The Thundering Horizon

The late afternoon sun painted the fields around the castle in flaming orange, turning them into pools of molten gold that surrounded the castle in a gently swaying sea. Up from the wall, Castiel could see the lands stretching all around him—the flatland slowly blending into forests and finally into the mountains lining the far horizon as a blue-hazed wall. And far away, somewhere beyond the mountains was the true North and the White, marking the border of their land.

Castiel couldn’t believe he’d lived in the North for just over three summers. It felt longer. The time when he’d arrived at the land of the Northerners—a young, uppity omega, betrayed by his brother and sold into a mating arrangement with an alpha he’d never met—seemed like a distant memory. Back then, he’d thought his life had been over. Instead, he’d found his true mate, fallen in love with the land and the people, and learned truths about himself he’d never even dared to dream about. 

Truly, the North hadn’t ended his life. 

It had given him a new one.

He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and sighed.

This was home.

He opened his eyes and glanced at the sky, taking in the familiar shapes of the aviating totems that hovered above him. It was a common experience, to have several totems accompanying him everywhere. The attention had felt almost stifling in the beginning, like he couldn’t be trusted to be on his own. Then again, he couldn’t really blame his clan—after all, he had tried to take his own life, and only the totems stepping in had prevented the history from repeating itself and a terrible tragedy from happening.

Over time, Castiel had learned to accept and cherish the solid presence of his silent guardians. He felt comforted, knowing that even though he was left alone, he was never truly alone and to get help or company, all he had to do was to look up and ask. The Northern totems were much more independent and fiercer than the Southern ones he’d grown up with: when they adopted someone as their own, they never let go. 

As the pups got older, the abundance of totems willing to help the Laird of Grey Castle had proven handy. At times, Castiel was slightly worried the twins would grow up spoiled rotten: Marcel and Maryann were on their second summer and had wrapped the whole castle tightly around their little fists. But the Northerners had lived through tragedy and loss and after everything that had happened, the twins represented hope, future, and life bundled in a form of two temperamental pups. 

The meaning hadn’t escaped Castiel, which was why he didn’t have it in him to restrict the clan’s shows of affection.

It didn’t mean the pups weren’t a terrible force when they decided to throw a temper tantrum. So far, only Missouri and Dean’s wolf had been able to contain the pups at the peak of their fury. Missouri had the quiet authority that somehow managed to terrify the pups into silence, and the wolf simply sat on them. Not even the heirs of the Castle lasted long with a wolf the size of a small horse pinning them on the floor.

The massive wolf had basically adopted their pups as his own and was never far from them. He had proven his value not only during tantrums but also during the pups’ daily naps. From early on, the twins had taken their naps curled against the wolf and gripping his fur. The first time it had happened, the totem had practically radiated pride and smugness that had earned him eye rolls and snorts from Dean, but also murmured words of endearment. Castiel had felt the double feedback from both his mate and their shared totem and he’d felt almost overwhelmed by the wolf’s fierce love and loyalty. 

As long as the wolf was there, nothing bad would happen to the heirs of the Castle.

Castiel had taken the opportunity to catch some rest whenever they slept, fervently grateful for every silent moment. Even with all the help they got, parenting two energetic pups was far more taxing than Castiel would’ve originally thought. It wasn’t the physical fatigue as such, but more about the mental exhaustion of trying to keep up with the feeding, diaper changing, and teething.

He knew that had he been mated in the South, he would’ve had a league of nannies at his disposal, eager to take the pups out of his hands.

Here, he had a wolf that was at least as good as a league of nannies. Fondly, Castiel nudged the connection to the wolf, sending his affection and receiving a familiar warmth in return. 

Now that the pups were older and slept better through the night, he’d started to take time for himself again, either reading, catching up with the Castle business, or simply taking a walk. Today, he’d already walked around the castle, checked the small patch of herbs he’d planted with his brother, and had yet another argument with said brother about the activities of the twins’ upcoming birthday celebrations. The twins already felt like they were the center of the world and no matter what Gabriel said, they didn’t need their birthday turned into a clan festival. 

Castiel smiled when he felt a tug in his chest and didn’t turn when he heard the door behind him creak open and his alpha walked to him.

”Are the pups still asleep?” Dean asked, stopping behind Castiel. He wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on his shoulder. 

Castiel sighed contentedly and leaned his head back, humming as Dean nuzzled his neck and pressed a kiss on his mating scar. ”They’re with the wolf,” he answered and turned his head a bit to kiss the side of Dean’s jaw. ”They’ll probably wake soon. They’ve dropped their morning naps and only sleep in the afternoon.”

”Hopefully they’ll keep the habit for the foreseeable future. There’ll be no rest for you—or for any of us—when they eventually stop their naps altogether,” Dean muttered.

”Well, fortunately there are a lot of us,” he said softly.

”Thank the Heavens,” Dean sighed with feeling, and Castiel huffed a laugh. 

The easy familiarity of the Northerners—the genuine well-wishes and offers to look after the Lord and Laird’s little family— still amazed Castiel. Sometimes it was more subtle, like advice about herbal tinctures to relieve belly aches or teething, or gifts of plush furs to keep the pups warm. And sometimes it was the blunt but no less loving scolding from Ellen after Castiel had exhausted himself while trying to manage the constant feeding and colic alone, or Bobby’s scruff announcement that the sauna had been warmed and Castiel didn’t have permission to do anything else but blissfully bathe that day.

They shared silence, enjoying each other’s company. Quiet moments like these were rare, and even though Castiel wouldn’t change his life for anything, he missed spending time alone with his mate.

After some time, Castiel’s ermine wriggled out from his pocket and climbed up Dean’s arm to curl around his neck. The sleek white totem still was careful about the time and place he chose to seek contact with the alpha even though he knew he was always welcomed, and Dean always thanked him with caresses and gentle words. This time was no different. 

Castiel closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He felt the Castle and its inhabitants as a warm presence, his immediate family brighter than others. The clan was happy and well after yet another bountiful summer, eagerly waiting for the fall harvest and the winter that followed with long, sleepy hours of stories and crafting, only interrupted by the Midwinter Feast. 

But somewhere under that happiness, he felt…restless.

He sighed and said quietly, ”The summer was good again.”

”But?” Dean asked after a moment.

”I don’t know. I have a… feeling,” Castiel said. He wasn’t sure how to express it other than a vague feeling of something not right.

Dean was silent for a moment, then let out a breath. ”Alright,” he said. ”Do you want to think about it or would you like to contact Pamela?”

Castiel bit his lip. Dean had never been overly fond of the odd white-eyed alpha, but he couldn’t deny her powers. Pamela had always been more attuned to the Heavens and ancestors than to the regular everyday life, but after what she’d done for Castiel after his nearly disastrous miscarriage, Dean was ready to go long ways to suppress his uneasiness around her.

Ever since Castiel had embraced his role as the heart of the clan and understood his vital importance to the North, his connection with the land had deepened. With time, he’d started to pick up things—signs of what was happening with either the land or the people. Usually, he figured them out himself but sometimes he’d needed help.

”I think I need to speak with her,” he finally said reluctantly. 

”Okay,” Dean said. ”I’ll ask Sam to seek her out.” 

They lapsed back into silence, but the easiness was gone. After a moment, Castiel decided to change the subject and asked, ”Has Gabriel talked to you about the school project already?”

”The what?” Dean asked back.

Castiel huffed a laugh. ”I take that as a no then. He has ideas.”

Dean groaned. ”Your brother and his ideas,” he muttered. ”I swear, he’s giving me heartburn on a regular basis. What’s he come up with now? School?”

Castiel chuckled at Dean’s sour tone. He knew it was just a front because as much as Dean rolled his eyes at Gabriel, he was actually fond of him. 

Traditionally, the role of running the Castle affairs belonged to the alpha’s mate, but with Castiel preoccupied with the twins, Gabriel had stepped up to the role. As disastrous as the arrangement had first seemed, they were a good pair: Dean needed someone to poke and prod him and question his decisions to the point of exasperation, and Gabriel needed to know he had a free rein to run his area of responsibilities as long as he did his research and was ready to present evidence to back his ideas up.

Of course, they still butted heads and sometimes their arguments escalated to the point where either Castiel or Sam felt the need to step in, but all in all, they worked together well. 

”He has some ideas,” Castiel said mildly.

”Oh?” Dean asked, suspicious.

The Northerners took pride in how all pups went to school for at least a couple of years to learn to read and write and to understand the basics of the clan politics and agriculture. It was unlike the Southern way, where the nobler pups were home tutored and the poorer families usually sent only their eldest pup to school.

”Gabriel wanted to… to shift the focus a bit,” Castiel said carefully. ”I think he’d like to widen the perspective a bit more.”

Dean fell silent for a while and Castiel could feel him mulling things over. Finally Dean asked, serious, ”By wider perspective, he means clan politics outside our own, doesn’t he?”

”I’d think so, yes. Also, he wants to add more about the history of the Northerners but that’s something he should probably ask Pamela too.”

”He should just ask Sam,” Dean pointed out. ” He’s the one pouring through the Castle archives. Unless Gabe’s afraid of Sam taking over his project.”

Castiel chuckled. Sam was a scholar by nature and would be beside himself with joy if he was given the chance to tell pups about the wonders of their ancestors. He just wasn’t sure if the pups were ready for the combined force that was Sam and Gabriel.

Satisfied that the issue was settled, Castiel let out a small huff of breath and stared into the horizon. 

Dean didn’t say anything but after a moment he took a hold of Castiel’s chin and turned his head to catch his eyes. He pecked a small kiss on his lips and smoothed a finger over a frown Castiel hadn’t realized he was wearing. 

”You’re thinking very hard,” he said softly. 

Castiel blinked and shook his head as if to clear it.

Dean sighed. ”What do you think about the wider perspective? How much does it resonate with your feeling of something being off?”

When Castiel didn’t answer, Dean turned him and gave him a long, searching look. ”What’s going on, Cas?”

He sighed and rested their foreheads together. ”I’m not sure,” he said. ”But I don’t like it.”

As usual, the pups were brimming with energy as soon as they opened their eyes. Castiel had felt a slight nudge from the wolf when the twins were waking up and he was back at the family chambers just in time to catch Marcel who flung himself right into his arms, squealing ”Papaaaa!” as loud as he could. Castiel grunted when he caught his son and whirled him around, grinning at the delighted giggling.

After some more whirling and laughing and a short potty break, they headed to the kitchens, the wolf trailing behind them as a silent shadow, his paws making no sound on the floor.

The kitchen staff was busy with preparing dinner and when Castiel didn’t see Ellen, he set on the task of making a light snack for his pups himself. As the twins ate under the wolf’s watchful eye, Castiel brewed himself a pot of Pamela’s herbal tea. According to her, this drink was supposed to help his body to balance itself out after the long breastfeeding and eventually restart his heat cycle. It still tasted bitter and Castiel added a hearty spoonful of honey into his cup to make it drinkable.

He leaned on the wall as he sipped and wondered what would happen when his heat hit. Would he get pregnant again? And if so, would he carry another set of twins? He wasn’t sure if he’d be up to it, body or mind.

And what would his heat be like now, after the pups? Would he be as bossy as usual? Would it be as intense as it had been after his miscarriage?

”If you keep frowning that much, your face will stay that way,” Ellen said from his side, startling Castiel to almost drop his cup. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Ellen apologized. ”Are you feeling unwell?”

Castiel offered her a small smile. ”Not exactly,” he said.

Ellen gave him a narrowed look but didn’t question him further and Castiel heaved an internal sigh of relief. 

”Has Gabriel made up his mind about the dessert table already?” she asked instead, redirecting the conversation. ”I need to know the plans soon so that I can order the necessary ingredients from Maple Falls. Or further down south, if needed.”

”He made up his mind a long time ago,” Castiel said dryly. ”He’s yet to see the error of his ways. I’m not going to let you spend ridiculous amounts of money on fruit ice sculpture!”

The Matron huffed and swept an imaginary dust speckle from her chest. ”I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” she said blithely.  

Castiel wanted to groan but decided to take a long, hearty gulp from his tea instead. It was bad enough that Gabriel and Sam wanted to dote on the pups, but when Ellen—and Heavens above, Pamela—joined in, he knew he had lost. The four of them had constructed an elaborate system of deciphering who was the pups’ favorite, and no-one else understood how. Or why.

Castiel loved his extended family more than anything, but dear Heavens they could be exhausting!

When the twins were done with their snack, Castiel managed to wipe them relatively clean, thanking the ancestors that the pups loved bathing in the sauna because he had no idea how they’d get them clean otherwise. He was about to start cleaning up the mess his pups had made on the floor, but Ellen gave him a small smile and shooed them out of the kitchen.

’Thank you,’ he mouthed as he took each pup from the hand and walked them out. ”So, what should we do next?” he asked aloud. 

”Áhkku Lin?” Maryann asked hopefully. 

Castiel pursed his lips. ”I don’t know her plans. How about we try to find her and ask if she has time?”

Áhkku Lin was the pups’ name for Linda. Castiel wasn’t sure how exactly she’d placed herself in the position of yet another grandmother, but after the twins were born, that’s what she’d done. At times, her almost overbearing nature annoyed everyone to no end, but none of them said anything. Dean was still feeling guilty about Kevin’s death and they all sensed her aching loneliness dissipate when she was fussing about the pups or Gabriel. 

