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Ch. 1. Hunting and hunted
Julius fixated on the Winchester’ hotel room. Needing coverage with an uncompromised view, he had chosen to lurk in an unlocked vehicle. He just needed Sam alone but these two had been attached at the hips thus far. The hunters had just killed their target, a shifter that had been offing famous people by posing as their servants or employees. “Figures,” Julius grumbled when he read about the shifter’s latest victim. He knew that particular politician had been corrupt and felt his killer should have been rewarded for performing a public service not cut down by a hunter’s silver bullet. But then, to say Julius was disenchanted with hunters was a vast understatement.
To Julius, the details of this hunt or any other, for that matter, were immaterial. The immortal had risen from his century long grief induced hibernation for one reason only. Vengeance. Any hunter would do. They were all murderers. He knew he had only to be near one of their usual victims and, soon enough, at least one of these lowlife humans that made a life of indiscriminately exterminating all “monsters” without mercy would come along.
His beloved Louis may have taken the hunter who murdered him to the grave along with him but he had left his lover behind with nothing to vent his sorrow and rage upon. Now, since one hundred years of self entombment had failed to kill him or quench his bitter anger, Julius intended to inflict some of his pain upon the killers that deserved it.
Really, he could not have wished for a more perfect pair than these Winchesters. At first, he had been disappointed that they were brothers having hoped he might get lucky enough to apprehend mated hunters. (Or the human equivalent of mates). However, he had only to follow them for a few hours aided by his heightened hearing and sight to pick up how unusually and tightly bonded these two brothers were.
Still, it was frustrating to not have some of the abilities many other supernatural beings had such as mind reading or the ability to take control of a human’s mind or body. His senses told him the Winchesters were more than brothers but he wanted to be sure. To be certain they were a pair who would , if one of them was killed, suffer something close to the anguish he felt when his mate had been brutally decapitated right before his very eyes. Shaking off his haunting memories, Julius dwelled, instead, on a much more recent one. Yesterday’s reconnaissance mission to research the Winchesters had been most successful though he grimaced as he recollected the encounter…
Even though Julius had been unconscious as a century passed him by, he still had easy access to an immortal that was a fount of the kind of gossipy knowledge he needed. He braced himself against the inevitable unpleasantness knowing there was really nothing that could prepare one for this kind of interaction. Cringing, he spoke the words of summoning, “Ligurio appare.”
Though not at all unexpected, what came next was still just as disconcerting as ever. Julius was swept up into the crushing embrace of a giggling, husky, nearly nude, loincloth garbed cherub.
“There you are, you beautiful blood sucking thing you!” Cupid exclaimed keeping Julius in a constrictor like hold. With the unfortunate object of his overly zealous greeting still dangling in his arms, Ligurio emphasized each of his next words with a jarring little hop, Julius flopping helplessly like a rag doll. “Where – have – you – been - I've – missed – you – so – much!”
Finally, the overgrown Cupid or second class angel, to be technical, released his captive. Julius had to take several gasping breaths before he could reply. “Oh just sleeping off my grief for Louis. You remember him? My soulmate, love of my life who you insisted I bite and turn so I could live the rest of my eternity in mated bliss. The one you knew so much about but, I am sure, had no idea was destined to be killed before we'd enjoyed more than a decade of said promised eternity?”
The cupid’s uncharacteristic silence as he stared in open mouthed confusion was brief but not unexpected. Julius had too much experience with his infantile friend to be surprised. Any communication of an unpleasant nature passed right over his head while his uncharacteristically troubled expression rapidly resumed its fanatical brightness.
“Awwww somebody needs another hug. Come here Mr Grumpy!” Eventually, Julius managed to focus Ligurio’s limited attention span on the reason he had summoned him. Convincing him that he had come across two devastatingly attractive morsels, Julius succeeded in tapping the cupid’s files on Sam and Dean Winchester. Ligurio’s first response was to pout insipidly about how Dean had once returned his affection by punching him. Secretly, Julius could hardly blame the hunter but he quickly soothed his friend’s hurt feelings in order to speed things along. Near giddy disposition back in place, Ligurio exclaimed “Oh! Sam and Dean are celebrities in heaven! Two of the most famous soul mates ever! If only I had been the one to bring them together…” he sighed wistfully. “But they always had each other being brothers and all.”
