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It was a Monday morning, close enough to noon for the delicious scents of lunch carrying in through the open windows of the shop. The market place seen through the window was quiet, but would be bustling with activity come Wednesday when stalls would be erected and vendors from the villages under the Winchesters’ protection would come to sell and trade their produce. Not expecting business at this time, Dean was tinkering about in the back, fixing a couple of springs for the bell tower clock and repainting the numbers on the dial. Everyone who passed his shop to chat kept complaining about having to live “timeless”. Dean was certain that there were watches and clocks in every house of Dean’s pack members, since you could not quite deny the quality of Dean’s clocks and watches and he was quite liberal in distributing them for far less than they were worth. But people liked to complain so Dean grumbled and fixed the bell tower clock.
The tingling of the little bell made his ears perk up. He could hear the tell-tale shuffling of a tail swiping over his wooden floor. The scent was hard to place. The fragrance of the forests of his region, but also of the woods further west, with the lingering saltiness of the sea. Whoever it was had recently been to the Deer people capital.
“Dean?” The voice called again and its owner impatiently rang his reception bell.
“Charlie!” Dean said affectionately, slipping off his stool and putting on his regular glasses. He walked into the shop, seeing the woman lean on the counter, looking at a wind chime with little dangling birds. Ocelot ears turned towards him before Charlie turned her head to grin at him. “Hey, it’s been a while!” Dean walked around the counter to engulf her in a hug.
“Yes, I’ve been held up in Deer country. Customs are getting ridiculous. I always have to flash my “hey, I’m part of the Winchester pack, let me pass” badge to keep nosy fingers out of my letter bags,” she complained. Dean lifted an eyebrow.
“We have such a badge?” he asked dubiously but Charlie talked right over him:
“Speaking of letters, here’s one for you from your mom. And I mean, seriously? I am happy you’re not putting me out of business with your telegram, telephone, let’s build roads and railway tracks nonsense, but you still didn’t get your dad to get a telegram machine?” Dean chuckled, gratefully taking his mom’s letter and putting the business related mail into the folders above the till.
“Nah, he insists on meeting everyone personally, he hates being at the mercy of modern technology. But just let me get the mail. Sorry, I fear you’ll have to go into Crowley’s territory this time,” Dean said, walking into his office.
“Oh, I don’t mind. By the way, I met Bela. She is having tea at Jo’s but she’ll be around in a minute,” Dean could hear Charlie say.
“Yeah? I’m not expecting her,” Dean said, returning to the shop front with sealed letters and a couple of boxes. “Sam will give you your pay as usual.” Charlie nodded, putting everything away in her bag.
“I mean who’s ever expecting Bela? But I don’t mind seeing her around. That woman has style,” Charlie said but when she raised her head she found Dean looking at her with an unimpressed expression. “What? She’s sexy!”
“Right. I thought you had a girlfriend?” Charlie’s tail beat against the floor.
“Hey, I’m just looking! Just because I can appreciate the looks doesn’t mean I want to sample the goods,” she retorted and Dean bit back a laugh. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Dean asked, writing a note that he’d have to send telegrams to some people that their orders have been shipped.
“Don’t you want to… sample the goods?” Dean looked up, frowning. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! In the 2 years we’ve known each other I’ve never heard you talk to me about relationships but you’re notoriously flirty! I mean everyone would want into Dean Winchester’s bed! Well, not me obviously because you don’t have lady parts.”
“Can it, Charlie. Sure, Bela’s hot, but I don’t think that would work out.”
“Well, obviously you don’t have to mate with her, but damn. I’ve got more game than you and you’re an unmated, influential alpha wolf!” Dean rolled his eyes. “Are you just into omegas wolves? Is that it? I get that there are not many wolves around here, so I-“
“Yeah, just leave it at that, Charlie,” Dean grumbled and Charlie lifted her hands disarmingly. Dean huffed. “We can talk about relationships over tea next time you visit if you really want to, but not when I feel like Bela’s ears could be trained on me.” Charlie laughed at that and nodded. Dean hugged her, kissing the top of her head before letting her go.
“Yay, wolf scent on me! That will keep some people off,” she joked. “Just make sure Bela doesn’t make you do anything outrageous.”
“Sure thing. Now be on your way and pay attention out there!”
“I’m a big, ferocious girl, you mother hen,” she said and Dean laughed, then he waved and Charlie was out of the shop. He wondered how long it would take before he saw her again. He sighed and pulled out a big book from underneath the till to note Charlie’s due payment.
He barely had time to look through his correspondence before his nose picked up another scent.
“Bela,” he said and the woman gracefully walked over to the counter, her wings tugged against her back. She reached out her hand and made the wind chime tingle.