They found Linda in the meadow outside the castle, picking late summer wildflowers. Her arctic hare was dozing off in a nearby sunny patch and, after carefully greeting Castiel’s ermine, she hurried to jump into Maryann’s lap. In general, the castlefolks’ totems were very tolerant and fond of the pups, but some were more friendly than others. Linda’s arctic hare had been fond of Maryann since the beginning, and, after making sure that Castiel didn’t find it offensive, Linda had let them be.

Even after all this time in the North, Castiel was still having some difficulties dealing with the ease the Northerners touched other people’s totems. The majority of the totems’ interactions still happened between the totems themselves, which was a relief. Castiel could handle the casual touching from the totems of those closest to him but from complete strangers, it would be another thing. Nevertheless—or perhaps it was exactly why—he was happy that his pups would naturally grow up into the easy intimacy of the Northern ways.

”Afternoon, Castiel,” Linda said with a brisk nod. ”Hello, pups. Did you come to make garlands with me?”

While Marcel beamed, Maryann’s face fell but she didn’t protest. Knowing his daughter, Castiel thought she’d probably hoped that Linda would sit down and tell stories, but Linda seldom gave herself the luxury of just sitting down. She was usually busily at work of either sewing, binding wreaths, or gathering herbs and flowers for dyeing. Grey Castle was self-sufficient in many things, including weaving fabric, and Linda was one of the most skilled seamstresses living in the immediate castle vicinity. Neither Castiel nor Dean had asked her to take the responsibility of the pups’ clothes, but she’d taken over with almost brutal efficiency, and they hadn’t had the heart to tell her otherwise.

The wolf plopped himself down to the sunny spot Linda’s hare had vacated and rested his head on his front paws, letting out a heaving sigh. Castiel snorted and muttered under his breath something about a hard day’s work, sleeping on the bed first and on a sunny patch after, but the wolf ignored him and closed his eyes. 

Castiel didn’t need to reach for their connection to know he was alert despite the appearances. Nothing and no-one would take the Laird and his pups by surprise as long as the wolf was there to guard them.

Sitting down beside the wolf, Castiel started the monotonous task of weaving. He’d never been that good with his hands, but with Linda’s help he’d learned his way through simple things like garlands, and to his surprise, he’d found he liked it. The slow, repetitive moves gave his hands something to do while he tuned out the constant chatter of his pups and the slow, deep breathing of the wolf, and let his mind wander. 

Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

He didn’t like keeping things from his mate, and the uneasy feeling had been bothering him for a while, lurking just outside his periphery. It had started as a sense of something awakening in the South and had gradually turned into an itching under his skin, demanding his attention. 

And then there were the dreams.

They weren’t nightmares, not really. He’d had his fair share of nightmares and these dreams were nothing like them. He didn’t wake up drenched in cold sweat or with a cry on his lips, not even with a sense of doom. Instead, he would open his eyes in the middle of the night and just know he’d have to prepare. 

For what or how, he had no idea.

That was the biggest reason he wanted to see Pamela. The white-eyed alpha had helped him a lot in the past and Castiel had the feeling he’d need more help in the near future.

Even if he had no idea how to prepare, he was going to do exactly that.

Prepare.

”Cassie!” Gabriel exclaimed as he opened the door to his and Sam’s chambers. ”Lovely to see you, brother mine. Tell me, what did I do now?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and deftly sidestepped a pile of clothes right next to the door. ”Apart from skipping cleaning up, nothing. Did you lose your way to the laundry basket again?”

Gabriel blinked. ”I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said airily and nudged the pile to the side with his foot as he turned around to give Castiel an elaborate bow. ”So, what brings you to our humble lair?”

”I mentioned the school program to Dean,” Castiel said and sat on the sofa next to Gabriel’s sleeping fox. ”He wasn’t convinced so you might need to come up with a good explanation.”

His brother gave him a long look that Castiel chose to ignore. ”I don’t understand why you didn’t just say it was your idea,” Gabriel said, poking at dried fruits on a bowl on the coffee table.

Castiel shook his head and picked up a piece of dried apple just to give his hands something to do. ”I didn’t want to worry him,” he finally said, even though it wasn’t exactly true—he just wasn’t sure why. 

Gabriel pushed the fruit bowl aside and sat on the coffee table. ”What’s going on, Cassie?” he asked seriously, leaning forward on his elbows and searching his eyes.

”I’m not sure,” Castiel said slowly, echoing the words from his earlier talk with Dean. ”I’m… feeling something.”

”Feeling?” Gabriel echoed, his eyes sharp. 

Castiel nodded. 

”Flood vibes, chicken pox vibes, or Jan vibes?” Gabriel asked.

Castiel shook his head, and said, ”None. It’s… different.”

”Define different.”

Problem was, Castiel didn’t know. 

It had started gradually. One day in the spring after the pups had been born, he’d felt like drowning all of a sudden. Soon after, they had received a message saying that the dam near the eastern forests had burst and flooded the nearby houses. And when chicken pox had broken out in Maple Falls, Castiel had woken up with an itching rash. 

And Jan… 

Well, Castiel didn’t want to think back about how he’d felt when an enraged, rejected alpha had decided to ruin the life of the poor woman he’d been obsessed with.

All those and dozen smaller things he’d felt ever since. Each had felt odd in a dreamlike way but there had been something he could concentrate on. This time, there was nothing—he couldn’t define what he was feeling now.

”I can’t,” Castiel said, frustrated. ”It’s like something is coming and I don’t know what. I wake up feeling we have to get ready.”

”Ready for what?”

Castiel shook his head. ”That’s the thing. I have no idea.”

Gabriel stuffed his mouth full of dried fruit and chewed while frowning at his boots. ”Have you heard anything from Abner?” he asked out of the blue, his mouth full.

”No,” Castiel said and frowned. ”Not for a while. He was supposed to write me back to settle the date for their visit. Why?”

Gabriel opened his mouth only to snap it shut when Castiel raised an unimpressed brow. He absolutely hated it when people talked with their mouth full and as Gabriel had the unflattering habit of doing so, he also was the subject of Castiel’s vigorous table manner training. 

If his pups could learn to eat properly, so could his brother.

Gabriel rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He rummaged for something from a pile of paper on his desk while he chewed and swallowed a couple of times for a show. Then he sobered and said, ”Several of my contacts have fallen silent. And this morning I got this.” He handed Castiel a stained piece of paper. 

Castiel read it and gave his brother a bewildered look. ”This can’t be true,” he said and reread the partially smudged writing.

”That’s what I thought but…” Gabriel made a face. ”Thing is, this isn’t the first but this is what I trust the most. Something’s going on in the South but I just can’t seem to get proper information, just these rumors and tales. Even Crowley is nervous and you know how rare that is.”

Crowley, one of the council members, was as tough as he was ’a slimy scumbag,’ like Gabriel so often described him. He also wasn’t easily ruffled. So far, the only thing that had managed to shake him had been when his pups had caught chicken pox and his mate Megan had fallen severely ill. Castiel had no love for the burly beta, but Megan was a friend and he knew how much Crowley valued his mate. Seeing him first tired and then scared had been as shocking to Castiel as it had been for Crowley himself.

Gabriel and Crowley didn’t exactly like each other, but they’d reached an understanding: Gabriel worked for Dean and Crowley had always been fiercely loyal to the land. He had a deep distrust for Southerners, but he’d been able to put aside his doubts for Castiel and—by proxy—Gabriel. At least for now.

In addition to the North, Gabriel and Crowley also shared a love for information. Gabriel wanted to learn everything because he was curious and Crowley… Well, he hoarded information like a bear gathered honey, and was just as willing to hand it away. He was also one of Gabriel’s main sources of information. It was something Castiel didn’t want to look into too closely. Not all his brother’s sources were respectable or even legal, but Gabriel had always had the innate talent to toe the line to get what he—and the clan—needed without getting his hands dirty.

”You know, we need to tell Dean,” Gabriel said quietly, interrupting his thoughts. ”He’s going to find out sooner or later anyway.”

Castiel sighed. ”I know. I just don’t want to worry him,” he said. ”He already worries too much about me and the pups.”

”Speaking of which, where are they?”

”Bathing with Bobby,” Castiel said with a fond eye roll. ”They informed me in the morning that they’d go bathing with áddjá Bobby and neither I nor Dean are allowed with.”

Gabriel snorted. ”And what did Bobby have to say?”

”What do you think? ’I better go heat the sauna then,’” Castiel said, imitating Bobby’s scruff tone. ”He’s spoiling them rotten, especially Maryann. He let her ride his elk the other day.”

Gabriel shrugged. ”That doesn’t sound that bad.”

”In between the antlers,” Castiel continued flatly.

His brother laughed so hard he almost fell from the table.

Life with the pups was both everything Castiel had thought of and nothing like he’d ever imagined. The lack of sleep and the days fleeting past were given, but the all-encompassing sense of family and home that the twins brought with them and the way it reached out to include the whole clan was something Castiel hadn’t even thought possible. 

Sharing the bed with two pups, at least one totem, and his mate was sometimes challenging but Castiel wouldn’t change it for the world. If sleeping was sometimes a challenge, being intimate was a thing of its own, what with sleepy pups crawling around and waking up at most inconvenient times. Fortunately, they had more than enough enthusiastic family and friends willing to watch the pups and let him and Dean get some much-needed privacy. 

More often than not, the sauna had been their savior.

At first, Castiel had been hesitant to mate in the sauna—not because it was too hot but because he felt it was somehow improper. Dean had calmly told him that the sauna had always been a place where their people had been naked; either literally or more figuratively speaking. He never pressured Castiel into anything but he never hid his own arousal either. It was actually a huge relief: Castiel had not-so-secretly worried if his alpha would even find him desirable anymore, what with his body showing the multiple marks of carrying the twins. Seeing his mate’s hunger for him with his own eyes did wonders to his self-esteem.

Of course, the heat and humidity prevented the more rigorous activity but they didn’t really miss it. The craving for skin-on-skin, the easy intimacy, whispered tender words, and the familiar pressure of his alpha’s knot inside him meant more to Castiel than he was able to put into words, but there was no need: their bond transmitted it clearly and the answering emotion shone brightly through Dean’s eyes as he gently brought Castiel to climax. 

Usually they just rested and enjoyed the moment of peace, a well-needed break from the responsibilities of parenthood and office. This time, however, their mating was more urgent and afterwards, Castiel felt jittery, unable to relax even though Dean stroked his back in the way that usually put him to sleep. He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d weaned the pups and his heat was approaching or because of the odd undercurrent he was feeling. 

”Ready to tell me what’s bothering you?” Dean murmured.

Castiel raised his head from Dean’s shoulder and leveled him a flat stare. ”That was a low blow Dean, waiting until I’m impaled on your knot.”

The alpha raised a brow. ”You didn’t seem inclined to wait,” he said but softened his words with a peck on Castiel’s lips. ”But seriously,” he continued, ”I want to know.”

Castiel pursed his lips and drew small circles on Dean’s shoulder with his finger as he organized his thoughts. 

”I’m having dreams,” he finally said, frowning. ”Not nightmares, but… something. I get a feeling that something is about to happen and that we need to prepare, but it’s completely different from the other incidents.” He sighed. ”It’s nothing tangible. At least, not yet.”

Dean hummed a non-committal sound, his way of letting Castiel know that he was listening but didn’t want to interrupt.

”The disturbing thing is that Gabriel has been getting distressing news for some while now and even Crowley seems worried,” he continued.

”Crowley?” Dean snorted, arching his brows.

Castiel narrowed his eyes and clenched himself around Dean’s knot on purpose.

”Uhh,” Dean groaned, shuddering. ”Don’t do that. We’re trying to have a conversation, remember?”

”Then don’t be an ass,” Castiel said. ”Crowley may be pompous and arrogant, but we need him—probably more than he needs us.” He clenched once more just to hear Dean’s breath stutter and then apologized by nuzzling the underside of the alpha’s jaw and rested his cheek against his shoulder. 

”I feel like something’s coming and all we can do is to wait,” he whispered.

Dean kissed the top of his head and resumed the slow circling with his hand. ”Have you talked to Pamela yet?”

”No. Sam hasn’t located her yet.”

It wasn’t uncommon. Pamela had the habit of disappearing at times, and no-one seemed to know where she’d gone. Sometimes she was away for a week, sometimes moons, but she always returned.

”Well, we’re not defenseless,” Dean pointed out. ”Our clan is strong, our stocks are full, and we’re healthy. We also have wise leaders.”

”Oh-hoy, not being coy, are you, my Lord?” Castiel crowed.

”Smartass,” Dean grumbled and nipped his shoulder gently. ”I wasn’t talking about myself, I was talking about Bobby, Rufus, Victor, Pamela, and Matron Mills.”

Castiel leaned his head back and gave him a stern look. ”Don’t sell yourself short. You are a good Lord and a competent leader. You’re not afraid to make hard decisions, you always have the best of your people in mind, and you worry about them. Sometimes too much.”

Dean dropped his gaze with a small nod. ”Thank you,” he said quietly.

Castiel nodded, satisfied that Dean hadn’t started protesting. He’d worked hard to make Dean understand and come to terms with what a good alpha he was and even though he still doubted himself, he was able to accept praise. 

They’d come a long way in three summers.

While they’d talked, Dean’s knot had gradually deflated. Castiel didn’t get up to wash up like he usually did but stayed put. He felt Dean shift a bit as if wanting to check if everything was alright, so he sniffed and snuggled closer, pressing a kiss into the soft skin just behind Dean’s ear. 

He didn’t want to get up, he wanted to stay in the gentle heat of the sauna, in the small, warm cocoon they’d created together. 

