Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“...Hmph?”

Wait— oh.  Of course.

Castiel woke. After the obligatory ‘I’m alive!’ full-body shudder, he stalled, glaring up and through the night sky. Blinking, blinking, until his senses caught up: 

Clouds smoked out and puddled overhead, drifting by. Wait, but what the hell was— oh, a gunky mix of grass, clovers, and dirt. Very damp, and very plastered all over his bare forearms. His peripheral was packed full of overgrown weeds, flicking against the light warble of the wind… and he trembled in tandem.

Uh, was his palate normally so sour? It was like his tongue had been brining inside his skull. Gross. 

And that was just the first annoying side effect, it seemed— probably one of many. It wasn’t as if Castiel’s own comfort had been worth accounting for. Oh, no, certainly not. 

Hah, if only. He’d already been reduced to a tool. A shiny, but disposable object of sacrifice. A not-so-prized family heirloom. 

He began flexing his fingers against the dirt. Castiel’s limbs were still stiff as all hell, prickling and returning to life alongside his own self-awareness. Which, certainly wasn’t proving itself efficient. 

Just wake up and focus. It’s the least you can do for yourself.

No, he couldn’t allow the brain-fog to shroud him entirely. A clear head would be key in handling his… situation. And that was certainly one way to put it. He’d been doomed to end up in a “situation” one day, hadn’t he? It was almost shocking that it hadn’t happened sooner.

Even then, had he fought back harder, had he made any real effort to defend himself… could he have avoided this outcome? In a small part, it was his own responsibility. Right? After all, he was foolish to have ever trusted his father, even if just for a moment, tentative as he might have been. 

One moment was all it took, apparently. A moment of weakness, and now, Castiel was waking up deep in the woods of the Infernal highlands, dirt caked on his palms, dignity blanched and shattered. 

A small taste of freedom, brewed and spiked just for him. Gotta soak it in while it lasts. 

Treetops continued to scrape the surface of the sky. Meanwhile, Castiel pushed himself upright, abs cramping in protest. Another gust of wind hit, and he hurried to brush the debris from his arms, before tugging down his sleeves. Shivers punching through his body. 

Oh, wonderful, another side effect was nausea. His stomach was already staging a damn coup. Castiel would have to consider that next time he forcibly ingested a back alley potion, served to him by his oh-so-loving father. But he was hardly given any time to mull over that development, since like a half-assed punchline he’d never once consented to star in… it began to snow. 

Well, then. Just fucking lovely — so, now there were two potential means to his demise: Either he’d be slaughtered by a jaded Infernal King, who most certainly wasn’t going to be interested in participating in a manufactured search-and-rescue scheme, or, seeming increasingly likely, he’d freeze to death in the grass. 

Unless Castiel wanted to submit to the latter, he’d have to find shelter, no matter how temporary. He had to get up and move. If only his legs didn’t feel like too-moist dough after a day spent sunbathing. Wishful thinking aside, that seemed to be what he was working with. 

Either his father really hadn’t thought this one through, or Castiel’s death wasn’t quite a risk worth taking…  

No, it was a damn desired outcome. 

That might offer an alternate explanation for his father pushing a scent-inhibiting tonic onto him— rather than being used for Castiel’s own protection, it would ensure no one found and helped him. At least, prior to the whole ‘freezing to death’ event. 

He fumbled to his feet. Castiel watched specks of snow accumulate on his tunic, juxtaposed with the rich green fabric. Which, was further offset by his muted surroundings, and all swallowed by the dark. To think, he’d always loved snow. Castiel’s father hated the stuff, so maybe the stance had more to do with his top-secret contrarian leanings, but he’d always been soothed by wintertime. The irony that it might play such a powerful role in his own death— and indirectly at the hands of his father, no less. 

Frankly, King Chuck could eat shit. Castiel absolutely wasn’t going to allow the bastard to win. Not this time. Not when it mattered the most. 

That didn’t only mean survival, however; it meant earning his freedom. It meant escaping the hell he’d been conditioned to see as ‘normal’— as inevitable. Castiel most certainly was not going to be claimed by a so-called ‘heroic’ alpha, set out to pseudo rescue him, as if Castiel were simply the trophy to a royal scavenger hunt. In fact, he’d much rather die. 

So, left with no other options nor any sense of direction, Castiel began to walk. 

And walk.

And… walk. Just walk. Aimlessly, until his legs and his sides began to cramp. Until his fingers, despite being tucked up into his sleeves, began to burn against the frigid air. 

Until the trees became utterly indistinguishable, and moonlight was finally able to slip out from between the clouds. 

Slumping down a nearby trunk, shivering more aggressively than ever, Castiel convinced himself: Maybe this really was the favorable outcome. Freedom was just an illusion for him, wasn’t it? 

Rather than be naïve, why not just be… dead? As hesitant as Castiel was to put his faith in an afterlife, surely, whatever awaited must be more satisfying than… ugh, than spending his life cloaked by the opaque shadow of whichever alpha his father handed him off to. 

Castiel only wished that, before his father’s men had hauled him off, he’d had the chance to spit in Chuck’s stupid face. Or, possibly, to thoroughly chew the man out— pouring all of his long-held spite and anger out all over the throne room floor, before punctuating his final goodbye with a swift kick to his father’s groin. 

But, no— Castiel would never find the opportunity to speak truth to his father. Following years of silence and cowardice, he’d lost his chance. Instead, he’d wither away, in the very same silence he’d spent his life consumed by. 

A pathetic death for a pathetic prince, it would seem. It was strangely appropriate. Poetic, even.

Finally letting his eyes slide closed, Castiel hunched further over his knees, which he’d since gathered against his chest. The wind whistled in his ear, continuing to cut into his bones. He waited for the inevitable, and—

“Well, shit. There you are. Guess they really weren’t lyin’, huh?”

Chapter Text

Several hours earlier:

Despite Castiel’s empty stomach and the crashing temperature, he refused to leave his garden nook. He wasn’t ready to head back inside, not quite yet. 

He was surrounded by the season’s penultimate offering of fresh apples, the soon-to-be bare branches fanning out overhead. Even as capable as the orchard’s trees were, they’d still cast out their own fruit— left it to rot. A faintly acrid scent was starting to permeate from below. Honestly, Castiel saw some rather uncanny parallels between the neglected orchard and his relationship to his own father. 

He held back a snort at the thought. Well, it seemed he’d just have to begin taking pride in his role as… royal yet maggot-laced piece of late-season produce. 

…sure, why the hell not? After all, if his father’s expressions were any clue, Castiel’s own scent wasn’t any better. Still, that might’ve just been due to the constant reminder that Chuck had somehow sired an omega son— an outcome which seemed to fluctuate between a ‘whoopsie’ and a tragedy, depending on the company Chuck was pandering to. In any case, the king wasn’t particularly adept at handling the consequences of his own failures. His alleged failures, that was.

Arrogance was sure to be a legacy of Chuck’s rule, or at least, Castiel could certainly hope. He sure as hell didn’t deserve to be remembered for his tax policies, which were flimsy at best and regurgitated from the maws of monarchs prior. 

Shuffling his feet, Castiel began to pace. Had he been a braver man, he might have been celebrating the aftermath of a very cathartic verbal lashing of King Chuck. Or… an equally cathartic literal lashing. 

Hypothetically. 

But, keeping in trend with himself, he hadn’t acted bravely; consequences considered, it didn’t seem worth it to antagonize his own father. So, rather than simply continue holding his tongue and risk psychically imploding, he’d fled. 

As he often did.

He hadn’t run off far, of course. That might’ve served as something of a consolation. It didn’t exactly do much to negate the shame curling and seething in his gut, however.  

Sunlight was fading beneath the horizon when Castiel heard the telltale squeak of worn-in riding boots, crunching through the fallen leaves. He stopped pacing and swiveled around.

“Hey, you doin’ okay out here? Seriously, what the hell happened back there?”

Castiel plucked a loose thread from his sleeve, eyes cast down; not in fear or reverence, but rather, he’d already retreated so far into his own head that acknowledging another person seemed too much to handle. “I’m all right, Gabe, I promise.” Liar.

Gabriel huffed— as usual, unwilling to mask his exasperation. “Cas. Bro. You know good and well that I’m not gonna buy that,” he said. “C’mon, at least come back inside.”

“Gabe, I can’t—”

“For me?” 

Castiel looked up just enough to see his older brother pouting, eyes blown wide for a theatric touch. 

But noticing Castiel’s hesitation, Gabriel softened, smiling. He moved onto a new tactic: genuine concern. A last resort, if there ever was one. “Hey, listen. It’s gonna be getting cold tonight, all right? I don’t want Dad’s dickwad behavior to force you into getting yourself sick. I get if you’re not ready to talk about it, but moping out here ain’t gonna make it any better.”

Castiel’s frown deepened, although he soon nodded. “You’re… you’re probably right. I’ll admit, I’m starting to get a bit hungry.”

Gabriel snorted. “Priorities, priorities. Well, in that case, let’s go get you something to eat. Yeah?”

⁂

Castiel stepped back into the dining hall alongside his brother. He’d expected to find it vacant, save for maybe a servant or two skittering to clear away dinner— surely Castiel had been gone long enough for his father and brothers to finish their meal, before wandering off to continue collectively neglecting their royal duties. Although, to be perfectly fair, the passage of time is a bit distorted when you’re busy seething in self-isolation. 

So, tickle Castiel surprised to find his father still perched at the head of the table. As relieved as Castiel was to discover that the food had yet to be cleared away, he almost lost his appetite to the uneasiness that was suddenly throttling his gut. 

He turned to Gabriel, who had fallen silent. Castiel certainly didn’t miss the suspicion sharpening his brother’s eyes, currently turned on their father. 

After a short but hot-to-the-touch silence, Chuck coughed. “Boys!” he declared, his voice textured much like a rose bush slathered in syrup. Castiel shuddered. “I’ve been waiting for you two to return. I was hoping we could still finish our meal together, all interruptions aside.”

“Where’d Mike and Luc go, then?” Gabriel questioned. 

Castiel simply chewed on his lip, eyes flicking between the others. 

Chuck raised his hands and grinned, a gesture far more mocking than it was placating. Although, that very well might have been what the king intended; the man was shameless in his assholery. “Fine, fine, you got me. I was actually waiting on Castiel, here. The two of us really do need to finish our conversation, you know.”

Castiel surprised no one more than himself with his very own, “Could it please wait?” 

At his side, he heard Gabriel choke back a giggle.

Eyes narrowing, Chuck began to drum his fingertips against the tabletop. The rhythm was as erratic as it was firm— chaotic, yet assured. Much like the man, himself. “No, Castiel. It really can’t. Could you sit down, please? Gabriel, you’re dismissed.”

“Any reason I can’t sit in?” 

The king rolled his eyes, and Castiel could see the strain in his brother’s arms as his fists clenched tighter. “This is a private conversation, Gabriel. That’s all. No conspiracy. All right?”

Turning to his brother and tapping him on the arm, Castiel spoke. “It’s fine, Gabe. Just… you can just wait right outside, okay? This needs to be done, and I promise that I can handle myself.”

Gabriel cocked a brow in his younger brother’s direction, his frown unmoving. You really sure you’re gonna be all right?

In return, Castiel nodded.

By the time Castiel was sitting down perpendicular to his father, his brother was slouching against the open doorway. Gabriel threw a final look of concern over his shoulder, which Castiel matched with a tight smile. He had no doubt that he’d later find his brother firmly stationed on the other side, no matter how long their father dragged out the “conversation” for.

Of course, it wasn’t as if he’d ever have the opportunity to see for himself.

Castiel’s memories seemed to haze a bit around that point— they were mostly intact, just paper-thin and fuzzy around the edges: His father offering him tea from a prepared kettle; Castiel accepting without a second thought, eager to speed up what would undoubtedly be another will-draining talk with his father; Chuck stressing the urgency of his youngest son’s mating status— “I mean, you’re nearly twenty-five years old, for God’s sake!”; the king apologizing with glazed eyes and a smirk, as Castiel felt his extremities begin to grow numb, the room liquifying and whirling inward. 

He didn’t even hear the hard patter of approaching footsteps, before his biceps were being grabbed and his limp form was yanked from the seat. 

By then, the kicks and the uncoordinated thrashing were in vain. 

All the while, Chuck continued the one-sided discussion, catching his son up on that evening’s agenda. “We talked this one out the other day, and the court came up with a great idea. It’ll be exciting, even! We’ll find an alpha truly worthy of Hereafterian royalty— they’re really gonna have to prove themselves, no joke. I’m sure you’ll manage just fine for a few days in the Infernal King’s captivity, no? You’re a strong boy, after all. Someone’ll rescue you soon enough, however, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Well, maybe just a little.”

It was already too late.

Chapter Text

“Well, shit. There you are. Guess they really weren’t lyin’, huh?”

Jolting upright, the voice hit Castiel like a full-body left hook. 

