4.

Dean ate a quick meal with Isaac and Tamara in one of the communal tents alongside the two blonde women, Rachel and Hester, and Uriel and Samandriel. He was introduced to many others who would be travelling with them in the morning but his mind was too preoccupied to remember their names.

He excused himself as soon as he'd finished eating, the endless congratulations making him feel nauseated. The marriage was evidently a popular one amongst the ranks. He returned to his tent and threw himself onto the fur-bed, staring up at the canvas ceiling and trying to stop replaying the overheard conversation.

Some time later he heard his father leave, presumably for dinner with Michael, and felt a twinge of guilt for not sucking it up and accompanying him. Not enough to make him actually go, but enough to make him feel like crap for not going.

He was about to stick his head outside and ask someone to fetch him some of that wine when the tent flap opened. He was unsurprised when Castiel entered, only grateful that he had two large jugs in his hands.

"It is expected that we share a tent tonight," he explained in his low, rough growl. "It is symbolic."

Dean could guess who expected it. He nodded and took one of the jugs. "Sit down Castiel, I wanted to talk to you anyway."

Castiel sat in the same spot he had the previous night. He appeared tired and hunched forward over his crossed legs.

"You okay man? You look drained."

Castel looked up. "The preparations have been extensive. But the first company are ready to go and the others have been sent word. By the new moon you will have your thousand men."

"Have you had much personal business to sort out?" Dean couldn't help it. "Any family you're leaving behind? Friends?"

Castiel was too exhausted to be suspicious. "My brother Gabriel will be joining us with a later contingent. He has been sent to rally the other companies. He's a message bearer but only because he's fast. He can fight too, we trained together. He will be valuable to your father."

"You don't have to justify bringing your brother with you beyond telling me that he's your brother. I can't wait to meet him."

Castiel took a large swallow of wine. "You would like him. He's irreverent too."

Dean hid a small smile. He suspected Castiel was too tired to notice the slight and he liked that he was seeing a different side to the stoic Second.

"I wanted to ask what's going to happen to you now? You know, now that we're bonded and all. How does that work with your position as Michael's right hand man?"

"It doesn't. I've just come from meeting with the First." That would explain the wine. "I am to be replaced upon our departure tomorrow by Raphael." He sighed and fixed Dean with an intense blue stare. "Mated pairs are not inseparable but any lengthy absence is strongly discouraged. It can become ... uncomfortable."

"You mean physically uncomfortable? How? What the hell kind of marriage is this?" Dean stood sharply and paced the short length of the tent, dragging his fingers through his short hair. Bobby definitely hadn't mentioned this.

"I doubt you will experience any of the symptoms we do. The bonding between two wolves is not merely words at a ceremony. It binds two souls together. But you are human, your soul does not crave another. I believe you will be spared the discomfort." He drained half his jug in a single draught.

Dean planted himself on the floor in front of Castiel, eyes wide. "So what happens if I die? Now that our souls are bound. What happens to you?"

"We can survive the death of a mate. Though not many choose to."

Dean sagged back to lean on the fur bed. This was too much. He grabbed his own wine and forced down a few long sips. It burned his throat but it was familiar enough that it began to calm his nerves through conditioned response.

God he was a mess. He drank too much, gambled, slept around. He struggled his way through council meetings and public audiences at his father's side. He was smart but not book smart like Sam or Adam. Alright, he could lead an army but he couldn't even get his dogs to stop sleeping on the bed. And here was Castiel, his antithesis in almost every way, forcibly tied to his sorry ass for all time.

Too right it was an insult.

"Did you have someone here Cas? Was there someone you would have chosen given the chance?" He closed his eyes. He had to know but couldn't bring himself to watch Castiel tell him. He groaned as he realised he'd cocked up his name again but Castiel started talking before he could apologise.

"Not really. The First would never have approved the match. She has a blood connection with him, albeit a very weak one and I would never be permitted to marry into Michael's bloodline."

"What a dick."

Castiel actually chuckled. Dean wondered whether the wine he was finishing was his first of the evening or not. "Yes, you and Gabriel will get along just fine."

Dean became acutely aware of how close his sprawled out legs were to Castiel. If the werewolf relaxed much further they'd be touching.

"I've been wondering, what's the deal with the clothes?" He tried to distract himself from thinking about the implications of Castiel being in his tent on their wedding night. And from the heady image of him laughing. "I mean, can you change with them on? How come most of you don't wear anything?"

Castiel smiled. "Your curiosity is refreshing. Clothing is not necessary. We are not subject to the elements as you are and are not confined by the same sense of modesty. Clothes are a symbol of status, or rank. The children you may have seen wearing skins are Michael's. Obviously members of the council and my own high ranking officers are permitted to wear the tunics."

Dean nodded. "And the higher up the ladder you are the better the clothes?" He pointed to Castiel's own finery.

"Yes. With status it becomes easier to incorporate more elaborate clothing into the shift. Even so some of the council-members still are unable to do it. They must change into human form and then dress. Warriors are trained to shift with weapons. We can fight equally well in either form." He looked down at himself."I suppose I shall have to change my apparel as befits my loss of rank."

Dean had had enough of watching proud men brought low by Michael's scheming. "You are married to the heir of powerful lands Cas, and general of an army. If Michael doesn't want you as his Second then I want you as mine. I know you've lost out here but status is one thing you don't have to give up."

