Chapter Text
Cas doesn’t see it coming. It creeps up on him, possesses him and takes hold from within, so slyly and swiftly that he doesn’t have the faintest glimpse of awareness before he’s done for.
It’s Dean who knows first. It’s Dean whose hand suddenly clamps down on his shoulder from behind, dragging him back. Cas thinks maybe he’s missed something, that going from angel to human in the span of a mere week has made him uncoordinated and clumsy, and maybe the creature they’re hunting—maybe they’ll lose it if Dean doesn’t take charge.
But that’s not what Dean does.
Dean pulls and pulls, out of the barn where they’d had the creature cornered, until Cas is being pushed into the backseat of the Impala, Dean’s grip on his shoulder painful enough to leave a bruise.
Dean slams the door shut behind him.
The sound of a gunshot echoes eerily in the snow-swept field, and Sam comes, splattered in blood, opens his mouth to protest his abandonment, but then maybe Sam knows what Dean knows too.
Sam stops, stares at Cas, tilts his head and scents the air ever so slightly.
“Oh,” Sam says, and they drive.
It’s a fire within his core and it ignites every inch of his skin.
They’re out in the middle of nowhere, down icy side roads, winding up and up, into the mountains, the Impala trudging through in a way it was never built to do.
“It’s just here,” Sam mutters. “Bobby’s safehouse. The cabin—we’re almost there.”
Cas hears Sam’s words spoken through fog.
He hears them as if through a storm, the blood rushing through his ears like thundering rain.
“You’re in heat,” Sam finally tells him. You’re in heat, so we’ve gotta go far away, Cas, where no alphas can find you. Where no alphas can breed you.
Cas curls up in on himself.
A week ago, he was an angel. Now he feels his skin burning, feels wet between his thighs, and from where Cas lies in the backseat, he can see Dean’s hands, white-knuckled and sweaty on the steering wheel, a condemning silence hanging in the air between them.
“But you and Dean are alphas,” Cas says, and Dean’s hands grow tighter.
They arrive at a small log cabin, barely visible under the snow. An old rocking chair on the porch is the only indication that someone’s ever called it home.
Dean cuts the engine.
Dean cuts the engine, but his hands on the wheel don’t move. Sam turns back, looks at Cas with different eyes, looks at him in a way that makes Cas shiver, and Sam’s nose turns upward again and, Your scent, Cas, he says, and Sam mumbles as if his mind is elsewhere. Forgot what an untouched omega smells like, Sam says. Forgot how irresistible…
There’s a creak as Dean moves. Dean shoves open the driver’s side door and breathes, quick and deep, eyes squeezed shut, and, “C’mon, Cas,” Sam says then, and there’s still something off about his voice, hazy like Cas’ head feels. C’mon, omega. I’ll take care of you...there’s a bed right through the door.
Cas doesn’t know when Sam got out of the car, blinks and feels as if his head is spinning, as if time is moving in bursts and with missing pieces like when he drank a liquor store. Sam hauls him up, leads him through the snow. Sam grabs him by the shoulder, places a hand that’s achingly close to where alphas claim omegas, but they don’t get to the cabin.
Dean doesn’t let Sam get closer than the porch steps.
Cas blinks again, feels like he’s lost time again, turns and sees Dean, finds Dean’s hand clamped around his wrist, and this time it’s Dean who’s leading him through the cabin door.
Inside, there’s nothing but a bed and a woodstove fireplace.
Dean takes him to the bed.
Cas is swimming in time. Cas blinks and he’s underwater, and when he surfaces again, he’s curled up under sheets, drenched in sweat, slick between his thighs.
Now there’s a small light on in the stove, and a dresser that Cas didn’t see earlier barricading the front door. In the corner, Dean sits, on a knobbly three-legged stool, head in his hands, panting as if the heat that’s taken over Cas has taken over him too.
Outside, a scraping sound on the cabin door alerts him.
“Sam,” Cas says, stumbles out of bed to help. “He’s trying to come in.”
But, That’s not Sam, Dean says.
Go back to bed.
Maybe Dean is going through something, like Cas seems to be.
Dean breathes like he can’t breathe. Dean looks at Cas sometimes with dark, dark eyes. Curls his hands into fists at his side, and paces the length of the cabin, as if he can’t sit still. He’s restless like Cas is restless, and sometimes he stops suddenly, stares at Cas, chest rising and falling, his whole body trembling as if it’s taking everything in him to stay put.
It’s only been a few hours.
Cas’ heat will last days.
At first, Cas thinks it’s the storm.
He wakes up to shadows dancing in the cabin windows, wakes up to the sound of whispers, thinks it’s the wind, but it’s not.
It’s the sound of alphas.
Alphas who have come for him.