Attuned to his mood, Dean held him close and breathed him in, syncing his breathing with Castiel’s. He hadn’t really softened inside Castiel so it didn’t take him long to get fully hard again, yet another sign of the nearing heat.

Castiel ground down in a slow, gyrating move until he felt Dean’s knot expanding again and then he clamped down, bringing Dean over the edge, following soon after.

This time, when Dean’s knot went down, he bodily lifted Castiel off. ”It’s not that I don’t enjoy you on my lap, but I need a drink before I end up a prune,” he said dryly and kissed him before he went to get the pitcher of honeyed water.

Castiel was too blissed out to comment and lay down on his side on the bench and let his eyes roam on the naked alpha in front of him.

”What are you looking at?” Dean asked with an arched brow as he glanced behind him.

Castiel sighed. ”My alpha. The man who gave me two beautiful pups. My mate,” he said softly.

Dean blinked and ducked his head, slightly taken aback by the straightforwardness and muttered, ”Sap,” under his breath. 

But their bond flooded with emotion, letting Castiel know just how much he was loved back.

During the upcoming weeks, the dreams turned even more obscure. The sense of urgency grew and now when Castiel woke up, he couldn’t shake a feeling of foreboding. Several times a day, he found himself at the wall, staring into the South, and wondering what was coming.

It didn’t take the castlefolk long to notice their Laird’s concern. They reacted in the practical way they always did: the number of totems increased both around Castiel and the pups and in the castle perimeter, and if Castiel knew their people, they had also set a totem-based warning bell system throughout out the territory.

He wasn’t sure whether to be touched or embarrassed.

Then, one night a half moon after he’d read Gabriel’s note, he woke up with a gasp. It was dark, the waning moon hanging low in a thin crescent and providing only little light. Careful not to wake Dean or the pups, Castiel walked to the window and cocked his head, hearing a slow, faint hum calling for him. 

He wasn’t scared: the long wait was over. 

A cold snout touched his fingers and he glanced down. The wolf stood by his side as a silent shadow, waiting. Castiel didn’t say anything, just inclined his head at the door. The wolf cast a critical glance at the sleeping forms on the bed but followed, like Castiel had known he would. As much as the wolf was dedicated to protecting the pups, he wouldn’t let him leave the castle alone.

Silently, they made their way through empty corridors, into the castle yard and towards the smaller side-gate. The sleepy guard hastily corrected her pose and nodded a greeting at him while her raccoon totem bowed her head at the wolf. 

At Castiel’s silent request, she opened the gate and let them through.

The meadow outside the castle was ominously silent and in the meager light the sliver of moon provided, it looked almost unrecognizable. Castiel didn’t need the light, though. To him, the meadow was as familiar as his own chambers, and he knew he could walk across it even with his eyes closed. The air was surprisingly warm for a late Fall night, and in other circumstances, Castiel would’ve enjoyed the walk. He’d always liked the quiet of the night but after arriving at the North, he’d fallen in love with it. 

Fingers brushing the fur on the back of the wolf’s neck, he walked forward, towards the pull.

As they neared the edge of the meadow, Castiel realized they weren’t alone. Several totems trailed behind them and at least a dozen were flying overhead, circling around him. When he took a glance around, he saw many more approaching. Apparently, either whatever was calling to him was also calling to the totems, or his odd mood had them more concerned than before.

Before Castiel realized, they were by the bridge marking the edge of the castle’s imminent area, and he stopped. 

From above him, he heard a piercing scream and recognized Sam’s owl. He glanced up as the snowy owl glided down and landed on his left shoulder, followed by Pamela’s ptarmigan on his right. Castiel didn’t have time to wonder why in the Heavens Pamela’s totem was there when he heard two other fierce screams.

Apparently, both Rufus and Victor’s totems were present as well. 

Castiel frowned. The encounter was far from ordinary to begin with, but having the highest ranking totems of both the spiritual and military sides of the clan was highly uncommon.

Everything was quiet, waiting. 

Castiel stood silent, watching the curve on the road ahead. If it wasn’t for the talons of the totems gripping his shoulders almost painfully and his fingers grooming the neck of the wolf, he would’ve thought he was dreaming. He felt strangely disconnected and wondered what an odd welcoming party they were; an omega standing barefoot in the middle of a road, wearing only his nightgown and a hooded, fur-trimmed long cape, surrounded by a wide variety of different totems.

When Rufus’s buzzard let out another challenging scream, it was like an electric current surged through the totems. Absently, Castiel noticed his shoulders were burning from where the talons had pierced his skin, but it all faded to the background as his whole focus narrowed to the point where the road vanished behind the trees. He felt suspended in time, holding his breath, and then a small band of people finally emerged from the shadow. 

It was like the tension that he had felt for moons snapped, leaving lightheaded. He swayed, grateful for the grounding weight and grip of the totems on his shoulders.

The group had noticed Castiel and the mass of totems and stopped right there, halfway back into the shadow of the forest they’d emerged from. 

After a long silence, one of them—the leader by the bearing and an unmistakable alpha air—started walking toward them. He (Castiel assumed it was a he) was wrapped in a long cape and he walked with a cane, accompanied by a limping canine totem. Something in his bearing was strangely familiar.

Stopping a good way from the bridge, the man called out, ”I would like to seek an audience with the Lord of Grey Castle.” His voice was deep and rang with authority. 

Castiel frowned and cocked his head. 

No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

To buy time, Castiel asked, ”Why?”

The man made an impatient move with his head but visibly reined himself in and turned his head ever so slightly, taking in the mass of totems staring at him. After a moment of contemplation, he said, ”The South is lost. I failed in my duty to protect my family and my people, and I came here to ask for help.” He bowed his head and added, under his breath so softly that Castiel had to strain his ears to hear. ”I had nowhere else to go.”

Castiel’s eyes widened but he had to be sure. ”And why would the Lord of Grey Castle want to help you?” he asked calmly.

The man stepped forward and pushed back his hood, revealing a gaunt face Castiel had thought he’d never see again.

Michael, the alpha of the Novak clan, drew in a ragged breath and said, ”Because his mate is my brother.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Castiel couldn’t suppress a snort. He pushed down his hood and asked, dryly, ”Do you really think that argument appeals to Dean?”

Michael gave him a long look. ”Castiel,” he finally said and nodded slowly. ”I shouldn’t be surprised. I had heard of a strange force gathering in the North and of course, you are right in the middle of it.” He tilted his head and gave an assessing look to the totems surrounding them. ”Are you controlling them?” he asked, almost curious.

”The Northern Totems aren’t controlled by anyone. They choose their own paths,” Castiel said softly and got a quiet chitter from Sam’s owl while Pamela’s ptarmigan pressed her beak into his hair for a short moment.

”I see,” Michael said. ”And where is your ermine?”

”Back in the castle with my family,” Castiel answered. 

With the wolf padding after him, Castiel walked across the bridge and gasped as he got closer. Michael looked worn, old beyond his years with a drawn face and haunted eyes. His curly coated retriever was no better; he was limping badly and the left side of his face was a scarred mess.

”What happened?” he demanded.

Michael’s face took the special patronizing and pinched look that Castiel remembered from their heated arguments about proper for an omega behavior. But they were in the North now, and Castiel had no patience for any of this. 

Under his fingers, he felt an almost subvocal growl from the wolf as he drew himself to his full height. ”I am the Laird of Grey Castle,” he said coldly, ”and you will answer my question. Or, if your pride means more to you than your people, please cling to your outdated views and leave.”

His irritation flared hotly and he felt his mate tug at their bond, but he ignored it, staring at Michael.

After a tense moment, Michael nodded stiffly. ”Two summers ago, I received a letter from an acquaintance claiming that Luke was gathering an army and on his way to kill me and our clan. I didn’t believe her. I was wrong.” He fell silent and Castiel could see his jaw working. ”He didn’t kill our clan. He slaughtered it.” Michael shook his head. ”Abner and Alfie are dead, Mother too. My—” He swallowed and when he raised his head to meet his eyes, Castiel reeled at the raw pain he saw on his brother’s face. ”All I have left is a small band of loyal men. And you.”

Castiel would’ve fallen on his knees if it weren’t for the wolf and the totems on his shoulders grounding him. He felt Dean’s alarm through the bond and responded with a hurried reassurance to let Dean know he wasn’t in any danger. Then he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and allowed himself the briefest moment of deep sorrow.

Heavens, take care of them.

Then he took a deep breath, set aside the grieving omega, and became the Laird of Grey Castle once more.  

He reached his right hand over to his left shoulder and Sam’s snowy owl jumped from his shoulder on his forearm and met his gaze with unblinking intensity. ”Sam, alert Ellen and Bobby,” Castiel said. ”We need food and rooms for—” he paused and glanced at Michael who was staring at him like he’d suddenly grown a second head. ”How many men do you have?” 

When Michael didn’t immediately answer, Castiel snapped his fingers in front of Michael’s nose.

Michael jerked and blinked. ”Seventeen,” he said, sounding suddenly exhausted. ”Seventeen men and nine horses.”

Reining in his horror about the small number, Castiel nodded once and turned back to the owl. ”You heard him. Seventeen men and nine horses. I’m bringing them in.”

The owl tilted his head and blinked slowly before he launched into the air with a haunting cry.

”Come,” Castiel said quietly, holding out his hand to his brother. ”Welcome to Grey Castle.”

The walk back to the castle was silent. 

Castiel tried sending some of the totems ahead, but they refused, staying stubbornly behind and surrounding them. Michael cast a suspicious glance at them, visibly disturbed by the sight of so many totems without their humans. Castiel gave a half-hearted thought of explaining him the Northern ways but decided against it. There would be time for conversations later.

The wolf walked in between him and Michael, ignoring both the exhausted alpha and his men who trailed behind them. Castiel could feel the weight of their eyes in the back of his head and wondered what they saw. 

How many of them even knew who he was? How many were aware of the circumstances in which he had been sent away—or how Gabriel had left? 

What did they see when they looked at Michael?

He stole a glance at his brother from the corner of his eye. Castiel wasn’t sure how much of Michael’s coldness was his nature and how much had been put there by necessity. He knew his brother wasn’t a bad alpha, but he was a stubborn one, often unable to see past his own rigid morals and rules.

What in the Heavens’ name had gone so wrong? 

According to Gabriel, Michael and Luke had always had more or less friendly sibling rivalry, but the death of their Father had spurred Luke’s ambition and pushed him to fight for dominance and the title of the clan alpha. In the end, Luke had lost both the title and his pride and fled overseas with his eagle owl totem. 

While prolonged fights for clan leadership weren’t unheard-of, they weren’t exactly common either. Usually, the lost party bowed to the winning one and accepted their fate, but sometimes it wasn’t enough for either of them. Sometimes, the bloody ones had ended up on the pages of history books and lived on as warnings of how not to deal with dents in one’s pride. 

Castiel had never thought he’d end up living in one of those tales.

When they finally arrived at the castle, the gates were open and the castle yard lit with dozens of torches. Dean, Sam, Gabriel, Ellen, Bobby, Rufus, Victor, and Pamela were waiting for them in the middle of the yard, standing in a half arch. As Castiel led Michael forward, his men stayed behind, both at their own accord and because the castle guards stepped forward to block their way.

Dean was standing a couple of steps in front of the others in a seemingly relaxed posture, but Castiel felt the thrumming tension in their bond. Dean’s gaze flickered from Michael to his totem and behind him to his small band of men and back again. 

”Michael of the Novak clan,” he finally said. ”I never expected to see you here.”

Michael inclined his head. ”And I never expected to come here,” he answered. 

”I understood you have news from the South,” Dean said. It wasn’t phrased as a question.

Michael opened his mouth to answer but was cut short by a thin wail from somewhere behind them. 

Castiel’s head snapped up and he whirled around, staring wide-eyed at Michael’s men. ”You have a pup with you?” he asked, incredulous. ”Why didn’t you say anything?”

”I wasn’t sure—” Michael started but stopped and shook his head. ”I was afraid,” he admitted and beckoned one of his men forward.

The one who stepped closer with a bundle in his arms was Raphael, one of the few of Michael’s men Castiel knew from before. He was a stoic, dark-skinned man who never spoke much but who was endlessly loyal to his Lord. He didn’t make it further than half a dozen steps when the wolf jogged to meet him and stopped right in front of him, forcing him to halt. Raphael’s black panther totem bared his teeth in a silent hiss but the wolf ignored him. 

”What in the name of the Heavens,” Michael started, alarmed, and reached out for his sword.

”Stop,” Castiel said sharply, grabbing a hold of his arm. ”Don’t,” he said, softer. ”He’s not going to hurt your pup.”

Michael whirled around with wide eyes. ”How did you know she was mine?” he asked.

Castiel gave him a sad smile. ”Because the only reason you’d run from a fight was if you were protecting something more precious to you than your own pride.”

”My Lord,” Raphael said, his urgent question snapping Michael’s attention back to the pup. ”What do you want me to do?”

”Kneel,” Dean said from behind them. ”Our totem wants to see her.”

Raphael blinked but it was the only outward sign of his bewilderment. There was a tense moment when he waited for Michael to react and, after Castiel poked him on the side, he nodded.

Carefully, Raphael went down on one knee and unwrapped the bundle a bit to let the wolf see the pup. Her thin wail turned into a full scream as soon as the cool air hit her and Castiel winced, remembering that particular tone of scream too well. The pup sounded young and he wondered where the mother was.