He blinked and blinked… and kept blinking. Eyes straining and failing to adjust, the nighttime seemed bleaker and more separate than ever before. Fuck, had he lost his footing and tumbled over to another plane of reality, along the way? Huh… hopefully.

In the name of self-preservation, Castiel was numb. His senses were having an awful time in forced hibernation, not for the first time that night— and his eyes weren’t the only issue, even if they were an obvious area of concern. 

Especially now. Sight would’ve definitely been useful, that much he knew. 

“Christ, how long have you been out here for?” the voice continued, all while Castiel’s senses clawed to the surface. “Let’s just hope your fuckin’ toes haven’t frozen off, by now.”

A horse. 

A neatly groomed, inky black mare, currently stationed within a narrow pool of moonlight; that was the first visual Castiel could make sense of. 

The following sight, naturally, was none other than the horse’s rider. 

Or, at least, what was actually visible of said rider. Which seriously wasn’t much; an avalanche of hefty, dark wool that seemed to shimmer against the moonlit forest. The loose black cloak was dusted with snow, draped over what Castiel guessed was a substantial body. 

But he couldn’t be sure, since frankly, he wasn’t exactly confident in his own dead-beat vision. 

Now, what he could be sure of, however, was the exasperation of the cloaked figure’s voice. Castiel wasn’t certain of where the figure currently wanted to be, but it clearly wasn’t the sub-freezing Infernal highlands well after sundown. 

Castiel didn’t blame him. He was in much the same boat, himself. 

“All right, so, here’s what we’re gonna do—” Thump . The cloaked man swung himself from his steed, taking a step toward Castiel. Castiel, in his own right, had hardly moved since the other’s arrival. “I’m gonna take you back, get you warmed up, then we’ll sort out the shitshow from there. ‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t gonna leave you here to die.” 

“Hmm?” Castiel managed a weak hum, although he made no other indications that he’d heard the man. Which, sure, wasn’t all that misleading. It was a matter of hearing but not listening, if anything. 

A sigh. “So, uh, think you can stand on your own? C’mon, I’m just trying to play along and save your life, here. Would really appreciate some cooperation.” 

Feeling as if the first layer of haze had finally cleared from Castiel’s awareness, he gave a stiff nod. But he ignored the request. He had several questions of his own, after all. “Who are you?”

Despite the obscurity of the cloak, Castiel could see the man stiffen beneath his head-to-toe covering. “I’m your room and board for the indefinite future, it looks like. I mean, that’s kinda what I was told the whole ‘plan’ was, and I don’t exactly see where else you’re gonna be going, at this point.”

It clicked. Oh boy, at long last, it clicked. Despite the biting pain in his extremities and the numbness of his face, Castiel felt a rush of energy return to him. Still shaking, he wobbled up to his feet, fighting against the buckling in his knees. “Wait, just— wait a second. Are you…?” He knew that if the answer was “yes,” there would be no need for him to bumble out the rest of the question. Surely, the cloaked man would know exactly what was being asked.

And, to both Castiel’s dismay and his very reluctant relief, the other man knew. He let out another two-ton breath. “Yeah, it’s me, your indentured babysitter, here to stroller you off to safety. Dean Winchester, king of these here parts. So, you comin’?” 

Castiel gasped. “Your Majesty, I—”

“Okay, first off, I am begging you not to call me that. Ever.”

Deflating just a smidge whilst attempting to remain on-guard, Castiel nodded. “Sorry. Um, how would you prefer I address you, then?”

There was a quiet snort from beneath Dean’s hood. “Well, last time I checked, that’s kinda what names were for.” 

Castiel had to admit, there was something incredibly off-putting about referring to a demonic ex-warlord turned Infernal King as “Dean.” Although, Castiel could also see a perverse humor to it. He really wasn’t sure how he was meant to feel. Aside from… cold. Because, god, did he feel cold. 

“I’m… very cold.” 

Dean huffed. “Well, yeah, I kinda figured that one out on my own, man,” he said, stepping closer. Castiel responded by taking a step of his own— a generous step back, until bark was raking at his spine. “You’re really not that far out from my home, y’know. My warm home. C’mon, seriously, I’m not gonna have your death weighing on my conscience. I’ve already got enough of that kinda weight, as is.”

Despite the closing distance, Castiel wasn’t able to properly scent Dean. Huh. Now, that really wasn’t helping his anxiety over the situation. Seriously, how did he even end up here? What was even happening? 

“All right. Fine,” Castiel muttered, tightening his arms around his chest. “Just so you know, I’d prefer it if you didn’t torture or slaughter me, if that was your ultimate intention. But I doubt I’ll stand a chance otherwise, so…” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. In any case, he’d weighed his options with his cold-scrambled brain, and Castiel couldn’t seem to come up with a more promising plan. So, shelter via demonic king it was. 

Just as his father had intended for him.

“Great. Wonderful. And, hey, I ain’t any happier about this situation than you are. Still, torturing and slaughtering? Yeah, not really my go-to stress relievers… anymore.” Dean paused. “So, uh, lucky you, I guess.”

Castiel knew the truth, however. No one was lucky in this situation.

Well, aside from King Chuck, maybe. But there was still plenty of time for that little faux pas to be corrected— and oh, was Castiel determined to try.

Chapter Text

While Castiel had little to no recollection of falling asleep, all in all, his response to waking in an unfamiliar bed was… indifference. Really, it was a testament to just how displaced he felt in his own life; the change in scenery was soothing, no matter how disoriented it left him.

That, or maybe his survival instincts were even worse off than he’d realized. Huh, well, that was certainly something to think about. 

It would be a lie to claim that he didn’t remember most of the previous evening— because he absolutely did. No matter how dreamlike the memories felt as he sifted through them, Castiel knew where he now was and how he’d gotten there. 

He remembered riding back to the Infernal King’s estate, which was all but shrouded by a tangle of branches and ivy. He remembered burrowing his face in heavy wool, nearly lulled to sleep by the gallop of Dean’s stead. He remembered the bite of the cold air, the weakness in his limbs, the almost jarring warmth of the king’s home. He remembered Dean’s firm grip on his shoulders as Castiel was guided inside.

His hands were clammy where they rested atop a well-loved quilt. Castiel leisurely flexed his fingers, eyes adjusting. He yawned.

At least he’d actually slept quite well, chaos considered. That was probably yet another thing to think about, if he ever had some downtime and wanted to psychoanalyze himself. For now, Castiel decided he’d best just continue rolling with the punches. And, hopefully, if his impression of Dean wasn’t distorted by his own exhausted mind, those “punches” would remain metaphorical. 

The room Castiel had slept in was on the cozier side; certainly, it was smaller than his bedchambers back at home. The ceilings sat low enough that, at barely six feet in height himself, Castiel hardly needed to extend his arm to reach the smooth stone above. There were no windows. Which, admittedly, was growing more and more unsettling, the longer he chose to hyperfixate on that detail. Seriously, Castiel couldn’t determine whether it was a threat or just a simple design flaw. 

Either way, if it weren’t for the haphazard arrangement of candles atop the vanity, there was no way he’d have been able to see a thing. Was it even daytime? Shit, how long had he even slept for?

Well— only one way to find out.

⁂

Much like the room Castiel had been given as a disconcerting form of shelter, the other areas were remarkable in how… not grand they were. Certainly, the halls weren’t dripping with shameless displays of wealth and— huh, interesting. 

Not what he would have expected from a feared demonic monarch, but then again, it wasn’t as if Castiel had a first-hand understanding of Infernal trends in decor and architecture— royal or otherwise.

To his relief, he was quickly able to gauge his general location within the estate: the ground floor, apparently. Through the narrow, stone-lined windows spanning the halls, Castiel managed a good look at the snow-drenched lawn and mouth of the forest. Interestingly enough, much unlike what he was accustomed to, the interior architecture was hardly uniform. Each window was vaguely the same shape and size, although the structural discrepancies were obvious. It was all very… natural. Homey. 

For god’s sake, what kind of pompous-ass royal had any interest in “homey”? Although… fine, well, Castiel certainly wasn’t opposed, in theory. But he was hardly the perfect cut-out of a self-respecting prince. 

Scaling the first available staircase, he continued on with his quiet trek of the Infernal King’s estate. 

⁂

After trailing the sound of rhythmic thudding and thumping, Castiel stood outside one of the many doorways. 

He hesitated before, finally, he knocked. 

Behind the door, the commotion was abruptly cut short. Silence hung in the air for just a moment, before some gentle thunks were followed by booted footsteps. There was some more hesitation, and then, at last, the door was nudged open.

Castiel had briefly seen Dean, sans hood, the previous night. Of course, he’d been so desperate for rest that he hadn’t exactly considered much outside of his own immediate needs. He did recall sharp burgundy horns curling from the alpha’s skull, as was common for most Infernal beings. Oh, and he was quite young, which had somewhat surprised Castiel. Still, it wasn’t as if he’d had any especially rigid expectations, regarding the king’s age or appearance. And considering everything he’d been put through over the past day or so… well, it would have taken quite a bombshell to truly startle Castiel, at that rate. 

His memories were soon proven accurate. The Infernal King appeared to be just nudging forty— right around Gabriel’s age, if Castiel were to hazard a guess. He was a touch scruffier and more disheveled than Castiel remembered, his short hair startlingly reminiscent of wet sand in both shade and disarray. Interestingly, Dean’s sclera was pure black, practically swallowing each of his dark green irises. 

Those were a demon’s eyes, all right. They were… very pretty, actually. Mesmerizing, almost. Warm. Castiel hadn’t expected that. 

While Dean had been all but scentless the night prior, that was no longer the case— well, just barely. His scent was clearly subdued, but it was striking, nonetheless. Smokey, spicy, and possibly even… huh.

With a wordless frown, Dean stepped to the side. He gestured for Castiel to enter the room; which, upon direct inspection, appeared to be a kind of woodcarver’s studio. Half-finished furniture projects were scattered about the open room, alongside stacks of planks and the occasional free-roaming metal tool. 

Plus, again, not a window in sight. Apparently, the king was willing to manage a bit of claustrophobia for the sake of privacy… or security.

Castiel was led to the far corner, toward an arrangement of lightly cushioned chairs. He sat, while Dean huffed and plopped down across from him. 

Dean swallowed. “Hey, uh, so—”

“ Please tell me what the hell is going on.” 

As soon as Dean had finished choking on his own saliva, he paused to gawk at Castiel. Still, seconds later, he was giggling. “Christ, you’re pretty assertive when you’re not lettin’ yourself freeze to death, huh?” he replied, offering a lopsided smile. “But, y’know, I was kinda hoping to ask you the same question.” 

Castiel furrowed his brow, slouching back in his seat. “If I remember correctly, you seemed to have a good idea of who I was last night. Plus, you clearly knew that you were meant to search for me in the woods. I’ll admit, I hadn’t really expected you to be… in on this scheme. Be honest with me, how much did my father shill out for you to put up with this mess? Or was it blackmail?”

Dean raised his palms, placating. His metal bracelets jangled in faux alarm. “Hey, trust me, I sure as hell ain’t in on anything. All I know is that a couple of douchey lookin’ guys in armor showed up and started banging on my door last night. Told me they were originally just gonna leave a message, but decided they wanted to talk face-to-face instead. When they started blabbing about throwing a fuckin’ Hereafterian prince in the woods and that they expected me to handle it, I panicked. Went and found you and… that’s about it.” 

Squinting, Castiel folded his arms across his chest. Genuine as the king might have seemed, Castiel knew from experience that most royal elites were pros at deception and appearances. That was kind of how he’d ended up in his current artificial dilemma, after all. For the foreseeable future, Castiel’s guard would remain safe on the highest perch possible, and it wasn’t touching ground anytime soon. No way.

Even the smooth aroma of woodsmoke and home wasn’t enough for him to get too cozy— nope, not a chance. Although, it did seem to make the situation just… slightly more manageable. Castiel’s limbs continued to loosen. 

“From what I understand, it’s basically search-and-rescue… without the rescue, in my opinion. A scavenger hunt with me as the prize. And you’re the final obstacle,” Castiel began. He watched Dean stiffen at the implications. “So, if some self-entitled alpha can rescue me from your apparent clutches, they’ve earned me as a mate.”

Dean balked. “No offense, but, uh… I don’t know your culture or anything, but that’s kinda fucked up. For so many reasons.”

Castiel chuckled, although the sound was hardened around its edges. “Oh, believe me, I agree. Do you really think I’m here on my own volition? You found me half frozen to death in the woods, for god’s sake.”

Fidgeting in his seat, Dean nodded. “So, what— I’m just supposed to hold you hostage for the indefinite future? All with a goddamn target on my back?”

“I’m glad you’re as disgusted by the idea as I am,” Castiel said, smirking. He most certainly didn’t miss the sour notes overtaking Dean’s scent, no matter how dampened.

