly while John moved back to the mattress on the floor, intertwining his hands with Sam’s who whined happily to have his alpha close again.
John held his breath and, in a split second, Dean moved so both sides of Sam’s neck were unobstructed to their eyes.
Two marks.
Two bite marks on each side of Sam’s neck.
They had marked Sam as their on the throes of pleasure and now there was no going back from that.
“Alphas? ‘s cold here.” Sam purred unaware, still not full off his heat apparently as he pulled both alphas back to lay at his sides, getting comfortable on John’s chest as he wrapped Dean’s arm around his waist.
Both men stared at each other with desperate glances, at a loss of what to even say in this situation.
They screwed up monumentally this time.
When Sam woke up the other day, body aching and an out of proportion hungover headache building up in his temples, he was alone.
It was not an unusual occurrence since Dean would wake up early to grab them breakfast from the nearest dine if they had the time and John would usually... be god-knows-where doing god-knows-what. Whatever he did stopped being Sam and Dean's problem a long time ago. Maybe it was wrong to say but Sam preferred things that way, as long as they didn't cross John's path or screwed up bad enough it became his business they were John-free.
Sam's haze perdured until he decided to leave bed, legs ready to take a swing and make him stand in one go, only for him to notice the mattress was on the floor.
There were no splinters of wood or anything around it, in fact the mattress laid plainly on the floor with nothing underneath it. The room on the overall looked pretty neat and organized, too organized since he was the one who insisted on cleanliness and no weapons on the tables they were supposed to eat at.
Then he tried to figure out why the mattress was on the floor because when they checked in the day before, before leaving for the hunt, he was pretty sure there were two structured wooden bed frames to go with the mattresses. Well, the bed their father had been sleeping was intact so that should mean something. He just didn't know what.
Sam was about to gather the courage to roll to the side to then sit to be able to get up when the loud alarm on the nightstand started to beep annoyingly, making him grunt and grab the top of it to help him stand up. Once he did, turning the alarm off, he regretted it.
His legs felt like jelly and his whole body was sore and achy. Yet, looking down he was apparently clean, his hair smelled like cheap shampoo and body like small gift soap they stole from better inns and motels they stayed at. Which was weird since he did not remember taking a bath after they got home from the last hunt. He didn't remember changing into his pajamas either... he barely remembered he had one when most nights he would fall asleep the second they got back to the motel, not willing to wait for his father and brother to finish showering first.
In fact, he didn't remember coming back from the hunt at all, anything after he started to run while John gutted the thing coming after them - had it been werewolf or vampire? - was a messy blur of greys of dirt, yellow-orange of the sunset and Baby somewhere along the way, like a light at the end of the tunnel.
Searching for something to ground himself, he looked at the newspaper on the nightstand, on the side of John's bed. They used many newspaper scraps and it was not uncommon to find them everywhere but the nightstand was reserved for the day's news of whichever city they were crashing at. Where did John get those when most motels were on the side of the road, middle of nowhere? Sam had no idea.
Looking down he realized, much to his dismay, it had been four days since they had left for their last hunt, the front news was a picture of some local celebrity and on top there was the date typed in bold black.
But this wasn't right. He had been running, no poison had gotten to him. The last thing he remembered feeling was pain. It was hurting so much and he knew he had to get to Baby before any more from the pack... or had it been a coven? Before more of them - whatever they had been - came after him because of his smell. His heat smell.
Oh. Sam had messed up the counting of his heat and pills which ended up with him in heat in the middle of the hunt. Now that would explain the soreness in his whole body. At least most of it.
As an omega without a mark he usually felt empty at the end of his heats, no matter how hard Dean pounded into him, Sam had yet to feel the said completeness omegas should feel after being knotted because Dean had yet to knot him, no matter how far they had already gone with their sexual adventures.
Now, as he walked over to the small bathroom of the room he couldn't help but feel a buzzing on his bones, a thin line of pain lingering on his back at each of his carefully deliberated steps. It wasn't possible he had spent the night with someone, was it? He was in their motel bedroom, Dean and John would never let a random alpha take him. Not at sixteen. No, that was impossible, especially with how some days Dean could barely contain himself from ripping any waitress that smiled at Sam a new one.
Sam was running out of options once he stood in front of the mirror. His thoughts were running wild with possibilities because as far as he could tell he had been knotted. And knotted good if the way his legs felt like jelly were anything to go by, his hands had to grip the sides of the small sink so his knees wouldn't buck, the small walk had taken most all the force he still had in himself.
As his eyes looked down at the small cupboard between the sink and toilet he tried to see if any of the small bottles and tablets on top of it were his medicines or if he could at least find some aspirin since who was mostly using it was Dean, who always had a hangover from drinking. He found nothing, so he fixed his eyes at the sink rail as if expecting the urge to retch or throw up to come over him.
When nothing came he then and only then allowed himself to look up at his reflection in the mirror.
Shit. Was all he could think about as his eyes went wide observing not one but two huge marks on both sides of his neck. By the looks of it had been a couple days since he had been marked because there were no signs of bleeding and although the alcoves where the teeth carved into his skin were still red, the overall mark was already becoming part of his skin, just a pale mark.
On the way to panicking completely, Sam chose the safest road - or at least the one he knew and was most familiar with - and decided to list first the things he knew as he drew a delicate finger around the patterns while staring at the mirror.
He had gone into heat, so he needed to buy new pills as soon as possible;
He had spent his heat with not one but two alphas, he had to find out who they were (hopefully not other hunters);
He had been knotted good… fuck, had they worn protection?
