Title: Flawed Nature
Author: HigherMagic
Pairing(s): Dean/Cas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: violence in the animal kingdom
Summary: Dean and Sam are on an expedition to study wolves in their natural habitat. They'd hoped to get a few sightings, maybe get in close – what they hadn't expected was to find a feral man, bleeding and close to death, in the middle of the woods.
Notes: This story is loosely based off of Disney's Tarzan, but with a much more visceral edge.
This was written for the spn_reversebang over on LiveJournal. Check out my AO3 to see the accompanying art done by BflyW!
Cas lay low in the shadows, heart beating slowly, relaxed; fingers curled just close enough to his palms to protect them from the biting cold. His feet were arched up, so he was braced on the thick soles at the balls of his feet and his heels were tucked into the relative warmth of his thighs. The rocks were cold where he perched, coated with enough brackish water to make them slick and rough against Cas' sensitive feet, but the young wolf remained still, steadfast and vigilant.
Only his eyes moved when he caught a glimpse of a foreigner to his right, lips pressing together to stop him making a sound, his fingers flexing just enough to return blood flow, and he moved nothing else.
It was a she-wolf, white pelt sticky with tree sap and dotted with bracken and bits of mud. Her fur was darker towards her muzzle and down her short legs to her feet, and she walked with her head and tail low to the ground, snuffling along the fine, frosted grass, ears loose and relaxed. Cas immediately recognized her, blinking and lifting his head just enough to get a better look over the cusp of foliage he had chosen to hide in.
He did not know what her given name was, but Cas called her Rae. It was the first noise that Cas had ever heard the she-wolf make – a soft, whuffing sound at something a pup had done in her presence, which Cas grew up to realize was amusement or pleasure. Cas bared his teeth in a smile, upper lip curling back as he lifted his head further to try and hear her better, for she had moved on beyond his easy sight and disappeared through the trees again. Luckily, her white pelt made her stand out easily between the rocks and the bushes and the high, dark trees, and he could easily spot her once again.
He pressed his heels down against the ground, straightening just enough that he could move his cramping and sore muscles, and slid down off of the rock, deeper into the bushes. Twigs snapped and dry leaves crackled under his feet and he winced, hissing in annoyance at the things and spitting down at the forest floor. Then, he braced his palms on the ground and flattened himself amongst the moist dirt, rolling enough that the mud stuck to his skin and would hide most of his scent until it was too late.
Task done, Cas pushed himself upwards and crawled out of the bushes. He could still see her, vaguely, a white shadow amongst the dark trees, and then he began to run. Her light gait was something he could easily have kept up with, or overtaken, and on silent feet he crept closer to the oblivious she-wolf. Because it had been a long and hard winter, he could see she looked thinner, most of her bulk down to her pelt and the fluffiness of her winter fur. Most of the wolves had. Cas, though, could survive off of winter berries and sweet tree sap and smaller creatures than deer or rodents and still maintain most of his body weight and muscle mass.
He braced himself against an old oak tree when the bark gave way with a soft crack, and Cas froze, hissing again in simple aggravation at Mother Nature. He shrank back when Rae lifted her head, ears forward and dark eyes scanning the horizon ahead, but her attention was not behind her, where Cas was, and so he took the opportunity to close the final few meters, and barrel into her with a rough, huffing laugh.
The she-wolf's reaction was immediate, as she almost folded herself in half to see her attacker and strike back. A soft whine left the back of her throat as Cas' arms closed around her neck and his legs kicked into her haunches to stun and disable her. She immediately jumped forward, forcing Cas to balance on her back for a few, precarious seconds, before she twisted around again, underneath him, and he flopped onto his back on the ground. Rae's ears were flat back, hackles raised in threat and upper lip curling, before she saw that it was Cas and her aggressive counter-attack turned into a playful, scolding nip to his shoulder.
Her tail wagged, once. Rae was the Omega wolf of the pack, and the closest thing Cas had to companionship beyond the pack's complicated dynamics. Cas knew he wasn't quite like the wolves, didn't belong and look like them and hunt as well as them, but he had lived in the same pack since as long as he could remember and they were his family now.
Cas grinned up at her and she matched it, jaws open and panting hard against Cas' chest, her tail wagging once more, before she dug her muzzle under his chest and forced Cas to his hands and knees, the man laughing and playfully nipping at her ear when it came close enough to reach.
"Rae," he murmured affectionately, rolling so he was sitting down with his legs stretched out in front of him, and curled his fingers gently around her face so that they could see each other. Rae's tongue flicked out, licking at Cas' mouth, and he accepted the submission from her with a soft stroke through her matted fur and a low, rumbling hum that made her lick his mouth again.
Then, Cas stood up, brushing the dirt and leaves off of him, and began to walk. Rae trotted by his side, at just the proper height that Cas could reach down and touch her shoulder if he wanted, to be sure she was still there, and he could feel her coarse fur brushing against the skin of his thigh as they returned to the pack together.
Dean Winchester pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, heaving a large sigh – big enough that his brother, Sam, rolled his eyes to Heaven and clapped the book he had been reading shut.
"What?" he demanded, throwing the book on the table in front of them. "What is it this time?"
Dean couldn't help but smirk, just a little, at the reaction he had garnered – it had only been three hours, and usually it took Sam longer to snap. "I'm bored, Sammy," he complained, sitting back in his chair far enough that the front legs left the floor and he lolled his head from side to side, sighing again and staring up at the ceiling in their tent. "It's cold, there's barely another human being for miles around, and we haven't seen onestupid wolf in, like, twenty days or something!"
Sam rolled his eyes again. "There are plenty of people here to keep you entertained, Dean," he said, and it was true, to an extent – there were twenty or so people on the same expedition as Sam and Dean, but they had all settled many miles North of the brothers, convinced that the packs native to this part of the country would move there soon enough in search of food.
"Sam, face it," Dean objected, sitting forward in his seat and bracing his elbows against the dainty metal table they shared. Right now it had maps spread out across it, marked with past wolf sightings and possible locations of the packs' dens, and most of them were deep inside the forest proper where none of the explorers had dared go before. "They've moved on, up North where it's warmer. We only saw that one loner a few weeks ago, right? What could be the harm in joinin' up with the others?"
"I don't know, Dean," Sam replied with a sigh that could rival his brother's, and picked up his book again. "I just…I have a gut feeling with this place. Don't give up on it yet, alright? Gimme another week." And then those ridiculous puppy dog eyes were fixed on Dean in all their glory and the elder Winchester subsided with an exasperated grumble.
"Fine," he growled, rubbing a hand over his face and scratching at the itchy beard that had started to grow through – he hadn't shaved in a few days and it was starting to bother him. "One week, then we're scrammin'. I don't like being cooped up in a place like this with no one around. S'not natural."
Sam smirked to himself and decided not to comment on that declaration, and instead re-immersed himself in his book documenting various sightings of the large wolf packs that roamed this region, and, after drumming his hands on the table for a moment and thinking of ways to entertain himself, Dean stood and secluded himself in their semi-partitioned bedroom, where Sam could hear the unmistakable, but ignorable sounds of Dean stripping down to less layers (though still warm because it was far from a pleasant temperature without the fire lit) and bedding down for the evening.
Sam smiled to himself, turning the page as he listened to Dean's breathing even out to gentle snores, and bit his lip to stop himself making a sound of amusement: protests aside, Sam knew that Dean wanted to see and study the wolves just as badly as he did, was completely in love with the wild creatures, and if Sam had suggested they give up so soon, he would have fought like a dog to stay just for a while longer.
Sometimes, all Dean needed was an excuse.
Cas could naturally hold his head higher than those of the other wolves, when he walked on his own two feet. That wasn't much of a problem with Rae, for while he was not the highest ranking he was still higher-up the pecking order than she was, but when among the rest of the pack, Cas had to spend most of his time in an ape-like crouch. It helped to build the muscles up in his thighs and shoulders and he could move at impressive speed when on his knuckles and the balls of his feet like that, but he savored the moments where he could stand tall with his head above waist-level and view the green earth from higher above.
Unlike the others, Cas could climb too, and he often did when he was alone and could risk being up amongst the birds and the snakes in the trees. Cas could not run like the wolves could when he was with them, although he was much faster on his feet than on all fours, and so he was not utilized as a hunter, so much as a warrior and scout, and that placed him at a comfortable middle rank within the pack.
Cas halted on the edges of the small glen where the wolves had settled for the winter, and Rae paused beside him as well, ears forward and tilting her head with a soft whine to look at Cas. Her tail wagged a little and she licked at her jaw, panting out through her mouth, and watched as Cas sighed and crouched down again, already wincing because his legs and feet were sore and tender from sitting for many hours on his rock, and he would likely not be able to stretch out until the pack settled down to sleep.
They walked in together and they came across Aur, as Cas called him. He was the wolf who had found Cas, and allowed the rest of the pack to find him by raising up a great howling sound. The beast was large, with thick, shaggy brown fur that was lighter on his belly and across his muzzle, greying with age, and Cas crawled over to the wolf with his head lowered, like Rae's was. Her tail was also tucked between her legs in submission to the beta male, but Cas did not have a tail and so he had to merely rely on his lowered eyes and sloped shoulders to appease the more dominant wolf.
Aur let out a soft whuffing sound, breathing out heavily. There was steam rising off of his back and his breaths were even and deep like they got when he was recovering from running, and Cas pressed his face against the wolf's shoulder, running the scratchy hair on his cheeks with the grain of the wolf's fur, and felt Aur's answering nip to the skin of his back. The wolf's teeth were sharp and it hurt Cas' thin skin, but the young wolf bore the nip with a pleasured rumble, glad that Aur was happy to see him.
A small barking sound caught Cas' attention and on instinct both he and Rae scrambled backwards to both see the approaching wolf and duck their heads down. Rae trotted off when it became obvious that the approaching female was not interested in her, her eyes instead fixed on the side of Cas' face.
A cold nose pressed itself against Cas' cheek, and without hesitation the young wolf turned his head to lick at her mouth. He smiled, closing his eyes when he recognized the dark fur and unique breathing of Chay. She was the beta female, Aur's mate, and had cared for Cas when he was growing up. Chay's tail wagged happily upon seeing one of her only surviving pups, supposedly unharmed and well fed and rested as she always checked, and then she turned from him to duck her head under her mate's for a moment, nuzzling him affectionately, before yipping softly at Cas and tilting her head to ask him to follow. Cas mimicked the noise, smiling wide enough to display his teeth, and crawled behind her to the den that they shared.
Though the air outside was cold, it was pleasantly warm in the little hollow, and Cas eagerly bedded down next to his mother and father. With them in the den were three of the newest litter, and Cas pulled the mewling pups close to his chest to help keep them warm. It was a rare thing, Aur and Chay having pups because the Alpha didn't usually allow it, but the winter had been harsh and he was getting older. Soon it would be time for a newer, younger Alpha to challenge him and take his place.
Cas closed his eyes, stroking across the silky-soft fur between his siblings' eyes. It might be one of these, he thought to himself, or perhaps the Alphas' children themselves. But there was no reason it couldn't be some outsider, or another bold and daring wolf within the pack.
His fingers tightened until the pups complained and he let them go. Oh, how he longed to be able to hold his head high above the others, and lead them to places this Alpha refused to go – places close to the huts on the edge of the forest where it always smelled of meat and berries, or deeper into the woods where bears and eviler creatures lived. Cas feared nothing in this forest or beyond it, and he was frustrated by the stifling, sedentary law of this land, this world.
He knew he was different from the other wolves. He was stronger, bigger by far, better at climbing and scouting and seeing things with more than just his nose. He was Alpha, a real Alpha, he knew it in his heart, and soon it would become time when he would have to plan his uprising and take his rightful place, where he knew he belonged.
He closed his eyes when he felt his mother's warm body settle behind him, and nuzzled close to her stomach and swollen teats and allowed his siblings to eat their fill. Soon, he thought to himself, his hand absently stroking the smattering of dark hair on his forearms and wondering why, when he suited this place so well, he had never adapted better to it. Soon it will all be his.
"Hey, Sammy, we're all out."
Sam rolled his eyes, hardly bothered at this point to try and correct his brother on the ridiculous nickname that had somehow stuck past their teenaged years. "Out of what, Dean?" he asked, trying to put as much exasperation and boredom into his tone as he could since he knew it pissed Dean off to no end.
"Everything," came Dean's reply, dripping with finality as he came into the bunker, stamping his feet against the mat and toeing his boots off. He wiped down the edges of his jeans and the shoulders of his jacket, sighing heavily. "We didn't plan for staying this long, and our food's running low, not to mention wood for the fire and shit like that. I'm pretty sure that layer of toilet paper is the last one we have." He didn't say anything more to that – merely sat down at the table and fixed his brother with a pointed look.
Sam's shoulders tensed; he knew what Dean would suggest. "I'm not ready to go yet, Dean," he said, turning to look over his shoulder at his clearly unamused brother. Dean, to his credit, restrained from rolling his eyes. "I know, I know," Sam muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But I just…I can't shake this feeling, Dean, like we're about to hit something big, you know? We gotta stay, at least for a few more days."
Dean worried his lower lip between his teeth, eyes appraising and guarded, before he slumped in his seat and threw his hands in the air in defeat. "Fine," he muttered, standing and digging into his coat pockets for a moment, frowning to himself, before he took a keychain out and tossed it to Sam, who barely managed to catch it. "The truck's got enough juice in it to get you to the next town. Stock up, get some more gas and whatever else we need and come back."
Sam tilted his head to one side, confused. "Dean…"
"Hey," Dean interrupted, raising a hand and pointing an accusing finger towards his brother. "You convinced me to stay, so you're going to go out and freeze your ass off while I hold the fort here." Sam opened his mouth to argue, but shut it quickly at the look Dean gave him. He flushed guiltily. "Go on, Sammy, I'll take care of things here and I'll radio you if I get a sighting or anything."
Sam smiled. "Thanks, Dean," he said, pulling his brother into a quick hug before grabbing one of their emergency duffles and heading out to the truck. The trip should take him no more than two days – the towns were few and far between here, and the roads were treacherous at best, nonexistent at worse. Still, they had their cell phones and radios if those crapped out that got a pretty damn good radius, and Dean knew how to survive in the wild out here. He was no stranger to rough living.
"Hurry up, bitch, you're losing daylight."
"Shut the fuck up."
Dean laughed, saluting Sam as the back of his truck disappeared over the rise, and went back inside to warm himself up. The patrol around their usual routes hadn't brought any new signs of wolves passing through, and well, for all Sam had some gut instincts, Dean had a couple of his own too.
He sat down next to the maps, dark eyes carefully scanning all the marked routes and known safe places where wolves were not likely to be seen, as well as possible theories on den sites, and began to plan.
Cas was out on his own, foraging for winter berries and small rivers and ponds that he could find insects and fish in, when he came across the Alpha.