Dean scrubbed harshly at his eyes. “Fuck. Well, like I said before, I ain’t gonna be the one responsible for your death by the elements. So, I guess you’re gonna be staying here. Still don’t know how comfortable I am just handing off a human being like they’re some asshole’s property, though. Would kinda make me feel like… I dunno, a human trafficker, maybe? Christ.”

“Well, I’m not exactly fond of this, either.” Castiel shrugged. 

With a too-heavy silence weighing on his body, Castiel sank further down his chair. He then heard Dean snap his fingers, prompting the omega to jolt upright, squinting at the other man.

“I… might have an idea.”

Chapter Text

Were Dean’s methods of alpha dissuasion a bit rudimentary? Sure. Barbaric, even.

Thankfully, Castiel was willing to accept a small helping of consensual barbarism, if need be.

He was desperate, and the situation was growing increasingly urgent. It wasn’t as if Dean’s proposal wouldn’t be effective— because it would likely serve its purpose, territorial as alphas tended to be. Still, that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t involve a staggering degree of sacrifice, and only on Castiel’s much shabbier end of the bargain. 

Oh, how Castiel wished there had been a more promising option. Damn it. And damn his father, specifically, for even forcing him into this position.

At least from Castiel’s limited and potentially flawed assessment, Dean wasn’t awful, as far as alphas went. Hell, especially as far as royal alphas went. Compared to those Castiel had previously had the displeasure of knowing, the alpha demon was a dream come to life. The omega could only hold out hope that little to none of that image was a meticulously pre-tailored facade, meant to lull Castiel into a false sense of security. Frankly, he’d already dealt with enough manipulation to last his lifetime. 

But, ultimately, the risk was worth it. 

...hopefully? Sure, probably. It was probably worth it. It would have to be.

After finalizing logistics, they’d ended up camped out on a ratty antique sofa. It was one of a pair, along with a stocky table and a piano sheathed in dust. 

They'd moved to the other end of the floor. Dean had reasoned that this task would be easiest someplace cozy, and Castiel had adamantly refused using any sort of bedroom or otherwise personal space. He’d prefer that the alpha didn’t get any adventurous ideas, outside what they’d explicitly agreed upon. He needed Dean to understand that he wasn’t simply playing coy— and that Castiel would not hesitate to hold him down by the horn and clock him in the jaw, should he try anything a bit too cheeky. 

Dean’s scent was certainly helpful, so at least Castiel had that to muffle some of the tension. The traces of smoke and cloves were still faint, but they managed to swaddle the omega’s core and help to put him at ease. And this was growing even more useful, given the increased proximity and the unavoidable intimacy of the interaction. Castiel may have felt like shit, but hey, at least he was relaxed shit. Calm as ever and ready to have a terrible time. 

Ready to lay his independence in Dean’s waiting hands, unknowing if the alpha would crush it on contact. 

“Y’know,” Dean said, softly across the shrinking distance. “This would probably be easier if I could scent you.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re not able to. So… there.” Given the scent-inhibiting tonic Chuck had recently started forcing down Castiel’s gullet, even without a new dose, he’d be all but scentless for at least another couple of weeks. Three, if he was lucky. 

At that, Dean shrugged. “All I’m saying is that your scent would help with the release of mating hormones or whatever, and the bond would sure as hell be more likely to take. That’s all.”

“A weak bond may work to my benefit, you know. Seeing as I’d like to sever it sometime in the near future.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean paused. “There’s a difference between a weak bond, and no bond at all. And your ‘suitors’ are probably gonna be able to figure out if there’s no bond at all. They’re overcompensating dickbags, not oblivious. Well, presumably. Maybe I’m giving them too much credit, who knows.”

After squirming a bit in his seat, finally, Castiel bared his neck to the alpha. “Please, let’s just get this over with.”

And Dean took the hint; Castiel was done discussing. 

Although, “Point me to your mating gland. I can’t exactly smell anything, so I’m gonna need to be sure.”

Wordlessly, Castiel lifted a hand, brushing it over a patch of skin along the curve of his neck. “Here,” he directed. 

There was no fanfare. Dean’s touches were light as he maneuvered Castiel into place, although there was no buildup to the event. No teasing— to Castiel’s relief. 

Given the pair’s obvious discomfort and the lack of mating hormones brought about by intimacy, the bite stung. All right, actually, it was more than just a sharp pinch; it hurt. Somehow, even more than Castiel had anticipated. If not for Dean’s ever tightening grip, Castiel likely would have flinched away as soon as his skin was pierced by the other’s canines. What kind of masochistic psychopath of an omega would ever think this felt good ? Someone who’d been downright brainwashed, that’s who. 

While Castiel could tell that Dean was trying to blanket him in soothing pheromones, they were as subdued as his scent, and all but useless to quell the omega’s hurt.

Not long after Castiel began to feel thin rivulets of blood streaming down his neck, it was over. Dean released his jaw carefully, although he was otherwise quick to pull away. He blinked, hissing softly. “Shit. That looks bad, I should—”

Castiel would undoubtedly curse his instincts for the next several eons, but he found himself burrowing his face into the slope of the alpha’s neck. Dean’s grip on his biceps tightened. And after some understandable hesitation, his hands slipped around the omega’s back, pulling him into a stiff hug. 

When Castiel sniffled, Dean’s hold grew firmer, seemingly more assured. 

As the alpha demon began to purr faintly into Castiel’s hair, the omega doubled down on his scenting venture. He practically scavenged for what he would discern of his new mate’s scent, frustrated as ever that he was only being given such a paltry sampler. 

“I can hardly smell you either, you know.” 

The hand that had been caressing Castiel’s spine hesitated, before falling back into rhythm. “I know. I’m… I’m sorry ‘bout that.”

Castiel snuffled and let his eyes slide closed.

Chapter Text

That first week slid right by, featuring a weird dose of harmony.

The freshly mated pair kept snug within each other’s orbit. A mostly unspoken arrangement, aside from Dean’s assertion that they’d need to reinforce the bond, somehow— if they actually wanted it to stick for more than an evening. He wasn’t wrong; Castiel wasn’t ignorant of his own biology, no matter how much he resented his body’s bylaws. And since physical intimacy was out of the question, ‘quality time’ seemed to be the only practical option. 

Seeing as Dean was actually quite busy backstage, Castiel spent more than enough of his time in official settings. If the Infernal King was meeting with an advisor or a visitor, then you could bet your ass that the omega would be sat across the room, probably wrapped in a quilt, reading a book he’d nabbed from his mate’s upstairs library. 

Yet, whenever there was an available window in Dean’s schedule:

“I don’t want my people to think of me as their… puppet master, or whatever the fuck,” Dean explained one evening, distracted, bumbling around his workshop. He was building another chair, apparently. Dean built chairs when he was stressed. “Even if they think of me as a ‘nice’ autocrat. Is that a thing? I wanna be hands-off, but also, I wanna give ‘em all that I can. Without getting in the way of their sense of independence, I guess.”

Castiel shrugged from beneath his quilt, cozied up on the floor. “You clearly care deeply for your people, and about their quality of life, so I find it doubtful you’re failing in any of that. At least, not catastrophically.” 

Dean clucked his tongue. “Y’know, sometimes I just need someone to tell me that I’m probably not a catastrophic failure. Thanks, Cas.” His movements had slowed, and he was smiling. His scent was freshening.

“I get a sense that you’re more than just that, Dean.”

Wildly enough, Dean made time for his mate. Time to talk, even if their conversation devolved into bickering about lunch plans, or the low self-worth they both seemed to hold. Truly, Dean wasn’t a man who deserved to exist in self-hatred, for god’s sake. Castiel, however… it could be justified.

Dean thought differently. Well, he hardly knew the omega, so… 

Whatever. 

Soon enough, they were routinely bantering with one another. See: Dean teasing Castiel about his sometimes obsessive-compulsive habits, despite ensuring that the omega’s dietary quirks were catered to. No questions asked— but maybe an eye-roll or two, as tax.

Castiel felt bust open, yet it was… oddly refreshing? He was suddenly free to patter on about his bouts of hopelessness or anxiety, thanks to his father and the upbringing that had entailed.

“I’ve been dehumanized so often, that sometimes, I think I forget that I even am human.” And Castiel promptly stumbled on a fat tree root, masked by some fallen leaves. 

For emphasis, apparently. 

It was a bit cold for a walk, although Dean had been determined to fit as many layers onto Castiel as he could manage. The man loved a good challenge— leaving his mate in three layers of his stuffiest hand-me-downs.

Dean frowned, nudging closer. “It’s weird, ‘cause like, I somehow know what you mean… yet have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Whacking the alpha on his elbow, Castiel snorted. “ I mean, I was pretty much manipulated at all times, from all angles— told what to do, how to feel. After a while, you start to feel like… a doll. You forget you have a mind of your own, since you’re so rarely allowed to make use of it.”

There was a spot of silence, before Dean responded, “Well, we’re gonna make damn sure that you never have to feel like that again, you hear? Your dad probably knows you’re smart enough to overthrow his old ass, so he just wanted to delay the inevitable.”

Dean listened, always intent. 

Always listening. 

Over time, Castiel began to feel the first layer of his frustrations peel away, like it had been a kind of spiny, emotionally-constrictive exoskeleton. Really, it was incredible to simply speak and be heard. It was healing— even if slowly, and if just slightly, at first. 

It was a process. And, not even a process Castiel had ever expected to undergo. He almost wanted to thank King Chuck for treating him to this, if only to see the look of unbridled horror on his father’s face. 

So, to Castiel’s shock and relief… King Dean Winchester of the Infernal Realm? Yeah, truly not bad company. Not at all. He was easily the most level-headed royal Castiel had met, and one of the few without an ill-advised arrogance practically steaming from their pores. 

Dean’s scent had also strengthened since their mating, although only by a fraction. Castiel was finding it increasingly harder to deny how lovely the alpha smelt to him. Undernotes of whiskey had since been swept into Dean’s scent, lingering beneath the smokey cloves and cinnamon that Castiel had first been introduced to. 

It was… nice. Comforting. 

It was home, although Castiel would absolutely not admit to that. Hell, he hadn’t even admitted it to himself. He’d never been especially taken by the whole “true mate” philosophy, and he wasn’t quite ready to reevaluate his entire social and biological worldviews. He’d already been forced into reevaluating enough of his life, as is.

And at the end of the day, Dean was his mate, technically speaking. So, of course, Castiel’s omega would be drawn to him— would be soothed by his presence. It made enough sense. At least, it was a tangible sign that the bond had taken. 

Prince Castiel Shurley was claimed, for better or for worse.

“Hey, uh,” Dean began speaking early one morning, voice cracking from disuse. Castiel was still curled around a pillow to the alpha’s side, his body all but submerged in blankets. “I got a question. You don’t have to answer.”

Castiel grunted in acknowledgment. “Well, whatever it is, you’re free to ask. I’m past holding curiosity against you. I can’t say I really have the energy for that, anymore.”

“Great, that’s… great.” Dean paused. “Okay, so, I don’t really know how much your father knew about me before he tried setting all this shit up. Don’t know if he even knew what kind of person I am, I guess. What kinda person I am… now.”

The omega hummed.

Dean continued, “Anyway, how’d he know you’d be safe stayin’ here with me? Fuck, like, did he ever consider the fact that I could have, just… killed you on sight, or something— hell, maybe even assaulted you? And was he just okay with that? Like, that risk was worth it to him?”

With a long and maybe slightly exaggerated breath, Castiel popped up from beneath the covers. He squirmed until he was sitting up at Dean’s side. “I don’t believe my father knew much, aside from what was already popular belief. At least, I can’t see how he could have known anything more, if he hadn’t interacted with you firsthand.” He shrugged, clutching a pillow to his chest.

The alpha huffed. “Yeah, well, that’s kinda my point. ‘Popular belief’ about me ain’t exactly all that reassuring. So, how’d that asshole know I wasn’t just gonna gank you on the spot? That I wasn’t just gonna hurt you? Huh? Why the hell would he just sacrifice you like that— just so you could find a worthy mate, or whatever the fuck?”

Seeing as Dean was beginning to work himself up, Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder, hoping to ground the demon. He gave the hemp-covered flesh a soft squeeze. Fortunately, Castiel felt the alpha release his rapidly tensing muscles, albeit just by a smidge. “Dean, I’ve already told you, King Chuck isn’t exactly the pinnacle of fatherhood. I know that his actions sound terrible, and that’s because they are. But that is to be expected, coming from him. He’s always… objectified me, I suppose. Mistreated me. I have little to no good things to say about the man, if that helps with your frustration. I’m certainly not attempting to defend him.”

Castiel hesitated, before adding, “Besides, if you ever happen to meet the man, then you have my full permission to… do with him whatever you want.”  

Dean’s scent seemed to sweeten a bit at that, overtaken by a surge of fresh cinnamon. And, so, the omega prince deemed his consolation a success. He pet the alpha’s arm, preening to himself.

⁂

As Dean’s estate was typically commotion-free, the audible ruckus was quick to snatch Castiel’s attention. A sharp clatter, followed up by shouting, topped off with a shrill overlayer of banging and clacking. 