Dean and his father clearly knew. Why weren’t they here to yell at him then?
Was at least one of those marks Dean’s?
Clearly the “sticking to what he knew” didn’t take long to spiral back again into endless questions. Too many questions for someone who felt like he had been run over by a bus or worse.
Sam didn’t know how long he spent staring at his reflection, dumbly tracing the bite marks with his hand but it was long enough to work through his shock and use his few left working brain cells to think about tracing down who the alphas that had marked him- his alphas were and to get a hint of where to remotely find them.
Sam then put one hand on each side of his neck, over the biting marks as delicately as possible because they were still sensitive like hell and just having his hands near made him have to suppress a whine.
Marks worked as both way connections, from now on he would be able to feel whatever his alphas felt, would be able to know how they were and most likely would even be able to share their sight or see memories of places they had been as the bond progressed.
It was, in its essence, a bond for life. There were new experiments out there, people fighting for omega’s rights and the possibility of unmating them from their alphas. Mostly, this type of fight came to protect them from alphas who had forced an omega to be his. It was expected that if it was forced or heat-induced there would be the omega’s own backlash and the mark would not hold… however, of course many found their way around it with drugs so the omegas would be pliant at the moment of the marking.
As Sam closed his eyes he couldn’t help but notice that whoever his mates were he didn’t feel like throwing up or bodily rejecting them. He had this small buzz under his skin that felt like home, felt… not like all the good things in the world, no, that would be a stretch, but it sure felt right and like home.
“Okay, focus.” Sam closed his eyes, trying to sooth himself and his expectations - borderline desperation - for one of his marks to be Dean’s.
A few minutes went by without anything happening until Sam was almost ready to give up when the buzzing under his skin got more intense and a sudden wave of strong smell washed over him; leather and gunpowder, like the taste on the back of his tongue after a hunt and… shit. Alcohol and gunpowder?
The second smell somehow managed to terrify Sam as he desperately tried to put the pieces together on his post-heat mind, nothing making the normal, quick, sense it usually did after about twenty minutes of being awake. No, this was different.
Sam knew it was too early on the bond to try anything. Yet he forced his eyes close, eyebrow furrowing in a fruitless attempt to get visual. Of course he would not get anything, how long had he been mated? Two days? Give or take.
Yet, it was not all in vain because suddenly the scent became stronger, stronger than he had ever felt, making Sam’s skin sweat and hands tremble slightly.
“C’mon, c’mon…” He barely realized he was whispering under his breath. “Please.”
Then, like a divine realization his eyes cracked open, wide and conflicted, tears threatening to fall from his eyes as he stared at his own reflection.
The door of the motel room opened but it didn’t seem to bother Sam, not when he took a longer staring at himself- at his marks before slowly turning his head on towards the door.
“Alphas.” His head screamed at the same time he spoke.
“Dean…?”
“Heya, Sammy… you awake.” He said sheepishly but there was real concern in his voice, eyes never leaving the omega even as he put their greasy breakfast on top of the tiny table next to the door.
“Good.” Sam thought, even if the smile trying to break through his lips was being stopped by something he wasn’t quite certain. “Good, Dean was his now. His alpha, for good.”
“How are you doing, son?” Came the second, more grave voice.
It was like a car crash where your last moments go at an incredibly low speed, that no matter how fast you were going you feel like you have all the time in the world because your life is passing like a movie behind your eyes.
Slowly his eyes left Dean, the leather smell slightly muffled by John’s alcohol scent. Sam’s eyes landed on his dad and it took everything in him to not bend over the sink when a nauseous feeling overcame him when the words left him unwilling, in a way no son should refer to their father: “Alpha?”
“So, last week… we spent… together?” Sam, in his awkward sixteen years old phase, was barely holding himself together, his shoulders seeming too weird to move in any way that resembled correctness.
“For some reason, your heat…” Dean observed as his brother blushing and cleared his throat, trying to find a more comfortable way to do this “Well, during your presentation, you ended up triggering both our ruts. And we ain’t exactly rational during it, you know it.”
Sam didn’t really care, Dean was his mate and all his instincts right at that moment were to kiss him, be in his arms and maybe go out to one of those pubs his brother would go to hookup with chicks in the past, before their relationship started, just to show his mate off… but then, his eyes slowly moved back to their dad, carefully sitting on the armchair by the window, far from the bed both of his children were currently sitting on.
“Is it… possible to uhm…” As an omega he should never even suggest it but until one week ago he was a beta for all he knew. Not to mention John wasn't any alpha. That was his father, and Sam wasn’t particularly known for being the one who obeys John.
“Undo it?” John’s voice was neutral but surgical, watching his youngest nod hesitantly, getting closer to his older brother in hopes to hide himself. “It’s not unheard of but… can cause a lot of pain, to both parts. We could try but…”
“You could die, Sam.” Dean stated, holding his brother’s, omega’s, hands and bringing them to his lap, voice strained as he gave quick glances to John. “Dad could die too. Most of those end up in painfully tragic deaths.”
“Dean…” John said with a warning tone but the conflict in his eyes betrayed his strictness.
“No. You- I can’t afford any of you dying. Not you, not Sammy. You listen to me? We are not doing anything until we have a hundred and one percent certainty that it’s gonna work. That no one is gonna die or hurt or, so help me God, permanently traumatized.”
The three of them stayed in silence, Sam biting his lower lip as he looked down at their intertwined fingers while John and Dean exchanged one long and meaningful glare, Dean partly begging, the other part challenging John to try and do otherwise.