The wolf was big and a dark brown like the heart of a tree or the bottom of a lake that Chay had taken Cas to once, to bathe. His eyes were black and dark enough that Cas could not see the thin ring of different color that his own eyes had, or the other wolves had. Cas had never named him because he had no right to ever address the Alpha or move within his circles, and so had never heard many sounds coming from the great beast.
Cas was standing on two feet, staring openly, when the wolf sensed him and turned. At once his ears flattened and he bared his teeth in a threatening snarl, white forming around his mouth from saliva, but Cas was not looking at that. He was looking at the thin line of red blood falling from the Alpha's nose, and the way his snarl hitched at the very end.
The Alpha was weak.
Now would be a perfect time.
Cas raised his chin in defiance to the Alpha, baring his own teeth in a rival snarl. He could see the hackles on the Alpha's back rise, posturing to make him look bigger and more threatening, and indeed he did look more threatening, and Cas clutched the small rock he used to dig mushrooms from the ground behind his back.
He snarled in return, crouching low to the ground in challenge. He had no fur to rise in threat and his ears could not lay so flat like the Alpha's could, but the rival wolf knew a challenge when he saw it. The Alpha side-stepped, testing Cas' response to him, and the young wolf merely snarled louder and clutched at the sharp rock in his hand ever-tighter.
The Alpha ran at him first, savage-looking teeth bared and jaws open to bite at Cas, and the younger wolf flinched away, hissing when the Alpha anticipated it and caught him with an outward sweep of his claws. Cas cried out in pain, the scent of blood making his nostrils flare, and lashed out with the rock, pushing the Alpha away, and then he rolled to his feet, intent on leaping on the beast and clawing at him until there was nothing left.
The Alpha squared up on him again, and Cas let him run and charge, and jumped to one side, forcing the wolf to slow, before he spun around and grabbed onto the thick pelt at his back like he had done with Rae. It threw the Alpha's weight off and the wolves went tumbling to the ground, the Alpha's snarls loud in Cas' ears.
By no means was the big wolf beaten – he rolled onto his back and kicked at Cas, but the weak position forced his head to turn and he was quickly rolling onto his stomach again. Cas grimaced, gritting his teeth, and he wrapped an arm tight around the wolf's neck, grabbing hold of his wrist with his free hand, and began to squeeze.
The Alpha went wild underneath him, snarling and gnashing his teeth at Cas, but the young wolf planted his face into the scruff of the Alpha's neck and the wolf could not bite him. The Alpha struggled to get to his feet but his breath was coming shortly, and Cas could feel the heavy beat of his heart begin to slow.
He clenched his eyes tightly shut and squeezed, and squeezed, until he could feel no more air within the wolf and the creature had gone still. Cas did not let go straight away, but rather opened his jaws wide and sank his teeth into the scruff of the creature's neck, to see if he would get a reaction. There was none, and finally Cas released his hold and let the wolf slump to the ground in front of him.
He paused, breathless, resting one hand on the wolf's shoulder. He'd done it. He'd killed the Alpha.
A slow, feral smile spread out over Cas' face, and he growled low to himself in victory, fingers clenching in the thick scruff of fur. He'd done it. Just to be sure, he took his sharp rock and twisted it into the soft flesh of the Alpha's neck, pulling fur and skin apart to reveal the white bone of his spine. He hacked until the head came completely off of the body and got to his feet, the bloody head dangling from between his fingertips.
He bared his teeth again, grinning into the dead, black eyes of the former Alpha, and licked at its open, slack mouth in a mocking gesture of submission. He would return to the pack and take his place now as their leader, born and bred for it, with the stain fresh on his hands from his kill.
Dean woke suddenly to the phone ringing. He heaved a heavy sigh, squinting at the battery operated clock that sat between his bedroll and the undisturbed permanent one that Sam had left behind, and shoved himself to his feet.
Groggily, wiping at some drool that still clung stubbornly to the corner of his mouth, he squinted at the name flashing across the screen – though really it only made sense for one person to be calling him – and answered it.
"Short-stop, what's the news?"
"Dean." Sam's tone made the light mood vanish from Dean's mind. Immediately his shoulders went tense and he frowned down at their map-marked table.
"What's up, Sammy?" he asked again, pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear while he made his way over to their fridge and took out some of the last of the canned fruit. He simply clicked the lid open, tossed it in the trash and grabbed a fork – didn't need a bowl for canned pears, after all.
"There's a storm front movin' in, Dean – they've shut all the roads back from town. I can't get through, they won't let me." Sam sounded like he was starting to panic, Dean could hear it, and he was quick to set his food down and reclaim the phone in his hand, a soothing sound escaping him before he could think about it – like he used to do when Sam was younger and would have nightmares.
"Alright Sammy, that's fine. I've got enough food for a coupl'a days for one person, and I can hunt before the storm hits if need's be." He could hear Sam's loud exhale, and nodded to himself, glad that at least Sam was listening to his reasoning and he seemed to be calming down. "I'm gonna be fine, little brother. Call me when it clears and you're on your way back, 'kay? How long do they think it'll take?"
"I dunno," Sam replied, sounding frustrated again, like he was talking through his teeth. "Few days, maybe a week? Dean, I'm so sorry -."
"Hey, quiet now."
Dean had to smile as Sam let out another frustrated breath into the phone. It was endearing, almost, how much Sam didn't like leaving Dean alone for any length of time. Not since he had practically dragged Dean out onto this expedition kicking and screaming to, what were his words? 'Get away from it all'?
"I'll be fine, Sammy, and if I'm not, well, you'll come back to my cold and bleeding corpse, 'kay?"
"Not funny, Dean," Sam replied tersely, and it made Dean laugh.
"You have no sense of humor. Alright, I'm hanging up now."
"Be safe, Dean," Sam murmured, softly and seriously enough that Dean hesitated, sighing and nodding though Sam couldn't see him. Then the line clicked dead and Dean tossed the phone back onto the table, leaning against their small kitchen counter and reclaiming his half-empty can of pears. So, a whole week without Sam – well, Dean had gone longer, for sure, but there was something about this place, he guessed, this weird combination of bleak and fertile, with trees sprouting out of dead and frosty earth, that made the other half of their cabin seem very empty.
He shook the thoughts off, finishing his breakfast and throwing the can away, dumping the fork in the sink unwashed. Dean smirked to himself, expecting to hear Sam bitching him out for it – but hey, Sam wasn't here for a while.
Dean straightened and tried to think like a professional now – there was a storm coming, which meant he would need to stockpile things like firewood and food and, if possible, a toilet paper replacement. He grimaced at the idea of using leaves, but hey, there were worse fates than getting some moss in your ass.
He crossed the cabin and opened the cupboard by their front door, taking out the hunting rifle and a spare box of bullets. It had been a while since he'd really shot anything that could move and he was rusty, but confident that he would be able to get something, if in a hasty-made trap than anything else. They did have a few traps around the camp anyway, mostly to stop things getting in, and for the most part they had remained empty, but today could be Dean's lucky day.
He loaded the gun and set it down, folding up the map of the immediate area and tucking it into his breast pocket, before shrugging on a fleece and a heavy winter jacket over that, and some thick gloves and a scarf and hat to protect his head and cheeks. When he had first got here he'd tried to forgo the scarf because, please, image here, but the first two hours of scouting and tracking had made him rethink that macho mindset pretty damn quickly. The forest had a way of breaking down a human's pride.
Geared up and ready to go, Dean took one last look around the cabin to make sure he didn't forget anything, before he stepped outside. The wind felt like it had begun to pick up, icy breeze stinging at the tiny parts of Dean's skin still bared to the weather, and he grimaced. He wasn't sure whether it was his own imagination that saw the dark storm clouds and felt the colder breeze, but he wasn't willing to take a chance that he would be caught out in the storm. He should have asked how far away Sam was when he'd called.
He shrugged, putting his head down, and marched into the forest.
Cas walked tall into the glen where the wolves' home was, baring his teeth as he tossed the head of the previous Alpha onto the ground. The wolves scattered upon seeing it, one or two of them emitting a startled whine.
The bravest to come forward and investigate was the Alpha female, the Alpha's mate. She was pregnant and would likely give birth in the spring, if Cas decided to let her live and to allow the Alpha's offspring to rise up and one day fight him for their bloodline back.
Cas' upper lip curled back at the thought, and the she-wolf snuffled at her mate's head, whining softly in the back of her throat. Then, her ears flattened and she raised her head to look at Cas, ears flattened to her skull and baring her savage-looking teeth.
Cas let loose a snarl of his own, crouching lower when he recognized the attack stance of the she-wolf. His bloody fingers flexed by his sides, but he was without a weapon now because he had no longer needed the rock after his victory over the Alpha.
She would attack him – she would attack him and she would die, Cas was sure of it. But then he twitched, head tilted to one side when he realized that she was not the only one growling at him, but the other wolves as well. He could not see Rae, but the rest of them had their hackles raised and ears flattened, even – he looked – his own parents.
They were outraged. Cas snarled again when he realized why – he should have killed the damned female first.
There were too many of them and he knew he could not win in this fight. Aur would probably take over, or one of the Alpha's older pups, perhaps. He needed to leave, skirt the edges of them, find a new pack or pick off the hierarchy one by one until they would have to accept him as their dominant and Alpha. He snarled again, backing away from them, as the female Alpha advanced to make sure he stayed back.
Cas knew this forest well – he knew the places to hide, and he knew the trees to climb, and he knew the perfect place that would hide him until they had given up their chase. When he figured he was far enough away from them all, he turned tail and ran.
He was not fast enough.
The howl went up around him, the one that made his skin prickle with fear and violence and made him want to run with his pack, track down and hunt and kill whatever it was that was in their sights – only now it was him, he was the reason. He could hear it in their voices; traitor, usurper, omega wolf. And he snarled at that, urging his legs to run faster than the wolves' and to keep his lead until he reached his secret hiding place.
He would be cast out for this – lone wolf, and Omega below even Rae. Everything inside of him rebelled at that. No, he was not Omega, he was Alpha – he knew it in his heart, he was meant to be Alpha, and now he ran, and kept running as fast as he could, until they were flanking him on every side and his breath was coming in short, sharp pants.
The Alpha female had fallen back, and it was one of their hunters on his heels now – Tar, one of the Alpha's sons. But Cas couldn't spare much thought to the young wolf because he could see the place now, ahead of him – a steep slope of rock that even the nimblest of the wolves would have trouble scaling, and on top of it a tree had overgrown to create a nest full of bugs and spiders and rodents that Cas would be able to eat and survive on until the coast was clear.
He ran for the rock face and leapt, fingers curling into the tiny grooves run into the rock and he tried to climb up. But Tar was fast behind him and he could hear the wolf snarling, and then Cas lost his footing and crashed to the ground again. Tar was on him immediately, snarling and clawing at his flanks and belly until Cas cried out with pain, his fingers reaching blindly for any loose rocks or something he could use as a weapon. He swung, landing a punch to the side of the wolf's head and Tar stumbled back, stunned and shaking himself off. But the wolf did not give him much respite and all too soon Cas felt his sharp teeth sinking into his shoulder, head jerking from side to side like he would try and rend the flesh from Cas' bones, and Cas snarled, getting his feet under him, and kicked out, sending Tar stumbling backwards.
He was on his feet quickly, and did his best to climb up again. His fingers were slippery with blood and his arm was weak and wouldn't move properly, but he managed to haul himself up to a safe height and collapsed on the face of the rock, shivering with shock and fear and cold. His body felt weak and he was sweating from the run and from the fight, and around him the sound of the wolf's howl was prickling at his skin. He wanted to join them, to scream out his victory over their Alpha and his outrage at being run out, turned into a lone wolf.
He could hear their threats, their words: Run Omega wolf, we will kill you. They would rip him apart with their teeth and claws and he would be nothing more than a traitor turned meal. He bent his head, fingers clenching, and let out a rough sob into the moist earth. His mother and father had turned on him, his friend was nowhere to be seen, and his pack had rejected him.
Tired, exhausted and sore, Cas rolled onto his back, looking up at the dense foliage that served as a roof to him. He ran his fingers through his shaggy, dark hair, and screamed out a howl of his own – one of defeat, and of loss, and around him he heard the wolves answer in their own cry of dominion.
Dean tensed when he heard the howling sound up around him – he knew that the howl of a wolf could travel for many miles and so hearing them didn't necessarily mean he was close, but nevertheless he was on high alert as he dragged the carcass of a young doe back to the cabin, half of the deer over his shoulder and the rest of it dragging through the mud. He took it to the lean-to on the back of the cabin, letting it collapse on one of the low tables where he would be able to skin and partition it into packable sizes that would fit in the meat cooler.
The air was warmer near the cabin, out of the wind, and Dean took off his gloves, hat and scarf and laid them to one side with a heavy sigh. He then left the carcass, drawing forward the thin plastic sheet that would discourage the merely curious of animals, and began to shovel the slick trail that he had left leading from the cabin to the forest. Perhaps he was paranoid but he didn't want a hunter or something else following the trail of blood to this place, hungry and aggressive. When the snow was suitably disturbed and he had shoveled most of the earth into a big mound about half a mile from his cabin, he returned and began the task of skinning and cutting up the deer.
The wolves were still howling but it sounded like they were getting further away. As Dean worked, sweat began to form at the back of his neck and across his forehead, and he wiped at his skin with the back of his blood-slick hand. The doe had been young and healthy and she yielded a surprising amount of meat, given that it was still winter and she would have been undernourished and hungry, most likely. Still, Dean was able to package a good amount of meat, enough to feed him for the next week at the least, as well as gristle and organ meat that would make decent second choices should it come to that.
He dragged what was left of the carcass back, its weight now much lighter and easier to carry, and left it by the mound of bloody earth for whatever scavengers came across it to find. No sense burying something that could make a decent meal for something else. With that done, he went back to the cabin and pulled in some of the firewood that had been stacked by the side of the cabin, into the lean-to so that should the snow come and block him in, he would still be able to reach it. He also packed the meat into the cooler and undid most of the traps surrounding the cabin so that unwitting creatures wouldn't get caught in the storm and be unable to survive.
The howl had died down by the time he was finished, washing his hands and face in the water running from the sink, and Dean looked up out of their window while he washed his hands and ran the water up his arms. They were out there – he knew Sam knew, could feel the creatures as though they were connected somehow. Sam had always had a peculiar fascination with wolves, and while Dean could certainly sympathize, he knew better than to try and commune with such creatures. They were animals, pure and simple, no matter how beautiful or fascinating or complicated they were.
The cabin was lonely, Dean soon discovered. Sam didn't take up much room, comparative to the space, he supposed, but it just seemed too big, too empty without him there. Dean's fingers itched for the phone, to call him and hear his voice again, but he stifled that urge – Sam didn't need to worry about Dean or his anxiety issues at the moment, and even if he did there was nothing he could do about it.
