The Bodyguard (is the Omega)

3.

Castiel stared at the intercom. He had not seen a more outdated and worn piece of security equipment before. It sat perched outside the ornate gates, spilling out its guts of frayed wires. He wasn't surprised when it crackled and spat out a static filled response when Castiel pressed the button.

"Pizza man?"

Castiel frowned at the intercom. "No."

"What do you want?"

"I have an appointment to see Mr Winchester," Castiel didn't specify which.

"Say what?"

"I am here to fuck Mr Dean Winchester, your boss," Castiel said in a polite and official voice.

"Right, of course," crackle crackle. "You better come in then."

The gates swung open, Castiel drove in, taking stock of how long it took the grand metal panels to close behind his car. At night, no one would see anything darting in if the gates opened.

There were vans parked over the pebbled driveway. A shiny black Impala was parked right by a huge fountain. A young woman was servicing it. She was the only one who took notice of Castiel's arrival. Castiel ignored her inquiring gaze, parked his vehicle and headed for the entry way.

"Hey, you're not the usual pizza guy," she waved at him. "Stop!"

He turned around and took in her black suit, white shirt, red hair up in a neat low ponytail. Her eyes were intelligent and he could scent that she was an omega. One with grease over her knuckles and an arm up in a sling. There were rainbow cufflinks on her shirt sleeve. On her wrist was a thin collar, broken and sewn together with crimson thread. Castiel knew the symbol for non-subservience well.

"I'm Castiel, Sam invited me here," he told her plainly, deciding not to mess with her.

"The bodyguard? You're not due till next Tuesday," she said.

"No, I am not."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, you're here to scope out the death star for weaknesses! Well this place is kind of a loose ship."

"Is that how you hurt your arm?"

"This?" She grinned at him. "It's from a pie."

Castiel blinked at her.

"You go on in," she gestured with her injured arm. "About time someone took control around here."

There was a breeze blowing through the trees and Castiel watched her eyes widen comically as she inevitably caught his scent.

"Whoa," she said but took her discovery in stride. "Well, cool. I'm Charlie, Dean's chauffeur. Just the limo, not baby. He doesn't let me drive the Impala. Surprised he lets me change her oil, he's super busy at the moment. They are choreographing for his music video inside."

The caterer opening the door looked Castiel up and down. He wondered what she thought of his appearance. He was in a suit, not his nicest, just a charcoal off the rank one. He wore a plain white shirt and a blue tie. His hair was a mess but he did try, there was probably orange blossom in his hair. The trench coat he wore was opened and since it had been a long drive a little wrinkled. He had not had the time to shave and cleanup, so there was morning scruff over his chin and neck. The long plane ride and being cooped up in a car for so long intensified and concentrated Castiel's scent. It certainly wasn't sitting in the tree watching that guy swim that made him positively waft, Castiel tried to convince himself unsuccessfully.

"Can I help you?" She said, eyes uncertain.

"I have an appointment with Mr Winchester," Castiel said.