“Hey Dean. I have a job for you,” she said, her red lips pulled in a charming smile.
“Cause a little trouble,” Dean muttered to himself as he slowly went through the forest, approaching the Pasture. Bela’s tasks were sometimes vague and since Dean was just the one doing the job, it was not really his place to ask after the motives of Bela’s business partners.
“Nothing terrible, but you are aware of the brittle situation between the Pasture and the Deer people. My client would-“
“Crowley,” Dean had said with a snort, checking the contract information and the payment prospects.
“- simply like to see the Pasture slightly inconvenienced. Nothing terrible, just keep them a bit preoccupied with themselves. How about you remove one lamb? If they’re outside the boundaries of the Pasture then legally you are allowed to snatch them up. This is your land after all.”
Dean had been dubious of that claim and even if the laws were that way, it would not really make kidnapping someone alright. When he has been asked what to do with the Pasture dweller, Bela had just smiled.
A wolf preying on lambs, fantastic, just what Dean had always wanted to do. Grandpa Campbell would be proud. He grumbled as he reached the boundaries of his territory. Beyond the treeline he could see grasslands with a couple of bushes and flowers and then a small river which made up the natural boundary between Dean’s pack and the Pasture guarded by some guy called Gabriel.
While still part of John Winchester’s pack, Dean had been forced to study the nuances of the power relations in their country and even after he had left his parents Dean had still kept up with the situation. Mostly through business, a network of acquaintances and, to put it quite bluntly, espionage he did for Bela and her various shady clients.
Dean therefore knew the pasture relatively well even though he did not deal with them a lot because of old prejudices on the Pasture’s part. Dean had never met Gabriel personally and he had learnt that the guardian of the Pasture was a notorious slacker. The Pasture specialized in food produce and textiles and their wool and their dressmakers were renowned even beyond the sea. They were, generally, nice folk. Accordingly, the idea of disrupting the Pasture didn’t quite please him, but he had his own interests to maintain. He didn’t worry all too much about the consequences, also because he was very good at what he did. He knew that he could make people disappear without a trace, something he wasn’t proud of and Bela had enough friendly feelings for him never to require anything too drastic she knew he’d refuse no matter how well it would pay.
What Dean worried about was not what would happen to kidnapped person, or Gabriel taking action. He raised his eyes to the mountain behind the pasture. The guardian of the mountain was Michael, a guy that had not only defeated the armies of the Eastern wastelands but also caused the former King of the Deer people to forfeit. He was a good tactician and an even better soldier. If that guy decided to move because of one lamb, then Dean would not just cause “a little trouble”. But the likelihood of Michael reacting was slim and even if he did it was not clear where he’d direct his anger.
There had been peace for 10 years, but Dean knew enough to see the tension. A power shift was possible, but Dean wasn’t sure which of the big players would ultimately take the crown. Dean didn’t care much. He could protect his territory and anyone who rallied against him would be destroyed; be it Michael, be it Crowley, be it the Queen of the deer.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a very faint sound reaching his ears. Someone was moving through the outskirts of the forest. Dean sniffed the air and could not place the scent. He crept through the undergrowth until he reached one of the old mossy paths leading out of the forest and to a small stone bridge that crossed the stream. Whoever was moving was coming out of Dean’s territory and he wondered if this could possibly be a target.
He saw something red move between the ferns and then suddenly Dean could smell it. It was a lamb, young, smelling of cotton and wool and the rich scents of soil and ferns and herbs. Dean leant against a tree, sure that he was unseen and the wind was blowing towards him so that a lamb’s less delicate nose would surely not pick up his scent. The lamb stepped onto the street, putting down a basket and letting shoes drop onto the floor. It seemed to be a young man, maybe 16 or 17, wearing a red hat over his dark, unruly hair. Despite the distance, Dean could see his blue eyes. He put his shoes back on and took the basket again and Dean was almost tempted to let the moment pass. To let the boy pass, but once he had walked past him and Dean saw only his back retreating, leaving him and his territory, something took hold of Dean.
Later on he’d tell himself that it was his urge to do his job well, but at the moment Dean was nothing but a wolf preying. Not on a lamb, but on something that made Dean’s heart beat fast and his chest ache. He felt like standing on a cliff, with everything he had ever wanted on the other side and nothing but emptiness on his. He wanted, he needed, so he jumped.
The youth made a noise of surprise, but otherwise didn’t struggle as Dean grabbed him, careful to also take the basket with him. With the lamb draped over his shoulder, finding him to neither try to break free nor to be stiff in fear, Dean hurried through the forest, silent and unnoticed, not even making small rabbits or squirrels scuttle away. The fluffy tail hit Dean in the nose once, but if that was resistance it was rather feeble. Dean was glad because silencing the youth was not something he really wanted to do. He noticed that so close to him of the pain in Dean’s chest had abated.