Then, suddenly, turning even more childish, he stomped his foot complaining in a petulant voice. “Their a couple of ninnies is what they are! Both in their 30s and still have not consummated their love. They've died and gone to hell, excuse my language, and done all kinds of crazy stuff for each other but they barely touch each other. I don't get it. They want each other so bad it makes me wanna cry but they just…”
The drama of Ligurio’s treatise on the woes of sexually repressed soulmates increased as its logic diminished but Julius had heard enough already. Angels did not use the term soulmate metaphorically. What these brothers had done to save each other was proof of that. Julius bid his chatty friend the hastiest farewell possible, impatient to resume stalking the Winchesters.
Now, after a night of patient waiting, he overheard the taller Winchester announcing to his still groggy older brother that he was “heading out for a run“. This brought Julius out of his preoccupied thoughts to full alertness as Dean replied drowsily. “Hey Sammy. Bring back breakfast after yer done giving your knees arthritis, ok?”
Whatever sort of stupidity Dean had been mocking his younger brother for, this “run” Sam was going for would finally allow Julius to get one of the hunters alone. As much as he would have preferred to attack them both and kill one in front of the other, he did not fancy having his revenge cut short by his own decapitation. To Julius, it was a cruel irony that he happened to be one of the least powerful and most harmless of supernatural beings.
As far as he knew, he was the last of his kind, perhaps as a result of this relative weakness. Hunters had not even bothered to classify his kind and Julius had lived more centuries than he could recall unnoticed by humans. Though he had a set of fangs, they only consisted of slightly elongated incisors rather than the retractable piranha like dentition of common vampires. And while he could derive nourishment and pleasure from drinking human blood, it was not necessary for his survival nor did he ever drink a person dry. He typically only drank blood when in need of more rapid healing or for some heightened strength or speed.
Otherwise, Julius, and subsequently, his lover, Louis, who he had made like himself had been very human like. Not that such details mattered to vicious hunters. What really added salt to the wound for Julius was the fact that Louis had not even been the correct monster. It was a sloppy mistake made by the hunter when seeing Julius with his fangs embedded in his lovers neck drinking affectionately as they often did with each other, mistook him for one of the vampires that had been killing humans in the area. The hunter attacked delivering a non fatal blow but, nevertheless, knocking Julius to the ground.
Louis bore his fangs as he retaliated. The hunter flew several feet and slid down the wall of a nearby brick building. Julius could still so vividly recall the soundless snowflakes that caught in Louis’ beautiful dark hair as he bent to gently touch his face. Then came the horror that Julius relives every time he closes his eyes, the slice of a machete, the taste of blood spattered across his face and the frozen wide eyed expression on a beloved face as his head came to a rolling stop several feet from the body it had been parted from.
He and Louis should have had forever to live peacefully amongst the humans they rarely drank from and never killed. If the hunter had paused for more than a moment’s observation, it should have been obvious they were not his prey. Two mildly fanged lovers drinking from each other? While Julius remained motionless on the ground in shock, the man who killed Louis collapsed and died from the head trauma he had sustained when he struck the wall. He had spent his last moments rendering Julius alone never to be held again by the only one he had ever loved.
The sound of a door opening caused Julius to cut short his melancholic reverie and to tense, ready for the chase. Quickly, so as not to lose sight of the rather beautiful, long limbed man exiting the motel room, Julius wiped the tears from his eyes. Sam was lucky. He was just going to die. It was Dean that would have to endure the pain of living without him
Ch 2 From prey to provocative
In a matter of milliseconds, long before Sam’s uncanny preternatural senses could alert him to impending danger, the intentions of a broken hearted immortal changed. It wasn't any kind of beauty and the beast induced mercy on account of Sam’s wavy light brown locks or his exotic hazel eyes nor any of his many other attractive attributes. One contributing factor may have been the fact that, as Ligurio had mentioned, Sam was somewhat magical and not completely human due to contamination with demon blood as an infant. Though intriguing, this had seemed irrelevant at the time. Now, after catching a good whiff of Sam’s scent, Julius considered the history of slightly demonic blood to be of potentially greater importance. Faint but unmistakable, it was a sweet perfume so like his long lost lover. Louis had possessed a trait found in a rare few humans that remained dormant unless that human was supernaturally altered such as being bitten by a werewolf or ingesting vampire blood. It was probably partly what drew Julius to his mate though he did not realize Louis possessed these special traits. After making his lover immortal so long ago, he had unknowingly transformed him into a special gender unique to supernatural beings and a perfect complement to his alpha. Julius would know this mouth watering aroma anywhere. It brought a sudden upsurge of pain causing him to recall how his Louis had been carrying their unborn child when he had died. “Omega” he growled.