The wolf took a delicate sniff at the pup, then gathered the wrappings in his mouth and with utmost care, lifted her from bewildered Raphael’s arms and started carrying her towards the servants’ quarters.

Castiel shot Dean a ’wait here’ look over his shoulder and tugged Michael to follow. ”When was the last time she was properly fed?” he asked.

”What?” Michael asked. ”I don’t know—”

”It’s been a while,” Raphael said from behind them. ”We were rationing the milk but we ran out yesterday and—”

”Your pup is way too young to travel without her mother,” Castiel snapped and immediately wished he could take the words back. ”Luke killed your mate, didn’t he?”

Michael let out a choked sound. ”She died protecting her.”

Castiel sighed and squeezed Michael’s arm as the wolf trotted around the corner, the curious castlefolk hurrying out of the way.

”We have a maid who recently gave birth to a healthy pup,” he reassured. ”She has more than enough, and your daughter needs to be fed.”

By the time the wolf stopped at a door, the pup’s screams had turned into sniffling and hiccups. Castiel rapped a polite knock on the door and waited. After a moment, he heard shuffling steps and a confused man—a beta guard if Castiel remembered correctly—opened the door, a brown canine totem at his heel.

”Good evening,” Castiel greeted. ”I’m sorry to wake you and your family but we have an emergency of sorts. May we come in?”

The man nodded, bewildered, and stepped aside.

”Mads? What is it?” a sleepy woman asked from the other side of the room. She was holding a small pup in her arms, another trailing after her.

”You cannot be serious,” Michael hissed in Castiel’s ear. ”You would want my daughter to feed beside this common…whelp?”

Castiel turned to give him a flat look. ”I’d like to keep your daughter alive. If you want to breastfeed your pup yourself, brother, be my guest. But unless you’ve suddenly discovered a way for alpha males to lactate, I suggest you take your head from your ass and make sure your daughter—my pups’ cousin—doesn’t starve.”

Michael jutted his chin and opened his mouth but didn’t get a word out when the maid rolled her eyes and huffed, ”Oh for goodness’ sake.” She handed her own pup to her mate, marched to the wolf, picked up Michael’s daughter, and turned to walk to the rocking chair by the fireplace, unlacing her bodice at the same time. The pup had latched on and was hungrily eating before she even sat down.

”Oh, you’re a hungry one, sweetheart,” she murmured and started to rock back and forth. ”You’re welcome to leave your guard by the door if you like,” she continued, never taking her eyes off the pup. ”But if he makes any noise and disturbs the pups, I’ll geld him in his sleep.”

Mads shot Raphael an apologetic smile and shrugged. ”Menna will, trust me.”

”Anything else, my Laird?” Menna asked with an arched brow.

”No, thank you,” Castiel said with a small twitch of his lips and bodily pushed Michael away.

Raphael sat down on a chair Mads pointed him, stoic and impassive, just like Castiel remembered him. His black panther took one assessing look around the room and settled down by his feet, his half-lidded eyes intent on the pup on Menna’s breast.

In a way, Castiel was glad his brother was having such a hard time leaving his pup behind. He hoped it meant Michael cared deeply about his daughter and wasn’t just reluctant to leave a leverage on a potentially hostile alpha’s territory. 

And then he gave himself an internal shake. Perhaps he should leave the cynicism to Gabriel.

”I understand you’re worried but she’s safe,” he said as he started leading his reluctant brother to Dean’s office. ”Your daughter will be fed and taken care of. Menna is a dedicated mother and we Northerners love pups.”

Michael frowned and opened his mouth but Castiel didn’t let him speak. ”Your men will be provided with food and drink and given quarters to rest.” He beckoned his head at the direction of Dean’s office. ”You need to debrief Dean.”

”Now?” Michael asked. 

Castiel cocked his head. ”You asked for a refuge and said you’re fleeing from war. Don’t you think it’s something that should be addressed rather sooner than later?” He patted Michael on the shoulder and said, ”Don’t worry, you’ll get food too.”

Apart from Dean, the others were already in Dean’s office, nursing cups of steaming, fragrant tea. On Dean’s table was a massive tray laden with food and beside it, three pots of tea. Michael’s stomach let out a loud rumble and he flushed.

Ellen curtly pointed at the tray, indicating Michael should help himself. ”There’s more where that came from, so there’s no need to be shy,” he said and sat down beside Bobby, sneaking a piece of cake from his plate. 

A muscle on Michael’s temple jumped but he refrained from saying anything. Castiel guessed he’d expected Ellen to serve him and, knowing her, she’d done the exact opposite to spite him. He heaved an internal sigh and walked past Michael to get himself a plate. 

A short moment later, Michael joined him. He was obviously starved and his deeply ingrained manners were probably the only thing preventing him from tearing into the food. He finished his portion in no time and cast a sideways glance at the remaining food.

”I said there’s no need to be shy,” Ellen repeated. ”However, if you upset your stomach and throw up, you’re cleaning it up,” she added dryly.

Michael’s stiff back was the only answer she got.

”What do you think about the strawberry lingonberry jam?” Castiel asked, after watching Michael spoon it all over his plate. ”It’s seasoned with rosemary and cloves, Gabriel’s secret recipe. It’s quite delicious.”

Michael’s fork froze halfway to his mouth and his eyes darted around, taking in the raised brows of the Northerners around him. Slowly, he put the cold venison and potatoes covered in said jam into his mouth and chewed. ”It’s not something I would’ve thought about but it…fits,” he said carefully.

Castiel snorted, sharing an amused look with Gabriel. 

”Castiel,” Michael said. ”You told me I need to debrief Dean. Where is he?”

”Around,” Gabriel said from the back of the room. He hadn’t bothered with getting his own tea, taking a sip every once in a while from Sam’s cup.

”I wanted an audience with the Lord of Grey Castle,” Michael said stiffly. ”Not a tea party with his minions—”

”See, that’s the reason nobody likes you,” Gabriel bit sharply. ”You think you can just march in here and demand things—”

”Gabriel,” Dean said from the door. He didn’t raise his voice but it was laced with enough alpha to get the message through and truly, Gabriel snapped his mouth shut and meekly tilted his head to bare his neck. 

Castiel heaved another internal sigh. 

Apparently, Gabriel had decided to rub Dean’s alpha authority on Michael’s nose with his little performance. 

The bond told Castiel that luckily, Dean was more exasperated than angry. He leaned on the wall, crossed his arms on his chest and said, ”Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

Visibly reining in his annoyance at being forced to look up at a younger alpha, Michael conceded.

”As you are probably aware,” he started, directing his words at Castiel, ”when you were eleven summers old, our Father passed away. In the resulting power void, Luke and I fought for the alpha status the leadership of the clan. You should remember that by then, I had been doing my duty as a stand-in alpha almost as long as you had been alive. Had Luke accepted my claim, everything would’ve gone peacefully.” He paused and said, more bitter, ”Or if our Father had bothered drawing up a will that clearly stated my position.

”The fight was bitter and dirty but in the end, I was declared the winner and the leader of our clan by several unbiased witnesses. Luke…didn’t take it well. I offered him a chance to stay but he cursed me and stormed away.” Michael shook his head. ”I cannot say I wasn’t relieved and yet I grieved. He was my brother and even though we didn’t always see things the same way, I did not wish him banished.”

He fell silent and stared at his tea, a slight frown between his brows.

”I haven’t heard from him since. I thought he had either died or chose to deal with his status. However, last summer we started hearing… disturbing news.” He glanced at Castiel.

”Really,” Dean said flatly.

Michael ignored him. ”We started hearing rumors of a strange force making itself known in the North. Frankly, I thought they were old wives’ tales,” he said and shrugged. ”Stories of an omega who has made a pact with the very earth itself, stories of plentiful harvests and sunny days. It sounded like a fantasy and I thought nothing more of it.”

Castiel shared a look with Gabriel who had a wolfish grin on his face.

”Last summer, I started getting messages from my contacts in the South. They were deeply troubled about something called a Senmorta, a dark force that was wreaking havoc in the small villages and heading for bigger cities. I thought that was a fantasy as well, and believed it was a clan war that had gotten out of hand. However, when I sailed south on a business trip, I was one day swept away with an enthusiastic crowd, ended up at a marketplace, and saw this Senmorta with my own eyes.” He blew out a long breath and closed his eyes. ”It was Luke.”

”And?” Rufus prompted impatiently. ”So the brother you bested in a fight and kicked out is alive. What’s that got to do with us?”

Michael shot him a glare. Rufus was flatly unimpressed by it.

”Because he is insane,” Michael snapped. ”He has always been charismatic, but this seemed…” He huffed out a frustrated breath. ”It was like the crowd was under a thrall. He spoke with passion and he had this… strange burning in his eyes. They looked almost glowing red. He was speaking about how the people in the North—which in this meant my territory—were basking in the Plenty and the people in the South—as in the crowd he was preaching to—was left with Blight. He promised glory and honor to all who joined his cause to set things right. It was deeply disturbing. 

”I left as soon as I could and spent my journey home trying to figure out how to stop him. But he was already on the move. He came and burned everything, letting his band of rabid dogs on the loose. He came looking for me, crying revenge, and…”

Michael closed his eyes and fell silent. He looked old beyond his years and tired to the bone. A small part of Castiel wanted to go to him and comfort him, but a bigger part forced him to stay still and wait. 

Michael needed to get this out and he needed to do it alone.

Finally, Michael took a shuddering breath and in an emotionless monotone, he said, ”He had Abner’s head on a spike in the end of the first week and Mother’s in the beginning of the second. I didn’t want mine to be the next so I tried to reason with him. He killed my mate Hester but her totem managed to buy me enough time to take my daughter and run. He saw me going and laughed, calling that he’d follow me to the North because ’they had business to do.’ I don’t know what he meant by that.

”And now we are here.” Slowly, he raised his head to give Dean an exhausted, but grim look. ”Your contract with Castiel makes us brothers. I ask your help, brother.”

Dean was silent for a good while, mulling over Michael’s story. ”I know how you treat your brothers,” he finally said in an inscrutable voice. ”And I don’t wish to be one.”

Michael’s nostrils flared. ”This is how you pay your allegiance?” he asked in a low voice, accompanied by his totem’s low rumble.

Rufus’s buzzard leaned forward on the window sill he was perching on and hissed at Michael’s curly coated retriever. 

”We don’t have to pay you shit,” Rufus said bluntly. 

Michael was about to surge up from his chair but Dean interrupted him with a raised hand.

”What ’allegiance’?” he asked. ”You practically sold your own brother as a broodmare as far as you could throw him. We don’t have an allegiance, we have a formal contract that doesn’t actually bind us to anything. Your own magistrate made sure of that.”

”How dare you!” Michael said in a low, dangerous tone.

Dean didn’t answer but he curled his lips and even though his pose never changed, through their bond, Castiel felt he was getting angry. The wolf flickered his ears and yawned with an exaggerated show of his teeth.

”Stop it, both of you,” Ellen snapped. ”You bicker like pups!”

Dean winced but Michael shot up from his chair.

”I refuse to play this charade,” he almost growled. ”I came here in good faith because I thought the Northerners were honorable—”

”Honor?” Gabriel cut in, ignoring Sam’s attempt to stop him. ”You threw out all your brothers. Are you sure you should be talking about honor?”

”You little sh—” Michael started but stopped when Victor gripped his shoulder. 

”You came to us as a beggar, Michael. Beggars can’t be choosers,” Victor said softly. ”Sit. Down.”

Michael’s eyes flickered around the room from one Northerner to another and then, slowly, he sat back down. On the floor, Dean’s wolf loomed over Michael’s totem who slunk back to his position by Michael’s chair.

Castiel sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted. ”The words you are looking for but failed to locate was that you’d like an asylum for yourself, or at least for your daughter,” he said quietly. ”The pup we can take, but you on the other hand…”

Staring sullenly on the floor, Michael didn’t react.

”I don’t know about you but I need to sleep,” Castiel said and yawned as he stood up and turned to leave. ”We’ll continue this later.” When he exited the room with the wolf he heard Dean following him, indicating in no uncertain terms that the meeting was over. 

It was probably rude to leave Michael like that, but Castiel really didn’t want to deal with any of this before he’d gotten even a bit of sleep, a decent meal, and some time to think things through. Then again, it might do Michael some good to stew in his annoyance until the next meeting.

Or not. Michael had never been the most flexible of alphas.

”Did you see what Gabriel did?” he murmured when they walked through the almost empty corridors, nodding at the curious servants in passing. 

Dean snorted and snuck an arm around Castiel’s waist. ”Look who’s talking,” he murmured and nuzzled his neck. ”You ended the meeting with just a couple of words and made me run after you like some lovesick alpha.” Castiel gave him an unimpressed glare and Dean hurried to correct, ”Which I totally am. A very much lovesick alpha.”

Shaking his head, Castiel silently opened the door into their chambers, relieved that the pups were still asleep. He knew that catching a decent sleep this late (or early) was a fool’s hope, but he wished he’d get at least a bit rest. Managing Michael and his troops—let alone a tiny pup—would be a full-time job from now on.

He had no idea how things would turn out from there, but he knew one thing: whatever happened, it would have a lasting impact on their lives.

Castiel spent the following morning in bed, too tired to do more than cuddle with his pups and grieve. Despite being a pompous and stiff alpha, Michael was still his brother and learning how he’d lost his mate—and almost his pup, too—had shaken Castiel more than he first realized. The twins were slightly confused about why their Papa was upset and wanted to hug them so tightly, but they enjoyed the attention thoroughly. His ermine stayed curled around his neck and nuzzling his cheek while the wolf lay near, offering comfort in his steadfast way.

