Cas doesn't follow him back to the territory line. Dean already smells like him, but he doesn't need to make it worse by bringing the source of the smell along. He walks back, too, not feeling up for a shift yet. His wolf is irritated that they are leaving their mate, and Dean knows he'll have less control if he shifts. When he gets back to the rock, the spot he crossed over, it's to find Sam already there waiting for him.
Sam smells distressed, and it puts his wolf right on edge. It's too soon to be feeling like that, he knows, and he thinks he might have another problem sooner rather than later. Still he crosses over into their territory, takes the punch that Sam throws against his shoulder and lets his brother pull him in for a hug.
"What the fuck, Dean," he growls, half worried and half pissed off. "You don't come back all day, then you just run off? Where in the hell do you get off disappearing like that?"
"I know, Sammy, I—"
"We thought you were gone, Dean. Dad was about to send out a fucking search party, and not the friendly kind. You knew about the sensors, Dean."
"Fuck, Sam, I know. And—"
"And another thing. What the hell would've happened if one of the leopards caught you in their territory? Do you even know what that could do to this agreement? To our Pack?"
"Uh," Dean stutters, "Sammy, about that—"
"Then you just stroll back in here? Like you're fine now? Because I don't buy it, Dean. So whatever you're doing, don't think you're getting it past me. If you're tranq-ing your wolf then—"
"Jesus," Dean growls, shoving his brother away and interrupting his tirade. "Let me get a fuckin' word in, Sam. I'm not tranq-ing my wolf."
Just the thought sends a shiver down Dean's spine. His wolf may be, well, vibrant, as Cas had said, but Dean would never tranq it. Drugs like that are for assholes who don't deserve the privilege of shifting in the first place.
"How are you doing it then?" Sam snaps, crossing his long arms. "Because I know it's not any of the girls they're bringing in. Hell, you practically ripped that last girl's head off for being in your room. But you've got some kind of temporary fix, so what the hell is it?"
Dean sighs and waits. He knows he's carrying Cas' scent. His brother will figure it out. A few more seconds of angry breaths and Sam's whole demeanor changes, his entire body language shifting to something much softer, much less threatening. Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets and tries not to stare at the ground.
"Um, Dean? Who is that smell?"
It's telling that his brother jumps straight to who, and not what. Dean thinks about lying, but he needs somebody on his side here. Sam is better than anybody else.
"A cat named Cas. Er, a panther, actually." Dean corrects himself automatically. Sam takes a full minute to process this, his eyes scanning Dean's face.
"Why do you reek like a leopard?"
Dean rubs his hands over his face and sighs. This is a blast.
"I do not reek. He just kept friggin'...touching me man. I dunno."
Sam raises his eyebrows, disbelief painted all over his face. "Lemme get this straight. You made a little kitty friend. And he was...petting you? To calm you down? And you let him?"
"No," Dean growls, even though yeah, that's totally right. "Shut up."
His brother laughs and crosses his arms. "C'mon, dude. No way you expect me to believe that."
"Yeah, well, it's true. And he may or may not be my mate," Dean spits out, before he can change his mind about lying. Sam freezes immediately, his eyebrows raised and his jaw dropped.
"May or may not? What the hell does that mean?"
"It means that the wolf has decided that he is. I just, haven't reached the same conclusion."
Sam stares. Dean is pretty sure by the shock on Sam's face that he's feeling how Dean was feeling an hour ago.
"Is that even...possible?" Sam asks, his eyebrows raised.
"Apparently. Cas thinks its like when one of us mates with a human. Mating bonds apparently don't give a shit."
"Wow," Sam says, and Dean can practically see his gigantic brain ticking away. "Okay. What are you gonna do about it?"
Dean laughs. He wishes he had any idea. He's not about to tell his pack, that's for sure. Not until he knows this thing is for real. Problem is, that requires sneaking around and trying to get to know the guy. His wolf thinks it's a great idea, but Dean isn't so sure. Especially since his body is determined to carry around the cat's damn scent and there's no way he gets away with that for long before somebody notices.
"Not tellin' anybody yet, that's what."
"That's one of the worst ideas you've ever had," Sam snorts, ignoring Dean's glare.