The pair had been taking a breather in the library. Dean sat across from Castiel, separated by a refectory table. The alpha was taking a much-needed power nap, bent forward, head cradled atop his forearms. With each breath, his horns scratched lightly at the tabletop. 

And Castiel had been skimming a girthy book on Infernal social etiquette, of all topics. Actually, no, the thing was a goddamn tome . But, seeing as he would be staying in those lands for the indefinite future, he decided he’d best take in the basics. He’d rather not be ‘that guy,’ flubbing simple customs out of a self-imposed ignorance.

Impressive, how a text can be so enlightening, yet somehow, so dull.  

At the uproar, Dean was quick to jerk upright, brow furrowed. Castiel was certain he had a similar look twisting up his own face, briefly holding eye contact with the demon king. Until Dean stood, turning away.

The alpha yanked a dagger from its sheath, white-knuckling the hilt. “Wait here,” he said.

Of course, Castiel knew from the jump that he wouldn’t be listening to Dean’s command. He was unarmed, sure, but he was also running on adrenaline and far too curious for his own good. 

Watching Dean march from the room, Castiel hesitated, worry over his mate’s safety soon spitting him square in the face. The racket had only swelled; a scuffle was clearly taking place on the ground floor. It wasn’t until the crash of shattering glass that Castiel sprang back to life. He left the library, bounding down the stairwell. 

Shortly before he’d reached the scene, it’d all dipped into silence— well, aside from some garbled yelling, seeing as someone obviously wasn’t too happy about the outcome. 

By the front entryway, Castiel found… them. Obviously, there was Dean. His weapon had since returned to its holster, seeing as the alpha’s hands were, uh, otherwise occupied. 

He knelt above a man draped in silky ruffles and ill-fitting leather breeches, the demon’s gloved fists pinning the guy down by his shoulders. The trespasser’s wrists were twisted inward, roped together behind his back using a torn curtain. His feet were also subdued, many thanks to Benny, Dean’s friend and head of the estate’s security patrol. 

A sword with a gem-crusted hilt was discarded nearby, strewn several feet from the squirming pile of men. It glimmered half-heartedly in the daylight. The weapon was surrounded by thin shards of glass, forming a broken and jagged halo on the floor.

Mr. Forgot-to-Knock was not pleased with his position. Though, Castiel didn’t understand what he’d expected to happen; given the man’s remarkably horn-free skull, it was safe to assume he was a regular ol’ human. 

And it wasn’t especially difficult for Castiel to forget just how inhuman Dean really was. 

Despite his bodily quirks, Dean behaved much like a human man. An exceptional man, sure, but still a human. That aside, as a demon— and as an alpha demon, especially— the Infernal King was far sturdier than his horn-deficient counterparts, alpha or otherwise. The same went for Benny. 

So, a human man going up against two riled-up alpha demons? Not exactly the fairest of fights. 

Despite his face being all but shoved into the floor, the trespasser continued to shriek and babble. It took Castiel a beat of concentration to even begin discerning what was being shouted about. 

He was far from shocked.

“Release you prisoner!” the human man hollered. He was yelling straight down to Purgatory, apparently. “I will rescue the omega prince, and you will not be able to stop me! Filthy, vile demons, holding such a beauty hostage! I’ll—”

“The ‘beauty’ is doing just fine, although he thanks you for your concern. Kind of. Well, given your clear selfish intent, maybe not. On second thought, the ‘beauty’ revokes his thanks.”

Although the suitor was facing away from Castiel, he gasped, making an effort to peek over his shoulder. This effort failed tremendously, of course. “Your highness! Don’t worry, you won’t have to suffer at the hands of these monsters, any longer! I will—”

Castiel groaned. “You’re embarrassing yourself, and you’re embarrassing me. So, please consider just… stopping. You’re not needed.”

At the melee blow that was Castiel’s retort, Dean erupted into giggles. He snorted and shook, despite his efforts to remain on the offensive. The alpha succeeded, mostly. He was quick to pull himself together. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean called out after he’d relaxed, returning his physical attention back to the lightly thrashing man. “You kinda forgot to tell him the best part.”

Chuckling, the omega nodded. He stepped closer to the scene. “Oh, but of course. You’re too late. I already have a mate.”

Still held down by Dean and Benny’s collective effort, the man stilled. “Excuse me, but what?”

“I already have a mate,” Castiel repeated. Finally, he stepped around, giving the suitor at least a limited view of himself. He crouched and brushed back the collar of his linen shirt, exposing the freshly healed mating bite. Another choked gasp. 

“See? My mate is Dean Winchester, by the way, before you ask. Now, seeing as I’m already mated to a ferocious demonic king, it would probably be wise for you to reconsider your goals. You’re free to leave alive, if you wish. That’s so long as you actually leave, of course. And don’t ever return.”

Although his limbs had gone flaccid and his voice tempered to practically a whisper, the suitor wasn’t quite ready to surrender. “Your highness, my name is Sir Richard Roman of the revered Kingdom Leviathania. I am the favored choice of mate by your father, himself. Look, I don’t know what kind of sick manipulation or coercion it took for you to find yourself in this position, but I can still save you, I can still…” Rather than continue babbling and wait to be interrupted again, Richard trailed off. His eyes were hard, although the fight seemed to have already left them. 

“Leave,” Castiel commanded, exhilaration wracking his body as he stood upright. He had never felt so powerful in his life, and admittedly, it was invigorating. His very bones felt charged by a self-made, self-contained inferno. “Oh, and we’ll deliver your weapon back to your home castle. It’s best that you leave without it.”

At last, Dean craned his neck to look toward Castiel, his features softened by adoration. The alpha’s scent, for the first time, was saturating to air. Heating and tugging at the omega’s limbs. Dean practically preened as he grinned up at his mate; even Benny let out a lazy chuckle from over his king’s shoulder.

And Castiel smiled right back. The omega felt free.

Huh, well… he could certainly see himself adjusting to this.

Chapter Text

The righteous and titanium-skulled Sir Richard Roman of Leviathania— or “Dick,” as Dean had gleefully nicknamed him— was by no means the last alpha to limp out the front entryway. God, no. 

Most were ill-prepared for the encounter itself, and Castiel had some suspicions as to why that might be: There was the obvious arrogance and need to parade their natural strength before the prince, for one. Proper weaponry as a completely logical support? Underhanded tactics or technically developed plans of action? Oh, certainly not. What were these alphas, weak?

Castiel was somehow relieved, yet also nearing an aneurysm. All in all, he was… conflicted. Still, the brute displays were entertaining, nonetheless. 

But the omega prince also suspected that, maybe, these alphas had just a bit too thorough an understanding of the stage play they were performing in. They knew it was all just a carelessly constructed game. A slightly less-than-traditional masquerade— to repeatedly and shamelessly fail at wooing Prince Castiel via pig-headed theatrics.  

The alphas were likely aware that Dean hadn’t abducted the prince from his chambers on a dark and stormy night, like Castiel had assumed Chuck would be spouting off about. Maybe, just this once, the king had decided to test out some old-fashioned honesty. Understandable enough; it was always useful to mix up your strategies of assholery every now and again. Just to try out something new, experiment a bit with your outermost shittiness. 

And in this particular instance, Castiel, the intended victim, was the one benefiting. The irony was just sublime.

Although, Castiel was already dreading the day that his father caught on to his son’s arrangement with the Infernal King— if he hadn’t already. From what Castiel understood, however, most ex-competitors of his “rescue” mission had simply sulked back to their home kingdoms. Given their obvious yet unearned pride, it made sense that they’d rather not face King Chuck, fresh off their own failure. And Castiel wasn’t even sure he could blame them. Because, really, fair enough. 

Meanwhile, Castiel would opt simply to enjoy the show. 

Oh, and an audience takeaway? The more untrained the ‘actor,’ the better. Bravo. 

⁂

“C’mon, you ready to get goin’?”

Castiel grunted in reply, face burrowing deeper into the covers. He’d managed to at least finish dressing and washing himself, but had proceeded to flop right back down onto the mattress, face-down. It was just so damn early. 

Dean was often an early-riser, so nothing was especially out of the ordinary, there. Still, he didn’t typically pester the omega into joining his morning errands. The alpha deserved every ounce of weaponized grumpiness Castiel could salvage with his own limited energy, all right? This was just cruel.

Except, that wasn’t entirely fair. Castiel had agreed to this plan, after all. The evening prior, while Castiel had been acting as the alpha’s pastry-happy sous-chef, Dean had voiced an idea. 

“Y’know, if tomorrow is as warm as today was, we could probably pack all this up and have a picnic.”

Castiel paused, pie dough pressed between his flour-dusted fingers. “That’s an interesting idea. Out somewhere north of the estate?”

“Sure. Oh, I got a pretty big parliament meeting in the afternoon, though. Think you’d be okay waking up a bit early?”

Castiel chuckled. “For pie? Of course.”

It wasn’t just “for pie,” and Castiel knew as much. Seeing Dean happy, smelling him happy, warmed Castiel’s spirit far more than a pastry ever could— even one of Dean’s pies, which were phenomenal, by the way. And if a morning-time dessert picnic was what would bring the alpha demon some joy, then so be it. The omega was a willing participant.

Although, that would’ve been hard to guess, come Castiel’s display the following morning. But he was tired, damn it. 

The obligatory resistance eventually came to pass, and the pair found themselves in a grassy field not too far from the rear of the estate. Dean’s prized mare, Chevy, was tied to a nearby stump, having just finished her own breakfast prior to their leaving. She seemed content as ever. Surprisingly, so did Castiel. 

Dean had laid down their makeshift picnic blanket, which, in reality, was a mutilated scrap of tablecloth. Lovingly mutilated, of course, for this very purpose.

The pair sat side by side, shoulders bumping, wordlessly curling into one another. They spoke. Miraculously, they’d managed to hold up a conversation while shoveling pie into their faces. It was a shared skill, apparently. 

“So, my brother might be visiting soon,” Dean said, fork halfway to his mouth, just overflowing with spiced apple pie.  

Castiel used his sleeve to dab at his own lips. “Your brother? I didn’t realize you had any siblings.” Dean never seemed to mention his family, so his mate hadn’t pried.

“Huh. I didn’t mention Sammy? Fuckin’ hell. Must’ve been more sidetracked than I’d realized.” Dean shrugged. “Well, anyway, he and his mate are gonna be coming around sometime soon, probably. At least, according to his last letter. Couldn’t give me an actual date, though.”

Castiel hesitated, although he had to ask. “I’m assuming he doesn’t know anything about me? Do you think he’ll be upset with our situation? Or, even, unhappy that you’ve taken on a… human mate?”

A light breeze blew past, and Castiel found himself dipping further into Dean’s personal space. The wind seemed to carry Dean’s tempered scent, its sweetness mingling perfectly with that of the pie. Dean did smell quite like a tray of seasonal baked goods, didn’t he?

All the while, Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Well, he might be a little upset about the situation, but not at you. This ain’t your fault,” he said. “But he sure as hell ain’t gonna care about you bein’ human, I’ll tell you that much. Um, Sammy and Eileen are both human, too, actually.”

Now, that certainly caught the omega’s attention. “Really? Are you not… related by blood?” Mixed-species blended families weren’t unheard of, but they were certainly rare. Rarer yet when it came to royal families— precious bloodlines, and all that. 

“Nah, we are, actually. Both parents.”

Castiel was able to pick up on the slight charring in the alpha’s scent. He was… nervous. Which the omega understood, since Dean had just said something that didn’t make any conventional sense. Obviously, Castiel was going to have questions. 

But Dean opted to continue, rather than wait for his mate to voice his confusion. Since, clearly, there was confusion. “Look, I… I’m not exactly the traditional kinda demon. I was… actually born human.”

Pulling away just enough to see Dean’s downturned face, Castiel gawked. “Wait, that’s possible?” He’d heard urban legends regarding changes in secondary gender, sure. But a change in species? That was just… so far outside the realm of reality. Right? “Are you messing with me? Am I really just that gullible?”

“Nah, you’re not. I’m not the first,” Dean continued, measuring his speech. “I know that much. I mean, I haven’t met anyone else who this has happened to, but… anyway.”

Castiel nodded, squeezing Dean’s bicep in encouragement. “You don’t have to tell me about it now, if you’d prefer not to.” Fair, but in reality, the omega was teeming with far too much intrigue to be swiftly packed away. He prayed that Dean didn’t take him up on his offer, as understandable as that would have been. Still, Castiel was prepared to drop the subject, for the sake of his mate’s comfort. If need be.

“Nah, you have the right to know this kinda personal shit about me. Just don’t wanna overwhelm you, is all,” Dean said, batting a hand around, dismissive. Castiel frowned. “So, speaking of Sammy… the kid got sick. Years back, at this point. Hell, back then, he kinda was just a kid. I… found a way to save him, even when it was starting to look pretty damn hopeless.”