Dean could see the storm clouds gathering in, far away on the horizon – he maybe had ten hours, maybe 'til midnight, he couldn't be sure, but the wind was moving them swiftly along and, sooner or later, they would definitely come. He wondered if the wolves could feel it – if it made them restless like it made him.
The firewood was pretty low. He could afford to go out and gather some more, just in case.
Dean went to the lean to again, gathering up his gloves, hat and scarf, and hefted the wood chopping axe and the sturdy box saw that his dad used to use for cutting off branches of their tree in what was once their backyard. It was smaller than most and good for ignoring the grain of the wood and was ideally suited to hacking off the smaller branches.
He also took a smaller pistol and a hunting knife, just in case, and a large sack to carry back the wood in should he get more than what he could carry in his arms, which he intended to. He had no intention of running out of firewood while he waited out the storm and so he would gather as much as he could.
Cas drifted in and out of fitful sleep, curled in tight to himself to try and keep warm. Of all the wounds he had been dealt, the one to his shoulder was by far the worst – the cuts on his flanks and belly were shallow, superficial really compared to the shoulder wound, and he knew that he was dying. He couldn't stay here, otherwise he would bleed out and die or something bigger that was able to reach his hiding place would find him and finish him off.
The wolves had retreated for now but Cas knew better than to think he was in the clear. Tar or Chay or even Rae could be around somewhere, keeping an eye on him. Cas used to be their best scout, so he did not know who they would send instead, but he knew better than to think that he was completely alone.
There was movement to his left and without thinking Cas lashed out, grabbing the small vole in a tight grip, and the creature gave a startled squeak before Cas' strong grip crushed its bones and it died in his hands. He pushed himself upright, hissing in pain, and tore into the small creature, sucking out its blood and ripping the meat from under its fur with his teeth, until he was holding little more than a mesh of bloody bones and soaking fur. He tossed it to one side, gasping, and searched for another. There were beetles and flies in the nest and more would come if Cas let the carcass of the vole begin to decay and so he sat back and waited.
It took a long time – the creatures were wary around a predator such as him, but soon enough beetles and worms came, and he ate those too, sucking them down with handfuls of leaves, and he pulled the long legs off spiders and ate those, and sucked on the tree sap and dew running from the leaves above him. Still it could not keep up with his blood loss, and soon the worms were not only picking at the vole, but at his flesh as well, eager to eat the dying skin and wriggle into his wounds to reap the benefits of his still-warm flesh.
Cas growled, tearing at the creatures and flinging them to the ground. He could not stay here – he felt dizzy and weak and it was getting hard to see, but he could not stay here.
He pushed himself out of the nest, perched on top of the rock despite his sensitive and sore feet, and looked around carefully in all directions, waiting for a movement or a sound that would tell him he was not alone. He could see none, but of course that didn't mean nothing was out there – if not another wolf, something would have been attracted to the blood.
He bared his teeth in a warning snarl to anything that might be watching, and carefully slid down the rock face, keeping his back to it so that he could see in all directions. He crouched low to the ground, sniffing at the air, but could smell nothing beyond the rust scent of his blood and the death coating his mouth from the lives of other creatures. His upper lip curled back and he spat at the ground, before straightening – he wasrightful Alpha, after all – and he began to walk in the opposite direction of the pack, towards where the leaves got thinner and it always smelled of smoke.
The going was rough for him – he was still bleeding though most of his belly and torso wounds had begun to clot and had stopped bleeding, but every step was a dull throb of pain from his shoulder and he stumbled more often than he would care to admit. He tensed when he heard a twig snap behind him, and harsh pants of a creature approaching. It would be much like his fight with the Alpha, he thought – he was weak, and vulnerable, and someone could claim their rightful place by attacking him in such a weakened state.
He heard the sound of a low, soft whine, and he straightened up, eyes widening – he recognized that whine. He turned around, eyes landing on the soft white pelt of Rae, her ears forward and alert, dark eyes focused on him. She licked at her chops, another whine spilling from her when she lowered her head and took in his weakened, bloody state.
Cas' eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he took a step back when she trotted forward. Even Rae could have ambition, wish to rise in status from the lowest in the pack by killing the traitor, but she halted when he retreated from her, eyes rising to look at his chest, before she sat down on her haunches, licking her jaw again. She cocked her head to one side, tail wagging in happiness at seeing him alive and whined once more – her entire posture suggested no threat, only concern and affection, and so Cas dropped his eyes from her, and allowed himself to collapse to the ground within the tender hold of the roots of an old oak tree.
He breathed out, eyes closing when she approached and laid her body across his legs in an attempt to keep him warm. Cas swallowed, feeling another fit of sadness piling on top of him, and pressed his clenched fist to his bloody teeth to try and stifle the sound, his other hand fisting tight in the thick fur on her back. She was silent, a strong companion for him in his grief, as he folded himself over her and cried into her scruff, until there were no more tears to shed and he was tired and dizzy from exhaustion and stress, both of his body and on his mind.
"Rae," he whispered, voice hoarse and wrecked from crying, and stroked once through the soft fur of her flank. She licked at her jaws again, and rolled onto her side so that more of her body was covering his, and he was shivering and cold and getting blood on her pelt. "Rae."
She stayed with him until he passed out from blood loss and fatigue. When he fell silent, breathing evening out and heartbeat getting too slow, she whined, pushing herself upright, and licked at his mouth to try and garner a response, but there was none. She whined again, pawing at his leg, and nipped at his neck, but still he didn't move – merely collapsed to one side on the tree roots and didn't stir. Rae yipped softly, then more loudly, whining with more and more distress when she could not get him to move, until she heard the sound of someone approaching. Something not like her.
Rae's ears flattened and she whined, unsure, but she was not a fighter – she was Omega wolf, and would not stand well in a fight against another should it be one of their pack, or the female Alpha. She yipped again – a warning sound to whoever was attacking, and turned tail and ran, because she did not want to be caught under the wrath of a stronger creature, and her friend could not be helped now.
Dean was on his way home with the firewood when he saw the man.
The expedition had gone well, and he was carting the heavy sack of wood and the tools home, when he saw movement to the side of him, and turned. It was a wolf, a lone wolf, running quickly across his path – pale and streaked with dirt and mud, but with the unmistakable shock of blood marring her pelt. Dean had immediately looked back the way the wolf had come – it would be just his luck to stumble upon a kill, and the pack could be nearby, but there hadn't been any blood around the wolf's mouth speaking of mealtime, and from the way the wolf's tail had been tucked tight between its legs, he could not guess it was someone so high ranking as a hunter or the Alpha.
Perhaps he had stumbled upon a loner.
Curious, Dean carefully laid the sack of wood down to one side of a tree, and went to investigate. It didn't take him long to find the body of a man, shaggy-haired and bloody and beaten. He looked like he had been attacked by some wild animal, and his face was white and there was enough mud around his wounds to ensure some kind of infection. With the storm coming, he would likely die.
Dean's mouth twisted, and after another moment of looking around to be sure he was alone, he quickly bent down and hauled the man into his arms. He was light, but dense somehow, thick with muscle, and Dean could carry him with relative ease as he made his way back to the path. It took some finagling, but he managed to shoulder the loop from the sack of firewood around his arm, whilst still carrying the stranger, and while the trek was long back to his cabin and he was sweating and tired by the end of it, he made it. He dumped the sack of firewood unceremoniously in the lean to, and then carefully carried the man back to the cabin proper, and dragged some spare blankets for the colder nights over near the fire to begin warming the man up.
He lit a fire and soon he could feel the persistent heat of the flames trying to warm the rest of the room, and then he set about searching for the med kit and seeing what he could do – if he could save the man. He was naked and obviously going into shock from cold and blood loss – the blood didn't appear to be fresh, but Dean knew that was likely because he was running out of blood to bleed, rather than any healing measures on his part.
Mouth twisting, Dean tore up one of the old pillowcases and folded it into a square, and began to put direct pressure on the wound. He pressed down with his knee and rolled up some of the blankets while he was doing so, tucking them under the man's shoulder and his head, before he took out some medical tape and bandaging. He pulled the linen away experimentally, and mostly dried blood came with it, and so Dean breathed a sigh of relief – the man was lucky, very lucky, that he was not still bleeding, but still Dean knew he was far from in the clear.
He ran to the sink and filled a bowl with water, and grabbed a sponge and a dry towel, and came back to the man. He was beginning to sweat from the heat of the fire and from the shock – he probably had a fever, or infection, and Dean grimaced again. He couldn't imagine the pain of such a horrific wound. He set about cleaning it as best he could, digging under the ripped flesh to be sure he got as much mud and dirt from the wound as he possibly could, and then set about sewing it up. This wasn't really his forte – Sam was much better with the delicate shit like this – but he managed a crude set of stitches, pulling the skin together and sealing the wound tight. It would leave an ugly scar but the man would be alive.
That done, Dean allowed himself a sigh of relief, and set about bandaging the wound. He pressed absorbent gauze against the stitches and wrapped medical bandaging around the man's shoulder, down his bicep to the elbow, and across under his other arm so that the bandaging would stay in place while he slept. He tried to do it tightly, but not restrictively like his father had taught him when Sam had broken his forearm, and sat back once he was done, pleased with the work, however crude it might be. Once that was finished, the man still hadn't stirred, and for good measure Dean cleaned out the cuts and bruises on his torso, and gave him a shot of antibiotics – just in case – into his unwounded arm.
Dean had no idea how long the man would be out for, or if he would even wake up at all, but he had done all he could. He draped the spare blankets over the man's shivering body and made sure the fire wouldn't burn too hot, and then got up and went to make some food – just in case he did wake up quickly. Dean had a lot of questions for him, and he was sure the man had some stories of his own, and hey, it wasn't like he was expecting any other company for a week or so.
He gazed out of the window, wincing at the dark storm clouds that were now right above their heads. It looked like he had rescued the man just in time, as well. Good, he thought, nodding to himself. This was good.
Cas stirred to consciousness feeling warm and dry.
His eyes flared open. Something was wrong. He never felt this warm except nestled in the heat of his mother's den with her warm flank pressed up against his back, but he could not feel her – could not feel any of his siblings or the warm earth beneath him, but something flat and hard and unforgiving against his sore body.
He was wrapped in something, and with a startled snarl he kicked the offending thing off. His entire body jolted in pain at that and he hissed, looking down at himself. Something odd was stuck to him, the color of his skin but not and it reached right across his body, like a snake coiling around his neck and, panicked, alarmed, he began to tear at the thing, wanting it off of him, wanting it gone.
"Hey, easy!" The voice made him freeze. It was not a noise he had heard his brethren make – too clear, too foreign. He had heard things like this before, when he would be high in a tree scouting and these things covered in unnatural coats and without fur would crawl underneath him like ants, speaking amongst themselves in their strange, guttural language. Rae had never wanted to go near them and so neither had Cas.
Cas rolled onto his knuckles and feet, upper lip curled back in a threatening snarl. The name of the creature came to his mind – man, destroyer, hunter, demon. He was pleased to note that his threatening display made the creature flinch back, the man retreating from Cas with his hands held out in front of him, his eyes wide as he crouched low to the floor to try and make himself look smaller. The snarl stopped, melting into a pleased rumble when the man's head came lower than Cas'.
The young wolf blinked, eyes raking over the man. He had layers on him, like fur, but they were not fluffy like Rae's pelt or smooth like a snake's – he had hair on the bare skin of his arms, short, fur-like hair on his head, but his face was smooth and his throat was as well.
Cas frowned, looking down at himself, and then back to the man. Cas was not like other wolves, he knew that – but this man looked like him. Perhaps he was not like other wolves as well. Their hands were the same – the other man's were cleaner, skin not as crackling and dry as Cas'. Whatever he was, whoever he was, he was a prime of his species, and Cas was not.
The thought made him bare his teeth again – just like the Alpha, this thing could attack Cas when he was weak as Cas had. He could take advantage of his injured state and kill him and take his place among the pack and among the forest. He could not let that happen.
Slowly, the creature was moving, and Cas' eyes narrowed as he watched, low snarl ripped from the back of his throat. It made the other creature pause, eyes wide and staring down Cas until they dipped down in submission, focused somewhere by Cas' hands. He was merely sitting down on the ground, now, legs crossed in front of him, shoulders sloping like Cas would posture for the other wolves, and it put the young wolf at ease, seeing an easy acceptance of his dominance from the other creature.
"Do you speak?"
Again, the noise came out of the creature, and Cas frowned, cocking his head to one side as though he was studying some odd new insect. His arm hurt from putting his weight on it, and he sat back on his haunches as he studied the creature. The thing's eyes flashed briefly to his face, only to drop again when Cas snarled at him, skin on his face turning an odd pink color as he licked his lips. It reminded Cas of Rae, and it was comforting.
"Guess not," the thing said, licking his lips again and making an odd sound in the back of his throat. "Uh…" He swallowed – Cas watched the contours of his throat as he did so, so much more delicate and thinner than a wolf's. Then, Cas watched as the thing's hand rose up, slowly, and flattened across his own chest. "Dean."
Cas frowned, watching the motion, then the thing's face. "Dean," he said again, pointing to himself.
"…Dee'n," Cas hazarded, feeling proud when the creature relaxed, expression melting into a smile. He looked like Cas did when he stumbled upon a recent new source of food or a particularly good hiding place. "Dean," he tried again, because he liked the expression on the other creature's face when he did that. The word felt weird, full on his tongue, but the way the thing was looking at him now – Dean – made Cas feel powerful and proud.
"And you?" Cas frowned again, confused. "Dean," Dean said, pointing at himself, and then he pointed towards Cas, letting the silence hang in the air.
Cas blinked, then mimicked him and pushed his hand to his own chest. The feeling of the not-skin was weird under his fingertips and he was confused by it, but his arm could move as it wished to and he realized now that it was not a snake and was not trying to hurt him. "Dean," he said, because it seemed like the logical conclusion to make, but the man snorted out a laugh that reminded him of Rae's laugh, and shook his head.
"No, no," he said. "I'm Dean." He pressed his hand to his chest again, and then pointed at Cas.
And Cas tried to remember his given name by the wolves. He supposed it didn't much matter now; he was lone wolf, Omega wolf, he could be whatever he wanted to be. Still, a memory stirred in him, of his mother nuzzling his naked, wriggling form close to her chest to feed off her milk, and a soft sound falling from her.
"C's," he finally said, pushing his hand against his own chest.
Dean blinked at him. "Cas?" he repeated, gesturing towards the other man, and Cas nodded, sure to look just as proud of Dean as Dean had been of him: it was close enough, anyway. "Cas," Dean said again, and Cas nodded. "Alright, Cas, good to meet you. You hungry?"
Dean thought that all those bullshit stories about children or babies being adopted by animal packs and growing up in the wild were just myths. But, in all honesty, he could not come up with a single rational explanation to the situation placed before him. The man was clearly wild – he had been a part of the forest a long time, and whatever language he used to speak, he sure as hell didn't speak it now.