Dean took a long path through the forest, masking his tracks, and finally the walls of his village came into view. It was Thursday and some people who had come for the market were still around, making the village livelier than it usually was. It was nearing sun-down and Dean used the shadows and the abundance of still empty buildings to his advantage.
Once he had slipped through the backdoor into his own house, he seemed to come to his senses. Why on earth was he bringing him into his house? He meant to hand him over to some of Bela’s goons that were sure to linger around the market place, sampling the good beer Dean’s territory produced.
Dean fretted.
“Let me down,” the youth said, calmer than Dean felt. He complied promptly and the young man picked up his basket.
“Look, I’m really sorry for taking you away from home. It was a shitty move, but if you’ll just stay a while.” The lamb narrowed his eyes and Dean lifted his hands automatically. “Please. Just… Go up the stairs.”
“I know I was in wolf territory but I didn’t know that was a felony,” the lamb said, still turning around and taking the stairs up.
“No, no it isn’t… That’s not why I took you… Look it’s… It’s complicated. And I acted rashly. Usually I keep my wits but you just…“ They arrived at the second floor and Dean touched the young man’s shoulder, directing him to another flight of stairs behind a door that led to an attic. It was like most attics probably were – wooden floor, wooden beams, dust and lots of clutter, but in the back there was another door leading to a spacious room that held a spare bed, a dresser and a door that hid a small bathroom.
“What about me?” the lamb asked, staring straight at the wolf, which sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. “I doubt you mean to eat me.”
“No… Gosh, I don’t eat other people,” Dean answered, shaking his head. “No… I was just… I don’t know… I saw you and thought… Well… you and I belonged together.” The last part was more of a mumble than actual words, but they were heard. The lamb’s ears flitted up and a look of confusion passed his face.
“How?”
“I don’t know! It’s just… Wolf stuff.”
“Wolf stuff,” the lamb repeated flatly and he was squinting at Dean. Dean would prefer to just go crawl into some hole, he was sure his face was beet red. But what did it matter? There was a guy - a lamb - that he kidnapped for Crowley’s power games, and now he kept him because of what? Because his instinct screamed mate at him. It was ridiculous. Dean was ridiculous. What a failure of a wolf.
“I’m… Yeah. We’ll talk afterwards. Please don’t try to flee because I’ll have to catch you again. And… stay up here for a second. I’ll have to go talk to people.” The lamb said nothing and Dean was close to tugging his tail between his legs. “I’m Dean by the way. Dean Winchester.”
“Dean Winchester,” Castiel repeated and the tone of the voice didn’t betray whether he knew who was standing before him or not. “I’m Castiel,” he continued and he said it with such gravitas that Dean felt embarrassed that he had not ever heard of that name. But apparently the lamb didn’t expect him to. He went to sit on the bed, dust swirling up and if Dean could be more embarrassed this was the moment for it. He closed the door and cursed himself. He’d have to talk to Sam, Sam would – after shouting for a while – know what to do.
When Castiel had left his work this morning to pick up a tea mix at Meg’s, he certainly hadn’t expected that by the time the sun set he would be sitting in a wolf’s house. Nobody was due to check in on him until at least Saturday so his presence wouldn’t be missed until then. And even if they came to look for him, how would they suspect him in Dean Winchester’s attic?
He knew who Dean Winchester was, at least he had heard him mentioned. It was likely to assume that Dean was related to John Winchester in some way. He was the wolf that controlled much of the south western part of the continent, his influence ever growing. As a weapon trader he was an opportunist who didn’t quite care for what side he sold his allegiance to. But just because he would have fought on the side of the Deer people 10 years ago didn’t mean he wouldn’t support Michael now. About Dean he had heard nothing but gossip.
That the territory bordering right on the Pasture was owned by wolves and by a Winchester was common knowledge, but otherwise Castiel had no idea who exactly he was dealing with.
He had an idea why he had been kidnapped even though he saw little strategic merit in it now. Soon he’d be an adult and nothing but force could hold him back from returning to the city by the sea. His mother would not risk having him taken now when just a couple of months separated Castiel and her.
He looked at the contents of his basket. Just a bit of sewing, tea, honey and candles. And a half-eaten sandwich. He ate the sandwich, then he got up to look out of the window. It showed out onto a paved square, with rows of houses framing it. Everything looked big and prosperous, but despite the dark setting in, many houses remained without light. He turned away from the windows and went about pacing the room, exploring the space granted to him. He was surprised that there was running hot water in the small bathroom and he held his hands under it until they tingled. In his own house there was water (if he worked the pump) but since it came directly from the stream it was usually cold.
