Hello! Sorry for the lack of updates – uni work etc kind of took over. Anyway, I have also been very busy putting together my new novel, an adaptation of my fic 'A moment to be real'. You can get it on amazon for a kindle device, or computer or phone, or as a paperback from . Links in my profile
Sam has no way of making improvements to their winter home. As he's never had to live within the earthen burrow as a human before, it had never before needed any way to cook or make a fire inside, and the ceiling was far too low. Now though, it seems as if they will have to journey to their summer camp, if only to supply himself and Castiel with the everyday minutia of survival.
Today however, Sam cooks outside, cutting up shrivelled onions with a hunting blade and frying them in the soup pot, adding snow and dried herbs, melting it down into a broth. Whatever Dean brings him, he can add to the stew, to braise the tough winter meat into something edible.
But, when Dean does eventually return, his thick golden fur peppered with snow, and a dead rabbit lolling in his jaws, he trots right past Sam and the cooking fire, scrabbling down into the burrow.
Sam sighs, but does not follow. He cannot enter and the leave the burrow's narrow mouth as a man, only as a wolf, and it had taken long enough to push all of his clothes outside, shift, and then re-dress in the snow, an experience he was not keen to repeat.
He would simply have to trust Dean not to overstep himself.
Castiel was hunched on the nubby, uneven palette, smelling the smoky air and feeling his thin stomach growl against his frozen hand. Pickings had been scarce even at the village, and they had starved him all the while he had lain in the root cellar, awaiting trial. He's famished, and cold, and the rough skins around him are unfamiliar and rude against skin more used to better treated furs, wool blankets and linens.
He freezes when the wolf slides out of the tunnel, padding towards him with a dead rabbit clenched in its jaws. There's blood on the wolf's muzzle, snow on its fur, its eyes are intent, bright green and faintly reflective.
Could this thing really be a man? A human being in a wolf's skin?
Even if it is so, Dean has native blood, the same as his brother. There is a wildness bred into them that Castiel simply does not possess, and this frightens him.
The wolf trots forwards and drops the rabbit into Castiel's lap, its head lowered modestly. Then the creature looks up at him, tail waving lazily, as if expecting some kind of praise. Castiel touches the rabbit with the tips of his fingers. Its fur is soft, so very soft, and the animal is still warm.
He looks up into Dean's eyes.
Dean growls softly, his ears pricking up, and Castiel quickly looks down.
He feels the wolf come closer, and slowly utilises the only piece of advice Sam had had time to impart to him. He lies down carefully, the rabbit still in his lap. With one hand he slowly eases the skins aside, exposing his stomach in its thin, baggy shirt.
Dean wuffs approvingly, nosing Castiel's stomach the way Sam had told Castiel that he would. It's a gesture of submission, and one Sam uses himself to appease his brother. However, Dean quickly snuffles lower, curious licking at the trail of fine dark hair on Castiel's abdomen. The settler blushes fiercely, and attempts to cover himself without thinking, one hand coming up and batting against the side of Dean's muzzle.
The wolf rumbles softly, and noses him again, reminding him just who is at whose mercy.
Castiel lies still, afraid and ashamed, as Dean tests the springy, soft hair against his damp nose, then with the tip of his rough tongue. He explores lower, finding that the hair grows thicker and longer, and that there is a scent caught in it, a strong, potent odour of male skin and virility. Dean inhales deeply, nose searching lower, knowing what the hidden root of a man looks like from his vague human memories, but experiencing a giddy new wave of sensation now that he is exploring it in his animal form.
Castiel closes his eyes, his face burning against the chill air, and fights the rising tears that creep through him. He has never been touched in these places before, anywhere by his face and hands has remained unseen by others since childhood. With the exception of his trial, and the examinations given to him then, Castiel has never been naked before another living being – even in matters of bodily function he prefers privacy. He has never had a sweetheart, and has never come close to being married.
This then, is somehow too much – too much fear, and intimacy that he does not want in these strange circumstances. There is a wolf, scenting his skin, and beyond that wolf, behind it's features, is a man, just like him – but with the blood of a savage. A murderer, and sodomite.