He thought back to the wolf he had seen running from the man. Had they been two wolves living together? Was there a pack nearby? What the Hell had happened to get him so brutally attacked?
Dean had sliced some venison up and was boiling it with some rice – something filling but not too taxing on the man's digestion – when he heard the man – Cas, he had to remind himself – move. He braced himself, turning around with the bowl of proffered soup-like meal, to find the man standing, prowling curiously around the room. He sniffed at the cupboard holding Dean's guns, and trailed his fingers along the table where the maps were, a curious rumble coming from his chest.
"Cas," Dean said, to grab his attention, and the man's eyes flashed up. He raised the bowl in offering and saw the eager, ravenous expression overtake the man's face, as he licked his lips and took a step forward. Quickly Dean grabbed his own bowl and two forks, and walked towards the table, setting the food down. He drew out a chair and sat down and waited for Cas to follow suit. The man frowned, considering Dean, and then carefully mimicked him, crouching down on the seat of the chair and leaning over the table. "Cas," Dean said again, tapping his feet on the floor to demonstrate how to sit there, and after another moment Cas complied, grimacing to himself when it meant he had to put weight on his shoulder and pain shot up his side.
Dean smiled at him, proud that he was learning so fast, and pushed the bowl towards him. "There you go, eat up."
Cas stared down at the soup-like concoction, nostrils flaring wide as he scented it. It smelled good, like a fresh kill, and like warmth and salt like when he would run for a long time and his mouth tasted like sweat. His eyes flashed to Dean, who was watching him expectantly, and when their eyes met Dean's dipped down and he gently pushed the fork at Cas, his own fingers lightly curled around his own utensil where Cas could see.
The wolf frowned, tongue flicking out to lick at his jaw, and looked at the fork again curiously. It was shiny and in it he could see a distorted reflection of himself. He did not look quite like Dean – his eyes were a different color, sky to the leaves, and his hair was darker and covered much more of his face and neck. Finally Cas had had enough of watching himself in the fork, and without further ceremony he reached forward, cupping his hands around the bowl, and tipped it just enough that he could fit his jaw to the overflow of food and began eating away.
Dean grimaced, wiping a hand over his mouth. Well, he supposed asking the man to use silverware may have been a little much, but Cas seemed pleased enough with the offering of food so Dean tucked into his own meal. It was plain, good for a stomach that was perhaps used to a harsher diet than he had, and he hoped it went down well with Cas and the man managed to build up some strength before long.
Cas gave an appreciative noise at the taste of the food – it had a weird texture like grubs or worms, but it certainly didn't taste like them. It tasted fresh and meaty like deer and he liked the warmth of it trickling down his throat and settling heavily in his stomach. He tilted the bowl back further when his probing tongue could reach no more, some of it slopping around his cheeks and the juice running down his chin, until there was no more left to be had. Sated and full, he set the bowl down again with a clatter, which seemed to startle Dean, and licked at his lips again, humming in contentment.
Dean chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Guess he was a better cook than Sam gave him credit for.
He finished his meal also and took the bowls away, setting them in the sink to clean. Once they were set in and soaking with water to prevent the food crusting, he froze when he heard a low snarl from behind him.
Dean turned around, and Cas was baring his upper lip back, glaring at Dean as though the man had personally wronged him, somehow. Somehow, even without words, the man's eyes managed to convey the same outrage as though Dean had insulted him, though Dean had to rack his brain hard to come up with a possible reason he might have to anger the man.
"…Cas?" he hazarded, bracing himself back against the kitchen sink and staring wide-eyed at the other man. The only answer he got was a snarl, icy eyes flashing in anger, and Cas slowly pushed himself to his feet. It made him angry, now, to see this thing standing taller than he was – the fact that he was bigger, and taller, and his head stood above Cas' when he had used to tower so high above the other wolves made him angry and aggressive.
Dean stared, and racked his brain to come up with a way to mitigate the situation. Cas was an animal, born and bred it looked like, and if there was a shred of humanity inside of him it was long-buried. If he had been raised by wolves, he probably would have grown up and learned a lot of their behavior and posturing, and Dean tried to think if he had somehow insulted the man by what he'd done.
The man was standing, suddenly, his shoulders dipping forward, fingers curling towards his palms, and Dean knew he was going to be attacked. The man would probably rip out his throat without a second thought, and so all Dean could think to do was duck his head and collapse against the kitchen cupboards when Cas rushed at him, and then the man had him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground, quickly pinning Dean down with his fingers wrapped tight around Dean's wrists and his legs straddling either side of Dean's body.
Dean didn't struggle – a struggle would likely provoke a fight that he wasn't sure he would win. Sure, he was strong enough to handle himself and he probably had Cas, especially in his injured state, but there was no competition against raw animal instinct, and if Dean could get away with this uninjured and without causing further harm to Cas, he would.
Cas stared down at him, bent over his body. He had moved off of Dean, instead crouched on the balls of his feet with his butt resting heavily on Dean's sternum, his fingers curled tight around Dean's wrists and pinning them down. There was a tremble to his injured arm but Cas didn't seem to notice: he was too intent on staring Dean down, unblinking, unwavering, teeth still bared in a continuous, threatening growl.
Dean swallowed, again trying to remember what wolves were meant to do in this situation, to survive an attack like this, and the movement of his throat drew Cas' attention. The man let out a soft rumble, growl stopping for now, and licked at his lips. He bent down, locked arms forcing Dean's out and above his head as he leaned close enough that his shaggy, dirty hair fell to hide his face and his beard tickled Dean's jaw. Dean kept perfectly still, trying to keep his breathing regular and his body lax, but having the man's mouth so near his neck made him want to tense and lash out, fight the thing back.
But he didn't. Maybe it was because he knew if he fought for dominance now, Cas would fight him to the death to win it back. Maybe it was because something inside of him was intrigued and afraid of this powerful creature – whatever it was, instinct or desire for submission or something else entirely, Dean didn't fight back. His fingers curled into fists and the heels of his feet shifted against the floor, but he didn't push against Cas, not even when the man finally moved, rough of his tongue licking out along Dean's neck and up the line of his jaw.
Cas was attempting to establish something with him. That much Dean could recognize, from the many stand-offs-turned-friendships he had witnessed with his brother. The wolves would meet, stand, and stare, before one of them broke the ice with a gesture much like this one. Granted, it was a little different – more aggressive as Cas was not allowing Dean any room to think he would be anything but the Alpha between them – but Dean could recognize the signs. It prevented him shying away when Cas continued to lick at his throat and what skin was bare along his collar, before Cas' jaws opened and he sank a warning nip into Dean's flesh.
Dean tensed, hissing in pain, but didn't fight back, and Cas rumbled softly in his chest in appreciation and acceptance of Dean's submission. Then, Cas allowed Dean's arms free, kneeling on his knees instead of crouching on the balls of his feet, and planted his hands against Dean's chest so that he could sit up.
Aside from the bandage, there was nothing covering Cas' body from Dean's sight, at all, and the man flushed a little, seeing Cas straddling him without an obvious care for his modesty. "Okay, buddy," he muttered, reaching a hand slowly upwards under Cas' watchful and distrusting eye, settling the tips of his fingers against the man's arm. "You gonna let me up?"
Cas frowned, obviously not understanding, and so Dean rolled his eyes, and braced his elbows back to push himself up. Cas didn't seem to mind the slight shift in position, so Dean straightened his arms and managed to sit all the way up, the young wolf accommodating him by sliding back so that he was sitting across Dean's legs instead.
It brought them closer together, and Dean swallowed again when Cas didn't flinch away. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone share such close spare with him aside from Sam, and honestly he wasn't quite sure what to make of Cas' complete lack of comprehension towards personal space. Then again, he knew wolves were close-knit groups and were tactile creatures, so he would probably have to get used to that until he figured out what the Hell he was actually going to be doing with Cas – until Cas got better and went on his merry way, or whatever happened.
Cas was looking at him expectantly, his eyes darting between Dean's eyes, his neck, and his mouth. Dean remembered this part, too – a subordinate licked the dominant's mouth and throat to assuage the creature. Cautiously, wondering to himself just how fucked up his life could be that he was actually thinking about doing this; he ducked his head and pressed his cheek against Cas' neck.
The wolf-man gave a pleased rumble at that, finally going lax on Dean's lap, and his arms wrapped around Dean's shoulders in what felt like a hug, but looser, less confining. His jaw scratched over the back of Dean's head, cheek against Dean's cheek when he ducked down, and he licked at Dean's neck again once more before withdrawing with a smile.
"Dean," he whispered, voice raspy, and pressed his flattened palm against Dean's bitten neck, baring his teeth in a smile. And Dean, despite himself, smiled back.
"Alright, Cas," he replied, mimicking the gesture and lightly brushing his hand over Cas' neck, before the wolf-man let out a pleased rumble again and stood. This time, Dean was careful to avoid eye contact and keep his head ducked low – his height seemed to bother Cas, because when he tried to straighten further, the wolf-man's eyes flashed and his upper lip curled back.
Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth; sitting down in the chair again to be sure he wouldn't accidentally disobey any of Cas' unspoken rules. He would have to read up on wolf dynamics and behaviors – no way was he getting his throat ripped out simply because he could barely remember pack behavior. Not for the first time, he couldn't help but think that Sam would be much more able to handle this.
At the thought of Sam, his eyes strayed to the phone. He should call, make sure he was okay. But it had barely been a day – surely Sam would be fine. And he didn't need to worry about Dean, his situation or any new friends he apparently was making. Besides, the wind was picking up outside, he could see, and the sky had darkened to the color of gunmetal – the signal would be too weak to get through, most likely, and there was no immediate danger. No, he thought, best not to worry Sam.
Cas was stood by the window in the kitchen, looking out, when Dean's eyes landed on him again. They would have to work out some way to communicate, other than apparently nuzzling which, while Cas was well versed in that, Dean was not. He didn't need to be making stupid mistakes and being unable to explain them to an animal. Cas had taken to Dean's name easily enough, and seemed to recognize his own when Dean addressed him, but those were two words in a million, with meaning and structure and all sorts of things to consider.
But they needed to be able to communicate, otherwise Dean would go crazy. He couldn't just go through the week until Sam got back tiptoeing around the man and hoping he wouldn't get tackled again, or be on the receiving end of a threatening snarl. Dean's eyes flashed down to the maps on the table, the scattered pens across the wrinkled and folded surface, and the notepad tucked under one corner next to his hand.
With a sigh, he pulled the notepad towards him, and a pen. The paper was A5 size, ruled inside, and he tore out a piece, folding it down the middle and ripping it in half. He then repeated the process length-ways, so that he had twelve pieces of paper of the same average size to write on.
He had finished writing on the first set of twelve, and was starting on the second, when Cas let out a startled cry.
"Rae!"
There she was – the she-wolf with the white pelt that Dean had seen before. Cas had his hand pressed flat to the window pane, a mournful sound spilling out of him that Dean had never heard from a man. She she-wolf was clearly searching for something, her nose to the ground and her tail tucked in tight between her legs. The trees around her were bending over the force of the wind and there were already flurries of snow building up against them, and Dean knew that if she stepped out into open space, she would likely be hurt or overtaken by the snow. The storm was coming fast.
"Rae!" Cas shouted again, banging against the glass, loud enough that Dean winced, sure that he would break it, and he reached forward to pull Cas away from the window. Cas snarled, whirling on him, and ran for the door instead, but Dean was faster and caught Cas by his injured arm, hauling him back.
"No, Cas!" he yelled, trying to grab the man's attention. "You can't go out there! You -."
"Dean!" Cas replied, outrage in his eyes, before he let out another snarl and struggled harder against Dean's hold, but Dean was stronger this time and couldn't let Cas go outside – he did not save the sorry son of a bitch just so that he could go freeze to death in the storm. "Dean! Rae!" With a grunt, Cas hit the ground hard when Dean kicked out at his legs, landing heavily on his stomach, and Dean was on him before he could get to his feet again. But Cas struggled – good God, did he struggle – until Dean finally pressed down hard enough against his shoulder that pain shot through the young wolf and he went tense, whining in the back of his throat from the pain. It hurt Dean to do it, really it did, but he could see no other option and if Cas was angry at him for it later, then fine, but he could not let him go outside.
"Cas," Dean murmured, reaching down to pet through the trembling man's sweaty hair, before he carefully released Cas and hauled him to his feet. The man seemed to be in shock, pain from his shoulder dulling his reflexes until he was compliant in Dean's arms. "Cas, come here."
The young wolf was still shaking, but he followed Dean's direction, when the man pushed a hand between his shoulder blades and rubbed soothing little circles across his spine with his thumb. "She's gone, Cas," Dean whispered, gesturing outside again. The storm had truly set in on them now, and they could not see the trees because of the heavy flurries of snow and the harsh winds. "Rae's not there anymore."
"Rae," Cas whispered, sounding broken and lost, and he pressed his hand against the window again. His eyes brightened with tears and he bowed his head, heaving out a sigh. Now even Rae had left him, and he was truly alone and without his pack. They had chased him into the hands of demons, of destroyers, and he was without a friend.
Cas startled when he felt something warm and heavy settle across his shoulders, and looked to see Dean covering him with a thick, warm pelt. Cas sniffed at it, confirming it to be that of a bear, and his eyes widened in surprise when he looked at Dean. This man had managed to kill a bear – something even the Alpha had hesitated to fight. He was clearly strong.
Then, Dean ducked his head and pressed his cheek to Cas', and the wolf relaxed. Yes, Dean was strong, but he had no intention of threatening or usurping Cas' position. The Alpha wolf licked his lips, grinning at Dean who smiled back, and then allowed Dean to direct him to the makeshift bedroll. Dean gave him more food and it tasted a little weirder than the other meal, and Dean didn't eat any of it himself, and it made him feel sleepy and soon enough his lids were drooping and he was succumbing to the wonderful heat of the fire, and he fell asleep.
While Cas slept, Dean changed his bandages and gave him another injection of penicillin. The man seemed to be recovering well, but Dean was not going to take any chances. That done, he fed himself and began to clean the place up. Cas had clearly not been exposed to human life that much, and if he had been he had all but forgotten it – Dean carefully stashed away the guns, axe and knives that would potentially cause Cas a lot of damage. He locked the front door, shuddering at the way the walls creaked with the strain of the wind outside and it was whistling along the rooftop. He braved the outside weather just long enough to collapse the lean-to over the firewood pile and fetch more wood inside.
That done, he set back down to the task he had been doing before Cas' outburst at the appearance of the white wolf. He didn't know if Cas could read – he would guess not, but the man may surprise him – but he figured any beginning he could get was a good one. How does someone even begin to immerse a completely foreign animal into their world?