Castiel knew the pain of losing an unborn pup. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain of losing his twins.

At some point, Dean entered their room, took one look at his mate and pups, and joined them on the bed. He wrapped his arms around Castiel and held him almost too hard but Castiel didn’t mind. Snuggled in between the solid frame of his mate and their wriggling pups, he felt anchored and safe. He dozed off surrounded by his family and dreamed of nothing.

The next time Castiel woke up, Dean and the pups were gone and the bed was cool and when he finally made it into the great hall, he realized it was almost lunchtime. He found Michael brooding by the fire with his curly coated retriever by his feet, tense and ready to spring into action. Confused, Castiel followed the line of the totem’s sight and saw Victor’s gyrfalcon sitting on the backrest of a near chair, staring back at the canine totem with fierce eyes.

Castiel wasn’t sure what was going on, but he decided to interrupt anyway. He walked right in between the totems’ stares and asked, ”Are you hungry, brother?”

His brother blinked and raised a brow. ”I’m not sure… I think I could eat.”

Castiel nodded. ”Lunch will be in shortly. You’re welcomed to eat with us if you want to, or you can eat in your room.”

”Here?” Michael asked and looked around. ”There is no Lord’s table in sight.”

Castiel stifled a sigh. 

It wasn’t Michael’s fault their customs were so different, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to ask the Heavens for patience.

”Grey Castle has servants, but they have more important things to do than serving lordlings who have two functioning hands and steady feet to stand on,” he explained. ”We don’t have an elevated Lord’s table because we eat together. You’ll see things are different here in the North.”

”Yes, I can tell,” Michael muttered.

Castiel hummed a non-committal sound and reached down a bit to pet Ellen’s lynx who had wandered in. ”You know, if you truly want our people to fight your war, you should start asking why would they even want to help you. So far, all they’ve seen is a proud Lord without a title and a clan,” Castiel said dryly. 

The lynx butted Castiel so hard he stumbled and only flicked her tail lazily when he chastised her for it. He gave her a final scritch before she prowled closer the fireplace to bask in the warmth, completely ignoring Michael’s totem. 

Castiel looked up to see Michael wear the same horrified expression Gabriel had had the first time he’d seen Castiel petting a totem that wasn’t his own, but the sound of the kitchen maids bringing in the food interrupted anything he might have said. Castiel gave him a small smile and gestured towards the tables while he nudged at his connection to the wolf, asking him to herd the pups down to eat.

Throughout the lunch, Castiel saw Michael’s eyes flit around the hall, taking in the castlefolk filing in, the way they nodded at each other, and the way the pups wandered in to mingle among the adults and totems. Back in the South, there had been a definite hierarchy between the nobler folk and the servants, and even though totems were of course allowed wherever their humans went, they didn’t wander around, let alone jump on strangers.

Michael was about to tear out a chunk of bread when something white and fluffy shot through the crowd and landed straight on Michael’s lap. He let out a startled yelp and stared wide-eyed at the arctic fox wearing a mischievous grin.

Without a second thought, Castiel picked the fox up by the neck. ”I’ve told you not to jump on strangers, haven’t I?” he chastised, poking the totem on the nose. 

The fox flattened her ears and let out a pitiful whine. She was definitely pouting.

”Don’t even start with me, missy,” Castiel huffed. ”I know you better than that.” 

He lowered the totem on the floor and shoved her gently to be on her way. She nipped his fingers playfully before scurrying away with a chitter that sounded a lot like a laugh.

Michael blinked at the exchange. ”Where is her human?” he asked when Castiel turned back to his food. 

Castiel took a cursory look around the hall. ”JoAnn? She’s somewhere. She is Matron Ellen’s daughter, which is probably the reason why her totem doesn’t fear anyone—least of all a scowling strange alpha.”

Michael frowned and tore another chunk of his bread. ”Is that normal here?”

”Is what normal?”

Michael made a vague gesture around with his bread. ”Not being near your totem?”

”Yes,” Castiel said and sipped his mead. ”The Northern totems are fiercely independent. They can be away from their humans for longer time and distance than what we were brought up to believe.”

”And it is…fine to touch other people’s totems?”

Castiel cocked his head and gave the alpha a long look, but Michael’s question seemed to be genuine. ”If the totem initiates the contact, then yes, but not all totems are like JoAnn’s fox who likes to push people out of their comfort zones. Most take their time to get to know you, and some are just bolder than others. But I wouldn’t recommend petting them unless they ask you to.”

Michael shuddered. ”I have no intention to pet other people’s totems, thank you,” he said and reached out his hand to briefly run his fingers through his totem’s curly fur, avoiding the scarred mess on the left side of his face. 

Castiel watched them for a moment before he softly asked, ”What happened to him?”

Michael closed his eyes and gritted his jaw. ”Luke’s eagle owl tried to kill him,” he said in a low voice. ”Hester’s totem managed to distract him enough for me to rip him off, but the damage was already done.” 

He opened his eyes and looked down at his totem. The curly coated retriever pushed himself to sit up and laid his head on Michael’s thigh, gazing back at him with his one, sad eye. 

It was the most vulnerable Castiel had ever seen his brother and he averted his eyes, giving them a semblance of privacy.

It wasn’t uncommon for totems to fight each other in a war. Sometimes it resulted in death which usually meant death for their human as well. What wasn’t common knowledge, though, was that every physical injury the totem suffered echoed back on the human counterpart. 

Suddenly, both Michael’s brittle anger and his totem’s wariness of a bird-of-prey totem made a lot more sense.

Castiel was shaken from his thoughts when his pups barged into the hall, the wolf at their heel. The twins received fondly exasperated looks and ruffling of hair as the castlefolk stepped over and around them as they now were used to doing. JoAnn hurried in after them and helped them to settle down to eat on a nearby table, all the while listening to their constant babbling with rapt attention.

”Is she their nanny?” Michael asked.

Castiel chuckled. ”JoAnn? Heavens, no. She’s good for occasional pup-sitting duty, but I wouldn’t leave them with her for a longer time. Not because she didn’t love them or couldn’t handle them, but because they would be completely out of control afterward.”

Michael blinked. ”Do they even have a nanny?”

Castiel shook his head. ”Those pups are the future leaders of this clan,” he said. ”We want them to grow up among their people, to learn to do things together and work together.” He gave Michael a stilted smile. ”You cannot expect your people to trust you if you don’t really know them.”

He downed the rest of his mead and nodded a goodbye. He was getting easily irritable and he didn’t want to stir up a fight with his brother. Instead, he went to help JoAnn who seemed to be on the losing side of a battle between the twins and the stew.

After lunch, he carried his pups back into their chambers. In all honesty, they were getting too heavy to be carried at the same time but as long as they demanded it, Castiel wasn’t going to deny them. He was still feeling tired so they ended up in a pile in the middle of the bed, telling stories to each other. It was something Castiel remembered doing as a pup with Gabriel: either one would start a story and they would tell it in turns, picking up where the other left it. 

Now, their combinations varied: some days, it was just Marcel, Maryann, and Castiel; other days also Gabriel, Sam, Dean, and Bobby were present. But no matter who participated, the story time always ended up in giggles as the tales spun out of control. Last time, Bobby’s elk had grown wings and flown away into the stars with the twins.

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep with the pups laying on top of him and jolted awake when Dean gently helped the pups down and the wolf herded them out.

”Evening, sleepyhead,” Dean greeted and kissed him. ”Rough day?”

Castiel frowned and rubbed his face. ”How long was I asleep?”

Dean shrugged. ”I don’t know. It’s past dinner time, so I guess a while? I’ve been pouring over plans with Bobby and Victor the whole day, and I’m still not satisfied with what we’ve got.” He sat beside Castiel and tugged his boots off. 

”How so?” Castiel asked as he got up to get some dried fruit from the side table. The lunch had been filling and he wasn’t actually hungry, but he was feeling slightly restless. ”Is it about the castle or about Michael?”

Dean took his shirt off and padded after him, hooked his chin over his shoulder, and slipped his hands under his tunic, making Castiel shiver. ”Both, I think. We need more information before I can even think about presenting this to the Council.” He nuzzled his nose under Castiel’s jaw. ”You smell sweeter,” he murmured, ”and you’re restless. How long do you think before your heat hits?”

”If you’re already noticing it, probably not long,” Castiel said, arching his neck to give Dean better access. ”We need to start making preparations. Do you think Sam and Gabriel would agree to take the pups?”

Dean hummed. ”Sam already volunteered, and there are others willing to help if he and Gabe get overwhelmed.” He held Castiel tighter and ran his nose along the curve of Castiel’s neck. ”I can’t wait to spend the heat with you again.”

The growl in Dean’s voice made Castiel dizzy and he dropped his head back to rest on Dean’s shoulder, baring his throat. Against his back, Dean hardened and Castiel’s body eagerly answered to his mate’s call. Dean’s hand snuck down into Castiel’s pants and the other splayed against his chest, keeping him steady. Castiel went limp in his alpha’s hold, enjoying the way Dean knew how to play his body with love and confidence and how Castiel responded to his touch. 

As Dean’s hand closed around his cock, Castiel lolled his head to the side and pressed his nose against Dean’s skin, tasting him and reveling in the small shudder it earned him. They stayed like that, close and entwined, as Dean gently worked him over until Castiel came with a moan he buried in his alpha’s neck.

They caught their breath and shared a long, heated kiss before Dean cleaned him up and led him to bed. Castiel made a half-hearted attempt to reciprocate, but Dean shook his head. 

”This was for you, Cas. I can wait,” he said softly and lay down behind him, cradling him in his arms.

Content and sated, Castiel snuggled close to his mate and fell asleep.

His heat hit a couple of days later. It was the first one after the twins were born and even though he was slightly nervous about how things would go, Castiel was happy to spend a week alone with his mate. They had planned everything in advance so that they had people watching over the pups as well as running the castle while both the Lord and the Laird were occupied. Even though their noses weren’t fully developed yet, the pups smelled something was off and combined with Castiel and Dean’s strange behavior, it was enough to make them teary-eyed and clingy, and not even Gabriel’s funny faces didn’t placate them. 

Castiel hoped their dedicated caretakers were prepared for the temper tantrums for the foreseeable future.

The last day before he descended into full heat, Dean followed him everywhere. The hovering was something that usually annoyed him to no end but in the soft pre-heat haze, Castiel enjoyed it. He leaned on his alpha for support as he fed him small morsels of food, and Dean’s steady heartbeat and earthy nutmeg and pine scent warmed him from inside out. 

The castlefolk understood their Lord’s possessive behavior and circled around them with more tact than they usually showed. However, when Dean started to growl at one of Michael’s men in the castle yard, Sam decided to step in. 

”Heavens, Dean,” he huffed. ”You act like an adolescent. Go take care of your mate, we’ll handle things here.”

”Yes, take care of me,” Castiel purred and batted his lashes, then let out a breathy laugh when Dean growled, took him in his arms, and started towards their chambers. As much as Castiel disliked the traditional roles of alpha and omega, he enjoyed these rare moments when they both could let go and enjoy their secondary genders.

Also, if Castiel had been more present, he would’ve enjoyed the bewildered look on Michael’s face a lot more. 

In their chambers, Dean took his time undressing him, kissing and caressing every bit of exposed skin. Castiel closed his eyes and let himself just enjoy, basking in his alpha’s attention. In full heat, he would be demanding and ruthlessly seek his own release, and even though he knew Dean loved it, he wanted to start in a more intimate and quiet way. 

He wanted to give them both time to be just them: alpha and omega, Dean and Castiel.

Dean led him to bed and laid him down, worshiped him from head to toe and whispered his love into his skin. When he finally pushed in and renewed his mating bite, Castiel felt like he was about to fly apart and his alpha was his wings, raising him higher and higher until he met the sun in a burst of white light. 

And then there was just overwhelming love, keeping him safe and close.

His heat lasted a full week and by the end of it, they were both exhausted. 

”Thank the Heavens it’s over,” Dean mumbled into the crook of Castiel’s neck and held him close as the last tremors ran through him. ”I don’t think I’d manage another round. Don’t get me wrong, you are awesome, but… my poor everything.”

Castiel snorted and gyrated his hips, tugging Dean a bit in the process. He rolled his eyes at his mate’s pitiful whining and asked,”Your poor everything? You haven’t been the one being plowed like a fallow field for seven days.”

”I only did what you asked me,” Dean said and fake bit him on the shoulder. ”Ordered, if we’re being specific.”

”I know. And you loved every moment of it.” Castiel reminded him, craned his neck to kiss Dean, and pressed back to fit more snugly against his chest. 

As much as they’d enjoyed themselves, Dean was right. Seven days of intense lovemaking was truly exhausting even with his heat helping them out, and he was relieved it was over. 

However, now that his heat was over…

”We need to decide what to do about Michael,” he said quietly.

Dean sighed. ”I know,” he said, hooked his chin over Castiel’s shoulder and twined their fingers together. ”If he wants to, he’s welcomed to stay here. I’m not saying I’m happy about it—your brother is still a dick—but he’s family. And his daughter needs a safe place to grow up.”

Castiel let out a non-committal hum. ”And what if he refuses to stay?”

He felt Dean shrug behind him. ”I can’t force him to stay if he doesn’t want to. If he decides to leave and take his pup with him, it’s his right.” He stopped for a moment, pressed his nose into Castiel’s hair and just breathed.