When he was back in the room (his room he assumed though he was unsure what to do with that knowledge) he thought back on what Dean had said. Why would he think they belonged together? While Castiel could not quite ignore the physical attraction, it seemed rather unlikely that the “wolf thing” Dean had mention was some sort of mating instinct. Castiel knew that “wild” wolves had those, but Dean seemed pretty bourgeois and not like he would work on instincts. Maybe alpha wolves just took their mates, no matter what the mates had to say to that. Quite dreary, but he knew enough about marriage politics to know that “feral instincts” and “economic and power interests” lead to the same thing for some people.
After a while of waiting and pondering his choices, Castiel chanced to try the door. It opened and he could walk back down the stairs. Dean’s house was spacious and very inviting, all warm, comfortable spaces, smelling clean, with a scent of food carrying up from below. While not hungry, he still followed his nose, ending up in the kitchen, right into an argument between Dean Winchester and a very tall man.
“Uh… Hello, sorry about that. My name is Sam,” the tall man introduced himself once the shouting had died down, holding out his hand. Castiel shook it, unsure what to say. Dean looked uncomfortable, while Sam seemed to be angry, but holding back for the sake of Castiel.
“Castiel,” Castiel offered and Sam nodded.
“Is it true that Dean kidnapped you, because he thought you were his mate?” Sam asked and Dean hissed at him, his ears pressed flat to his head. Sam was not impressed by him baring his teeth at all and Castiel couldn’t help being amused.
“I don’t know.”
“But he took you against your will,” Sam pressed on and Castiel nodded. Sam glared at Dean, but didn’t say anything. “Dean, you have to take him back home.”
“I can’t take him back home. I missed my chance to properly wrap this up when I didn’t give him to Bela’s guys. If he returns now, we risk friction between us and the Pasture,” Dean argued and Castiel could see truth in that.
“So what? At least you can prevent a crisis now! Just return Castiel home to his family.” Dean made a very pitiful sound that made even Sam’s face fall for a second, before it hardened again. “Dean, come on.” Dean nodded reluctantly, but Castiel raised his hand before Dean could guide him back out.
“I’ll stay,” he said, taking both by surprise. “For now. I’ll stay.” Sam started to protest but Dean’s tail hit him in the legs and he shut up.
“Great, how about we have dinner? Lots of vegetables because Sam sucks, but yeah. I don’t know what lambs eat,” Dean said.
“Everything on the plate,” Castiel replied bluntly and Dean eagerly offered him a seat on the table. They didn’t really talk while eating, but Dean’s nervous optimism certainly kept Sam (who Castiel assumed to be his family since it seemed that Dean did not have a partner) from saying too much. If he suspected that Castiel did have his own reasons to not return to the Pasture he kept them to himself for now.
And Castiel did have reasons. For 10 years now he had been kept in the Pasture, a spoils of war that could hardly make his own choices. While Michael or Gabriel meant him no harm, they were not exactly willing to return him to his country either. As long as he was part of the Pasture, the Deer people would not move against them, just like the negotiations 10 years ago had envisioned. Now he was the captive of a new territory, of a man who was unaware of his ties to the Deer country, but maybe far more willing to let him go.
If he only could move past this village, out of Dean’s sight, reunite with Meg, Anna and Jessica, he’d maybe be free for the first time. Maybe he could finally go back home, preventing the tense situation from escalating by taking himself out of the game. He hated being nothing but a chess figure on a board he could study but not influence.
“I’m glad you’re staying,” Dean said when he guided him back home. His room had been cleaned by Dean while Castiel and Sam had enjoyed a cup of tea. “I really don’t know why you do, I certainly don’t deserve you giving me a chance.”
“I’m giving myself a chance,” Castiel admitted and Dean frowned, visibly confused. “But maybe we can find out if we really belong together.” Castiel had not expected the shy, but radiant smile he got to see and he couldn’t help smiling a bit either, his cheeks heating up. “It would seem weird, but I think that is okay.”
“A lamb and a wolf, mates? Yeah,” Dean said, laughing. “Pretty damn weird.”
“Good night, Dean,” Castiel told him and Dean nodded and after Castiel had closed the door he heard Dean whisper to himself: “Please be here once morning comes.”
“If you bring me a cup of tea, Dean,” he whispered back and somewhere along the corridor, Dean stumbled over clutter.
Castiel had never seen anyone be as happy to serve a cup of tea as Dean Winchester was. And somehow he knew that this powerful alpha wolf – who apparently fell in love at first sight and always smiled in a way that made him feel wanted and welcome and important – was relevant in a way that Castiel could not yet determine.