It came out louder than Julian had intended and Sam startled. Seeking whatever had growled menacingly behind him, he spun on the spot but not fast enough. Sam had only a glimpse of long brown curls before something bore him to the ground knocking the breath out of him as his body and head struck the pavement hard. He was dazed and only dimly aware that someone around his own weight was laying across him fingers entangled in and gripping him by the hair wrenching his head to the side. It took several more minutes for Sam to realize something was drinking from him, swallowing in loud, gluttonous gulps. He didn't need to wonder why his limbs were growing heavy and cold. As he passed out from blood loss, he had some vague notion that the bite seemed much less painful than he would have expected from 2 opposing rows of razor sharp vampiric dentition.
There would be a few intermittent, fragmented memories for Sam of the events that transpired subsequently. He knew he had been thrown in a car trunk and carried around a bit before regaining full consciousness in an abandoned auto mechanic garage. It was a kidnapping cliché as though his attacker had googled key search terms like torture, violation, sinister, locations near me. It was strange to be both panicked and vaguely musing about how his brother would have been skilled enough to convert this dilapidated scrap metal and car part cluttered structure into a successful auto repair business.
Maybe, if he survived, he’d bring Dean to see it and his brother’s inner mechanic would be so inspired, he would be more than ready to retire from hunting. Dean loved working with his hands and the way narrowing his focus quieted his mind. Sam loved watching Dean happily tinker enough to still act as his assistant just like he had as a child when he was his big brother’s overly inquisitive shadow. Luckily, he still managed to keep his ulterior motives behind his willingness to memorize the names of all those tools. His brother was simply beautiful to watch. Dean’s preferred hair metal 80’s was a sound track unworthy of the symphony of form and grace that was Dean. All too soon, Sam was drawn out of his delirious reminiscences by a voice, unsettlingly, intimately crooning into his ear.
The voice had a thick possibly Greek accent and Sam’s knowledge of Latin allowed him to recognize some of what was being said. “Gratis…. Sanguini… “. Apparently he was being thanked for his generous blood donation. “Venandi… homicidae… amans…”. Sam could hear the grief in the mans voice as he seemed to speak of how hunters had killed his lover, Sam’s vision improved and a strikingly handsome face came into focus. Julius had caramel colored skin, thick eyebrows, piercing brown eyes and a prominent nose. His fine roman features were stricken, his expression a study in long suffering. Out of desperation Sam asked “quis es?” hoping it might somehow derail the mans vengeful train of thought. “I am Julius”. Obviously, this vampire or whatever he was knew a little English. Using a piece of broken glass, Julius began cutting a deep gash into his wrist and Sam had the chilling sense that his question had done little to improve his situation.
Julius had more than enough time to kill Sam if that had been his intention and it wasn't hard to guess an alternative way that an angry vampire adjacent being might take revenge on a hunter. Especially once his nose was being pinched closed and his mouth forced open, Sam knew what was coming and was too weak to do other than choke on and eventually swallow the blood that flowed steadily into his mouth and down his throat.
Leaning down to whisper in Sam’s ear Julius spoke his last words before leaving Sam alone, whimpering and trembling. “Omega…. you will be hunted. Used”
Ch. 3 pheremonal fugue
During the hours that Sam lay helplessly, nauseated, sweating and gasping in pain, Dean searched nonstop for his brother. Other than some droplets of blood on the pavement in the parking lot outside their motel room door, he had no other clues to Sam’s whereabouts. He chose to ignore the unwelcome voice of reason in his mind pointing out that Sam could easily have been transported well outside the city by now. He knew it might just be a delusion his mind invented in desperation but his instincts were that Sam was still in the city, somewhere fairly nearby. For hours, Dean walked the city streets. He accosted random people showing them Sam’s picture but no one admitted to having seen him. It was well past nightfall when he was nearing exhaustion that Dean stumbled upon his brother. Or, more accurately, when he came across some kind of violent altercation occurring in an alley, at the center of which, was Sam.