”But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?” he continued. ”If he wants to wage war, there’s nothing I can do about it. Technically, I’m bound to him via you, but…” 

Dean’s knot had deflated and as he slipped out, he flopped on his back and let out a frustrated breath. Castiel turned around and snuggled close, resting his head on the alpha’s chest. 

”I don’t like it,” Dean said quietly. ”Michael isn’t just proud but he has troubles listening to others. If I went with him, he’d be required to share leadership. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against authorities as such—” (Castiel snorted, but Dean ignored him) ”—but I want to be able to make sure his pride doesn’t put our people in danger.”

Dean reached down and pulled a sheet to cover them up and carded his fingers through Castiel’s hair.

”And I’m worried about being away from you,” he admitted quietly.

Castiel raised his head and gave him a fond look. ”We’ll be fine here,” he said gently.

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. ”But what if I won’t be,” he said. 

”Oh, my alpha,” Castiel whispered and surged up to kiss him. He pressed close and tried to convey as much love as he could through their bond, to make sure Dean understood just how much he meant to him. 

They rested like that for a good while, enjoying the closeness and intimacy until the stained sheets and general stickiness became too much. They got up and Dean opened the window to air the room and changed the sheets while Castiel cleaned himself up with the last clean towels they had. 

Finally, in clean tunics, they’d almost made it back to bed when they heard a tentative knock.

”Are you alive in there?” Sam asked without opening the door. ”The pups want to see you and your wolf was pretty certain that we’re welcome.”

”Back to the reality,” Castiel murmured into Dean’s ear before telling Sam that it was okay to come in. 

He’d barely said it when the door slammed open and the twins rushed in and ran to the bed to climb all over them. The wolf trotted in, gave an unimpressed look at the pile of sheets in the corner, and curled on the sofa. The ermine hurried to give Castiel’s fingers an affectionate nip but before he had the chance to pet him, the sleek totem ran after the wolf and buried himself under the wolf’s jaw. 

Castiel hid a smile. 

”Wow,” Sam said, scrunching his nose as he walked in. ”A good thing the pups’ noses aren’t that sharp yet.”

”Don’t whine when you’re the one who wanted to come in in the first place,” Dean said, his voice muffled as Maryann crawled over him. ”Besides, we aired. You should be grateful.”

”Believe me, I am,” Sam said with feeling. ”Do you want a bathtub brought up or would you rather go to the sauna?”

Castiel cocked his head and raised a brow. Dean nodded. ”Sauna would be better, I think.”

Sam smirked. ”I figured. Bobby has already heated it up, but we’re leaving the choice of bathing alone or with the pups to you.”

Castiel didn’t even have to think about it. ”With the pups, of course,” he said, and smiled when Dean nodded.

After the week-long separation, the twins were overexcited and jittery. They spent the entire bathing time close to either of them and babbled constantly, sputtering as they caught water in their mouths but keeping on going without missing a beat. 

It was pure chaos and Castiel loved every moment of it.

When they finally made it back to the castle, their chambers had been thoroughly cleaned and aired out and a large tray laden with their favorite foods and drinks was waiting for them. Castiel decided it was a special occasion so they took the tray to bed and ate there. 

After all the excitement, the pups fell asleep in no time. Castiel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the heady scents of his mate and the happy, safe pups. When he opened his eyes, he met Dean’s fond eyes and they shared a smile.

Tonight, they needed to be just parents.

Tomorrow, they would be the Lord and Laird once more.

When Castiel told Michael that Dean would take the issue to the Council, his reaction was one of confused outrage.

”What do you mean, he will discuss it with the Council?” he asked slowly, a growl of alpha in his voice.

Castiel wasn’t fazed. ”I mean exactly that: Dean cannot make the decision himself, he needs to talk about it with the Council, and then they will vote,” Castiel explained.

Michael’s nostrils flared. ”But—he’s the Lord!”

”It doesn’t matter. In the North, we decide things together,” Castiel reminded him for perhaps the hundredth time. ”Dean might be the Lord of Grey Castle, but if he tries to dictate how things are done, our clan will walk out and he’ll be the Lord of a pile of rocks.” He shook his head. ”Without the clan, the Lord is nothing. You of all people should know that,” he said bluntly.

”What good is a Lord that can’t even give orders to his people?” Michael asked, exasperated.

Castiel gave him a flat look. ”Since you know so much about being a Lord, why don’t you start with taking a trip to the kitchen and order Ellen around?” he suggested. Michael blanched and Castiel raised a brow. ”Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.”

He sighed and beckoned his head, asking Michael to follow him outside. 

”Did you know that for a long time, the Northerners didn’t even have a Lord lineage?” he asked conversationally and handed Michael a light, hooded cape. It was an overcast day and the clouds were hanging heavy with a promise of rain. They would need the capes sooner or later.

Michael raised a brow and donned the cape on. ”Really?” he said flatly.

Castiel ignored his tone and nodded. ”Really. They lived in smaller settlements and only gathered together for events like the harvest or Midwinter Festival. There wasn’t a ’Winchester clan’ until Dean’s great-grandfather Henry negotiated a deal between the families and started building the castle. It’s also why the castle is so far from Maple Falls. He didn’t want to impose and put himself at the center of the clan, but wanted to have a more remote stronghold instead.”

”Ah. That explains why no-one knew about the clan.”

Castiel shrugged. ”Not really. We don’t have much interest in the outside world. We have everything we need right here,” he said and motioned with his hand. 

Above them hovered several aviating totems, keeping watch as they continued walking at a leisurely pace towards the familiar, well-worn path. Ever since the first winter, Castiel had taken a habit of walking it at least once a day and by now, he could walk it even with his eyes closed.  

From the corner of his eye, he saw Michael watching him with a slight frown. 

”It is really true, isn’t it?” he asked slowly. ”They truly believe that you are the one that healed the land and who binds the clan together.”

Castiel gave him a surprised look. ”Who have you been talking to? I doubt that Sam would give you information like that and you can’t stand being in the same room with Gabriel.” 

”Ah… actually, it was Pamela,” Michael said hesitantly. 

Pamela? Castiel thought. What in the Heavens is she up to? He didn’t let his surprise show but instead asked, ”Oh? And what did she say?” 

When Michael didn’t immediately answer, Castiel turned to look at him and saw a pinched look on his face. 

”She—she advised me to… ’grow a pair’ and ’take my head out of my ass so that I could actually see what was going on’,” Michael admitted after a moment, wincing at the language.

Castiel tried and failed to suppress a laugh. ”That would be Pamela, yes,” he chuckled. ”She has absolutely no tolerance for stupid posturing, and I guess you fell right into that category.”

Michael shook his head as if trying to get rid of an unpleasant memory. ”Who is she, anyway?”

Castiel took a deep breath as he looked up to the sky. ”Nobody knows for sure,” he said slowly. ”She claims she doesn’t have The Sight, but she knows more about the Ancestors than anyone else. She’s the one who helped Sam and Gabriel name the glyphs they found on the old tomes.” He stopped and swallowed. ”She’s also the one who helped me after I… tried to kill myself.”

Even after all this time, it wasn’t easy for Castiel to say out loud what he had tried to do, but with every passing moon, it got easier. The pain of his miscarriage and the burden of his sorrow would never really go away but bit by bit, he was managing it.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Then Michael cleared his throat and said, stiffly, ”I am truly sorry for what you have gone through.” 

It wasn’t an apology but at least Michael tried.

”Thank you,” Castiel said quietly. 

They walked on in slightly awkward silence. To distract himself, Castiel checked in on the connection with the wolf. He was guarding the pups and Linda while they were out gathering herbs and roots for dyeing and if the emotion Castiel got back was anything to go by, it was just as boring as it sounded.

Castiel snuck a look at Michael’s totem trotting beside him in a limping gait. Much like Michael, the curly coated retriever had never been the warmest of totems but he was even more withdrawn now. Castiel wondered if he would ever heal from his wounds or if he was permanently damaged. The thought made him uneasy and he raised his hand to stroke his ermine, curled around his neck.

After some time, when they had passed the sauna cabin and the path curved back towards the castle, Michael cleared his throat and asked, ”What does the Council do, exactly?”

”They manage things in Maple Falls as the representatives of the people,” Castiel said. ”Basically, as the leader of the clan, Dean is in charge of the whole area. He delegates responsibility to me, the Laird; to Gabriel, the treasurer; to Bobby who is the Captain of the Rangers; to Rufus who is the Captain of the Castle Guard; and to the Council that is the ruling member of, well, the people. 

”The Council consists of voted members of the community and they can be voted in or out the office. In many cases, the Council’s vote weighs as much as mine or Dean’s, but it depends. Of course, the Lord has the final vote and he can veto the Council’s decision in dire need.” He paused and cocked his head. ”There’s a chance that this will be the first time it happens.”

Michael nodded, listening carefully. ”And who are the members of the council?” he asked. Michael’s question itself was innocent but the certain calculation visible in his eyes was not.

Castiel gave him a narrow-eyed look. ”I hope you’re not planning on sweet-talking or bribing the Council on your side? That would not only get you thrown out but possibly ban you and your daughter from returning to the North ever again.”

Michael raised his hands in a placating gesture. ”I was merely asking who I need to appeal.” 

His tone was condescending and it grated Castiel’s nerves. He pulled himself to his full height and forced his hands to relax when all he wanted was to clench them into fists. ”Don’t mistake us for fools,” he said coldly and took pleasure of how Michael startled at the change in his demeanor. ”And don’t try abusing our hospitality just to scheme behind our back,” he warned before he turned and walked away.

Through their bond, he felt Dean’s concern as an answer to his cold fury but he didn’t have it in him to try and soothe him. Perhaps he had misunderstood Michael’s question, but frankly, he doubted it. 

Michael was as ruthless as the brother he was about to wage war with, and he was ready to use all means necessary to get what he wanted. Castiel wasn’t going to let it happen. He was not going to put his people at a risk for a pompous alpha who felt slighted, no matter how just his cause was.

He was seething but since he actually didn’t want to risk bumping into Michael and getting into a shouting match, he took a couple of shortcuts and walked back to the castle at a brisk pace. When he entered the castle yard, Gabriel was waiting for him, most likely by Dean’s request. 

Castiel threw his hands in the air and let out a growl of pure frustration.

Gabriel smirked and patted his shoulder. ”There, there,” he said before sneaking a hand around his waist and tugging him closer. ”Let me guess—you’ve been talking to our charming brother?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he dragged Castiel along and into his office, the one place they both knew Michael wouldn’t follow. He gently pushed Castiel to sit down and handed him a small glass. His fox jumped to curl by his side and tried to poke his ermine to cheer him up but reconsidered when the ermine hissed at him.

Castiel downed the glass at one go and dissolved into coughs. 

”Plum liquor,” Gabriel said and raised his own glass. ”My own batch from last summer. Pretty good, isn’t it?”

Blinking tears from his eyes, Castiel waved his glass to get a refill and said, ”I don’t understand why he is so…so…stubborn.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything, just filled his glass and handed it back before he leaned on the desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and waved him to continue.

”I just don’t understand what made him so jaded. Was it the responsibility? The fact that he’s the firstborn alpha? At times he seems so completely different from everyone else—I mean, I didn’t get to know Abner that well before I was sent here, but even he had at least some semblance of humor.” 

He took a gulp from his glass and winced at the burn but didn’t cough this time.

”But he’s lost so much, hasn’t he?” he continued. ”No matter how unlikeable he is now, no-one deserves to see their mate butchered in front of their eyes.” He shuddered and sipped his drink.

Gabriel let out a noncommittal sound that could mean anything. Castiel decided it was agreement.

”I wonder what he was like when he was just a pup. Was as stern and scowling as he’s now?” Castiel frowned and tried to imagine a pup with Michael’s expression and snorted. ”He would’ve seemed ridiculous,” he decided and took another gulp. ”This is delicious,” he complimented, waving his glass at Gabriel. ”You are good at this sort of thing.”

Gabriel raised a brow and asked, ”Making liquor or listening?” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes and gave the question a good amount of thought. ”Yes,” he finally said.

Gabriel chuckled and shook his head. ”You’re hilarious when you’re tipsy, little brother,” he said softly, filled Castiel’s glass once more and poured himself also a refill.

”Don’t be obtuse,” Castiel said and leaned forward in his chair. ”You like to play a trickster and a clown, but you are a good man underneath all your jokes.” He gave a serious nod and took a sip. ”I’m on to you, Gabe, yes I am.”

”I love you too, Cassie,” Gabriel said with a smile and saluted with his glass.

They fell silent, sharing an easy silence while occupied with their thoughts. Castiel was feeling pleasantly floaty, a warm buzz under his skin lulling him and pushing his lids down. 

”I do love you, you know?” he finally said, leaning his head back. ”I’m glad you’re here.”

”I’m glad you took me in,” Gabriel said softly.

Satisfied that it was settled, Castiel decided to take a sip, only to find his glass empty. He blinked slowly and frowned, wondering what had happened to his drink. He was about to ask Gabriel what was going on when someone knocked on the door. 

”Yes?” Gabriel called.

It was Dean.

Castiel’s Dean, his own alpha.

He offered Dean a sunny smile, slightly confused when he didn’t receive a loving kiss in return. Instead, Dean stopped, sighed, and gave Gabriel a disappointed look. 

”I asked you to check in on him, not to get him drunk.”

Gabriel raised his hands in front of him in a placating move. ”I would like to point out that this time, I really didn’t do anything. He came in all pissed off and I offered him a drink and comfort.” He downed his own glass and said, dryly, ”He demanded all the following drinks himself.”