Alphas who call out, crooning, Come out, omega, come out, who Dean must hear too, because when he does, he stops where he is, stops pacing, looks at Cas, still breathing heavy, still with his fists curled at his side, before he crosses the distance between them.
Outside, the doorknob begins to rattle.
Cas has seen this before, has watched humanity from above, has seen how relentless the hunt for an unmated omega is, but now he sees it through a different lens. Now he sees it through the ache between his legs, through the fever consuming him, decides that he wants to go outside, wants to be taken, if it means the fire burning inside him will ebb.
Maybe Dean knows that. Maybe he knows how Cas’ heat has made him senseless, how Cas’ thoughts come in hazy bursts, how every desire of his is filled with lapses of time and in judgment, how helpless he is, how vulnerable, because when Cas tries to leave the bed again to go open the cabin door, Dean grabs hold of his wrist, stops him in his tracks.
Don’t move, Dean says, but Cas tries to explain, says, “I need…” but he can’t even finish the thought.
He catches Dean’s scent, is lured in instantly, intoxicated, wants to beg the alpha to touch him, wants so many things, but Dean’s grip on his wrist is unyielding, keeping them apart.
You don’t understand what they’d do to you, Dean says, and his voice cracks, seems deeper, seems darker. How they’d touch you. How they’d take you. Whether you wanted it or not.
And Cas hears Dean’s words, again through fog. Cas hears them but doesn’t understand them, only smells Dean, only smells alpha.
But, Cas says, I do want it, and Dean shuts his eyes and swallows.
Maybe it’s the sound of cracking wood that triggers it. Maybe it’s because the cabin door’s giving way and soon, they’ll be swarmed. Maybe Dean thinks that he’s protecting him, that it’s preferable to Cas being pinned to the floor and bred, taking alpha after alpha until one of them makes him theirs. Maybe it’s those things, or maybe it’s not, because the door stays put, and Dean doesn’t even look its way when it groans against its hinges. Dean’s eyes stay fixed on Cas’ face, fill with want, fill with the same want that Cas feels, with the same senselessness, and Dean presses his mouth to Cas’ shoulder, presses but doesn’t break skin, as if at any moment, he’ll mate Cas, make him his.
The alphas outside grow silent.
Dean’s trick has worked.
Now they can only smell Cas, and Cas smells like he’s about to be Dean’s.
It’s instinct, everything that happens next. It’s biology that makes the slick between his legs grow. It’s biology that makes Cas crave Dean’s scent even more than before, that makes him dig his nose to Dean’s neck, makes him bury his face into his chest.
Maybe Dean’s lost to biology too. Maybe putting his mouth to Cas’ neck has introduced a dangerous idea in Dean’s mind, and Dean’s thinking about how Cas isn’t his until he’s pressed into the mattress, until Dean bites down and marks his shoulder at the same time he ties them together with his knot. Maybe Dean’s thinking about how Cas needs the alpha, wants to be under him, wants to feel him, wants the emptiness to be filled, because Dean’s eyes grow dark, darker than they’ve ever been, and Cas finds himself on his back, feels Dean’s hands under his shirt, feels Dean’s mouth on his neck, as if to make Cas his.
There are things that Cas couldn’t see—smell—before. Now Cas can read Dean’s scent, can read the hunger radiating off him in waves, can feel Dean’s desire just like Cas can feel the air filling his lungs.
I’m going to take you, Dean says, and his voice seems almost not his own. I’m going to take you, omega, whether you want it or not.
But then maybe Dean hears himself.
Dean pulls back, breathes heavy, shakes his head as if he can shake away all of the arousal clouding his senses, says, “I shouldn’t touch you,” “I’m not good for you,” and “You don’t want me.”
But, Cas says, I do want you.
It’s like he never was an angel. It’s like he doesn’t remember his angelic might, doesn’t remember the way that he used to pin Dean up against a wall, because everything he feels now is human, and maybe falling and becoming an omega was the only natural outcome, because angels are supposed to be obedient, although Cas was never quite good at that.
He tries, tries to be good for Dean, waits, for what feels like an eternity, for the alpha to bed him, thinks maybe omega obedience will get him what he wants. He lies there submissively, maybe out of instinct, but Dean doesn’t touch him, even as Cas’ heat rears, even as Cas’ desperation grows.
Dean hovers above him, eyes squeezed shut and, Alpha, Cas pleads but, I’m not that, Dean tells him.
Dean’s deception can only last so long. Soon enough, there are shadows again at the windows, hungry alphas who realize Dean hasn’t sought the warmth of Cas’ body, who realize Cas can still be theirs.
They scratch at the door, promise they’ll fill the emptiness inside him, and Cas can’t be obedient any longer. He pushes at Dean, tries to escape the bed, tries to make it to the door, but Dean doesn’t let him go.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Cas,” Dean tells him, but Cas thinks he does.