"Don't you think I know that?" Dean sighs. "But can you just help me for now? I need to get rid of this damn smell before somebody else notices."
Sam growls low in his chest, but agrees. It isn't easy, and it takes some rolling around in the stream and in the muddy bank to take care of it, but eventually Sam says he smells like normal. And hey, who wouldn't expect him to be a kinda dirty after his little freakout?
The Bunker is buzzing with activity when they get back, and Dean is all too aware that it's all his fault. The whole pack smells nervous, on edge, and it agitates Dean's wolf. He wonders how many others are feeling like he is because of his blunder. The dominants set the tone of the pack, and Dean's being doing a hell of a job of it lately.
Dean tries not to be too hard on himself, he really does. If Cas really is his mate, then no one would blame him for freaking out like he did. Well. Maybe some people would blame him. But if they could smell how amazing Cas had smelled then—and no, scratch that. No one else should smell their mate's heat, it is theirs and—
Fuck. Dean wants to tear his hair out. Getting his wolf's thoughts mixed up with his own like that is ripping his sanity to shreds.
Everyone stares as Dean makes his way through the den. He's muddy, and sweaty, and he probably smells like unhappy alpha, but they're staring for more reasons than that. Here's Dean, the Hunter that almost went rogue. Like a fucking zoo animal for everybody to ogle.
Awesome.
Sam leaves him at the doors to the council room. Dean knows it's not possible, but part of him wishes his brother could come in, too. He'd friggin' love some back-up here. And, of course, all five council seats are filled. Dean can't even look at his mom.
"You're back," his dad growls, his alpha out to play. Dean forces his gaze to the ground, as much as his wolf hates it.
"Yes sir."
"What in the hell happened to you, boy?" Bobby asks, and he sounds more concerned than pissed. That's Bobby, though.
Dean clears his throat. "I let my wolf get the better of me. I was hunting in the woods, hoping to burn it off, when the animal ran past the sensors. I didn't notice I'd crossed them."
It's all a huge, phony lie. Dean can practically smell it on the air. Luckily, it's not entirely unbelievable. The sensors are new, after all, and the Pack is used to being able to wander past their boundaries. He wants to say it's fucked that they are keeping tabs on him like this, he wants
to say they can't put him in a cage. He wants to, but he doesn't.
"Don't you lie to us, pup," Rufus growls. "We weren't born yesterday."
Dean flinches. "M' not lying."
"And yesterday?" Ellen asks, crossing her arms. "Nobody saw you inside the den all day and night. You out in the woods?"
"Yes." Dean grits his teeth. He'd been shifted all day. Pacing along the border. He's not eager to admit why, to himself or to the Council.
"Why didn't you come home?" his mom asks, so hesitant and soft. Almost like she doesn't even want him to answer.
"I couldn't."
The Council room is silent. Dean's words are hanging in the air, stinking up the space. In truth, the admission sounds worse than it was. Dean had, for the most part, been in control of himself. Right until Cas had showed up. Had he been on the edge of losing it? Sure. Yeah. Whatever. But he'd been mostly okay for most of the day. He just...hadn't been able to shift. Whatever it was, and whatever instinct in his body allowed him to change forms had just turned off for the day. He'd shifted the previous morning and just...got stuck. His wolf probably had something to do with it, little shit that he is, but Dean doesn't know. Maybe it was just lack of sleep. He just knows he hadn't been able to change back, and he knows exactly what that looks like to his Council.
"I wasn't out of control. But I wasn't gonna risk it. So I handled it."
"You don't handle it on your own, ya idjit," Bobby snaps, sounding tired and annoyed. "We got a pack for a reason. You come home, you let yer family help ya."
Dean nods, keeps staring at the floor. "I made a mistake, and it won't happen again."
"You're damn right it won't," John growls, standing up out of his chair and stalking around the table until he's right in Dean's face. Dean hears his mom protest, but he knows this isn't her place to interfere. "You need me to remind you what's goin' on in this pack right now?"
Asshole.
"We got fucking leopards up our asses, we got juveniles maturing every day, we got three pups and two more on the way. We need our dominants right now, and where the fuck are you?"
Dean grinds his teeth. His dad is right. He wants him to be wrong. But he's not.