By the time he was done, it was well into the night hours and the cabin was dotted with little slips of paper labeling things. If Cas could associate the word with the thing then Dean supposed that their communication would improve drastically – it would be things that had no noun, like want and need and help, that Dean thought they would have the most trouble over.
His phone had completely lost signal, so he couldn't call Sam even if he wanted to. Dean was truly stuck for the time being, and alone except for the stranger who acted so much like a wolf. With little else to do, Dean went to the bookshelf and fetched down Sam's collection of essays and textbooks listing common behaviors and practices in a wolf pack – Dean knew plenty, but a refresher never hurt. It would pay off, he was sure, to learn and memorize what kind of relationship Dean would show between him and Cas by his body language – Cas, whatever he had been, had been a dominant and higher-class figure in the pack, of that Dean was certain. If his attitude before had been anything to go by, Dean would win himself no favors by trying to undermine Cas' authority.
Dean fell asleep at the table, bent over the open books. The only sounds were his and Cas' soft snores and the howl of the wind.
Cas woke up first, rubbing at his eyes and stretching his good arm above his head in a long stretch. He yawned wide, shivering at the cold skating along his arms when he disentangled himself from the bearskin, and he rolled onto his stomach to quietly survey his surroundings.
His eyes landed on Dean, and narrowed. The man appeared to be asleep, bent low over his perch, arms curled around his head almost protectively. Cas pushed himself up to his knees, hissing at the tightness the bandage caused in his arm, the odd prickling feeling as blood returned to it, and then got to his feet. The fact that standing put his head above Dean's relaxed him somewhat, and with his head cocked he moved closer to investigate the other man.
There were new things on the table that Cas had not seen before. He leaned down, sniffing at them, and snorted, straightening. There was nothing remarkable about them, thin layers of skin-like material covered in long scrawls of black ink. Cas leaned in closer, one arm on either side of Dean's shoulders as he tried to look at what Dean had been looking at.
They were wolves, drawings of them in light and shade in one corner of the page. Cas recognized a dominance display happening between the pair, the dark-colored wolf cowering and showing his stomach to the aggressor, the Alpha, and Cas' upper lip curled back on pure instinct, predisposed to lash out at anything threatening his position.
At the sound of his low growl, Dean stirred, and Cas moved just enough to let him sit up without their bodies colliding. Dean seemed startled at Cas' presence next to him, barking out a low word that Cas didn't understand, but sounded the same as when Aur would get annoyed with him and bite at the back of his neck in retribution. Cas did not lower his head, though, as he would have with his father, because this man was not his superior and Cas was the Alpha, here.
Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes, sighing tiredly, and muttered something else under his breath. Then, "Mornin', Cas," he said, and Cas perked up at the sound of his name, giving a low noise in answer to it. It made Dean smile, just a little, and Cas soon decided that he liked to see Dean smile. It made his eyes glow like a wolf's. "You hungry?"
Almost on cue, Cas' stomach rumbled, though he did not understand the words Dean had used. Still, the sound made Dean laugh, and he stood up, careful to keep his head ducked and shoulders slumped low, and Cas allowed him to – after all, Dean was bigger than himself, but his body language showed that he knew his proper place.
Cas went back to perusing the books. He licked his lips, carefully grabbing the edges of the thin layers and turning it, to see a large picture of a snarling wolf staring back at him. He knew it was a picture because he could not smell the other wolf and even Rae wasn't that pale white, but he could not stop the instinctive growl that built up at the back of his throat. It caught Dean's attention.
"Cas?" Immediately the wolf's eyes snapped to him. Dean looked unnerved, his eyes darting from Cas to whatever could have possibly made him angry, and Cas felt a small pang of regret – he didn't mean to scare the other man. Dean had fallen so well into his subordinate role and Cas felt no threat from him, so Dean didn't need to be threatened either.
He swallowed, and stopped snarling, and carefully turned the page back to where Dean had left it open.
Dean didn't move as Cas approached him, too on-edge to be able to figure out how to react to the other man. Soon enough, though, Cas was standing very close to him, and Dean heard the man let out a soft sound – a soothing rumble that reminded him of a purring cat. Cas' eyes were locked on his face, brow furrowed and gaze holding something like concern. He rumbled again, reaching forward and placing a palm against Dean's chest, and Dean flushed, tensing up a little and making a move to push Cas away.
"Cas," he murmured, firmly enough that he hoped he got his point across, when his fingers curled around the other man's wrist and gently pushed his arm back. "No."
Cas's frown deepened, eyes flashing in indignation that he was being pushed away – but, perhaps, their fight earlier had injured Dean, and he was hurting him with his touch? No, he couldn't allow that, but he didn't smell any blood on Dean and that had to mean he wasn't too badly injured, surely?
Or maybe Dean was scared of him. Cas flinched away at that thought, holding his own wrist when Dean let go of him, and stalked away without waiting for his breakfast. It wasn't the Alpha's place to make his pack cower at the sight of him – submission and respect was one thing, but no one loved a leader they feared. He did not want Dean to be afraid of him, to cower in the corner like some Omega who had tried to steal food before the Alpha. The very thought made Cas feel nauseous.
There was a clatter on the table again, and Cas looked up to see Dean setting down two more of the bowls that Cas was already beginning to associate with food. His nostrils flared, already able to smell the same plain scent as the meal he had shared before – with the weird grub-not-grub food and the meat inside. He rose to his feet and walked over to the table and sat down like Dean had shown him how to do, wincing at the feel of his stiff joints curling around the demanding structure of the chair. Sitting here was not like sitting in the bowels of a tree or his mother's den – it was uncomfortable and stiff and cold, but Dean seemed used to it and that was another thought that unsettled Cas – Cas was meant for the wild, but here was someone who looked so much like him, obviously at home in such a barren and lifeless place. Again the nausea returned.
Dean was watching him closely, not touching his food until Cas began to eat before allowing himself to satisfy his own hunger – something he remembered. The Alpha ate first – always. He'd do well to remember that.
When Cas was done, Dean pulled his bowl towards him but did not take them away for cleaning as he had before, and Cas frowned at him when Dean tapped his finger against a little yellow rectangle with more black ink on it like what had been in the books. "Bowl," Dean said, saying the word slowly, and tapped at the bowl again. Cas frowned, looking at the item, and then reached forward when Dean pulled his fingers away. His mouth stumbled around the sound of it, but eventually he managed to murmur a soft word like 'berl', fingering the small yellow piece of paper taped to it, and Dean was apparently satisfied. He took the bowls away, dumping them in the sink, and Cas pushed himself upwards, following.
"Dean," he murmured, hoping that Dean could tell how contrite he was that he had scared his subordinate wolf. Dean's shoulders tensed – Cas could see how they drew up and in to protect his neck, but otherwise Dean didn't move and his belly was protected from a potential blow from Cas. The wolf rumbled again, stepping up close behind Dean and rubbing his cheek against the knot of Dean's shoulder, fingers gently skimming down Dean's flanks in an attempt to relax and connect with Dean.
Dean allowed the touch, as much as someone who was cornered with no option but violence could allow such a touch as Cas was giving him. The touches weren't sexual, Dean knew enough to recognize that, but they were almost a mockery of it, the gentle scratch of Cas's hair on the back of his neck and the way his fingers curiously explored the jut of Dean's hipbones and the softness around his stomach. His hands flattened around Dean's chest, pulling the larger man back against Cas in a mimic of wolves curling around each other for warmth and protection. It made Dean shiver, the feeling of Cas's breath ghosting along the back of his neck.
"Cas," he whispered, hearing the gentle hum of acknowledgement, in the press of Cas's jaw against his back. The man's scraggly beard was making his skin itch under his clothes and he wondered how long it would take for him to convince Cas to maybe shave or have a shower. Or, for that matter, put some fucking clothes on.
Dean reached up, curling his fingers gently around Cas's hands, and tugged them down and off of his body so they fell by the man's sides. He turned around, careful to keep his eyes lowered, so that they were facing each other. It didn't seem to deter Cas, who carefully unraveled their fingers so that he could rest his hands on Dean's flanks again, just curling around the natural curve of Dean's body, thumbs dragging along the last bone in his ribcage. Cas leaned forward, nuzzling against Dean's shoulder as well, intent on showing his subordinate wolf that he had nothing to fear from his Alpha, pressing close enough that Dean could feel the hard edge of the kitchen counter digging into the small of his back and was acutely aware that he was being pinned by a very naked man with nowhere to run to.
"Cas," he tried again, reaching up and gently putting pressure against Cas' good shoulder. Cas allowed the touch, humming softly, and let himself be pushed back until they could see each other's faces. "It's okay. I'm – I'm okay. Please, just -."
Cas blinked at him, blue eyes icy, before he rubbed his chin against Dean's neck and stepped away again. Dean let out an explosive breath, running a shaky hand through his hair, and moved away from the sink, dishes forgotten.
"Dean," Cas said, drawing his attention. He pointed to the bowls and forks sitting in the sink. "Bowl," he said again, still with an accent that made the word sound like 'berl', but getting closer. Dean nodded, turning towards him. "Bowl," Cas said again, then he frowned at another slip of yellow paper, and made a frustrated noise.
He pointed to it, looking at Dean expectantly.
"Oh." Apparently their vocabulary lesson was going to start immediately. Well, that was probably for the best. "Um. Okay." He walked back towards the sink and pointed to the yellow slip that had drawn Cas' attention. "Book," he said, picking it up. It was a manual for setting small game traps. He flicked it open, ran the edges of the pages against his thumb, and closed it again, before handing it to Cas. "Book," he said again.
"'Buk'," Cas murmured, taking it. Then his eyes flickered to the research that Dean had been bent over earlier that morning. He gestured to it. "Book?" he asked.
Dean nodded, unable to stop the smile coming to his face, the warm feeling in his chest when Cas' eyes lit up in understanding. "Yeah, Cas. Lots of books," he said, making a motion with his hands that symbolized a large amount. Cas' sharp eyes followed it, before he frowned again and set the book down.
"Dean," he said, reaching forward. His fingers tugged on the loose, thin material of Dean's shirt, then the edge of his heavy jacket, before he looked down at himself. He made a frustrated sound, and lifted his eyes. "Dean," he said again, more emphatically, tugging on Dean's jacket one more time.
Dean looked down, touching his clothes himself. "Shirt," he said, then, "Jacket. Are you cold?"
Cas frowned at him.
"Um. 'Cold'?" He mimicked shivering, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Cas' forehead smoothed out a little in understanding, but he didn't nod or shake his head. "Come here," Dean said, gesturing for Cas to follow him around the little corner that had sectioned Dean and Sam's beds off from the rest of the room. There were hanging blankets to provide privacy, but not much, and Dean pushed one aside to crouch down by one of his packs.
Cas sniffed curiously at the area, eyeing the first and second bed. There were two of them. That was odd. Had Dean prepared this one for him? That didn't seem to make sense, since he slept by the fire both nights he was here. Perhaps that was because of his shoulder.
No, that didn't make sense either. Cas growled, getting onto his knuckles and the balls of his feet and carefully crawling over to the other pallet. It smelled differently here, though the scents were old and frozen over. He pushed his face against the pillow, his fingers carefully untucking the over-side of the pallet until he could sniff at the blankets underneath.
"Cas, what the fuck?" Dean's voice came suddenly, angry and panicked, and Cas looked up to see Dean glaring over at him. Cas growled at him, upper lip curling back, and pawed restlessly at the other bedding. "Cas, fuck, stop that! That's not yours!"
Cas growled again. "Dean," he said, sternly. The same kind of sound Aur would make.
"Sam's," Dean said. He pointed to Cas. "Cas," then himself, "Dean," and then to the bedding. "Sam."
"…Sam?" Cas repeated, unsure.
Dean made another ugly sound again, and then went back to ruffling in his pack. "Yeah, Sam," he said, and pulled out a small piece of thin bark that looked like the innards of a book. He tucked it between two fingers and held it out for Cas to see.
It was an image of two men. One of them looked very much like Dean, but with lighter and longer hair and different layers of fabric on him. By his side was the second man – taller, longer hair – stooped down and showing his teeth in a smile. Dean tapped empathically against his face. "Sam."
Cas snapped the image from Dean's hand, making a curious noise. Dean huffed a breath but allowed him to look carefully at the image. "Sam," he whispered again, turning the picture around and then back, and frowned. "Sam?" Cas looked up, looking around as though Sam might magically appear at the sound of his name.
Dean shook his head. "Sam is gone," he said. "For food."
Food. Cas recognized that word. Oh. Sam was out hunting. That was good – so Sam was the hunter of their pack. Dean must be a fighter. What a good pair Cas had stumbled across. From the body language in the image Sam seemed subordinate to Dean, so Cas' Alpha status should be no trouble for him.
He smiled, handing it back, and Dean seemed relieved to tuck it away. Then, he pulled out clothes that looked similar to his, but were thick and darker. He handed them to Cas. "Here," he said. "Shirt, jacket, jeans. They'll help with cold."
Cas accepted the clothes, humming as he managed to figure out the complexities of fitting the right hole over the right appendage. It took him a while, and Dean seemed uncomfortable if his red cheeks and ducked head were anything to go by, but Cas figured it out.
The clothes were itchy and uncomfortable. He immediately rolled himself out of the shirt that constricted his neck and his injured shoulder, but the 'jeans', as Dean called them, were loose and kept the cold air away from his legs and his penis, so that was a decided improvement.
Cas grinned over at Dean when he was done, and Dean smiled back, close-lipped. "You okay?" he asked. Cas blinked at him. 'Okay' was a word Dean used often. He nodded slowly and Dean seemed satisfied with that answer. "Alright, cool. I'm gonna go check the signal, check the snow. See if we can get the fuck outta here any time soon and find -."
He stopped himself, halfway to his feet. "You don't even understand a word I'm fuckin' sayin'. I don't know why I bother."
Then he left, and Cas followed him, frowning the whole way. Dean looked sad, though why Cas didn't understand. It was very frustrating not knowing enough of Dean's language – and Dean not knowing enough of his – to communicate effectively.
Perhaps he missed Sam. That would make sense – Cas had been here for at least two days so Sam was gone for even longer. And with the storm he might be away for a while. It was unfortunate. Cas could only hope that the unfortunate hunting wolf had not died in the storm, and that he would return. He wanted to communicate that often wolves would find themselves separated from the pack for many days, but they always came back. He didn't know the words, though, for Dean to understand.
He followed Dean out into the main room and went to one of the shelves, squinting at the words written in a mess of swirls and lines on the little slips of paper taped to them. That full ring was familiar – he recognized it from the word 'bowl'. So it made an 'o' sound. Cas murmured it under his breath. The 'b' he had seen a few times.
Dean cursed when a loud sound came from his clothes, and he pulled out a tiny thing no larger than his hand. "Sam," he said softly, his eyes lighting up, and he smiled. "Cas, it's Sam."
Cas smiled at him, and Dean bit his lower lip.