Cas keeps trying, keeps struggling, starts to call out, to the alphas in the snow, until they’re shoving at the door, until there’s a threatening groan from the wood again, and it’s only a matter of time before the door will give way.
Maybe this is more disobedient than Dean can tolerate. Maybe Dean decides he needs to remind Cas that he’s not an angel anymore, but an omega, because Dean’s eyes get dark again and, Get under me, Dean hisses, commands submission, and this time when he puts his mouth to Cas’ shoulder, he bites, lightly, not enough to break skin, not enough to mate him, but enough to make him obey.
The alphas outside become restless, sense that they’re losing their prey.
The door shudders in its frame.
But then the alphas go quiet again.
With Dean capturing him from all sides, Cas’ scent is hidden.
Maybe it’s the urgency of the situation, or maybe it’s because the deeper Cas goes into heat, the more enticing his scent becomes. Dean struggles for air, as if he can’t exist within Cas’ proximity. His body burns, as if to mimic Cas’ own heat, and soon, no matter how hard Dean seems to try to resist, his eyes grow dark with lust, his mouth seeks out Cas’ neck, and he spirals.
Somewhere amidst the noise of his heat, Cas recognizes it for what it is.
Dean’s gone into rut.
It doesn’t matter anymore if the door breaks down. It doesn’t matter if a hundred alphas encircle them, because as soon as Dean goes into rut, Cas is his fully.
Time melts together. Cas finds he’s somewhere else whenever he opens and closes his eyes, doesn’t know whether it’s been one day or if he’s been in bed for years. He blinks, and Dean is between his legs. He blinks, and Cas finds himself skin to skin, Dean’s cock at his entrance, hot and heavy, Dean’s mouth sucking bruises into his body. He opens his legs wider, wants Dean inside him, more than he has ever wanted anything else and, Alpha, Cas says, into the crook of Dean’s neck, feels Dean shudder, feels him press close, feels Dean’s cock press into the throbbing heat between his legs.
He's never had anything inside of him, but now he’s going to have Dean.
Maybe Dean’s thinking the same thing, after years of tiptoeing around each other. Maybe Dean feels relief that finally what they have left unsaid is becoming spoken. I want you, Cas says, doesn’t know of any other way to say it, and Dean exhales, Dean says, I’m yours, Cas, as he finally breaches him.
Cas gasps as he’s taken, feels pain but somewhere deeper, satisfaction, holds onto Dean’s back as if it is the only thing keeping him anchored, thinks that if he lets himself go, he will be lost, will only want this, will only want Dean, will never be able to breathe without his name on his lips, and as if Dean knows that, Dean takes his mouth, for the first time, and Cas is utterly consumed.
It’s Dean’s knot that brings him back, stretches him impossibly wide, demands space that Cas doesn’t think his body has. Cas shudders at the fullness, whimpers, I can’t, but You can, omega, Dean says. You will.
Dean’s teeth scrape at his shoulder, still not mating him, but it’s imminent, that much Cas knows, and maybe Dean knows that too because Cas groans, wants Dean to bond them already, wants it so much that the pain of taking Dean’s knot is nothing compared to the pain of not being his. Dean bites again, still not breaking skin, and it’s biology, it’s compelled obedience, and Cas finds his whole body going lax, just as Dean finally ties them together.
Dean pants against Cas’ skin, has claimed him but hasn’t mated him, even as his seed spills inside him.
Cas waits, says, Alpha, please, but Dean is silent against his neck.
Mate me, Cas says, has become disobedient again, but Dean doesn’t do that.
Instead when Dean’s knot goes down, Dean pulls away, looks at him, bottom lip quivering, eyes no longer dark with his rut, sees the blood between Cas’ legs and, “What did I do?” he says.
The rest of the night is quiet after that.
It’s the third morning since they came to the cabin, and Sam makes his return.
He enters warily, scents the air and comes to a stop.
He can smell it.
Cas smells like he’s Dean’s, but isn’t.
They check into a motel, somewhere on the outskirts of town where maybe Dean thinks they will go unnoticed.
Dean pretends he’s Cas’ mate, smiles at the clerk and lies so easily while he pays for two rooms, but there’s only one bed in there, and that is where Dean commands that he go.
Cas does not shower. Cas slips under the covers and curls up, because if he showers, he won’t smell like he’s Dean’s, and if that happens, every alpha nearby will be lured in.
Every alpha except for one.
Dean stands with his back against the door, the furthest he can go from him, and decides his fate.
I’m going to find you a mate, Dean tells him, and his jaw is clenched, and it sounds as if he can barely get the words out. Someone who can keep you safe, someone who can keep you from alphas like me.
But, Cas wants to say and he feels his throat close up. But, Cas wants to say but doesn't say, I only want you.