He almost jumped out of his skin when Castiel let out a loud bark directed towards the tent door. The werewolf looked apologetic. "I appreciate the gesture. It would be an honour to stand as your Second. But please do not concern yourself with my personal life Sir Dean. I am glad to do my duty."

Dean's face fell but Castiel didn't notice as Samandriel entered and placed two more wine jugs on the ground before immediately turning on his heel and leaving.

"I finished my wine," Castiel explained, reaching for a jug. As he leant over his leg brushed against Dean's. The human suppressed a shudder.

"It's just Dean," he sighed. "Surely married couples are allowed to be a bit less formal?"

Castiel squinted. Again, not adorable. "I would imagine so. Dean."

Castiel quickly finished his next wine jug in silence. Dean considered that this was possibly one of the most awkward wedding nights in history.

"So." Dean started. Castiel looked up expectantly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "So. Tonight. Are we expected to ...?" He flicked his eyes towards the bed.

Castiel shook his head. He was uncomfortable again. "I doubt it. I am only here for tradition's sake." Dean sighed in resignation. Castiel mistook it for relief. "This marriage is less than desirable Dean. Please understand that I require nothing from you. I would not wish for us to proceed without making that clear."

The stark rejection rankled Dean and he tried to bite down the bitter anger welling up. It wasn't Cas' fault, he hadn't wanted any of this, and he was going to help win their war. But still, Dean wasn't used to being turned down and he fought against the urge to lash out.

"Well don't you worry yourself Castiel, I get you. No reason why this joke of a marriage should affect us more than we let it. I'm glad we got it straightened out early. Married in name only. Fine by me."

Castiel narrowed his eyes and if Dean didn't know better he'd say the werewolf looked hurt.

"Fine. Goodnight Dean." He turned away and lay on the ground-furs with his back to Dean. His posture was tense and defiant and Dean just stared for a moment before rolling onto the bed and covering himself over.

.

He was awakened by busy movement outside the tent. His eyes darted to the floor where Castiel had slept but he was alone. He threw some water on his face and stepped outside, strapping his sword-belt on and throwing his cloak around his shoulders against the chill.

It was still dark but werewolves in both wolf and human forms were milling about, readying for their departure. Not too far away there was a large group of wolves, around twenty or thirty, all sitting quietly but alert and focused on something Dean couldn't make out. The wolves suddenly rose to their feet in unison as Castiel walked between them. Even in the dark Dean could see he was back in full-on badass mode. He strode confidently and with purpose among his warriors until Dean lost sight of him again through the trees.

"Sir Dean?"

Dean spun around to face the male captain who had witnessed his and Castiel's wedding. "Yes?"

"My name is Balthazar, captain to the Second. I have been instructed to show you to your horse."

"No man, my horse bolted. It's back down the mountain," he explained.

"Yes." The man seemed amused. "I was referring to your new horse. If you would follow me." Balthazar headed off in the opposite direction to Castiel and the wolves. Dean looked again for his husband but the werewolf was gone. He caught up with the captain.

In a small clearing stood eight calm horses next to a small pile of tack gear.

"What the hell? Our horses were terrified of you wolves."

"There is a human trading village not too far from here that we use from time to time. Their horses have grown accustomed to us. The Second sent for these last night." He indicated a large black mare standing off to one side. "I believe he said that this one was intended for you."

Dean was speechless. The mare was beautiful, strong and powerfully built but still sleek and graceful. She probably cost the same as the others combined.

"A wedding gift," Balthazar explained. "I shall send your young to assist you. I'm afraid we have no experience with the dressing of horses."

Dean could only nod his head as he approached the mare. He heard Balthazar walking away as he held out his hand in greeting. The mare took a sniff then nuzzled his hand briefly.

"Sorry baby, I've got nothing for you." He ran his hand appreciatively down her warm neck. She was smooth as silk.

The squires arrived shortly afterwards, obviously just roused from their sleep, and set to work saddling the horses. Dean tended to the mare himself, marvelling at the fact that Castiel had thought to give him such a remarkable animal.

They led the horses back to the tents where John was talking with one of the council members Dean recognised from the day before.

"Zachariah here was just passing on Lord Michael's apologies. He's unwell and cannot leave his bed to bid us farewell." His father was generally at his most ill-tempered first thing and this final slight was proving to be just one too many for the proud Lord. He was hanging onto civility through gritted teeth.

"My Lord Michael is beside himself that he was unable to personally see you safely away. I am here in his stead and unless I am very much mistaken I do believe that everything is ready and waiting on your order Lord John." Dean suspected that Zachariah was revelling in being chosen to deliver Michael's parting affront.

"Please thank him again for his support and his hospitality. We will leave immediately."

If John was surprised to see the horses he didn't show it. They all quickly mounted. Dean realised that other than Zachariah there were no other human figures in sight, only dozens upon dozens of wolves. As the thin grey light of dawn filtered through the trees, a huge tousled-looking wolf approached them, black as pitch with two bright blue eyes shining in the gloom. Even if Dean hadn't recognised the eyes he would have been able to identify Castiel by the way every single wolf watched him intently.

He paused to look up at John, casting a quick glance towards Dean. At John's respectful nod he turned on his heel and trotted back through the wolves who now turned to follow him. John urged his horse forward and they set off for home.