"I'm gonna be right back," he said, holding up his palm in Cas' direction. Cas didn't mind – he was going to look over these words and try to figure them out for himself. Although it seemed strange that Sam was able to talk to Dean without howling, Cas knew that there were many things he did not understand.
Dean turned around and exited out of a back door, through which Cas caught the scent of blood and the sight of wood. Perhaps that was where Sam brought their kills and where they ate pure meat. Cas would investigate later when it wasn't so cold outside.
"Sammy, it's so good to hear from you," Dean breathed, running a hand through his hair before he winced, tucking it into his jacket pocket. In his hurry he hadn't thought to bring gloves outside.
"The storm's due to clear out by today," came Sam's reply, faint and full of static. "How you holdin' up?"
"Um. Okay," Dean said, turning around to look back through the little window that exposed the innards of the cabin. "It's been – it's been kinda weird, up here."
"Weird?" Sam repeated. "Weird how?"
"Well, um, I found a guy," Dean said, biting his lip when he realized just how ridiculous it sounded. "I found this guy, right before the storm hit, when I was huntin' for food, you know? And – and he was torn up real bad, looked like a wolf pack had gotten him – but Sam." Dean sighed, lifting his eyes up to the damp, dripping roof of the lean-to. "I think he was raised with the pack we've been tracking."
Sam's voice, when it finally came through the phone, was incredulous. "What, you mean, like Tarzan?"
"Yeah, I mean. He can't speak English, can't read anything. He growls at me like I'm a wolf whenever I 'act up', or whatever."
"Has he been threatening you?" Sam demanded, and Dean had to roll his eyes at his little brother's immediate protectiveness. Dean could handle himself, damn it, even if Cas' casual affection and threat displays did unnerve him a little.
"No," Dean replied, though it wasn't exactly true. "I just thought I oughta warn you – and you know, when you get back, you gotta act…deferential. You know, until he gets used to human behavior. Gotta act like a subordinate wolf."
Sam sighed. "Dean, this is -."
"We can talk about it when you get here," Dean said. "Like I said before – guy can't exactly understand human words yet. We should be fine."
"I'm going to head back as soon as I can," Sam promised. "Nightfall, latest. Okay? Try and shovel the outside for me."
"I'll do what I can," Dean said. The brothers exchanged goodbyes and Dean hung up, heaving a sigh, and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against one of the supporting posts of the lean-to.
"Fuck," he whispered, rubbing the bridge of his nose and digging his fingers into the bottoms of his eyes. He'd never felt so exhausted in his damn life. "Fuck."
By the time Sam actually arrived back, Dean had managed to shovel a path from the 'road' – it could only be loosely called a road – and the front door, and to the outhouse and back. He'd also been able to communicate the purpose of the outhouse and convinced Cas to use it, which had been a blessing and a half because Dean did not want to have to put time into housetraining a grown-ass man.
Sam returned as Cas was coming out of the outhouse. It was his loud snarl and Sam's panicked yell that had drawn Dean's attention in the first place.
Cas was growling and beating at the driver's side door when Dean came out. "Cas, stop!" he yelled, hauling Cas back by his good shoulder. "It's Sam! It's Sam, Cas!" he shouted, and watched as Cas stopped fighting, staring at the car with narrowed eyes.
At that, Sam got out, his shoulders tense and his expression tight and accusing and focused on Dean's face. "Sam, Cas," Dean said with a grunt, letting Cas go. "Cas, Sam."
"Sam," Cas murmured, his voice rough, before he smiled. "Sam."
"Stay still, Sammy," Dean whispered as Cas approached Sam. Cas did as he had with Dean, reaching forward and rubbing his cheek against Sam's chest, wrapping his arms around Sam in a loose hug. Sam awkwardly returned the gesture, though he seemed to take to the mutual affection thing a lot more quickly than Dean had, and even managed to rub his cheek against the top of Cas' dirty hair before Cas stepped back.
Cas let out a pleased huff, grinning again, before he turned to look at Dean. For a moment the three of them stood in an awkward, silent circle, before Sam cleared his throat and sent a meaningful look Dean's way.
"I managed to get some supplies," he offered, snapping Dean out of the awkwardness, and Dean sent him a grateful smile. "Can Cas help?"
"His shoulder's fucked up," Dean replied as, with a grunt, he began to heft down the heavy crates and bags from the back of Sam's truck and onto his own shoulders and back. Even as he spoke, Cas had decided to take to sniffing around Sam's truck, apparently much less interested in helping them as he was figuring out what a tire tasted like. "And I don't want him touching too much shit and accidentally, I don't know, eating toilet paper or something."
"You think he would?" Sam asked, sounding partially amused and curious at the same time.
Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't know. So far he's only eaten what I've given him. Gotta let him eat first, by the way – shit." He let one of the bags drop, grabbing onto the crates braced against his chest more tightly. "The fuck you bring us back, Sammy, bricks?"
"Mostly," Sam replied with a smirk in Dean's direction. His own arms were laden with blankets, rolls, and more duffle bags from the seats of the truck. Dean cursed, about to abandon the duffle he'd dropped and return with a second trip, when suddenly Cas appeared by his side and scooped his good arm through the handle.
The three of them made their way back into the cabin, Cas dropping the duffle on the table with a quiet huff and immediately opening it and pawing through what was inside.
"It's fine," Sam said when Dean was about to protest. "Mostly clothes in there, and maybe some batteries. As long as he doesn't swallow them, we're fine."
Dean carried the crates into the lean-to, and brought the rest of the bags onto the table to sort through. Sam had brought toilet paper back, thank God, and he carefully pushed it onto the top shelf. Dean was glad Cas was smaller than both of them, although he wouldn't put it past the guy to try climbing while he investigated.
Sam kept his head ducked low, to the point where Cas didn't seem to mind the fact that he was so much larger. Dean was glad for it; it meant Sam didn't have to deal with the learning curve Dean did. Besides, Sam was a lot better at picking up on things than he was. Dean liked to study behaviors, but emulating them came to him a lot slower than to Sam.
"He's learning a few words," Dean added conversationally as they started splitting the canned goods by type. Cas sniffed at a few of them curiously, but never removed them from the table, content to let Dean and Sam sort them out how they liked. "I mean, he knows our names, I think he gets 'Okay' well enough, and I've been teaching him a few things."
Sam smiled, flicking at a little yellow post-it. "I've noticed."
"Shut up, growls and body language isn't exactly the clearest language, bitch," Dean snapped. "And you weren't the one who had to help him figure out clothes and the outhouse."
At that, Sam paused, an eyebrow raised. "He had no clothes? Nothing?"
"Like I said, Sammy, I think he was raised by wolves." Dean shook his head, idly thumbing the edge of a can of beans. "Crazy."
Sam's eyes tracked to Cas. The man was sitting by the fire now, staring into the flames as they flickered and crackled happily in their little hearth. The bandages stood out starkly against his tanned skin, his body bony and lean, and the muscles in his arms, shoulders and thighs were strong and defined.
"I wonder what he did, then," Sam said quietly, "that they turned on him."
Dean shook his head, sitting down with a huff. "No idea. Maybe one day he'll be able to tell us."
Dean's sigh caught Cas' attention, and he turned his eyes away from the bright, yellow light of the fire to look at the brothers. Sam's subordination to Dean was obvious, and so Cas did not mind that the other wolf was so much larger. Cas liked Sam. The other wolf was friendly and grinned like a pup, and had shaggy hair that reminded Cas of Chay.
He wondered, idly, what Dean and Sam were doing all alone out here. Strong, fit wolves like them should have mates, pups, and large dens they could defend and rest in during the cold months. Granted, Cas was warm in this den, but it seemed fragile and impermanent like fresh snow. Perhaps they spent warmer months elsewhere. Cas had no idea, and was again struck with frustration at not being able to communicate.
His shoulder hurt. The jeans had proven effective against the cold, but now the bottoms were wet from behind outside and he was starting to shiver. Sam and Dean were likely cold, too. They should all be closer to the fire.
"Dean," he barked lowly, snapping the wolf's attention to him. "Sam."
They looked at him for a moment, before Dean slowly said; "Yeah, Cas?"
Cas growled to himself, annoyed by their lack of understanding. It was natural for wolves to pile together and yet Sam and Dean did not even bed down in the same space! Ridiculous. They were two wayward wolves and they needed a good Alpha to protect them.
He jerked his head much like Aur would do to pups, telling them to come over to him. Sam obeyed first, keeping his head ducked low until he rested in a crouch at Cas' left side. After a short, soft conversation between the brothers, Dean followed suit until he was sitting at Cas' right side.
They sat stiffly, and Cas could sense their unease. That was unfortunate, that his wolves were still so uncertain around him. Cas leaned over and rubbed his forehead against Sam's shoulder, humming softly as his hand ran down Dean's forearm.
Dean hissed in surprise when Cas laid down between them, his legs hooked over Dean's and his shoulder digging a space in Sam's lap. Sam laughed, and said something to Dean that made the other wolf scowl, but he wasn't moving away.
After a moment they seemed to get the idea and lay down next to him, Sam letting Cas use his stomach as a pillow, Dean resting a small distance away but with his arm still under Cas' hand, close to the fire, his head just next to Cas' chest. It wasn't quite the pile that Cas had wanted, but it was good enough to keep him warm and he knew the brothers would be as well.
It was good. The fire was glowing warmly and the den was safe in the snow. Cas sighed, huffing out a soft 'goodnight' even though neither Sam nor Dean knew that noise, and closed his eyes.
Days turned into weeks, and slowly Cas felt his pack was falling into place. They were not many, but they were strong, and Sam and Dean had a bond and loyalty that he was glad for.
Eventually they took the white, itchy snake off his shoulder. He bore long, dark scars from his wounds, but they didn't ache nearly so badly anymore, and he could move his shoulder freely for the first time in what felt like forever. Although he was weak, Cas knew he was getting stronger by the day.
Sam and Dean taught him more words to the point where he could almost understand everything they were saying, and he could also communicate back to them. Every time he successfully managed to get his point across they would grin at him like puppies, excitement evident in their faces.
They showed him more books and pictures. 'Studying' is what they called it – why they were out here, what they were doing. Cas always laughed to himself at that – wolves would never care so much about what other animals were doing, unless it was where the herds were migrating or what other wolves were doing around their territory. They showed him books filled with writing about wolves and their habits, and Cas was enthralled by how much humans had managed to learn about his kind.
They showed him other pictures, too – different kinds. Not ones done by hand, but by machine. 'Pictures', 'photographs'.
"This is Mary," Sam said one day, pointing to a blonde female, her eyes bright and clear as a morning sky, a thick mane of hair falling around her shoulders, "and John." A male who bore a striking resemblance to Sam in the jaw, Dean in the eyes, was sitting next to her, smiling, one arm slung around her shoulders. "They're our mother and father."
Cas took the photograph with reverence, touching his fingers lightly to the dark green eyes in John's face, tracing a wave of Mary's hair. "Were they good?" he asked, looking up to Sam. They were sitting at the table, Dean outside shoveling what stubborn snow was still clinging to the lean-to away from their cabin. Sam cocked his head to one side. "Mother and father? Were they good?"
Sam smiled, taking it back. His eyes got bright, very suddenly – sadness. But happy sadness. "Mary died when Dean and I were young," he said, touching her face in much the same way. "We just had John. But yeah – he did the best he could. We were always traveling with his group, researching wolves. I think, without her, he just wanted to wander."
"Lone wolf," Cas said quietly, nodding to himself. He had only ever known one wolf to split from the pack after losing her mate, but he had heard her lonely howls for days after. He could feel that sadness, dull like a tree branch hitting him in the chest.
Sam sighed. "I guess. But he had us, and his friends. He wasn't really alone, and he knew that."
"Dead?" Cas asked.
Sam nodded again. "Couple months back. That's kind of why Dean and I are here, too. Dean was always closer to him than I was, and he took his death really hard. I guess this is kind of a way to remember him."
Cas nodded to himself. "My mother and father – Aur and Chay." He smiled, remembering Chay's soft fur, the sound of her quiet huffs in the den when he and his brothers and sisters slept piled on top of one another. "They were good."
"Are they dead?" Sam asked, his eyes soft with sympathy.
Cas shook his head. "No." He had not heard them howling, but it was likely that the pack had moved on from the storm. Up north it was lighter and warmer and the herd would start fattening up for spring.
The thought had weighed on Cas for some time now. They had moved on – he was cast out of his rightful place as Alpha, but the more time he spent with Sam and Dean, the more he had come to realize that there was a way to exist without that kind of cut-throat survival. Sam and Dean did not go hungry. They hunted, yes, but they did not need to. Their world was much less savage, and the more Cas learned about it, the more he wanted to learn. He was comfortable piled together with these two men in their odd, square den, reading their books and listening to them talk about things he could not even fathom.
"Sam," he said, lifting his eyes, "I am not a wolf, am I?"
Sam shook his head. "No, you're not."
"I am…human. Like you. Like Dean."
Sam nodded.
Cas sighed, turning his head, and rubbed at his aching shoulder. "Aur and Chay are not my father, or my mother, and Rae was my friend but I was not like her. And they did – what they did was right. I do not belong with them." He sighed again, and bit his lower lip. "I have no mother, and no father, and no friend."
"Hey." Sam's soft voice caught his attention, as Sam reached forward and awkwardly patted his free hand, still resting on the table. "Dean is your friend. I am your friend." He smiled – the kind of smile he did when Dean looked sad and Sam was trying to comfort him. It was comforting – Sam had a calming, easy air like Rae, and a smile that reminded Cas of Chay's soft laughter. "You aren't a lone wolf, Cas. You have us."
Cas' lips twitched up in a smile. "Thank you, Sam," he said.
Dean returned at that moment, kicking his boots of snow just beyond the threshold before stepping inside. "Snow's melting nicely," he said by way of greeting, shrugging off his heavy windbreaker and pulling his hat off. He shed his gloves in the same motion and left them in a pile on another small table by the door.
"That's awesome," Sam said, pulling his hand back from Cas' and facing his brother. "So what do you think? Gonna move out soon, catch up with everyone else?"
Cas frowned. "There are others?"
Dean bit his lip, nodding. "Yeah. The rest of the guys already went north, following other packs. We…stayed." He paused again, eyes on Sam. Even though Cas had learned their language for the most part, he knew there were some things Sam and Dean said to each other that didn't need words. They were very close brothers, almost like mates, and Cas felt that deep thudding in his chest again – a yearning for something he couldn't quite name. "And I figured, maybe…maybe we just call it a trip and start to head home."
Sam blinked at him. "You sure?" he asked, like he wasn't quite certain of the language he was speaking.
Dean shifted on his feet, and scrubbed his nails through the hair on the back of his head. "Yeah. I mean, Jess probably misses you like crazy, and I'm not loving this snow anymore. Maybe next year we'll come out again, I don't know. Point is, I'm game to go if you are."