Sam had little mental reserve to contemplate the ominous portent of Julius’ final words. The only context he had for the word omega was as a letter of the Greek alphabet or in reference to certain fatty acids. He could not imagine how it would apply to his current situation or what it had to do with being hunted. As cryptic and intriguing the linguistic mystery was, it paled drastically in comparison to Sam’s physical distress. After hours of dry heaves and full body pain, whatever metamorphosis he was in the throes of seemed to abate into a much more focal but no less disturbing phase.
He was doubled over with cramping lower abdominal pain radiating to his lower back and into his groin. It may have only been a few hours during which he could do naught but lay curled into a fetal position taking shallow breaths as tears streamed silently. It felt like much longer until, at last, the pain diminished and Sam was able to take some deep breaths and sit up. That was when he felt a deluge of warm wetness between his legs. Blood was steadily accumulating in the crotch of his track pants.
It seemed too far forward to be rectal bleeding. Terrified, Sam dropped trow and was relieved to see his dick intact and certainly not bleeding. Tentatively, noting the blood was streaming behind his scrotum, he started to feel his way back until his fingers encountered something very wrong. He yanked his hand away lightheaded and hyperventilating with fear. He laid back down pants still lowered to his knees and waited until his breathing slowed and his head stopped swimming. As he stood back up and was pulling up his pants, he noticed the bleeding had subsided. Furthermore, to his surprise, other than dehydration and thirst, he felt pretty good.
Sam decided further exploration of potential anatomical alterations (was that a new bodily orifice?) could wait until he was safely back in his hotel room with…. As soon as his thoughts turned to his brother, Dean, Sam began frantically searching his pockets and the ground for his phone. Of course, it was nowhere to be found and Sam guessed it had probably fallen out of his pocket when he was in that car trunk. Moreover, the battery had been very low and probably died before Dean could locate it via gps.
As Sam walked cautiously out of the defunct auto repair garage, he could sense his brother with unprecedented certainty. He decided to just be grateful for whatever heightened senses were alerting him to his brother’s proximity and did not care to analyze it further at the moment. Dean was nearby and Sam knew which direction to head. He prayed that he would find him before running into other people who might not react well to a disheveled man in blood soaked clothing. His relief that no one seemed to be out at this time of night was short lived as his new spidey senses began picking up other living things rapidly approaching seemingly from all directions. Before he caught sight of any of them, he was veritably thrown into a nearby alley.
“God you smell good. What are you, sweetheart?” the man with bloodshot eyes leered at Sam as a full row of jagged fangs was descending. Not man. Monster or monsters as Sam could tell none of his new friends were human. There was no time to focus on him or any of the other creatures that began appearing in the alley though Sam knew the ones whose nails were lengthening and thickening were werewolves. He was surrounded by what were clearly ten non human males all making their arousal and intentions very obvious. ‘Alphas’ his mind supplied though he wasn’t sure the significance of that designation. Worse, it seemed that his alluring scent would more than suffice as consent in their minds to do whatever they wanted with him. The degrading remarks continued as they closed in on him. “Boys, I think we've got a nice, juicy omega here and I, for one, feel like fucking not fighting.” There were shouts of agreement as though they were following an established gang rape protocol. The irony of such harmony among these brutes was not lost on Sam’s panicked brain.
Everything was a blur after that. They seemed somewhat taken aback by how hard Sam fought them but the way he found himself quickly overwhelmed and subdued with his arms bound behind his back by his own shirt was still humiliating. Things went downhill from there. “Whew. Feisty ain't ya?” Hands held him still as his pants were removed. “Looks like he was bleeding but it's nothin but sweet slick now”. Sam growled as he felt hands parting his cheeks. Then, to his horror he felt sniffing and licking like some nightmarish parody of dog behavior. His struggles were pointless with so many powerful beings holding him in place. He was forced onto his knees. His head was pressed down against the gravelly pavement, ass in the air. He had begun to scream “No!” and “stop!” and even to beg and plead to no avail. Hands continued to squeeze and slap his ass as they argued over who got to use his “dripping hole” first. There was a bizarre feeling of insertion and intrusion that Sam guessed was fingers. It was not nearly as painful as it should be if he were being violated anally and Sam could no longer deny that some kind of new aperture had opened up in the region between his scrotum and his anus nor that it was about to be penetrated and inseminated by 10 horny monsters.