"Do you know what happens when a wolf goes rogue?"
Of course he knows. But Dean doesn't answer, isn't sure he even can. John doesn't care. He grabs a handful of hair at the crown of Dean's head and uses it to shove his chest up against the rough stone wall, pulls his head roughly to the side, forcefully baring his neck. Dean forces the growl back down his throat. His wolf needs to cool it, unless it wants to bleed all over the Council room.
"You answer me when I speak to you. I said do you know, what happens, when a wolf goes rogue?"
Nobody else speaks up, and Dean doesn't expect them to. John is the most dominant one in this room, and Dean's dad, and it's a shit draw but he can handle it.
"Yes sir," Dean grits out, grinding his molars.
"Let me explain it to you again, because I don't think you are taking it seriously," he rumbles. The rest of the Council grows quieter, if possible, his dad's anger vibrating in the room. "Your animal takes over, completely. You get trapped in your own body, watching as the beast hunts without remorse. Humans, friends, pack, even the damn pups." Dean shivers. "Because a rogue isn't an animal. It's a monster, a creature that is too smart for it's own damn good. And I would put you down, Dean, if you ever became that. I wouldn't fucking blink."
Dean inhales sharply, his neck aching at the harsh angle.
"This was strike number three. Don't let it happen again." His dad shoves away from him and stomps back to his seat. Dean doesn't turn and look at the Council, knows he can't do it without melting down. He just stands and faces the wall, waits to be dismissed.
"Go, kid," Ellen says, her voice tired. "Clean yourself up."
Dean is gone before the last syllable is out of her mouth.
He goes straight back to his room, ignoring every person he sees on the walk there. He can't handle them right now. He can't do it.
The hot water of his shower feels heavenly against his dirty skin, his exhausted muscles, the steam clearing his foggy brain. His wolf is pissed that he let their dad handle them like that, thinks that they should have fought back against him. The overconfident son of a bitch thinks they could take John no problem. His wolf also thinks they never should have left the forest of their cat, but Dean doesn't focus on that one.
Once out of the shower he dresses and flops down on his bed, hoping that his wolf will let him sleep. He's so far past exhausted, it isn't even funny. He should've stayed and napped with Cas today, while his wolf was calm, but he was too freaked out by the whole mate thing to think about something as insignificant as sleep. But if he's counting right—and he probably isn't, his brain is fucking wasted—then it's been like, five days since he's had any sleep. And now that the adrenaline from the day is finally wearing off...fuck.
His door opens and closes softly, and his smells his mom before he feels her weight on his bed. He automatically shifts into her warmth, resting his cheek on her thigh and closing his eyes at her nails on his back.
"How's my angel?" she says gently, her scent soothing him.
"Terrible," he mumbles.
"When was the last time you slept?"
"Dunno."
She sighs. Yeah, he definitely knows how she feels.
"The next girl isn't arriving until sometime next week," she says, and a flood of relief washes over him. "And the Council is taking you off patrol, for the time being. We just want you to take care of yourself, sweetheart."
Part of him is pissed off at that, and part of him thinks its a good idea. He's lead Hunter, after all, and should be setting an example, but it'll be easier to sneak out this way. He hates himself for thinking that, especially after what his dad said.
His mom sits with him for a long time, stroking his hair and humming, letting him soak up the calming scent of omega. He's lulled into a kind of hazy dream-state, but he's not asleep. He knows he isn't going to fall asleep.
"How can I help you?" she says sadly, and Dean feels terrible that he's making her feel like that.
"I don't think you can."
She pauses her movements and stares down at him, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. "You know something that can?"
He thinks about lying, but she knows him too well. And he really, really wants to sleep, no matter how much of a colossal fucking failure he feels like.
"Maybe."
She smiles at him, soft and beautiful just like Layla. Dean wonders if it's an omega thing. "Go, sweetheart. And watch the sensors this time."
She doesn't ask how or what or where or who and Dean is eternally grateful.
"Thanks," he mumbles, hoping that at least some of his gratitude comes across.
Dean wanders out to the exit after his mom is gone, barefoot and shirtless and uncaring. He thinks about shifting, but he knows he's going to need thumbs to get out unnoticed.