"Shit," Sam said, "yeah. Okay. We'll start packing out tomorrow."
With this new knowledge of their parents, Cas could figure out how large a step it was for Dean to end the trip that was to be for their father's remembrance. It was a big decision, and that night when they were all going to bed for the night, Cas crawled over to Dean's pallet and crouched down next to him.
He rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Your father would have been proud of you," he said softly, so as not to wake Sam.
Dean jerked, looking up at Cas through narrowed eyes, before he huffed. "Fucking big-mouthed little shit," he muttered, before blinking a few times, rapidly, and clearing his throat. "Thanks, Cas. For what it's worth, I think your folks would be, too. I mean, you managed to survive out here for God knows how long. That makes you awesome."
A smile tugged at Cas' lips again and he patted Dean's shoulder, mimicking Sam's touch to him earlier. "Thank you, Dean."
"Are you gonna be warm enough by the fire?"
They had piled together most nights while Cas was still relatively uncommunicative, but as soon as he knew enough to understand, Sam and Dean had explained to him that sharing beds was not something humans normally did – especially platonic, non-related humans. Besides, Cas was used to colder weather and did not need all the blankets and mats that Sam and Dean did.
The fact that Dean was asking struck him by surprise, and he blinked, sitting back on his heels. "I think so," he said, wrapping his hands around his knees. "It has been getting warmer here at night."
Dean snorted, "If you say so."
"But I do admit I'm not…used to sleeping like that," Cas continued, sensing something about Dean that told him the man was listening and felt some unease about their current sleeping situation. "I have lived my whole life sleeping beside wolves, all of us piled together. It made me feel…safe."
Dean stared at him again, for another long moment, before he shook his head and muttered something to himself. "Well shit, man, I mean. Fine. Come here."
The edge of Dean's bedding lifted, and Cas' eyes widened when he realized Dean was offering to share it with him. He crawled in eagerly, pressing his cold skin into the blankets. They were warm and smelled like Dean, musky and vaguely like meat and sweat. It was a comforting scent, and reminded Cas of his wolf family.
"Thank you, Dean," he said as the blanket settled around them. Dean didn't touch him, but he could hear Dean's soft breathing and, in the almost-darkness, could see the man's face just inches from his own.
Dean huffed, rolling onto his back. "Don't mention it, Cas."
In the morning they began to pack up the cabin. Sam had brought back enough crates that there were easy boxes to fit most things in. They wrapped tarp around the books to keep them dry and kept rolled up maps in thick tubes that reminded Cas of snakeskin and piled them into their cars. There were two trucks and they managed to fill both of them easily over the course of the day. Cas' shoulder had healed up well enough to help with packing, but he found that lifting the large crates was still beyond him. Instead, he helped to pack them and helped Dean to haul in the last of the firewood and clean the lean-to.
In the beginning of that night, when the sun was just about to set, it began to rain. The droplets were cold and large and pelted Cas' face unhindered since they were out of the trees. The rain fell much more heavily on the bare earth.
Dean cursed, wiping his forehead once most of their stuff had been packed up and covered with tarp. All that remained was a day's worth of food in the cabin, their sparse bedding and firewood to last the night. "I hope that doesn't go all night. The ground's gonna suck with all that water."
Sam hummed. "Well, if we have to go out for more supplies it'll be okay. We'll just have to take it as it comes."
"It can go through snow," Cas said slowly, "but not rain?"
Dean huffed. "It's the mud," he said, wiping off the bottom of his boot for emphasis. "If the wheels get stuck it won't go anywhere."
Cas nodded again, before he frowned. "Does that get wet?" he asked, gesturing out of the door towards the lean-to. It was surrounded by tarp and had a cover, and aside from the blood of skinned kills Cas had not noticed much moisture. If Dean kept the firewood there it couldn't get too wet, surely.
Sam and Dean shared a look, before Dean grinned. "Good idea, Cas," he said, clapping Cas on his good shoulder. "Come help me set it back up. Sammy, get the keys. Don't let them sink in too quick."
"Got it."
Dean and Cas pushed the lean-to back up right as the storm really began to hit. Rumbling shook the ground, and though there were no flashes of light yet, Cas could imagine it would turn to one of those storms quickly. The lean-to wasn't large enough for both trucks but they managed to fit one of them inside, and the second they covered with another large tarp that ran water from the roof of the lean-to to the front of the truck and away, so hopefully the ground wouldn't become too sodden in the rain.
When they came back in they were sodden and shivering. Even with the extra clothes Sam and Dean had given him, Cas was shaking underneath and his fingers were frozen and ached when he tried to move them.
Once inside, Sam and Dean immediately began to peel back their layers, while Cas took his usual seat by the fire.
"Cas," Sam said, catching his attention. "You gotta strip down, buddy. You'll catch pneumonia like that."
Cas frowned. "Cold," he snapped back, upper lip curling back just a little.
Dean cleared his throat. He was already down to just his t-shirt and the wet jeans. Even as Cas watched, he shed that and peeled down his jeans too until he was just wearing his underwear. "You'll get sick, Cas," he said, reaching down and wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. "You gotta take the wet clothes off. You'll get warmer that way."
Cas blinked at him, unconvinced. Wolves had fur to keep them warm. If they had clothes like these, he was sure they would use them, too. To get rid of them seemed foolish.
"Trust us, Cas," Dean said quietly, reaching out to him. "Just try it."
Cas glared at him for another moment, before he pulled off his thick sweater with a sigh. The material was heavy and squelched when he dropped it to the floor. Even though Cas had grown to appreciate clothes, there was something nice and familiar about shedding them down to his skin. He felt more at home, now, with the three of them bare and the fire steadily warming them, than he had in a long time.
Dean cleared his throat again, his cheeks pink as he handed Cas a blanket. "There you go. Just, just cover yourself with that; you'll warm up in no time."
They had already packed away the table, and that left a large open space in the floor where Sam laid out their clothes to dry. Dean dragged out their remaining bedding to be close to the fire and sat on Cas' right side again, and Sam took his left when he was done.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the fire. Cas had to admit that he did get warm very quickly, with Sam and Dean's body heat complimenting the fire warming his cold, aching limbs. He sighed, working his fingers into a fist, then out, over and over until they began to tingle and warm up as well.
"Where is home?" he finally asked.
Sam sighed, and reached over into his bedding until he pulled out a small, skin-like thing that opened in the middle to become longer. Tucked inside it, Cas knew, was the photograph of John and Mary. But this time Sam took out a separate picture. This one was of a female, with a wide, kind smile and soft blue eyes. "This is Jess," he said, smiling down at the picture before handing it to Cas. "She's my wife."
Cas frowned; he didn't know that word.
"Um." Sam cocked his head to one side, clicking his tongue as he thought. "Aur and Chay, right? Your mother and father?" Cas nodded. "So, Jess and I are like Aur and Chay." He made a vague hand gesture, interlocking his fingers.
"Oh." Cas' face smoothed out in understanding. "A mate."
Sam grinned at him. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Anyway, she and I live in this place called California – it's warm and sunny almost all the time."
Cas smiled. "I like the sun," he said. Where they were had never been particularly warm. There were days where the wind was still and the sun beat down through the trees and he could find a good, sunny place to rest, but never for long stretches of time. "Is it far?"
Sam shrugged. "Sometimes, if the roads are bad. But where we are it's about a thousand miles, which we can drive in a day if we really tried."
Dean had been curiously quiet through the conversation, and when Cas turned to look at him he found the man staring into the fire, apparently lost in thought. "Dean?" he asked, making the man straighten up and look at him. "You have a wife?"
Dean coughed, his cheeks turning an even darker red as he made an uncomfortable sound, and shook his head. "No," he said after a moment. "No, I don't. I don't, uh -."
Oh. Cas nodded, patting Dean's shoulder gently. "Lone wolf?" he guessed.
"Jesus, no," Dean replied with an angry look, shoving Cas' hand away. "No -."
"Cas." Sam reached out and gently touched Cas' arm. "Dean doesn't…humans can have male mates or female mates. Dean doesn't want female mates."
Dean abruptly stood up, wrapping his blanket tight around him like a protective shield. "Fuck, I'm going to sleep," he growled angrily, before striding back to where the brothers had placed their bedding before and laying down with a huff. Cas knew he would not be warm enough over there and let out a soft whine of concern, but Dean's body language was closed off and defensive and Cas knew if he went over he'd get a bite on the leg for his trouble, or whatever it is humans did when they wanted to be left alone.
"Anger," he said softly, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Sam said, squeezing his arm again before he let go. "It's…complicated. A human thing."
Cas frowned down at the fire. Although it was strange to him for a male to try breeding with another male, he had known wolves to spend a long time with each other to the point where they were basically mates, and only bred with females when the Alpha allowed it or the need was there. It didn't much make sense that humans would limit themselves that way. If Dean wanted a male mate then he wanted a male mate.
Cas sighed and laid down next to the fire, curled up in the blanket Dean gave him. Sam laid down a neutral distance between the two of them, after he'd stoked the fire and made sure the cabin would remain warm. In the silence the rain dripped onto the roof with light, tinny sounds, and the rumbling came closer every few moments. It was a low, soothing type of storm, the kind Cas had spent many nights watching from the warmth of his den, watching the lights streak across the sky and felt the rumbling in his hands and feet. Like this, lying on the floor, it was almost the same.
Dean did not sleep for a long while, even after Sam's and Cas' breaths had evened out into light snores. His mind was racing, unable to stop himself thinking of how Cas had developed since Dean had first found him. The man had picked up their language with a startling ease – it was easier with Sam, where Cas could pick up cues from conversation and Sam had been more than eager to teach him like Dean had. With Cas' evolution, he was acting more and more like a human every day.
So it still startled Dean, though how he could forget he had no idea, when Cas reminded them that he had no idea the kind of social things that dictated human life. Dean hadn't exactly expected his love life to come up, that was for certain.
And, of course, he had to be the one to find the sexy wolf man and be around him when Cas was all growls and naked skin. Hell, Dean wasn't an idiot – he knew there was nothing there but aesthetic lust, but hanging out with Cas hadn't done him any favors. The guy was sweet, sincere, and wild. He was muscled and strong and knew how to survive.
Dean hadn't honestly thought about what would happen when they moved on. He had never considered for a moment that Cas would want to come with them, but the man had yet to vocalize any intention of rejoining the natural world and leaving them behind.
Not that Dean wanted that.
Fuck.
He rolled over, grumbling to himself. He hadn't allowed himself to feel much of anything since his dad had gotten sick, and even less since he died. Sam had been a rock for him, and Jess too, and now they were going back and it was time to move the fuck on with Dean's life. Cas didn't deserve to be thrust into the human world with only Dean and Sam to help him. Hell, Sam had a wife and he was planning to settle down and have kids someday. Dean himself lived alone in Stanford, working part-time in an auto shop in the city while he pursued a degree of his own. They were up to their eyeballs in debt, Dean often felt the need to break off and wander like his father – that shit wasn't fair to Cas. He didn't even know the kind of drama humans had, let alone the extra drama that came with Winchester life.
Would he even want to stay with them, once he acclimated? He'd probably want to find his original family. They were probably still alive, somewhere. His parents deserved to know that their son was alive. He'd want to find a wife, father children, he'd have to get a job and earn his keep. Dean couldn't support both of them.
God, why was he even thinking that Cas would want to live with him? They were strangers and there was a big wide world for Cas to explore. He'd have to get a visa, a driver's license, a place of his own to stay. What would even happen to him?
Dean sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. Cas stirred by the fire, awoken by even that small movement. Of course – heightened wolf senses didn't just disappear.
"Dean?" he asked quietly, turning to look over at Dean. The distance between them seemed so large and Dean had no idea how much he'd actually missed feeling Cas' warmth next to him until it was gone. In fact, he was freezing.
Goddamn stubborn.
"Yeah, I'm awake," he said tiredly, pushing himself to his feet and repositioning himself closer to the fire, next to Cas. "Sorry."
Cas blinked at him. "Sorry," he said back, dipping his head. Dean got the distinct feeling that Cas was fighting the urge to nuzzle him. "About…mate things. Sorry you were angry."
"It's fine," Dean replied, rubbing a hand over his face again. "I'm sorry I got so pissed off, really. It's not like it wasn't an innocent question. You just wanted to know."
Cas frowned for a moment, before he huffed tiredly. "What is the word for tired, sad, alone?" he asked.
"Lonely?" Dean hazarded. "When you're all by yourself and don't want to be."
Cas nodded. "I am lonely," he said quietly, picking absently at the edge of his blanket. "In my pack, I was lonely, and you and Sam are my friends and you remind me of a pack and I feel not lonely, I think."
Dean shifted his weight, coughed into the back of his hand. "You probably have a family out there," he said. "Do you think you'll want to find them, eventually?"
God, he hated how his heart was in his throat, waiting to hear Cas' answer.
After what felt like forever, Cas nodded. "Maybe," he said. He frowned again, rubbing at his sternum with his fingers. "I feel…pain, here, when I think about family. When I think about mates. When I think about my mother and father, and about my human mother and father. About my friend. I do not like it."
He raised his head, his eyes dark in the flickering light of the fire. "Do you feel this?"
Dean bit his lip, his eyes skipping over to Sam, who still seemed to be asleep, dead to the world. "Yeah," he admitted softly, no more than a whisper. "It hurts a lot, sometimes. I think humans feel it a lot."
Cas made an unhappy sound. "Wolf is easier."
"Do you want to go back to your pack?"
At that, Cas' fingers tightened into a fist, and he turned his head away, but his voice was thick. "I can't," he said quietly. "I – I did a bad thing. A big no. I can't go back."
"Do you regret it?" Dean asked. Cas was silent, so Dean explained; "Regret. Sadness over a bad thing."
Cas shook his head, sighing heavily. His fist smoothed out and he ran his hand through his shaggy hair. Sam and Dean had managed to explain to him what a razor did and how to shave and cut his hair, but he still wore it fairly long although his face was now much cleaner shaven.
"No," he finally said. "I like you and Sam. I want to be human. Mostly."
Dean smiled. "Okay," he replied, reaching out and squeezing Cas' shoulder.
California was nothing like Cas had expected. He had never seen so much orange and bright colors in his life. There were cabins everywhere – huge ones, and more people than Cas had ever seen creatures , let alone wolves.
The air smelled crisp and acrid like tree sap, it was loud with vehicles and trucks and people talking – some of them to each other, some of them to what seemed like nothing at all. They spoke into phones like Sam and Dean had, they spoke through barriers and to each other about things Cas had never heard of.
They drove faster than each other and sometimes they stood at a complete stop the point where Cas wondered why they didn't walk everywhere. Some of them rode odd things that glinted in the sunlight and made bright, chipper sounds like birds and made them look as though they were gliding. The smells of food and drink were almost overwhelming and the ground burned when Cas bent down to touch it.