The wind picked up just a bit, and Castiel scooted away from the chill and somehow closer to the alpha demon, despite the already infinitesimal space left between them.

“I had to make a sacrifice. To save him. Far as I could tell, it was the only way. Not gonna sugarcoat it, but I went and got myself cursed. Willingly. And I don’t regret it.” Dean stalled, drawing his limp shoulders into a half-hearted shrug. 

He was quick to continue, “The Mark of Cain, it was called. That was the deal I made, to save Sammy. Soon as I had the Mark, I… well, I was still human, but the world sure as hell stopped looking at me that way. Damn thing kinda turned me into a monster, if I’m bein’ honest. And since I wasn’t exactly considered a human anymore, at least socially speaking, I joined the Infernal military. Had to get the aggression out somehow, and as soon as my home kingdom found out what was going on, they weren’t exactly gonna let me into their ranks. Don’t blame ‘em, either. I was a fuckin’ loose cannon.”

Castiel perked upright, the jumbled connections in his mind beginning to come together. Well, at least there was some truth to his own limited understanding of Dean’s history, no matter now fable-esque the story felt. 

Really, what was this poor man’s life, a fantasy story written by an overzealous and maybe slightly sadistic English graduate? 

“So, you became a knight. And… a different species, apparently?”

Dean chuckled, reaching out to begin petting the omega’s forearm. Huh, Castiel hadn’t even realized how tense he’d gone. “That’s coming soon, darlin’. I was killed in battle— well, I would’ve been. Turns out, the Mark had some kinda fucked up fail-safes against that sorta thing. Brought me back to life, only… not as a human. Guess it read the room and thought Knight of Hell would be a safe bet for me.”

The omega sucked in air through his teeth. “Wow. That’s… wow. You were right, it’s certainly a lot to process.” He frowned. Wait a second— “Do you still have the Mark, then?”

Shaking his head, Dean all but scoffed. Still, Castiel knew well enough not to take offense. “Hell no. Got that sorted out a few years back, thank fuck. ‘Course, turns out, the whole demon part wasn’t exactly refundable. I brought a pretty damn quick end to my military career, as soon as the impulses leveled out. Still, turns out, havin’ the ex-ruler of the Infernal Realm adopt you as his sole surrogate offspring… yeah, well, it sorta tethers you to this sorta thing. And that’s how I got myself where I am now.”

The pair didn’t speak for a short while, left to simmer in the somber buzz of their conversation. Instead, they returned to their leftover pie feast, Castiel periodically nuzzling against Dean in support. The omega prince felt a cold pit form in his stomach. The mass grew and grew, the longer he allowed himself to mull over Dean’s story in his heart and mind. 

Still, in the end, his admiration for the alpha had reached a glorious peak. Castiel’s mate had launched himself head-first through Hell, all to save the life of someone he loved. He’d sacrificed his own physical and psychological well-being, rather than allow his beloved little brother to suffer and die. It was incredible. 

Dean was incredible. A hero, even.

Shoveling a final mound of pecan pie into his mouth, Castiel nudged Dean to recapture his attention. Pie or no pie, the man had really been staring off into the invisible abyss, his expression vacant. Haunted. “Can I ask you a strange question?”

“Shoot.”

“Please explain your horns to me. I… really need to understand when and how that happened.”

To that, Dean could only wink, a faint sparkle returning to his eyes and a smokey sweetness twining into his scent. “And that is a story for another day, sweetheart. Trust me.”

Chapter Text

Planted across the dining room, opposite the stone-framed windows, Dean was staring through the overflow of moonlight; the glow bringing out the considerable ruddiness in his cheeks. Eyes narrowed and focused as ever— right on his omega mate. 

On his very bewildered omega mate, who had just been busy doodling on a cloth napkin with his fingertip and some scavenged ink. He was now frozen in his seat. Also squinting, right back. Frowning.

Was he missing something? Oh, god, he was absolutely missing something… something glaringly obvious, probably, knowing his own social awareness. Well, maybe he should just crack an unseemly joke to lighten the mood. Dean loved an awful pun whenever it came time to gloss over a tense moment. Yeah. He’d just—

“Cas, not to startle you or anything, but I’m pretty damn sure I can smell you now.”

Castiel balked. He should have seen this coming, sure, but it’s also not what he’d prepared for Dean to say. Although, he wasn’t really sure what he had been expecting the alpha to tell him. That he’d left a scrap of food in the bed, and it had since been colonized by construction-savvy spiders on their way to raising a new civilization, maybe?

“Oh. Will that be… a problem, then?” As much as it hurt to consider, Castiel was willing to prioritize Dean’s comfort over his own unfounded desires. The alpha demon had never asked for this position; if it was just charity to him, then Castiel surely had little power to uproot his mate’s feelings. For Dean, he’d quietly settle for heartbreak. Though, to drop some poison into the gaping flesh wound, he already knew he’d feel guilty simply for enduring that heartbreak, in the first place. 

As if he had any right. 

Castiel could hear the wobble in Dean’s breath. He didn’t step any closer. “No. No, that’s definitely not the problem.”

“But, there is a problem, then?”

“No problem yet, but there might be one, in just a second. It… depends. On a few things, actually.”

Castiel nodded, still frowning, but also unmoving. “Would you like to talk about it, then? Come to an agreement?”

Rather than answer the omega’s very direct question, Dean plowed on, “Did you know you have such a strong scent? Like, I can smell you from all the way over here. Not that I’m that far away, I guess, but it’s still like… really freakin’ strong.”

And, an uncontainable eye-roll from Castiel. “I still don’t know if this is a positive or a negative reaction. ‘Strong’ as in… unpleasant?”

Silence. For heaven’s sake; Castiel was near jumping out of his skin, which was beginning to feel a bit too snug for comfort. 

“Dean?”

“I may have accidentally scented the coat you left on our bed, and it may have triggered my rut.”

...oh. Oh!

The emotional whiplash was enough to leave Castiel concussed. That… wow. That was a problem, although it also could mean—

“I smell good enough to you that it actually triggered your rut?”

Yet another shaky breath from Dean. “That’s kinda an understatement, if I’m bein’ honest.”

The omega’s fingertips soon found themselves in a steady tap dance against the tabletop. “Huh,” he said, almost too faintly to be heard by the alpha. Well, if not now… 

Remember to breath, Castiel.  

“Dean, listen to me carefully. If you’re at all unhappy with this outcome, I’ll go and move my things into a separate chamber right away, so that you have privacy during your rut. No more questions asked. However, if this isn’t something that you have a problem with, then head down to our bedchambers immediately. I’ll meet you there in just a moment.”

Dean didn’t bother verbalizing his response. Rather, he stumbled over his own loose feet before sprinting off, the hard thumps of leather work boots echoing throughout the hallway. 

Damn it, Castiel, don’t even consider messing this up for yourself… 

…maybe you both need this, after all.

⁂

Castiel had furiously psyched himself up and was prepared to be jumped as soon as he entered the bedroom— if not before then. But, to his more than mild amazement, Dean restrained himself. The alpha was perched on the edge of their bed, knuckles turning white as his grip practically tore into the mattress. His gaze was plastered to the floor in the room’s far corner. 

Dean’s scent was still hazy, although even from the doorway, it wasn’t imperceptible. It was… certainly pungent. Now that Castiel knew what to sniff for, the fuller body of the scent was so clearly an indication of early-stage rut, heady and crisp. But oddly, underlying the rut smell, was a familiar bitter-spicy tinge. Dean was anxious.

Castiel frowned, stepping forward, albeit tentatively. “Is everything all right?”

“I really don’t wanna make you feel pressured, or like you owe me anything.” The omega only faintly heard the “Fuck,” that Dean proceeded to breathe out. His voice was practically as strained as his scent. 

Still a good several feet from the bed, Castiel stalled in his approach. If Dean wanted to have a serious conversation, then it probably wouldn’t be smart to jostle his instincts any further. “I promise, I’m not doing this because of pressure, or because I feel like I owe you anything. Believe me, if I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. You haven’t trapped me here, you know.”

“Well, I just…” Dean huffed, head falling into his hands. His voice was muffled as he continued, “Last thing I want is to feel like I’m manipulating you, Cas. I care about you way too much for that. Damn it, I’d never forgive myself.”

Despite the tension that was threatening to swallow the conversation whole, a lightness entered Castiel’s fast-beating heart. Dean cared about him. Him, Castiel Shurley, imperial scavenger hunt prop. 

However, “If anything, wouldn’t you think I should be the one worried about that? You’re the one in rut. You’re the one in a vulnerable mental and physical state. And I am worried, actually. It’s just, knowing that my scent managed to trigger your rut…” Castiel let out a heavy exhale. “It… seems to reassure me that I’m not delusional. That… maybe this is mutual. Maybe you’re my…” He trailed off, biting his lip. Why was this so difficult to express, without sounding like a pseudo romantic nutcase? 

Dean looked up, turning to the omega. His brow was furrowed. “Wait. I, uh, I never really asked. Was kinda afraid to, actually. But… how much can you even scent from me? Like, just sometimes? A little at a time? Or…?” 

“I usually can,” Castiel responded, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t even know what this was about, exactly, yet he could tell that it was a touchy topic for the alpha. Best proceed with caution. “Almost all the time, actually. It’s just a very gentle scent. Certainly… greatly subdued. For whatever reason. But what I can smell is just phenomenal. I have felt that way since the beginning, and my stance hasn’t changed since.”

Castiel wasn’t sure how he’d managed it, but Dean seemed to visibly loosen, all the while the anxiety in his scent grew even more overbearing. Huh. “Really? Christ. I kinda just assumed it’d be a barely-there, sorta touch-and-go thing, you know?” He shrugged, although his movements weren’t nearly as stiff as they had been, minutes earlier. 

“Why, Dean? Why wouldn’t I be able to scent you?” After weeks of turning a blind eye, Castiel couldn’t continue to smother his own concerns. If this was stressing Dean out as much as it very clearly was, then the omega had to understand what his mate was going through. He needed to be able to provide the proper support— the support that Dean deserved.

For a moment, Dean simply stared ahead, seemingly using his gaze to bore straight through the bare almond walls. “An injury, from when I was a knight. Fucked up my scent gland. Most people can hardly scent me at all, but before now, it hasn’t really been an issue, y’know? Hell, when I was still fighting, it was useful, if anything. But, these past few weeks… yeah, it sure as hell has been bothering me. More than, um, I’d like to admit.”

“May I come closer, Dean?”

“You know what,” Dean said, sitting up straight. “Sure. C’mere.”

Taking careful steps, at last, Castiel reached the bed. He sat down in a similar position to the alpha, keeping a meter of distance between them. “Let me reiterate; I’m more than comfortable spending your rut in the… traditional way. So, if you are also comfortable with that, then you have my full consent.”

Dean swallowed. “You’ll let me know if anything changes?”

“I absolutely will, yes. I promise.” 

And finally, like a rusted spring revitalized, Dean pounced. 

Considering how wound up the rut-stricken alpha already was, the first round was… quick, to put it plainly. It wasn’t bad— no, absolutely not. But Dean was eager, and by god, Castiel was more than willing to accommodate that. 

They’d have plenty of time to slow down, later.

Just… not now.

Castiel mewled into Dean’s open mouth as the alpha pressed into him. He lay flat on his back; Dean had insisted upon the position, pupils nearly blown to the point of flooding his darkened sclera. Still, the alpha’s voice had tempered to a warm hum, each word seeming to coddle the omega as much as his mate’s own body. Castiel found himself soothed by the stream of praise, somehow, despite his inability to even process what was being said. 

Just the solid rumble of Dean’s voice was enough.

The breach itself was uncomfortable, yet it was a far cry from unbearable— a pleasant surprise for Castiel, former virgin. Even at the pain’s peak, it still failed to surpass that of the impromptu mating bite, weeks earlier. 

Dean’s knot, however, was more of a challenge. No doubt, it was a stretch that was going to take some long-term adjusting to; because, sadly, it wasn’t as if Castiel had any prior experience with fitting an overgrown grapefruit into his body. He continuously shuddered through it the first time around, Dean’s nose pressed into the curve of his neck, hands stroking up and down the omega’s arms. Castiel could feel the alpha’s purr against his skin.

The flesh around the omega’s mating bite began to tingle. The muscle seemed to have thickened and been replaced by a flurry of sparks, erupting just beneath his scar, and—

“Dean, Alpha, please… oh!” 

But, in the end, it was all worth the strain. Definitely, definitely worth it. Between his own orgasm and the building warmth of his mate releasing inside him, Castiel could hardly fathom a better preview of the days to come.

And if Castiel’s own heat kicked off not an hour later, then so be it.

Chapter Text

Over a month deep into King Chuck’s failed scheme, and both Castiel and Dean assumed the influx of suitors had just about trickled to zero. They certainly weren’t going to be the ones to complain. Not at all. To the pair, it was one increasingly inconvenient chore, now vetoed. 