Then Sam heard a sound that was the sweetest most welcome serenade. . “Get the fuck away from my brother!” Dean roared and the sound of a gunshot reverberated. A body fell lifeless to the ground causing the other 9 creatures to scatter. Bless him. Dean had brought the colt.
Ch 4 Unhunting
Things were still awkward with Dean though it had been 2 weeks since Dean rescued Sam from his near 10 topping one very terrified bottom experience. Sam wasn't surprised and could list so many reasons why his relationship with his brother was irreversibly changed. The obvious ones had to do with Sam now being unequivocally non human.
Dean was trying to approach it with nonchalance and even humor. He loved making comparisons between Sam’s new existence as some kind of watered down “lamo bitch fairypire” and the sickening, pretty boy Hollywood version of vampires. “You really let me down here Sam. You're supposed to sparkle in the sun.” That remark had almost earned Dean the honor of being Sam’s first blood meal just to shut him up but he was saved just in time when his cell phone rang.
Thus far, they had only trusted Castiel with Sam’s dirty little secret and Sam suspected that was likely who was calling Dean. He hoped the angel might have more information or at least a name for what he had become. “Some sort of blood nymph judging by the fact that blood drinking is more pleasure driven and in combination with your powerfully alluring aura..” Castiel had rumbled in his deep bass monotone after briefly examining Sam.
He thought he had also noticed the angel breathing him in as he leaned in close and the briefest of shocked almost hungry expressions flit across his features. Castiel did not mention anything at the time but the issue of scents and auras were certainly plaguing Sam. Normally, he'd be actively eavesdropping on Deans phone conversation but he was just too preoccupied.
Sam already knew he was giving off some kind of scent that had acted as a come hither aphrodisiac beacon summoning ten nearby supernatural beings. Apparently, he was, relatively speaking, a weak pseudo vamp that gave off a potent mating fragrance irresistible to non human males. As spectacularly as that sucked, vampire pun intended as Dean just had to quip, there was a more subtle but related problem that Sam was finding even more troubling.
What he wasn't telling anyone was that his was not the only appetizing scent in the bunker. At least, to his probably heightened sense of smell, it wasn't. If a smell could be heard, it was the sweetest, most stirring melody and it was emanating in faint but delicious wafts from Dean. Unbidden, his mind was once again supplying an interpretation for Sam. Words like‘Alpha’ and ‘his’ and ‘want’ were playing in his brain on a repeating loop. Naturally, the fact that Sam was quietly struggling with episodes of strong attraction to his brother added an extra layer of discomfort between them.
Though he could never discuss this with Dean, there had been moments in the past 2 weeks that had Sam wondering or maybe hoping he was having a similar effect on Dean. It reminded Sam of absence seizures. He had once read about how persons suffering from this would just briefly check out and stare blankly for a few minutes then just abruptly come back online and probably not even realize it had happened.
Sometimes, when he and his brother were in close proximity, Dean would just seem to pause mid stride slightly longer than normal or lose his train of thought when conversing. At these times, when the older hunter “skipped a groove” as Sam referred to it in his mind, he seemed to be breathing more deeply, his nostrils flaring. His face might appear more flushed though Sam did not look too closely usually too busy averting his gaze and pretending not to notice.
Mostly, Sam just found himself feeling increasingly like more of a freak than he'd ever been when he was drinking Demon blood. For one thing, he was clumsy as though he were 14 again. He just moved a little faster and was a little stronger than he was used to. Every time he ended up tripping over furniture or bringing objects clattering to the ground, Dean would have a good laugh while Sam turned bright red.
“The Sasquatch is speedy but he sure ain't stealthy, huh Sammy?” Dean loved teasing Sam. “Want me to have Cas help Sammy proof the bunker?” Dean asked after Sam brought a bookshelf down on top of himself. “Ha ha. You still trying to research what kind of monster I am or have you figured out how to take me out?” Sam meant the question humorously but he was surprised to see hurt and guilt briefly cloud Dean’s expression.
“Listen. Sammy. There's something I've been thinking I'm way overdue saying to you.” Dean began his tone much more serious now. “I don’t want you feeling like a freak and like I think you’re some kind of monster. I like to think my mind’s a bit more open than when I was younger. You know? Especially since my experience with the mark of Cain. I was every bit as high on that power and being a demon as you ever were on demon blood. And you stood by me. You didn’t judge.” Dean’s voice trailed off as he started to fidget uncomfortably not making eye contact.