”I was angry,” Castiel said.

”Really? What got you in the mood?” Dean asked.

”Michael,” Castiel answered glumly. ”He’s an assbutt.”

Dean blinked. ”Assbutt?” he echoed, his face completely calm. 

It was a mask, Castiel knew. In fact, Dean was laughing at him.

Deciding that it was unaccept—uncap— well, not right, Castiel decided to tell his mate that and pushed himself up from the chair. It probably would’ve gone better if the room hadn’t started suddenly spinning.

”O-kay,” Dean said and caught him when he stumbled, lifting him and his ermine in his arms. ”Time for you to go to bed, I believe.” He bade Gabriel goodnight over his shoulder, but Castiel wasn’t paying attention. He had much more important things to do.

”You have so many freckles,” he said seriously. ”So many.” He tried counting them, but he kept missing and recounting them and, frankly, the way Dean’s muscles bulged as he carried Castiel was really distracting.

Castiel loved it. 

”You are an adorable drunk,” Dean muttered, pecking a kiss on his forehead. ”But you reek like a distillery. I can’t take you to our bed and traumatize the pups.” 

”Okay,” Castiel agreed. He wasn’t sure what Dean meant by that, but his lips were beautiful when he smiled. 

He traced the arch of Dean’s lip with his finger, continued to the dimple and the scratch of scruff. There were lines around Dean’s eyes left from his laughter. They looked like rays of the sun. Or cat’s whiskers. Castiel wasn’t sure. He liked them both; sun and cats. 

And he liked Dean.

After some time, Dean pushed open a door to a chamber that wasn’t theirs, but Castiel trusted him to know what he was doing. He let out a contented sigh as Dean lowered him on the bed and covered him with a soft blanket.

”Sleep tight,” Dean whispered and kissed his temple.

Castiel was about to kiss him back but he was too busy falling asleep.

Heavens, Castiel promised himself he’d never drink again. 

Gabriel’s plum liquor had taken him by surprise: it had been both surprisingly good and deceptively strong, and Castiel had made the mistake of drinking way too much than was good for him. 

He wondered if he could somehow blame his brother for his misery.

He lay curled on his side in the guest bedroom, feeling sorry for himself. After trying to get up and vomiting his insides out as a result, he had settled for being bedridden for the rest of the day. He got absolutely no compassion from Ellen who marched in to bring him bitter tea and dried fruits for breakfast, but considering she also emptied the basin full of Castiel’s sick, he could understand her. 

JoAnn was even less helpful, cheerily informing him that he needed to practice more. Castiel wasn’t sure why she’d even come, apart from enjoying his torment. He would’ve ordered her to get out and take her chirpiness with her but that would’ve required moving which wasn’t something he was capable of doing at the moment.

So, Castiel lay down, nursed his headache and nausea, and thought.

If it was just about staying hidden, Grey Castle was probably the best place for Michael and his daughter. Michael had never kept silent about his views about the Northern ways, and it was public knowledge that he had disowned Gabriel, his own brother, for running away. Running to North didn’t make sense to anyone who knew Michael, and that’s why it would be safe.

But hiding wasn’t the right answer. It would just delay the inevitable.

First, the dreams. They hadn’t ended when Michael had arrived, they’d changed shape. Even though the urgency had faded, the sense of impending doom hadn’t dissipated. It was gathering like a storm on the horizon, menacing and powerful, waiting for the chance to swipe them all away.

And the sad truth was that Castiel knew it was bound to happen. No matter how much they wanted to stay out of other people’s problems and live their lives in peace, the war would eventually reach North and not only because of Michael. No, it was worse than that because apparently, Luke had made a public vow to hunt Michael down wherever he went.

Castiel let out a long, slow breath, careful not to jostle himself.

He had never met Luke but from Gabriel and Mother, he’d learned that Luke hadn’t been the most sensible and clear-headed alpha even before their Father’s death. He’d been charismatic but quick to anger and he held grudges for years. Rumor had it that he once destroyed a family’s reputation just because their omega daughter rolled her eyes at him.

Oh, the rumors.

Castiel swallowed down the bile that had nothing to do with his throbbing head.

Weeks ago, Gabriel had shown him a letter that told a ludicrous tale of a red-eyed witcher who had managed to capture a totem even after their human had died. He’d held it in a pouch that had a strange power pulsing around it, and later, he’d performed acts that should’ve been impossible for a mere man. Gabriel’s contacts had brushed it off as drunken ramblings but now, Castiel wondered. 

Michael had said that Luke was the red-eyed Senmorta, the charismatic figure gathering forces in the South. What if he was also the witcher?

What if Luke was truly able to capture totems?

But why? What in the name of Heavens would he want to do with them?

The mere thought of captured totems made Castiel’s head spin and he forcibly kept himself from vomiting.

Totems were part of their humans just like the humans were part of their totems. Even if the human could survive after their totem died it was unlikely and, if it even happened, the human often succumbed to madness. 

For the totem to exist without their human was impossible and wrong. 

An abomination. 

And someone capturing those totems went against every law of nature Castiel had ever known.

He frowned, let out a frustrated sigh, and carefully turned on his back. He didn’t want to think about impossibilities and abominations, about war and death, about the very real possibility that Northerners were about to die for someone else’s cause. But he didn’t have the luxury. He was the Laird of Grey Castle, he was the eadni.

It was his duty.

Castiel opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. 

If the rumors were true, someone was harvesting totems that shouldn’t exist. 

If the rumors were true, Luke was dangerous to more people than just the alpha big brother whom he envied and despised. 

So, a war was likely inevitable.

Convincing the Council would be no easy feat. None of them would vouch for Michael’s cause because none of them would see how it benefited either the Council or the clan.

Castiel was quite sure he knew what they would say. 

Benny would say the fields didn’t take care of themselves, Jody would lament the lack of customers, Crowley would complain that his business would die down, and Charlie would say war never benefited anyone but the blacksmiths, and even that was questionable. And they all would ask why they should wage war for a Southern Lord who had nothing else in his name but bitter memories and revenge.

If the Northerners were to respond to a call for aid, it wouldn’t be for a haughty Southern alpha burning to get his birthright back. 

No, it would be for an alpha who wanted peace and safety, a world where his daughter could grow up without fear or violence.

Now, if only Castiel could make Michael understand it without giving out everything he already knew.

Despite Michael’s apparent disapproval, the Council had a meeting two weeks later. Castiel decided to step aside when Dean briefed Michael on the chain of command and the relations between the castle and Maple Falls, as well as the roles of different Council members. To Castiel’s relief, Michael didn’t try to pry out more information about the Council members. He didn’t know if he had misjudged his brother or because Michael had actually understood the precarious situation he was in.

Or perhaps Gabriel and Dean had simply advised him to keep his mouth shut.

Even though the meeting was taking place at Jody’s Inn again and the journey would take a couple of days, Castiel brought the pups and persuaded Michael bringing his daughter too. 

”It adds credibility,” he’d said bluntly. ”Without her, you are just another alpha who thinks he can order people around just because of his status.”

Michael grumbled but agreed on the condition of taking Menna with them. That, of course, meant another carriage because Menna wouldn’t travel without her own pup, not that Castiel would’ve even dreamed about asking her that.

The journey from the castle to Maple Falls was tiring in adult company and now with three pups, it was even more exhausting and the cramped space with totems that weren’t that comfortable with each other didn’t make tings any easier. Luckily, as Marcel and Maryann were already accustomed to riding, they took turns riding with younger guards who seemed to be more than happy to entertain them. Castiel was pretty sure that  Rufus had chosen them for the journey with that exact purpose in mind. He made a mental note to thank them all after the journey was over and they returned home.

With the twins and Dean riding most of the way, Michael seemed to relax sightly. Castiel didn’t blame him: he was an exile on a foreign ground, surrounded by a clan whose view of him and his men varied from indifferent to almost hostile. The only things that seemed to ease his mind was his steadfast totem and his daughter.

But the more Castiel observed their interaction, the more convinced he grew that Michael was actually afraid of his own pup. Ever since arriving at North, Michael had spent long hours holed up in Dean’s office while his daughter had been in Menna’s care. And now, seeing Michael stiffly holding her was disconcerting, like he was handling something he wasn’t sure he wanted to be near of.

Nevertheless, despite the fact that the pup seemed to be at a completely wrong place, she also belonged in Michael’s arms—just like Marcel and Maryann belonged in his own and Dean’s arms.

Not for the first time, Castiel wondered what Michael would do after the war was settled. Would he try to find another mate and secure his lineage with more pups? Or would he leave her behind and concentrate on rebuilding the Novak clan?

Could the Novak clan even be rebuilt?

Honestly, he had no idea.

”The town doesn’t have an official Town Hall?” Michael asked, eyeing around the grand room of The Goose And The Bear.

Castiel raised a brow. ”We’re a small and a tight-knit community. Why would we need a town hall when we have the town’s common room right here?” he asked, sweeping his hand in an all-encompassing gesture. He shook his head at Michael’s confused face and said, ”This is where our people gather to eat and spend time, to meet friends and share information. This is where our clan resides so it’s more than good enough for us.”

He left Michael to manage his daughter and wandered to Dean who was currently occupied with trying to handle the twins while waiting for the Council members to arrive.

”I have no idea how I want this to go,” Castiel muttered and untangled Maryann from the drapes. 

”With less property damage than the last time?” Dean quipped. Then he continued, more sober, ”Neither do I. I think I know how this should go, but I don’t know whether they’ll be up to it.”

Castiel nodded.

When they started to file in, the Council members didn’t seem that surprised to see Michael. Castiel wasn’t surprised: the clan was small and news traveled fast, of course they’d know that their Laird’s brother had arrived with a small band of men. 

What they didn’t know was why Michael was present in an unscheduled Council meeting.

Castiel shared polite nods with Crowley and warm hugs with Charlie, Benny, and Garth as they filtered in one by one and slowly made their way to the table where Michael was waiting.

True to his nature, Crowley’s badger stomped right into the personal space of Michael’s totem who tensed but stayed still. Castiel considered interfering but didn’t have the chance before Jody’s rottweiler pushed right in between the totems and lay down in a completely unsubtle manner. 

Castiel huffed a small laugh. Trust Jody to stop a pissing contest before it even started.

”Hello, boys,” Crowley purred from behind him. ”Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Even though both Dean and Castiel had warned Michael about Crowley, he still stiffened and flushed red in his anger. Castiel deliberately stepped on his toes and ignored his hiss of pain, giving Crowley a pleasant smile instead.

”Crowley, lovely to see you,” he said sweetly. ”Is Ruby still teething?”

If there was something Crowley loved more than talking about himself and his business, it was his daughter. His mate, Megan, was Castiel’s friend which was the reason Crowley tolerated Castiel far more than other people. That, and the fact that his daughter was Marcel and Maryann’s adopted cousin.

Of course, Crowley loathed showing weakness, but Castiel could admit that in this case, it was almost adorable how Crowley’s haughtiness and smarmy appearance gave way to a doting father.

While Crowley beamed about Ruby’s newest skill, the others wandered slowly closer. Jody brought several pitchers of hot, strong tea, some fruit cake and scones, and the meeting was finally ready to begin.

They started with introducing themselves—to Michael’s benefit—and going over the latest news in the community, something that Castiel was sure grated on Michael’s nerves. Jody didn’t let it bother her, though. She went through the news of born and deceased (which there were none), of the current situation of the stocks (that were plenty), and how the construction of the medicine house was coming along. The last one had been Missouri and Castiel’s joint effort, a clinic for everyone to visit. Missouri didn’t want to stay in the castle and Castiel agreed that it would be better for everyone if she just lived in Maple Falls and took a carriage to the castle if she was needed there.

A Council meeting wasn’t a Council meeting without some choice words and heated debate and this time it was about the new head of the school that wasn’t even built yet. Crowley suggested himself even before the voting had been opened and it took Jody quite some time to calm everyone down and get some actually useful notes on her book that held all Council meeting briefings for future use. 

When she was finally done, she snapped the book closed and gave Michael a narrow-eyed look.

”So,” she said. ”There’s a war in the South and we’ve been asked to join in. Tell me, Michael, why should we do anything for you?”

Michael gave her a slightly forced smile that was more a stretch of lips than anything genuine. ”I already explained it to Dean—I mean, the Lord of the Winchester clan.”

Castiel heaved an internal sigh. So much for advice.

Jody’s smile turned somewhat frosty. ”The Lord of Grey Castle doesn’t have a say in these meetings. He’s here as our Liege, but he’s only listening. If you want the North to fight your war, you need to convince us.” She cocked her head and leaned forward. ”Unless, of course, you have a problem talking to commoners. If so, this meeting is over.”

Michael blinked and cast a searching look around the table, taking in the impassive faces of the Council members. Castiel turned his attention to Marcel playing with the brooch attached to his jacket to indicate he wasn’t a part of the conversation. 

After a moment of silence, Michael glanced down at his daughter sitting on his lap and cleared his throat, somewhat awkward. ”My apologies,” he said slowly like the words were fighting him. ”I’m not…used to meetings like these.”

Jody didn’t seem particularly impressed by the apology but let Michael continue.

Michael shook his head and frowned, stroking his daughter’s hair. ”This Council and what it represents goes against everything I was brought up to. I was taught that the alpha is the leader of a clan. He’s the one who decides everything and knows what is good for his people—although I know that isn’t always the case. 