And you know what? Finally. The theatrics had grown stale, all within a week or two of the first player’s flubbed rescue mission. 

So, clearly, there was a lot that was surprising about the next alpha’s visit to the estate. For one, she actually knocked on the front door, rather than busting its hinges or smashing a nearby window. It was certainly an alpha’s knock, to be fair, but the subtle haughtiness was far less off-putting. 

She was also substantially younger than the others had been— barely out of her teens. Seeing as Castiel had been the first available to answer the entryway, he was tasked with making sense of the encounter. Benny loomed over his shoulder, stoic and prepared to intervene, if need be. 

The female alpha’s hair was pulled back and away from her face, blonde locks tight against her scalp. Despite her confident posture and attempted power pose, she still managed to appear entirely uncomfortable in the situation. Her frown was set deep, glare distant and unfocused. Although she had clearly masked the full potency of her scent, the omega didn’t miss the waft of fermenting citrus, which was brought in further by the breeze. Very clearly, the young alpha wasn’t too happy about her position. Even before he knew for sure what her business was at the estate, Castiel couldn’t find it within himself to blame her. 

He just wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

“I’m here about Prince Castiel Shurley of Hereafter.”

With a hard huff, Castiel found himself slouching forward. This was just tiring. “That would be me,” he said, and the alpha’s expression turned curious, her brow cocked. “I take it you’re another… suitor?”

“Uh, yeah. Wait, no, not exactly. Kinda?” The alpha’s put-on confidence seemed to falter a bit, arms crossing over her chest, as if shielding herself from the interaction. If her discomfort had been merely dubious before, that shtick had now been dropped.

The omega opened his mouth to speak, although in truth, he wasn’t yet sure what could be said. Thankfully, the young alpha read his confusion, and was quick to continue.

“Just let me explain, all right? Yes, I’m technically here because I heard of your father’s challenge. But I’m not interested in mating you. No offense, but men aren’t really, um, my thing.”

Castiel chuckled. “How very fortunate, seeing as women aren’t really my thing, either.”

The non-suitor snorted, seeming to loosen a bit. “Anyway, my name is Dame Claire Novak of Dreamwälk. Based on how King Chuck advertised this whole thing, I kinda assumed it was all just for show. And given that I’m even speaking to you right now, I’m guessing I was right about that?”

Nodding, Castiel wore a bitter smirk. “That would be correct. More correct than you could ever have imagined, believe me.”

“So…” Claire hesitated, seeming to eye the mating bite, which was peeking out from beneath Castiel’s loose-fitting collar. “Would I also be correct to assume that you’re happily spoken for? Let me guess, by the Infernal King himself? ‘Cause if that’s the case, I gotta admit, this whole thing just got a shitload more entertaining. Scandalous, but like, in a good way.”

Castiel could hear Benny begin a slow retreat, possibly to go inform Dean of the situation. In any case, it was probably clear to him that little danger was being posed against the omega. 

“Again, spot on.” Castiel half-smiled. 

“All right, cool. So, I’ll just get to the point, then,” Claire said, attempting to re-straighten her posture, lightweight armor clinking against itself. “I am basically begging for your help. Although, seeing as you’re clearly not gonna want to leave here, I guess I do have to… revise my plan, just a bit. But the basics of my proposal are still gonna stand.”

The omega had to admit, he was intrigued. Well, this could certainly be interesting… for once.  “What do you need our help with?”

“I need to stage a rescue. Your rescue. But, then I gotta back out, saying I’m already devoted to another omega— that part’s true, by the way. That way, I can prove myself as a capable alpha, worthy of mating a princess. Also, I can show my loyalty to that princess. Plus, maybe, you could use your royal connections to help vouch for me.”

“Well, that’s definitely… creative,” Castiel replied. Again, he smirked, although with a far less indignant overtone. “Maybe you could come inside and tell me more?”

Claire seemed to have been struck with a fresh jolt of energy. Focus renewed, her blue eyes were wide. “Fuck, yeah, of course. That works for me.”

Naturally, Castiel had barely managed to lead Claire through the entryway before Dean came barreling in. Benny was on his heels, hitting Castiel with what were very clearly apologetic eyes. That was… not a good sign.

Upon getting a look at the young alpha, however, Dean froze. He stood across the room, eyes narrowed. Castiel turned back to Claire, finding her to be staring, eyes blown, right at the Infernal King. Clearly, she’d worked out what was happening. 

She was certainly quick-witted, Castiel would give her that. 

The omega watched her straighten out, yet again, before swallowing. Claire’s arms lay flat along her sides, gloved fists clenched. 

“Hey, uh— shit, no, let me start that again. Your Majesty, my name is Claire Novak, knight of Dreamwälk. As I’m sure your mate will inform you, I don’t mean any harm. To either of you, seriously.” 

Castiel promptly nodded in his mate’s direction, relieved to see the alpha king’s body loosen. “That’s true. Claire is only looking for a favor. Which, I’ll admit, could be fulfilling for all involved. I’m certainly interested to hear more about it.”

Dean blinked. “So, this doesn’t have to do with the suitor games bullshit, then?” He threw a look at Benny from over his shoulder, who simply shrugged in reply, otherwise unbothered— if not a bit curious. 

“You know what,” Dean continued, after a short beat of hesitation. “Fuck it. It’s been a slow day, so come on back.”

⁂

They gathered in the library. The couple sat across from their visitor, Dean reclining, seemingly attempting to assert dominance via tilting his chair back in a precarious way. Castiel tapped him on the shoulder, frowning until the alpha returned to a sitting position which posed less of a danger to his skull, lest he lose his balance. Dean rolled his eyes. In response, his mate flicked him in the bicep.

Really, what do alphas gain from behaving like overgrown children?

“So,” Claire began, tearing the pair from their bubble. “Should I… just get into it, then? I kinda told Prince Castiel the gist of it, but I can, y’know, start from the beginning.”

Dean shrugged. “Sure, go for it.”

The younger alpha huffed, leaning forward, forearms braced on the tabletop. “All right, so here’s the deal. You guys know of Princess Kaia of Dreamwälk? Well, we’re in love. Her family’s not exactly a big fan of that, though. So, I thought that I could prove my strength as an alpha and potential mate through “rescuing” Prince Castiel. I could then back out of the whole deal, asserting my interest in mating Kaia, instead.” 

She paused, drawing in a deep breath. “Originally, I was thinkin’ we could use it as a means to have Castiel returned home, which I thought he might appreciate. But, seeing as that’s clearly not gonna be the case, we’ll probably still need to flesh out your end of the bargain.”

“Actually,” Castiel cut in, before Dean had a chance to inevitably scoff at the plan. “I already have an idea.”

“You do?” Dean muttered, eyes pinched into dark slits, turned toward his mate. 

Castiel nodded, barely reining in his smile. “I do. You see, I have good reason to want to… see my father. I would love the opportunity to witness, first-hand, the outcome of his poorly conceived scheme. The moment he realizes what he’s done. I would truly enjoy seeing the man suffer that humiliation, even if just for a moment.” He hesitated. “And I would like to see my brother, Gabriel. I want him to know that I’m all right, and that he’s free to visit the Infernal estate. If he’d like.”

Dean tensed, the bitter notes in his scent curling around the warm spice, practically smothering it. “Yeah, well, how could you even ensure that that’s safe? Cas, you don’t know what kinda shit your dad might pull. ‘Cause, I kinda get the sense he’s a vengeful guy.”

“That may be true, but I need to do this, Dean. I need the closure. This is… very important to me. And, I’m not entirely sure another opportunity like this will simply present itself.” 

Meanwhile, Claire had hunched forward, eying the couple eagerly and with bated breath.

“If you do this…” Dean muttered, scrubbing his eyes. “You gotta know that I’m coming with, right? I ain’t gonna stop you, ‘cause I ain’t in charge of you. But you sure as hell aren’t gonna do this alone.”

Castiel could nearly feel the twinkle within his own eyes— even better. He turned back to Claire, watching her lean further forward. “So, Dame Claire of Dreamwälk. When would you like to leave?”

Chapter Text

While Chevy seemed irked by the impromptu journey, she turned up her muzzle and complied. It was clear enough that she preferred sticking to her routine. And, Castiel really couldn’t hold it against her— he had adapted to forced excursions, but he wasn’t just going to expect that from everyone. 

Still, little did the mare know: Hereafter was hardly more than a short romp away. After all, it wasn’t as if King Chuck had bothered complicating his scheme; no dumping his omega son any considerable distance away, giving him a chance to prematurely exit his potion-induced stupor. Now, that sure as hell would have been an inconvenience, likely ending in a castle guard with a broken nose. Maybe a shattered femur, if Castiel were feeling spicy.

Early on, Castiel had been uncomfortable knowing what a short distance lie between him and his father. Now, however, he was grateful. 

Thanks, Chuck. Lazy bastard.

As the group neared the castle’s property, Dean suggested that he hang behind. For the sake of the ruse, he argued. He would simply barrel in later; the blazing cannonball, aimed right at the last leg of Chuck’s plans. 

Castiel, however, urged otherwise. 

“You’ve never even visited our kingdom before, Dean,” he pointed out, steeds at a standstill in the woods bordering Hereafter. “And god knows Hereafterians avoid the Infernal Realm, however they can. Plus, you don’t exactly… make many outside appearances.”

Dean snorted. “You can just call me a recluse, Cas. I can take it.”

“My point,” Cas continued, rolling his eyes, “is that it’s very unlikely that you’ll be recognized. No one knows what you even look like, as far as I’m aware.”

While Dean opened his mouth, Claire cut his rebuttal short. “Yeah, but how the hell are we gonna just explain the demon who tagged along with us? They’re gonna want an explanation, and I’d rather not look super suspicious, right off the damn bat.”

“What she said,” Dean grumbled, clearly disappointed that he’d lost the opportunity to raise the point, himself.

The devious glint in Castiel’s eye could practically be seen from inside the castle walls, shimmering in delight. “We’ll tell them that you’re a knight of the Infernal King’s, named Dean… Campbell. You were the head of security at the estate, but grew sick of the king’s abusive treatment. So, you betray him, aiding me and Claire in our escape. Then, we allow them to prepare the mating confirmation ceremony, which is surely at the ready. And, lastly, for lack of a better term… we fuck it all up for them.”

“Wow, man,” Dean said, cautious. “You really thought this one through, huh?”

Castiel shrugged. “I’ve had the past five hours to think it over. The journey was short, but it gave me more than enough time to figure something out.”

“So,” Claire cut back in. “We’re just gonna tell them that the bite is from me, then? And hope they buy it? For now, at least.”

Castiel and Dean nodded, flawlessly synchronized. Okay, maybe it was just a bit obvious that they were mated. They’d work around it.

Claire responded with a nod of her own. “Cool. God, it’s gonna suck if word gets to Kaia too soon, though. Although, knowin’ me, she might actually assume I’d pull a stunt like this. Plus, like, she’s gotta know by now that I’m not exactly open to mating anyone else. At least, I hope she knows.”

“I’m certain she does, Claire. I wouldn’t worry,” Castiel said, letting his features briefly soften. 

Lopsided smile returning, Claire snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right.”

⁂

Word of Castiel’s return was quick to reach Chuck, his subjects practically stumbling over each other in their rush to alert the king. 

A race to deliver the… “good” news. Allegedly.

While Dean had grumbled over having to hand off Chevy, a tantrum which had led to a slight delay, the group soon stood within the castle’s entryway.  

In those walls, they’d shifted over to their hastily coordinated personas. The plan had commenced, and, well—

Castiel was ready to have a wonderful time, unlike every other second he’d spent in that damn castle. 

“Finally, Castiel! Took those alphas long enough.”

The omega stood stock straight as his father approached. Even from down the hall, Chuck’s standard grin-snarl was clear. 

“Yes, Father. It really did take a while, didn’t it?” Castiel side-eyed Dean, narrowly restraining a playful smile. “I’ve arrived with my alpha, Dame Claire Novak of Dreamwälk, as well as a guest. I hope you don’t mind. He was a very useful asset to us in our escape.”

Before Chuck could respond, Dean cut in, “Don’t mind the horns, Your Majesty. I’ve long since turned away from that bastard of a king, after all he’s put me through.” He hesitated. “Oh, sorry, my name is Sir Dean Campbell, former palace guard of the Infernal King. It’s an absolute honor to meet you, at last.”

Thankfully, Chuck seemed blissfully unaware of the venom sheathing Dean’s words. “Interesting, interesting. So, you aided my son and Dame Novak, here?”

“Yes, Sire. After the abuse the Infernal King has put me through, I saw no reason to allow him to continue holding your son captive. I’ve since cut ties, and I’m hoping to start anew.”

Castiel added, “I promise you, Father, Dean is more than worthy of our trust. His intentions lie in the right place, and after the help he’s given us, I thought it fair to invite him into Hereafter.”

“I’d wanted to part ways,” noted Dean. “I hadn’t wanted to burden you, but your son was insistent.”