A soft sound of fear escapes his throat before he can stop it, and to his surprise, Dean jerks away almost at once, lying over his bared skin and tickling it with his soft belly fur as he shields Castiel's dignity.
Castiel looks down into Dean's eyes, finding that he can read worry there.
He raises a hand, unsure what his intentions are, and then exhales sharply as Dean butts his head against his palm. He rubs his fingers behind Dean's ears, and the wolf rumbles happily, its tail lashing.
"What are you, really?" Castiel murmurs. "An animal, or just a man who walks as one?"
Dean looks at him, eyes narrowing, though he continues to rub against Castiel's petting hand. He has the look of a man knowing he is being discussed, but in a foreign language that he can barely understand. The tone, more than anything, is what communicates Castiel's meaning.
Castiel sighs, and slowly eases away from the wolf, picking up a skin to wrap himself in, taking the rabbit in one hand. He looks into Dean's confusing eyes.
"Thank you Dean."
The wolf wuffs and trots ahead of him to the burrow's entrance, glancing back to make sure he's following.
Castiel slips his feet into the battered moccasins that Sam had unearthed for him, slippers of skins decorated with dyed porcupine quills, now faded and aged. These garments, he has been told, once belonged to Dean. When Dean had been a man.
What could possibly have happened to the strong, strapping man whose clothes he now wore, that had made him wish only to live his life as a wolf? What could drive a man to such lengths to escape humanity?
Dean waits for Castiel to enter the tunnel first. He's lucky to be so thin, in his normal condition he'd have no chance of getting through the hole and out into the air. Dean scuffles out behind him, nudging Castiel's buttock as he freezes in the mouth of the burrow, feeling cold air on his face, and snow under his searching fingers. Castiel slides out into the freezing cold of the forest, bundling the fur around him closely. Without the protection of the rich, dark earth, he is suddenly reminded of just how small he is in comparison to the wide strange country that he inhabits. The light is stunningly bright as it glances off of the snow, blinding his weak eyes.
He hands the rabbit off to Sam, who takes his knife and begins to skin it straight away.
Castiel sits down on a fallen trunk and hunches against the cold, Dean trots over and clambers awkwardly up onto the log as well, hind paws slipping on the icy bark as he tries to balance and raise his head higher than Castiel's in a show of dominance. If Castiel notices he shows no sign of it, though at least Dean no longer seems to frighten the wits out of him, as he had done before. Sam continues to skin the rabbit, then cleans the offal from the small creature, dropping it onto the snow. Dean abandons his perch to come sniffing for food, and snatches up the meat without hesitation. He is the alpha, and so he eats first. Sam is grateful that Dean has allowed him and Castiel the meat of the rabbit.
Dean patters over the frozen surface of the snow, climbing back up beside Castiel, nudging against his side and snuffling at his face with his bloodied snout. Sam watches out of the corner of his eye, worried that Castiel might rebuff Dean and cause some kind of altercation, but the man only shrinks away slightly, then holds up his shirt sleeve to his mouth and wets it, pulling it over his hand and wiping Dean's muzzle with the plain, wet, homespun.
Dean turns his face this way and that, allowing Castiel to clean the rabbit blood from his fur. Sam can tell that his brother is attempting to contain his pleasure, and at least show some kind of decorum in front of his beta, but Dean's tail twitches, an aborted waggle that betrays him.
When Castiel has finished, he lowers his hand slowly, as if surprised by his own action. As well he might be, having only just deigned to stay with them. Sam supposes that Castiel is only trying to deal with Dean's strange attention by making it as tolerable as possible.
Still, when Dean moves to reciprocate, lapping daintily at Castiel's red and frozen nose, the man stays still, and lets him.
Dark comes quickly with snow.
Dean watches the fire twitch and play on the logs in the stone circle. Sam cooks rabbit, takes some for himself, and leaves the rest. Dean takes Castiel to the fire, lets him take some stew for himself.
They sit by the fire. Sam, Dean, and his mate, warm against his side.
Snow falls again, softly.