Castiel slumped forward heavily on his uncomfortably smooth stool, gripping his bottle of alcohol tightly in one hand and leaning his dark haired head at an awkward angle on the other arm, using the metal surface of the bar to support himself. He was seriously exhausted, annoyed and wounded all over his body. Six. He'd had to deal with six goddamned vampires at once, all by himself, armed only with a machete, two vials of dead man's blood and his hunting skills, since his usual partner, a redheaded girl named Anna that he used to like in Catholic school, (until he found out she was an Alpha) was taking a health-related vacation after a hellhound nearly killed her. He'd foolishly underestimated the size of the coven and paid the consequences.

He'd only had time to drive to the Roadhouse and get a couple of beers to celebrate surviving for one more day, just to sleep in a third-rate motel room and probably do another hunt tomorrow.

"Fucking vampires," he muttered under his breath, his already gravelly voice roughened even more by stress. He inhaled slowly, letting the calming scents of the Roadhouse fill his nose. Blood, booze, sweat and alpha and omega pheromones mingled headily, soaking into his skin and washing away the last dredges of heart-busting adrenaline from his latest hunt. Just as he was finally starting to relax, a firm, long nailed hand grabbed him and shook him by his aching shoulder, demanding attention. He sat up far too quickly, careening wildly and spilling his beer onto himself. He groaned, his blurred vision struggling to make out the figure before him. When he recognized her, he sighed, rubbing a calloused hand over his face. Ellen Harvelle, the beta who owned the bar.

"So, this is the great Castiel Novak that I've heard so many stories about," Ellen said sarcastically, looking unimpressed.

"And here he is in the flesh, drunk off his ass at my bar." Castiel groaned.

"Give me some time, Ellen. I just got back from a particularly difficult hunt, and I'd like to relax a bit, please." His usually eloquent voice was slurred, and he stumbled over the words.

"Whatever. Just, I can't have you half asleep here in the front, so just take a seat in one of the booths in the back. I'll bring you another drink," she said, eying his beer-stained shirt. Luckily, he'd removed his trench coat for once, and it sat high and dry on the high back of the stool.

He grunted in reply, pushing back the stool and stumbling to the back of the room. He knew quite a few of the hunters who were laughing and talking in boisterous, loud voices at the tables around him, but honestly he couldn't be bothered to talk to any of them. He found a fairly isolated booth in a darkened corner, only close to one other. He sighed in relief, and slid onto the red, cushioned seat, staring glumly down at the worn mahogany of the table before him. Ellen came by after a couple of minutes, and passed him a fresh beer that he accepted gratefully. He sucked it down thirstily, feeling it burn its way down his sweat beaded throat. He looked at his watch, to see how late it was, and saw with shock that it was November 27th. He chuckled darkly. Had he really lost track of the days so much that he'd forgotten even today?

Well, it wasn't like he had much of a choice. That was his whole damn life, eat, hunt, sleep, and sleep with.

"Happy birthday to me," he said softly, scratching at the stubble on his chin, and his heart twisted a little in his chest. A single tear threatened at the edge of one bright blue eye, and was ignored (don't you remember Michael and Gabriel and even good ol' daddy dear said alphas don't ever cry) and drowned in alcohol. Just like all the rest of his problems.

Dean Winchester was fucking tired.

All he wanted to do was relax, chill with some alpha hunting buddies and drink. He'd spent the whole week on a case which turned out to be a nasty case of ghost possession, and he'd nearly got Sammy mauled to death in the process of ganking the son of a bitch. So he left Sam home to lick his wounds and sulk, and headed for the Roadhouse.

He drove over the freeway pretty quickly; everybody else he'd called for his impromptu Alpha's night out was already there and probably waiting in there for him to show up. When he finally arrived at the rowdy place that was basically as close to home as he'd ever come, he pulled his sleekly purring baby into a parking spot close up to the building and cut the engine, relishing the familiar sharp sound of the car door as he opened and closed it. He hurried out of the cold parking lot toward the warm, inviting door, dragging his leather jacket closer around him with a rustle. Leaves crunched under his boots, and the cold was cutting him straight down to his bones.

Damn. It was freaking' cold for goddamned November. It was still autumn, for God's sake, so why did it feel like someone had stuck him in the freezer for a week and a half? He pushed in the door, happy to come inside, and walked in, and walked in, kicking his shoes against the rug. He raised his head, breathed in, and then the scent hit him like a brick wall, physically pushing him a step back, screaming AlphaAlphaAlpha over and over in his short circuiting brain.

He froze up as the door slammed behind him, trapping the smell in with him and making it two hundred times stronger. He gasped for air and only made it worse, his eyes fluttering open wide and his face heating up, and there was definitely a lot of blood traveling south as well. He looked around, searching for the source of the tantalizing scent. It wasn't any of his hunting buddies, he'd smelled them before, on nearly a daily basis, and they were nothing compared to this- this sensory fucking molestation.

Wait-his hunting buddies. Dean closed his eyes, breathing lightly through his slightly open mouth to reduce the amount of smell permeating his lungs, locking down the desperate instinct to lower himself to the ground and beg for it, bare his neck to whoever was broadcasting that level of fucking Alpha aroma.

He might be an Omega- and an unmated one at that, but he wasn't like the others. His dad had taught him to take heat suppressants, and spray on Alpha scented deodorant every day; even to carry himself in a manner that made nobody, not a single damn person think he was anything but a confident Alpha.

Come to think of it, John might have been a bit ashamed that his eldest presented as an Omega, but at least Sam had come out Alpha like him. Dean pushed the intoxicating smell to the back of his mind, with more than a little difficulty. He opened his eyes, plastered an easy smile onto his face, and eased his stature back into a relaxed, look-at-me-I'm-hot-and-cool posture, glad nobody had paid enough attention to him to notice his momentary odd behavior. Willing his boner away, he approached the bar where his friends were taking shots and laughing. Benny was talking up one of the waitresses at the side, obviously drunk, and Dean rolled his eyes. The guy couldn't ever keep it in his pants, even for a minute. He greeted Kevin, Adam and Jo with a nod and a friendly, "Hey, guys." Kevin grinned, smacking him hard on the back.

"Hey, Dean. I was wondering when you'd show up, considering the fact that you invited us here." The other Alphas nodded in agreement.

"Well I'm here now," he said, slightly distractedly. The scent was still there, cutting through all the other Alpha scents and taunting him, urging him to scramble as fast as he could to his- no, not his Alpha. His eyes scanned the room. If he needed to he could jump over some tables, if only it would get him closer to that fucking smell, dammit. Jo frowned slightly, looking concerned.

"Hey, earth to Dean. You okay?" she asked, putting a warm, soft hand on his shoulder. Her blonde hair fell softly, framing a face that he might have found attractive if she wasn't his best friend from childhood. She was the only person other than Sammy and his dad that knew he was an Omega, and one of the only people he could trust.

"Yeah, yeah… I'm fine," he said slowly, still not looking at her. When he finally snapped his attention over in the right direction, he hesitantly smiled again to cover over the awkward moment. "Uh, yeah. Let's take a seat over at the back," he said, hoping that it would take him further away from that scent that was about to make him slick himself.

Of course, he had no such luck.

Ok, so that was the first chapter! I know it's really short T^T. I hope you like it. Reviews would be appreciated! ;D *UPDATE* the formatting issue has been fixed! I don't know what happened, it was fine before -_-