Chuck hummed. “Is that so?” He’d since stationed himself just a few feet ahead of their party, eying them carefully. Up and down. “Well, then I’ll allow you to stay with us, for however long Castiel and his mate want you here— and not a second longer, let me just warn you.”

The alpha demon nodded, a sideways grin plastered to his face. “Of course, Your Majesty. Your generosity is appreciated. I’m simply thrilled to be able to witness the mating confirmation of this wonderful couple.”

At that, Claire stepped forward. “Your Majesty, it’s truly an honor.”

“I should say the same of you, at this point,” Chuck said, snickering. “I was growing impatient, after all. Thank you for finally putting this nonsense to an end.”

Thankfully, the trio collectively restrained themselves from reminding Chuck that he’d started the “nonsense,” although the silence put a strain on each member. Again, something the Hereafterian King seemed to overlook, despite the visible grimaces. 

Claire smiled, pseudo sweet. Sickly, even. “All the same, I’ve honored to have been granted the opportunity to mate your son.”

“Oh,” Castiel made sure to say, “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve already taken care of the mating bite, for safety purposes during our travels. Otherwise, we have yet to consummate the union.”

Now, that was laughable— Castiel’s union had been thoroughly consummated during Dean’s rut. Of course, it wasn’t a lie to imply he’d never slept with Claire. But if his father wanted to believe that Castiel was still a pure and innocent thing, then the omega had no intention of lifting that veil.

Not yet, at least.

Chuck nodded. “I suspected as such, and realized that would be a possibility, going in. That’s perfectly all right— after all, you’ll only have to wait another day or so for the ceremony. We’ll just need to—”

“Shit, Cassie!”

Barreling down the hall, his normally slick hair in disarray, was Gabriel. Castiel lit up, although he’d been hoping to introduce Dean and Claire once Chuck was no longer present. Oh, well. A two-step introduction it was going to have to be, then. 

And up first, the less-than-honest edition.

Before he’d even had much of an opportunity to respond, Gabriel had all but flung himself at his younger brother. He squeezed tight as he could manage without cracking a rib or two, and Castiel quickly reciprocated.

Gabriel pulled away, and it was clear he was hesitant to do so. “Damn it, Cas…” He huffed. “Damn it, I was so worried about you. Fuck. I’m so glad you’re safe. Ever scare me like that again, and I’ll beat you up, okay? I’m already gonna have to be your personal body guard for the next eon, as is. Your very first beta guard, right? Times are clearly changin’.”

Castiel chuckled, overtaken by warmth, despite the threat of bodily harm. “I’m very glad to see you, too, Gabe. I missed you.” The omega’s grin widened, as he turned to gesture toward Claire and Dean. “Oh, and let me give you the quick introduction, although I’m hoping you’ll be better acquainted later,” he said. “This is Dame Claire Novak, my new mate and rescuer. And this is Sir Dean Win- Campbell, former guard of the Infernal King. He aided tremendously in my rescue and escape.”

Shit. This was going to be harder than Castiel had realized.

Thank heavens, no one seemed to have taken note of his mistake. Certainly not Gabriel, who clearly had other priorities, following that information. 

Gabriel side-eyed Claire, before all else. She gave a limp-wristed wave. Still, Gabriel spoke to his brother, “You weren’t forced into anything, were you? Be honest with me, here.”

Shaking his head, Castiel knew he’d have to quickly placate his protective older brother. “Not at all, trust me. I was actually hoping to further introduce you to Claire in just a moment, as we catch up properly.”

Rather than continue to dawdle on the sidelines, King Chuck seemed to get the message. “Yes, well… dinner will be soon, so prepare to be fetched for that. Otherwise, I suppose I’ll leave you all to get settled in. Sleeping arrangements will be made for Dean.”

Castiel nodded, smiling at Gabriel in a way which he hoped screamed ‘something sneaky is underfoot.’ “Let’s head up to my quarters, then. I can’t wait for you to be properly acquainted, Gabe.”

Probably his most sincere claim since entering the castle of royally shitty childhoods. He was eager to see how Gabriel handled the introductions— the real ones.

Chapter Text

As soon as Castiel’s chamber door was thrown shut, Castiel turned to his brother, eyes blazing. Teetering on the edge of frantic. 

Until he took a deep breath, collecting himself.

“Gabe, I’m so sorry for lying to you, but next to none of what I just said is the truth. Still, we have to make sure that Father believes it is, if all is to go to plan. I couldn’t simply break character.”

Gabriel blinked owlishly, eyes flicking between the party of three, brow furrowing. “What, now? Cassie, what the hell did you do?”

Claire cleared her throat. “I am Dame Claire Novak of Dreamwälk,” she added, stepping forward. “That was pretty much the only part that was correct.”

Eyes flicking over to Dean, Gabriel pursed his lips. “Gotcha. And, that would mean you’re not who you claim to be, then… Sir Dean Campbell, or whatever Cassie said your stupid name was?”

“Uh, no,” Dean said, followed by a short chuckle. “Well, Dean is my name, I guess that’s true. But I’m not a guard of the Infernal King, and I’m not a ‘Campbell.’ Not sure your dad would even recognize my actual name, honestly, but we weren’t gonna take that risk.”

Castiel snorted. “Considering my father seemed to know nothing about you, and the fact that you don’t come from a royal line… I’d say there’s a good chance that that’s the case.”

“Cool, cool. Still doesn’t fill me in on anything, though.” Gabriel folded his arms, gaze intensifying, still aimed at Dean— as if he’d be able to uncover his identity, simply by glaring with just the right amount of severity.

“Uh, guess I’m gonna have to properly introduce myself, then.” Dean gave a stiff bow, seemingly out of practice, funnily enough. The smallest flutter of nerves slipped into Dean’s scent, bitter as per usual. “I’m King Dean Winchester of the Infernal Realm, here to completely wreck your dad’s shit.”

As Castiel gave his mate a light punch on the arm, Gabriel burst into a fit of… well, borderline manic laughter. Now, it was the omega’s turn to stare, blinking in confusion.

Thankfully, Gabriel had the decency to choke out, “Oh, this is just too good. So, you went and fucking befriended a vicious demonic king, huh, Cas? The very same one that Dad expected to hold you hostage? Of course, you’d be the one to pull something like this. Holy fuckin’ hell.”

This time, it was Dean and Claire who unleashed giggles of their own, practically leaning on each other for support. Castiel shot them a look, before continuing, “Actually, not quite. I didn’t just befriend Dean… I mated him.”

And, well—

There was really no way to describe Gabriel’s response to that revelation, other than as a piercing, feral squeak. Like an injured bird. His self-restraint clearly waning, Castiel smirked. 

“ Excuse me? Woah, woah, okay. That’s, uh, kinda a lot to process, Cassie. Also, just… how? Why? What the hell? ”

Castiel gestured to the edge of his mattress, the bed still neatly made. Likely untouched since his departure. “Sit, or pull out a seat. It’s a bit convoluted, but I’ll try to explain, as best I can.”

Certain details would have to be omitted, for the sake of Gabriel’s psychological well-being. Thankfully for his brother, Castiel was nothing if not a gracious man.

Then again, after years of hearing about Gabriel’s own exploits in unsettling detail… well, the omega had been tempted. 

Maybe later.

⁂

“So, Castiel. I’d love to hear more of your escape from the Infernal King— definitely sounds like a fun story for family mealtime, doesn’t it?”

What— oh. Shit.

Castiel threw a sideways glance over to Dean, who seemed to have developed a sudden and sincere interest in dissecting his pot roast. To his other side, Claire was in an all too similar position. Gabriel was ballooning up with suppressed laughter. Traitors.

Castiel’s remaining brothers, however, seemed utterly disinterested. Which, Michael and Lucifer usually were, with matters involving their youngest sibling.

The omega prince began, “I’m so glad you asked, Father. It’s… quite a tale.” A tale which Dean was still entirely resistant in helping tell. “Well… it would turn out that the Infernal King, while strong, is also quite lazy and simple-minded.”

For that, Castiel earned a gentle, but firm, kick to the shin. 

He jerked his leg away, happy to have at least gotten a smile out of Gabriel, then continued, “The king was far too reliant on his guards, as he had been with all the previous suitors.”

“But I could see the reluctance in Sir Campbell,” Claire cut in. “I could tell that he wasn’t thrilled to be cleaning up the Infernal King’s messes, over and over again. So, I took sympathy on that, and we formed an alliance.”

“Yeah,” Dean added, quickly choking down a mouthful of food. “Bastard expected blind loyalty, and was stupid enough to think it would just be given to him, no questions asked. Never foresaw one of his own knights turning against him.”

Castiel nodded. “Exactly. With the promise of freedom and some gentle revenge against the Infernal King, Sir Campbell led me to Claire. We convened, before escaping.”

And for a bit, there was silence. Time to absorb the off-the-cuff story.

Chuck hummed, squinting at Dean. “Is that so? And you weren’t expecting anything else in return, Sir Campbell? Truly no ulterior motives?”

Before Dean could respond, Michael and Lucifer seemed to snort in perfect harmony. But only the latter was bold enough to say what was on his mind, which was quite typical. “The guy probably hoped he’d be able to take credit for the rescue, ‘til he got a look at that gnarly mating bite, ‘course. Seeing as it’s too late for that, he probably has no idea what the hell to do, next. Hah!”

“Listen, I get where you’re coming from, but that ain’t true.” Dean shrugged, putting on a show of indifference. “It’s not that convoluted, man. I knew about the mating bite from the start, since that happened pretty early on. I wanted an out, and I saw one. So I took it. Plus, uh, can’t really say the prince deserved to take part in a hostage situation, in the first place. Felt bad for the kid.”

Now, it was Dean who received the sharp under-the-table kick, seeing as Castiel didn’t appreciate his mate referring to him as a “kid.” Dean didn’t often draw attention to their age difference, and although it made perfect sense to drive home the alpha’s alleged disinterest in Castiel… well, that didn’t stop the omega from getting a bit grumpy over it. 

To Castiel’s delight, it was at that point that they were interrupted. 

“Your highness?” 

The artificially haughty voice of a guard came from across the hall. And, Chuck seemed eager to have his attention torn away from… whatever the dinner table was devolving into. 

“We have… apparently, visitors. They say they’re here for… Dean?”

The demon jerked in his seat— clearly, he was just as baffled by this development as his mate. “Huh? Who is…? How would— uh, how would anyone even know that I’m here?”

A damn good question.

This response seemed only to exhaust the guard further. Poor guy. “The names provided were Samuel Winchester and Eileen Leahy.” Dean swore, so the guard continued, “Does anyone happen to know these people? I’m very prepared to ask them to leave.”

Samuel… Winchester? Oh! Sam!

Half-eaten pot roast forgotten in an instant, the alpha demon sprung from his seat, his own hiss covered by the shriek of the chair. “No, don’t— don’t refuse them. They’re… good friends of mine. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting them, but, if they’re here, I’d like to know why.”

The guard sighed, heavier than ever. “Sire, do you approve of this? Should I really lead these strangers into the castle?”

“You have my consent, I guess.” Chuck shrugged. “Although, I’d certainly like to hear more about these visitors from Sir Campbell, if possible. As a further safety precaution. Keep an eye on them, in the meantime.” 

Unable to reach his mate’s hand for a discreet but firm squeeze, Castiel spoke gently, “Sit down, Dean. Try not to worry. We have no reason to believe that something is wrong.”

Dean shot him a hard look. The omega shrugged. 

Okay, sure, a lot could be wrong. For one, Dean’s entire cover could have just been busted, even if by innocent mistake. Truly, though… when have things ever gone exactly their way?

At least the crack in their plan had taken on an interesting shape.

Chapter Text

Castiel had been lightly pestering Dean, scrounging for details on Sam and Eileen’s visit to the estate— but there hadn’t been any more updates. Of course, he’d been eager to meet his mate’s family. After the pair arrived at Dean’s home, maybe they’d bundle up and head out on another picnic, all four of them. This, however… this was not a cute, get-to-know-you dessert feast.

Castiel saw no reason to complain, though. He’d grown fond of nontraditional meetings, and it only seemed natural that that was just how he’d meet his in-laws. 

By the time they were alone, huddled up in Castiel’s private chambers, Sam lost the cool he’d narrowly upheld around Chuck— “Jesus, Dean! Do you even know how relieved I am that you at least used your real first name? Like, technically, it might’ve not been the smartest idea, but—”

“Okay, Sammy, fuck right off.” Despite the biting words, Dean grinned. “And shouldn’t I be going after you? Seeing as, y’know, you could have obliterated my entire damn cover, pullin’ a stunt like this.”

As this was all playing out, Claire was taking an impromptu nap, sprawled out across the prince’s four-poster bed. Swimming in the thickest available quilt. Naturally, Castiel suspected she was awake and listening in, not wanting to engage directly with the lukewarm family drama.  