"This is…" He had no words for it. It was a collision of sensations and for a moment he almost yearned to be back in the silence of the forest. No way would humans be able to hunt here.
"This is called Stanford," Sam explained to him. "It's a city, where a lot of humans live in one place and share the space." Cas couldn't imagine this many wolves living together in harmony – they'd all run out of food and water.
"Where are we going?"
"You're going to stay with Dean," Sam said. "He has his own den, a little away from the city. It's quieter there."
Well, at least there was that.
Dean's den was wonderful. Cas fell in love with the place immediately – it was a small house on the end of a long road. There were a lot of rooms and each one seemed to serve a purpose, and Cas thought it was very clever to have separate spaces for eating and for cleaning. He was enthralled with the notion of running water straight to hand, and a place where he could go and relieve himself without leaving the refreshing coolness of the den.
The air had been musty and hot when they'd entered, but then Dean had tapped something on the wall and immediately cool air floated down onto their shoulders. It was wonderful – a paradise.
There was a room that was empty that Dean said could be his own. His own space! Wonderful. It was quiet and not too large and painted a soothing, dark brown color on two sides, and there was a window that looked out onto the road and he could see other houses and people when they come outside.
It was strange that a lone wolf would own a den this large, but he soon came to realize that Dean had a pack of his own – this whole street knew Dean and greeted him warmly when they arrived. Cas was introduced to some of them – an endless list of names and faces that he could commit to memory. Without their scents it was going to be difficult, but human faces varied a lot between each other. He was sure he would learn who they were soon.
Dean told him about a thing called the shower, and the warm water beating on his skin felt amazing – much better than the lake baths he had grown up with. He even managed to cut his hair down some more and shave his face again. When he came out he found that there were some clothes, clean and dry and smelling faintly of Dean, for him to wear.
Dean had food and running water and a cool, dry den to sleep in. He was a very lucky wolf.
Human.
Time passed in a blur. Cas was adapting to human life with a grace and ease that Dean wasn't sure how to feel about. He had made friends, a social animal at heart, with neighbors Dean hadn't even spoken to past a few words every morning within the first few days. He had fallen in love with Dean's garden and soon enough had cut the grass down and even spoke about planting food in the backyard. Dean was sure he'd be able to rear plants if he tried hard enough – the man had a knack for the wild, after all. Dean had about as many green fingers as a housecat and his yard had fallen under heavy neglect during his absence.
Cas picked up new words by the day, and Sam often took him to Stanford while he had classes and showed him the library. Figures Dean rescued a feral man from a pack of wolves and he turned out to be a huge fucking nerd.
A wonderful, vibrant, sweet, hot-as-fuck nerd.
Hell, he'd even managed to get a job at the library at Stanford. He was adapting to human life with an ease that made Dean feel unsettled. Like maybe this could work. Maybe he would stay with Dean and be happy in this tiny corner of such a big wide world.
Dean hadn't been able to shake off his woefully misplaced crush at all, and it didn't help that Cas was living with him and proving to be more and more awesome by the day. He liked Dean's music, he adored Dean's cooking and made sounds that reminded Dean of what he had saved on his desktop computer whenever he ate. He was beautiful, of course, and sometimes Dean caught him doing something – even something as ridiculously domestic as curled up on a couch, reading a book Sam had lent him, his mouth moving with the words, hair soft and damp from the shower and wearing Dean's clothes, and something just leapt in him.
He remembered Cas describing that feeling: a hard thump, right behind the chest. Loneliness. Heartache.
God, he was a fucking mess.
"Do you miss it?"
Cas looked up at him from his book, blinking owlishly.
"Your pack. Your family."
Cas smiled at him. "You are my family now, Dean," he'd said, as sweet and sincere as always, and Dean couldn't breathe with how hard the words hit. Sam and John had always been his family, and Jess too, and then John had left and Sam and Jess were settling down. Dean had always known he'd probably end up alone.
As unfair as it was, Dean couldn't help hope that Cas would be willing to end up alone with him.
"Are you alright?"
Dean hummed, looking back up from where his eyes had fallen to the floor. Cas had set the book down and stood up, walking around the couch to stand in front of Dean. They'd gotten him clothes that fit him better, and he looked so soft and comfortable in his sweatpants and loose shirts. Dean swallowed.
"No," he answered honestly, mentally kicking himself for it almost immediately. "I don't think I am."
Cas frowned. "Why?" he asked. They were standing so close to each other now. Dean could reach out and touch his face if he wanted.
He swallowed, his fingers digging more tightly into his arms where they were folded across his chest. "Because I'm lonely."
Cas' face softened, his expression turning from confusion to sympathy, to compassion. He took another step forward, reaching out and easily stepping into Dean's space. Dean's arms fell, too lost to fight the hug that was coming, and instead wrapped around Cas' back, clenching tightly in his shirt. He felt Cas' soft, damp hair rubbing against his cheek and neck, felt Cas' warm exhale on his shoulder, closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Cas' as he felt the man hug him so tightly.
"I'm here," Cas said quietly, his voice a low rumble against Dean's chest. "You're not alone."
"I feel alone, sometimes," Dean replied. Everyone knew it – Sam was terrified of leaving him alone sometimes, like he thought every time he did he'd find Dean with an empty bottle of Jack in his hand one day, not breathing, gone from the world in whatever way Dean could manage. Dean wouldn't do that – he wouldn't leave Sam like that – but the ache in his chest was constant and had only gotten worse over the last few years.
Cas drew back, his hands moving from Dean's shoulders to his neck, gently cupping his jaw. His eyes were a very dark blue, like the lake trapped under ice, and fixed Dean where he stood. "I am here," he said again. "I felt alone, and now I have you. When I am with you I am not sad and I am not lonely."
Dean licked his lips, his hands uneasily fisting in the back of Cas' shirt. "I'm glad," he said. "I want you to be happy, Cas."
Cas smiled. "You do," he murmured sincerely, rubbing his fingers over Dean's stubbly cheek. "When I first met you, I knew you would be a good pack mate for me. I know that – that's not how humans work, really, but the sentiment remains the same."
He cleared his throat; the first trace of embarrassment Dean had ever seen coloring his cheeks a light pink. "How can I make you feel better?"
Selfish. Unfair. Dean licked his lips again. "Stay," he rasped. "Just promise me you'll stay."
At that, Cas smiled – this wide, toothy thing that stretched his pale lips and showed his gums, and he nodded emphatically. "Yes."
When Dean woke the next day, Cas was with him in the bed. They were on top of the covers, fully clothed, a respectful distance away from each other, but even so Dean felt that thudding in his chest overcome with a pleasant, happy warmth. He smiled at Cas, who smiled back at him.
"Dean," he said in greeting, reaching out to pet Dean's cheek again. Sometimes Cas did this – reverted back to wolf behavior. Dean found he didn't mind nearly as much as he used to. Dean found himself reaching out and rubbing his palm across Cas' shoulder before he could think about it. "Dean, I want to talk to you about something."
Dean froze, and cleared his throat. "Yeah?"
"Well…" Again, what looked like embarrassment crossed Cas' face, his eyes darted to Dean's chest, back to his face, and he bit his lower lip. "I read a lot, now, thanks to Sam, and I was reading a few books about men…like you." Dean frowned. "Men who want male mates. Well, human mating in general, sometimes, but -."
"Okay," Dean said slowly, knowing that Cas would likely keep rambling until he was stopped. He had never seen Cas nervous before, and the subject was uncomfortable. It would be best to cut to the chase. "What about it?"
"I have thought about it," Cas blurted out, his eyes locking onto Dean's suddenly, as though forcing himself to hold the gaze. For wolves it was a dominance thing, and Dean couldn't help thinking that the same kind of situation was applying here. "About mating, and I think that -." He made a frustrated sound, looking away. "This would be much easier if we were both wolves."
Dean's mouth went dry. His fingers tightened in Cas' shoulder, as though if he let go even a little Cas would disappear from him. "Show me," he said, voice hoarse. Cas turned to look at him, expression cautious. "Show me, Cas."
Cas' eyes raked over his face. Then, he stroked his fingers over Dean's face again, the touch so gentle it almost tickled.
Show him. Show him how wolves did it. Well, Cas could do that. It would be easier to do that. Sucking in a breath, Cas pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and shifted closer to Dean on the bed. Dean's eyes were wide, such a beautiful green. It reminded Cas of the forests he'd grown up with – a wild wolf that was not a wolf but bore the same stark, raw beauty of the forest.
Cas pushed his forehead against Dean's shoulder, listening to the man's breathing and heart rate pick up. With a female, Cas would know what to do – he would go behind her, make sure she was wet and willing to mate, bite at her scruff and mount her as he was supposed to. Males were more difficult, but Dean was a good wolf, a good subordinate.
Human.
Cas ran his teeth along Dean's clothed shoulder until he met skin, letting out a pleased rumble when Dean tilted his head to one side and allowed him access. The scent of Dean was warm and fresh, mint like his soap and clean.
Dean braced his other arm against Cas' other shoulder, the one that bore the scars from their first meeting. Cas could remember Dean like this before, heart racing, unsteady against him, a wolf submitting to its Alpha for the first time.
This time, though, Dean pulled him closer, wrapped his fingers in Cas' thick hair, spread his legs apart so that Cas had room to slot one knee between the space. He remembered this from his books – they could grind against each other, chase the urge to thrust and spill deep, find pleasure in the friction between their stomachs.
Cas edged his teeth against Dean's neck, under his strong jaw, and licked at the thin, sensitive skin where he'd bite a female if he needed to. But Dean was willing, his soft whine sweeter than all the females in heat Cas has heard.
Dean's fingers dug into Cas' back, arched him closer, and Cas let out a soft growl as he ground against Dean, pleasure tingling up his spine from the space where their bodies were rubbing together. He felt the urge to mate, to bite Dean's neck and mark him, but he knew humans didn't do that to each other – there was no need to make the other one submit.
Dean turned his head, his cheek brushing against Cas' and Cas let out a soft sound of pleasure when Dean arched against him again. Cas rutted his erection against Dean's thigh happily, one hand cupping Dean's jaw still, the other bracing him semi-upright on the bed.
"Cas," Dean gasped, and Cas could feel arousal like his own pushing against his hip. He let out a happy growl, pleased that Dean was responding to him like a mate should, eager and sweet as they rolled against each other like wolves in play.
He liked the sound of Dean's voice like this, lower, gruffer like a rumbling wolf. Dean's strong body was so warm and yielded to Cas like fur, almost, when Cas grabbed them and rolled them onto their sides so that Dean could move against him just as easily. Dean's arm wrapped around his waist, holding them tight together where they were rutting, and Dean groaned and fisted his hand tight in Cas' hair, his face pressed tight against Cas' cheek.
It felt good, feeling Dean close to him like this, like they were connected even though Cas knew this wasn't the full extent of what males could do. He let out a soft sound, reaching down to grab Dean's thigh, guide him closer to where Cas was rubbing against him, and gasped at the friction, the pressure that felt so good against his erection.
"Fuck," Dean hissed, his eyes closed tight as he held onto Cas so tightly, like he was afraid Cas would disappear at a moment's notice. As though Cas would want to – he loved this, pressed close to his mate, feeling Dean's heart fly, his arousal evident, his need obvious. None of the wolves in Cas' old pack had desired him that way, and Cas knew now it was because he wasn't really one of them, but he was like Dean. And Dean wanted him.
Cas pulled back just so that he could turn his head, nip at Dean's jaw, and Dean turned his head too and then they were kissing, mouths pressed flush, and that sensation clawed a sound from Cas' throat he had only ever heard once before – the soft, desperate howl of a wolf looking for its mate.
"Dean," he moaned, desperate for another kiss even as the first one ended, a thirst in his mouth that he knew only Dean could quench, a hunger in his belly he knew only Dean could satisfy. "Dean," he said again, his hand moving from Dean's jaw to the back of his neck, keeping them pressed together as Dean rolled them again, this time with Cas on his back. His neck ached from arching into Dean's kisses, and the heat in his stomach was dipping lower, his erection thick and aching for something.
He yelped as Dean reached down between them, wrapping his fingers tight around Cas through his clothes, and the pressure was so much better, the fabric tight and hot around Cas' erection. He felt the tip getting wet, ready to spill.
"Dean," he growled again, sinking his teeth into Dean's shoulder as he came, soaking the fabric in Dean's hand. His body shuddered, abdomen twitching. He felt as though he had been wounded, a hot flush taking over his whole body as he emptied into Dean's hand. It felt amazing, so basely satisfying, and he knew the next time he did it he wanted to finish on Dean's skin, and mark his mate with the evidence of his desire, Dean's willingness to mate with Cas.
Any wolf would find Dean strong, attractive, but he had chosen Cas to mate with, to accept into his den and feed and hunt for and save.
Dean made a rough noise, still rolling his body in slow, hard drags against Cas' thigh. Cas could feel that Dean had yet to reach his climax as Cas had, and he pulled his mate into another kiss, sinking his fingers into Dean's hair and his nape, his free leg wrapping tight around Dean to try and give him the pressure he needed.
He was breathless but flying, surrounded by the feeling of his mate, of Dean's moans and breaths and his heartbeat flying against Cas' fingertips.
"You would have made a beautiful wolf," Cas whispered, his voice rough from moaning. Dean stilled for the briefest of seconds, his body trembling. "My wolf. My Dean."
With a curse, Dean's back bowed, his forehead fell to Cas'. He opened his eyes as he came, lips parted. Cas surged up to kiss him again, pleased when Dean's body trembled and rolled against him, as though he was trying to spill into Cas, to mate with him properly. They would get to that too, Cas decided, until they were both marked from the inside out.
Dean kissed him again, languid and slow until they stopped shaking. Cas liked the feeling of Dean on top of him, his mate warm and strong and sheltering him. When they parted, Dean sighed, resting their foreheads together, just staring.
It wasn't a dominance thing, this time. Cas smiled and traced his fingers along Dean's cheek, thumbing at the corner of his mouth, and Dean turned his head and kissed his fingertips.
"Are you happy?" Cas asked after a moment, his other hand pressing to Dean's sternum where the sadness sat.
Dean blinked, before he smiled back. "Yeah, Cas," he said, and leaned down for another kiss. "But, I mean, you sure you wanna do this? With me?"
Cas blinked at him. "Do what? Mate?"
Dean blushed, his eyes skipping quickly to the left before they inevitably returned, holding the gaze. "Yeah, I guess. Mate."
Cas nodded hard enough that Dean had to pull back so they could see each other's faces properly. "Yes," he said, his hand pressing against Dean's sternum. "You're my family, Dean, my pack, my mate. You make me happy."
"You make me happy, too, Cas," Dean replied with another smile. He leaned down and Cas leaned up, and they both met in another long, deep kiss, their body melting into each other as easily as snow melts into the earth underneath the warm sun.