Climbing the tree near the flat-rock takes longer than Dean cares to admit. The cat had made it look so easy. He climbs up extra high, too, because he's not sure exactly where the sensors are and he's not willing to risk triggering them. But eventually he manages, dropping down on the other side of the ring of sensors. From there it takes some wandering, trying to retrace his hazy steps in the dark. The forest is quiet, and Dean thinks it's strange that even the bugs are sleeping right now.
At some point he picks up Cas' scent, and from there it's easier to find where he's going. He breathes deep and long to soak the scent into his lungs, and tries not to think too much about it. Because all of this—it's instincts. His body, his wolf, it needs to be near its mate. But Cas the person doesn't mean comfort to Dean, not yet anyway, and Dean can tell the difference. But right now he needs to listen to his wolf and what it needs. At least temporarily.
Dean is more than surprised to find the source of Cas' scent nestled up in the trees. It's a huge treehouse, with what looks like two floors. It's built out of mismatched pieces of wood, and Dean isn't completely sure how the hell he's supposed to get up there. He walks around the trunk of the tree, looking for any sign of an entrance. A ladder, a secret staircase, something.
There's nothing, except for what looks like a small trap door on the base of the thing. Dean thinks that maybe he should let Cas know he's coming, but he's pretty sure the cat already knows he's there. So he uses the few low-hanging branches to haul himself up, does his best to scale the tree with grace. The strength in his fingers is almost completely gone, and he's getting dizzier with each second. It's exhaustion, he knows, so he grits his teeth and ignores it. At least if he falls out of the damn tree it'll probably knock him unconscious. He's almost sweating by the time he is dragging himself through the trap door, and all he can think is wolves were most definitely not made for trees.
***
Castiel smelled his wolf about ten minutes ago, heard him shuffling around the base of his tree. He thought about going out to help, but he thinks he'd rather wait and see if his mate can figure it out. So Castiel sits on his makeshift couch and watches with a quiet smile on his face as Dean hauls himself through the trapdoor. It isn't graceful, or elegant in any way, but Castiel's panther is pleased.
"Hello, puppy," Castiel hums, standing up to greet him. Dean fixes him with that hypnotic green gaze for five long seconds, and Castiel wonders if Dean is going to growl and snap at him for the nickname again. Then his wolf, his strong, powerful, vicious wolf, actually whimpers and stumbles into his arms.
Castiel just reacts, the smile slipping from his face as he wraps his arms around his mate. He's wanted this, decidedly this, ever since he caught the first whiff of Dean's scent, but not in this way. Not with Dean's nose pressed desperately against his pulse, not with Dean shivering in his arms.
"You are going to tell me what is going on in that pack of yours," Castiel growls, curling protectively around his mate. He is going to find out who is making Dean smell like this, who is making his mate reek like bitter fear and frustration and distress. He is going to find out, so he can tear their throats out nice and slow with his teeth.
"Tired," Dean responds quietly, his lips brushing the skin of Castiel's neck because of his proximity.
"When was the last time you slept?"
"Couple days."
Castiel curses. He'd noticed the bags under his eyes the day before, but he'd never thought it was that bad.
Without another word he leads Dean up the stairs to his nest, which takes up the entirety of the second floor. It's a pile of pillows and blankets and other soft things, so deep that it feels like a cloud. He's sure it still stinks like heat, but if Dean notices he doesn't react. Instead he flops down in the center of the space, nestling into the pillows and taking slow, deep breaths. The panther loves how his mate makes himself at home in the nest, thinks that his mate should never leave. Castiel tends to agree.
"C'mere," Dean mumbles after a few seconds, when Castiel doesn't immediately lie down with him. He doesn't open his eyes, but he makes some kind of vague gesture with his hand.
Castiel is tempted to throw back some kind of retort, but he feels like Dean has had enough for today. Instead he sinks down and pulls Dean close, smiling when he buries his nose in the crook of Castiel's neck and pulls about five blankets on top of them. In a matter of seconds Dean is breathing deeply and evenly, but Castiel continues to stroke his hair anyway.
God he's happy. Not happy that Dean came to him like this, not happy that he has to put his mate back together, but happy. This is where his mate belongs, in his arms. This is how his nest should smell, like Dean and Castiel.