Sam rolled his eyes, and Castiel could really see the sibling dynamic blossom. It reminded him of himself and Gabriel, in a way. Only, with a bit more… height. 

“I was careful. Obviously, we knew you weren’t just going to be using your real name.” Sam paused, sighed for dramatic flair. “We kept it vague at first, no names at all, but the guard wasn’t having it. We gave him a first name and hoped for the best. Figured, worst case scenario, he’d have no idea what the hell we were on about, and we’d have to leave.”

Dean threw his head back, groaning. “Ugh, all right. Fine. But how’d you even know I was here? Picked up some kinda freaky psychic tracking ability since we last spoke, or something?”

Eileen chuckled, butting in, “We were intending to visit you today, Dean. But we showed up to yours, and Benny kindly explained to us the hokey romance novel you’d gotten yourself tied up in. It only seemed fair that we’d get to sit in on your big day.”

“Yeah.” And Sam nodded toward Castiel. “Plus, we were definitely interested in meeting your mate, Dean. A damn mate ! You gotta know I was shocked to hear from Benny, like it was nothing, that apparently you have a freaking mate, now.”

Seeing the in, Castiel stepped forward. “In that case, it’s nice to finally meet you, Sam, Eileen. Dean talks about you quite often.”

Quirking a brow in his older brother’s direction, Sam clucked his tongue. “Oh, is that so? Very interesting.”

“Again, fuck right off. Of course, I talk about you guys, asshole.” Dean really does have a unique way of expressing affection, doesn’t he? 

Castiel found it endearing.

“Anyway, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you two.” Castiel smiled, ever so devious. “And we could always use more attendees of our big day who are in on the scheme. Both of you are free to participate, if you’d like.”

Eileen snorted, mirroring her brother-in-law. “Oh? Interesting. Well, by all means, tell us more.”

⁂

They convened, once more, on the morning of the confirmation ceremony. Only, Gabriel had been brought in, and Claire was at peace with her own consciousness. 

Claire had already been dressed and primped for the ceremony, leaving Castiel in the slot of ‘impending victim.’ So, when the group heard a sharp knock at the prince’s chamber doors, he was the first to groan. It was his turn to be collected and styled into a sentient doll, much like what one might find setting up a mediocre horror story. Great.

“You may come in,” he called out, watching his companions readjust and quiet down. 

With some hesitancy, the doors were nudged open, and—

“What the hell?! Kaia!”

Claire rushed forward, practically tripping over her tassel-trimmed cape. 

Standing at the doorway, curling in on herself in all-black, was a girl about Claire’s age— Princess Kaia. 

Claire yanked her girlfriend inside, throwing the door shut. While the young alpha clung to Kaia, Gabriel cut in, “Uh, mind explaining who that is, and what’s happening?”

“I’m Kaia Nieves, of Dreamwälk. I’m… not too late, am I?” 

She was still blanketed by Claire, who seemed to have no plan of standing down. Nor speaking, instead choosing to bury her face in her girlfriend’s thick hair. 

“Well, you’re not late,” Castiel said. “But… how? And how did you even get in?”

Before Kaia could respond, Dean added, “Yeah, and unless my geography has gone to shit, I’m pretty sure Dreamwälk is no where freakin’ near here.”

Castiel nodded, throwing a look of concern over to his mate.

As Claire detached herself, Kaia began to shuffle her feet. It was more obvious than ever how uncomfortable she was over the attention. “I spoke to Claire. Through her dreams.”

...what?

Claire gasped. “Shit, that was actually you? I wasn’t totally sure, but, I’d… hoped.”

Sam seemed to be the first to connect the dots. From what Dean had told Castiel of him, that wasn’t a surprise. “Are you a witch?”

“I am,” Kaia said, lacing her fingers with Claire. “I used Claire’s soul as a target, basically. To travel here, as quickly as I could.”

“Woah, woah. So Claire’s got a freakin’ witchily teleporting, dream-crashing mate? Fuck, Cas, she’s got you beat, that’s for sure.”

Dean growled, and Castiel hushed him.

Kaia snickered. “I am, I guess. Although you make it sound far more interesting than it really is.” She nuzzled up closer to Claire, and the alpha nuzzled back. “I want to help you guys. Well, if I can. Whatever you need.”

Even better.

⁂

“And, now, we welcome the Omega Prince Castiel to give his mating vows.”

Given the nature of the event, Castiel was unsurprised by how gaudy and decor-encrusted the banquet hall had ended up. The curtains had been swapped out for, what looked remarkably like, gigantic silken moth wings. And Chuck’s personal florist must have been on holiday— while there were flowers spread everywhere, potted and free-roaming, there was clearly no sense to the arrangement. It turned out, all the youngest prince was worth was a floral scrapyard. 

A single, tablecloth-deficient table sat against the back wall, holding the same wines that were most negatively received at Chuck’s last party.

The guest list didn’t extend far past Castiel’s immediate family, as well as whatever castle workers were on hand— just to fill out some space. Thankfully, Dean, Sam, and Eileen were also useful props for that very purpose. They were welcomed, although without much enthusiasm from King Chuck. Garnish it with a jaded priest coming off of last evening’s bender, and you had yourself a Shurley get-together. 

It was a patchwork mess, although Castiel was far too distracted to take offense. 

“Claire,” he began, hands joined to the young alpha’s. She squeezed his palms in encouragement. “Just a few days ago, I’d never even heard your name… but, you came into my life at such a perfect time. In the time that I’ve known you, you have helped me to save my life, in a strange way. Or, at least, to make my life just a bit more gratifying. I’d like to thank you for that. Sincerely.”

Castiel turned, only to see his father sitting back, grinning manically in the front row. The omega could no longer contain a sneer, as it finally pushed to the surface. 

“Thank you for helping and supporting me, Claire. Thank you for making it possible for me to speak before my father, in this way. And to think, I’d never intended to see the coward ever again.”

Another glance toward Chuck. Stiff in his chair, eyes blown wide. Perfect.

So, Castiel went on, “It’s funny, really. How, technically, my father was responsible for me meeting my mate. So, I suppose I have him to thank, as well.”

Claire chuckled, and Castiel threw a wink, before releasing her hands. He turned toward the paling king, cape swooshing. “Father, I would apologize for misleading you like this, if you hadn’t earned it with your own shitty actions.” He stepped forward, signaling to Dean with a nod of his head. “You think your scheme worked? Well, it did, just not in the way you would have hoped, you selfish, deranged bastard.”

“You are never to speak to me this way, Castiel.” Chuck rose, limbs vibrating beneath his inflated silk sleeves. “I’ve given you everything, your entire damn life! And what the hell is going on, here, anyway?! What—”

“There’s a difference between ‘giving everything,’ and coordinating a person’s entire existence to suit your own will.” He stood so close to his father, now. Omega or not, he still had height on the man, which he was grateful for. 

Behind Chuck, Castiel watched his co-conspirators begin to stand. The remaining guests looking on in half-interested bewilderment. Dean, however, was already stationed just over Chuck’s shoulder. 

As expected, Chuck was too occupied fuming at his son to catch on.

“You have a mate now, Castiel,” Chuck sneered. “At least, I can only hope you still do, after this. Don’t you think it’s about time to stop acting like a child throwing a tantrum? Hm?”

And Castiel chuckled. Clearly, this was not the reaction Chuck had expected from his son. “You’re right. I do have a mate. A mate who happens to be standing right behind you, by the way.”

At last, Chuck swiveled around, shrinking into himself. Dean truly was a master at bone-chilling stares. His horns were aimed at Castiel’s father, an inadvertent yet no less deadly threat. 

Chuck scoffed. “Excuse me? ”

“Probably ‘bout time I introduce myself, properly, huh?” Dean hummed. “Y’know, I’m pretty glad you’re a dumbass who just lets random strangers into his home so easily.”

“What right do you have—”

Dean cut Chuck short, “Oh, I have every damn right. At least, by your own rules. You didn’t warn me before you acted like a dick, and I don’t warn you. Seems pretty fair, to me.”

Despite King Chuck’s obvious efforts to understand, Dean’s words didn’t seem to land quite like he’d hoped. So, being the lovable but impatient jackass that he was, Dean went on, “Christ… nice to finally meet you, asshole. Anyway, name’s—”

“Holy shit! I figured it out!” At the rear of the crowd, slouching deep into his seat, Lucifer was tearing up with laughter. “Fuck, this is too good. And I thought this whole thing was just gonna be another formal waste of my time.”

Much like the petulant child he was attempting to accuse Castiel of being, Chuck stomped his foot. “Enough of this! Could someone please bother to explain? Anything?!”

Dean snorted. “So, like I was trying to say… my name’s Dean Winchester. Commonly known as the King of the Infernal Realm. Ring a bell, man?” He paused. “Oh, and I’m your son’s actual mate, if that wasn’t clear.”

Chuck turned back to Castiel. Not to communicate anything, exactly. Just to stare, speechless and pale. Again, the omega winked.

Turning to the pair of guards at the side entrance, Dean added, “Now, you guys are gonna let us leave, and you aren’t gonna try pulling any shit, got it? ‘Cause if you do, I ain’t holding back. Consider if all this is really worth your life, all right?”

Castiel had good reason to believe that Dean had no such plans, of course.  

Meanwhile, Castiel shifted toward Sam and Eileen… the recreational witches. Not natural-born like Kaia, but still perfectly able to add to the chaos. “You can tell him, now, if you’d like.”

Eileen stood tall, nudging her mate in amusement. “Definitely. So, Chucky. Since we’re all about playing fair… well, we hope you enjoyed your awful wine. The after-effects should last a good few days longer than they did for Cas, though.”

Chuck balked, grabbing his son by the elbow, before being shaken off. “Castiel, what the absolute hell is she talking about?”

“You slip me a potion, we slip you one,” Castiel said. “They’ve brewed something just for you. It’s slower acting, though. And quite a bit more intense, once it hits. Hope you didn’t have any important plans coming up in the next… week or so.”

“Excuse me?!”

Dean giggled, flashing a thumbs up to the shorter exit guard. “We wanna see it get you, though, so we’ve got ways to speed up the process. Got an even brawnier magic user on our side. Hey, Kaia, I think we’re about good to go.”

Pushing back her hood, Kaia beamed. Clearly, she was getting a kick out of her girlfriend, who had gone from hysterical laughter to pure heart-eyes. “Great. So, just let me…” Kaia trailed off, eyes falling shut. A flick of her wrist later, and—

Chuck doubled over, drawing a half-hearted gasp from Michael, as well as a “Fucking finally,” from Gabriel.

“He’ll be fine,” Castiel muttered with a shrug, as Chuck finally collapsed to the floor. Silent, but breathing. “We should probably be heading out, though. It’s getting a bit late.”

The priest coughed, redirecting everyone’s attention. “Uh, so, am I still being compensated for this? I sort of need it, for… stuff.”

Castiel hummed, before bending down, pulling a gold ring and a jewel-lined bracelet from Chuck. He held them out to the slouching priest. “Here. This should do, I hope.”

(It definitely did.)

⁂

They ducked out through the garden— it was nearest to the stables. 

Claire had had a small change of heart, thanks to a pseudo offhand suggestion from Kaia. Rather than return to Dreamwälk and attempt to justify their mating, they’d be venturing off on their own. Taking possession over their own lives, which had once been stolen from them. Castiel could not have been more supportive… and maybe just a bit teary, as he pulled them both into crushing hugs.

It was the sweetest Castiel had ever scented from Claire, bursting with vanilla and perfectly ripe orange.

Before they’d left the property, Castiel pulled Dean aside, asking that the rest of the party continue toward the stables. After a smidge of justified reluctance, especially from Gabriel, they listened. Dean eyed his mate, a smirk only adding to the glimmer in his dark eyes. 

As the others meandered off, Castiel beamed. “I used to come out here, all the time. Right here. To get away from my father. The day I met you, actually, there was still some fruit on the trees.”

The branches of the orchard fluttered over their heads, as if in confirmation.

Dean looked to his feet, chuckling. “It’s already been that long, huh? Looks like it’s all made its way to the ground, now.”

“Probably for the best.” Castiel smiled to himself. “It’s always better to be free, isn’t it?”

Hardly giving Dean an opening to respond, the omega launched forward, arms twining around his mate’s neck. Instead of rotten apples, all Castiel could smell was cloves and whiskey.

And, so, he yanked his alpha in for a quick kiss— not exactly all he was in the mood for, but they should probably wait at least until they were off the property. 

Although… that would have been one way to really stick it to Chuck, wouldn’t it?

Centimeters apart, Dean glowing, the alpha gave his mate a final peck on the nose. “Listen, as much as I wanna make out with you surrounded by literal rotten apples, in your dad’s shitty garden, we should probably head out.” 

With a final nuzzle of the alpha’s cheek, Castiel pulled away. “You’re probably right.” He hesitated. “Oh, and Dean?”

They begun to walk, hand-in-hand, through the abandoned garden. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Thanks for showing me that I don’t have to let myself rot away.”