”If this had happened in the South, this debate would’ve been mine to decide. This… democracy you have here feels alien to me. I never thought I’d need to argue my point like this. I was taught that there is order and a meaning to that order, and that it is something that’s decided either in the moment of birth or through a fight for dominance. And once that is determined, it is final.”

He fell silent and swept a gentle finger along his daughter’s cheek. 

”However, I never thought I would be thrown out of my own land by the very brother I defeated in a fight,” he continued tightly, raised his head, and looked each Council member in the eye. ”He said he would come after me and hunt me down, no matter where I went.”

”So you decided to lead him straight to us?” Charlie asked. ”Nice.”

Michael’s lips tightened but he didn’t avert his eyes.

”Did it ever even occur to you that we could throw you out and point him into the right direction?” Benny drawled, scratching absently his bat’s neck while Maryann combed his beard with a narrow-minded concentration. The totem looked like it would start to purr any moment now, but Castiel knew from experience that both Benny’s and his totems appearances were deceiving. They might look like soft and gentle beings, but it had been Benny and his bat who had once fought against a fever-crazed bear and won.

Dean leaned back in his chair, his arm crossed on his chest. ”Is there a reason you didn’t tell me that little detail before?” Dean asked. ”Did you think you could force my hand by threatening my clan?” His tone was deceptively mild but Castiel felt his anger burning bright through the bond.

Michael raised his chin and met Dean’s eyes without a flinch. ”Yes,” he said. 

When Dean’s eyes flashed, Castiel decided it was time to interfere. 

”Too bad we already knew,” he said even though the truth was, only Gabriel and Castiel had known. 

Michael opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he asked, ”But… how?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side. ”The Novak clan has never been fully loyal to you—which you would’ve known had you bothered to share power instead of clinging to it tooth and nail. We knew Luke had invaded the clan and driven you out long before you even arrived.”

The sharp betrayal he felt from his mate stung but Castiel let none if it show. He had had his reasons to not tell Dean. He pushed his apologies through the bond and hoped Dean would let him explain everything later.

”Well,” Crowley purred. ”As interesting this is, I fail to see why I should terminate my completely valid treaties in the South. They certainly profit me more than this farce.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. Crowley was annoying and purposefully prickly on a good day but this time, there was an odd glint in his eyes. 

Something was up.

”What?” Jody asked flatly.

Crowley shrugged. ”It’s business, so what? I don’t care who I deal with, as long as I get payed.”

They all startled at the strangled hiss Michael let out. 

”How dare you accuse me of bringing the war to your doorstep when you have a snake right here!” he spat.

”Don’t compare yourself to me,” Crowley snapped. ”You marched here filled with your own alpha-righteousness, certain we would support your little vendetta, but you never stopped to think what it could cause others. Unlike you, I actually know what I’m doing.”

”Do you?” Michael sneered. ”You speak of treaties as if they couldn’t be tracked right back to you.”

Crowley jumped up from his chair and leaned over the table. ”No, they couldn’t because I do not exist, you pompous little shit!” he roared. ”I’ve been running business longer than you’ve had your knot and believe me, if I didn’t love this land more than my mother, I could’ve ruined the North more times you can think.” 

In the stunned silence that followed, Crowley slowly straightened himself. He shot Castiel a sharp look from the corner of his eye before pulling himself fully up. ”Well. That was embarrassing,” he said, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. ”My apologies, Matron Mills, I think I’m going to get some air.” Without further ado, he walked out and left his badger behind to ooze contempt at the world in general.

The remaining Council members shared looks, then Jody plastered on a cheery smile and said, ”Well, that was interesting. How about some pie?”

”Yes! I’d love me some pie,” Dean sighed and stood up to help Jody to clear out the now empty pitchers, ignoring Benny’s snort and eye roll. 

”Oh, Castiel! Charlie exclaimed. ”I almost forgot I have some new brooches for you. Just a moment,” she said and started rummaging her bag.

Michael looked like he was waking from a dream. ”How… what in the name of the Heavens was that?”

”Hmm?” Castiel asked, his concentration divided between his pups and the brooches Charlie handed him. ”Oh, that? That was just Crowley being Crowley.”

When Michael didn’t answer, Castiel glanced up and saw him staring at the door with a disapproving frown. He sighed and asked, ”What is it?” The ’this time’ was left unsaid.

”Do you mean that is how he usually behaves? That this is… normal?”

”Not normal as such, but certainly not uncommon,” Castiel shrugged and saved a shiny mother-of-pearl brooch from Marcel’s mouth. 

”Why do you tolerate it?”

Charlie winced sympathetically at her lap as Castiel briefly closed his eyes, asking the Heavens for patience. 

”Because, despite his character flaws, Crowley is a valued member of this community,” he explained. ”He might be rude and cross on purpose, but everything he does he does for one thing.”

”His profit?” Michael asked, distaste lacing his words.

Castiel gritted his jaw. ”The land, Michael. He does everything for the land. And that’s why, even though you insulted him, he doesn’t go behind our backs and sell us to Luke, even though he might find it especially tempting at the moment.” He turned to face his brother. ”If I were a spiteful person, I’d wish Crowley just walked out of helping you. But since I actually don’t want to see you—or my people, for that matter—dead, I’m going to go out and talk to him.”

After checking that Benny was fine with Maryann was contentedly petting his beard, Castiel took Marcel to Dean and went out. He wanted some fresh air to clear his head, yes, but he also needed to talk to Crowley—although not for reasons Michael thought. 

With Jody’s rottweiler trotting after him, he crossed the road into the small park just opposite the Inn and sat on a bench under the large rowan. Said tree was supposedly as old as the town itself and underneath its branches, Castiel leaned his head back and took it the late Fall sun.

It was surprising how quickly Michael got on his nerves even though he’d lived with him such a big part of his life. But now that he was a Northerner, interacting with Michael and his deep-rooted gender beliefs got exhausting rather quickly.

When he heard boots crunching on the gravel to his right, he opened his eyes.

”So, what was all that about?” he asked Crowley.

The beta had his hands tucked in this pants pockets and he was watching something in the sky, a picture of ease. Castiel knew better.

”I wanted to yank his chains to see how he reacts. What can I say? I was curious.” Crowley said dryly. ”May I?” he asked pointing at the empty space beside Castiel.

Castiel nodded and scooted a bit to the side. They sat quietly for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

”So, Laird of the mighty castle, what do you think we should do?” Crowley asked. His tone was light but the question was dead serious. 

Despite knowing Crowley wasn’t joking, Castiel said, ”I’m not the one making decisions.”

Crowley snorted. ”Don’t play coy. We all know you’re the driving force behind this clan. If you want something to be done, it will.”

”Does it bother you?”

Crowley shrugged. ”As long as your wishes align with what is best for the land, I don’t care. Our dear Lord is ridiculously in love with you and the whole clan thinks you’re the best thing since plum wine—or even better than it. You make things…easier.” He gave Castiel a look from the corner of his eye. ”But don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t find a way to remove you if I believed you’re a real threat.” 

Castiel cocked his head and asked, genuinely curious, ”Are you threatening me?”

”Just stating a fact you already knew,” Crowley pointed out.

”True.” He wasn’t upset: Crowley’s loyalties ran deeper than in the clan name. To him, the people changed but the land was everything.

A short moment later, Crowley said, ”You didn’t answer my question.”

”I know.” Castiel sighed and picked up a fallen leaf from his lap. ”I suppose you already know what’s going on,” he said, raising a brow. 

It wasn’t a question, but Crowley nodded. 

”Gabriel has been getting letters, warning us about a strangely powerful alpha who was heading over the sea and into the old Novak lands,” Castiel said carefully. ”By the time Michael arrived, we already knew the alpha had slaughtered or enslaved hundreds of people.”

”Sounds familiar,” Crowley muttered darkly. He opened his mouth so say more but decided otherwise, closing his mouth with a snap.

Castiel gave him a considering look. Crowley had always been a beta with aspirations, inflated ego, and way too many secrets to be healthy, and he usually had several cunning plans running behind the sly mask he wore. 

He wondered how much Crowley actually knew. 

”Your other alpha brother has gone crazy,” Crowley said slowly.

”It seems so,” Castiel agreed, rubbing his temples. 

Crowley nodded and studied his nails for a good while. Castiel waited patiently even though he was getting irritable and hungry, and he felt Dean tugging at their bond. Finally, Crowley seemed to reach a decision. He turned to face Castiel—a lot closer than he felt exactly comfortable—and said in a low, urgent voice, ”What I’m about to tell you is something I haven’t told anyone before.”

Suppressing his eye roll at his dramatics, Castiel nodded.

Crowley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ”It’s a fairly well known that the spirit of Azrael, the greatest shaman of all our Ancestors, still lives in the White, guarding over this land and its people,” he murmured and gave Castiel a darkly amused look. ”But did you know he’s not the only Old One left?”

Castiel blinked and shook his head slowly. ”I only knew about Azrael through some old tales Pamela has been telling to the pups. I thought he was a myth.”

”History became legend, legend became myth, and myths are easily forgotten,” Crowley intoned seriously like he was quoting something. ”The tale of Azrael isn’t the only one circling around, even though it’s perhaps the one least guarded.

”There is a story about a female shaman, Amara. She was rumored to be as powerful or even more powerful than Azrael. The story goes that Amara tried to defeat Azrael several times but despite her efforts, she always lost. She got so furious that she conjured up a great spell, intending to wipe out Azrael and his people for good. Well, for reasons unknown, her plan backfired but it also burned the both shamans out so that only their spirits remained. He lives up in the North, she lives down in the South. 

”Or, that’s what the stories tell.”

Castiel shivered as the names resonated somewhere deep within him. They rang like a bell and made his head spin. ”Why are you telling me this?” he whispered, gripping Crowley’s arm to steady himself.

Crowley cocked his head and a slow smile spread on his face. ”Because, dear Castiel, you need to know.”

Crowley’s ominous words left Castiel reeling. 

Not only was there unavoidable, undeniable truth in Crowley’s words, but his last line shook Castiel to the core.

After giving his foreboding premonition, Crowley stood up, brushed a speck of imaginary lint from his jacket, and bade him goodbye. Castiel barely noticed him leaving. He stayed sitting on the bench, blinking and mulling over Crowley’s words over and over again.

’Because, dear Castiel, you need to know.’

Why? And why Castiel, of all people?

Lost in his thoughts, he jumped when Dean sat beside him, holding a plate with a big slice of pie and two spoons.

”So,” Dean said and ate a spoonful of pie. The dull throbbing of their bond told Castiel exactly what Dean didn’t say aloud.

Castiel’s heart hurt. ”I’m sorry. Gabriel wanted to let you know but…”

Dean chewed and swallowed, looking straight ahead. ”I don’t like it when you keep things from me,” he said quietly after a moment and dropped his gaze on his lap.

”I’m not—” Castiel started and paused to rephrase. ”I promise you, I’ll tell you as soon as I can,” he said carefully. ”I’m still trying to figure this out.”

Dean nodded but didn’t look at him. ”Crowley already left. I figured you’d be out here alone so I brought you pie,” he said and raised the plate.

”Thank you,” Castiel said and picked up the second spoon. He didn’t actually eat anything, just pushed a piece of the pie back and forth on the plate.

They sat in silence until the pie was gone and then, after a short moment of stillness, Dean stood up. ”Okay,” he said, took Castiel’s spoon, and put the plate and spoons on the side. ”I’ll contact Pamela as soon as we get home.”

”Am I that obvious?” Castiel asked, looking up at his mate with a weak smile. 

”Yes, and you need to talk to someone who isn’t me,” Dean said and raised his hand when Castiel opened his mouth to apologize. ”Don’t. I get it, I just…” He shook his head. ”I hate being kept in the dark. Just promise me that when we get this sorted, you’ll tell me, okay?”

Taking Dean’s hand, Castiel stood up and nodded. ”I will. Thank you,” he said and gave Dean a kiss, trying to push his gratitude and love through the bond.

Dean sighed and held him for a moment, burying his nose in his hair and breathing in his scent. Castiel closed his eyes and leaned into him, reveling in the short moment of closeness before their duties caught up with them once more.

There was no sense in going back to the castle to wait for the Council to reach a decision, so they stayed at Jody’s and spent their time in meetings and catching up with the town life. Or, more precisely, Dean spent his days in various meetings while Castiel tried to handle the twins and entertain Michael at the same time. It was not an easy feat because waiting was nerve-wracking for everyone and on top of that, Michael was driving Dean on the walls with his snappish comments about how asking the clan’s opinion about going to war was ridiculous. 

On the second day, Castiel decided that Megan’s teething daughter was a more soothing company and left before the alphas got into the full-on snarling part.

When they received word that the Council voted for Michael, Castiel was the one not surprised. Ever since talking with Crowley, he’d been expecting it. The clan agreed to provide provisions, healthy horses, new arrowheads and swords, and send a small band of men South with Dean. Neither alpha was particularly pleased: Michael had obviously expected more men, and Castiel suspected Dean had hoped the Council would say no, even though he knew this was the sensible decision. However, he was bound by the decision as much as Michael was and the preparations started immediately. 

To Michael’s everlasting frustration, Dean didn’t name the men himself. Instead, let the clan decide for themselves, going as far as reminding them bluntly that not everyone would come back unharmed or alive. By Dean’s request, Castiel sat by his side at Jody’s inn. He looked around, gazed at the clansmen gathered around them and Dean immersed in his conversation, and he knew that Dean knew exactly what he was doing.

Michael, the off-putting odd alpha from the South, was insignificant and hadn’t given them anything to fight for. A war in the South was a distant thing for the Northerners, but they understood that, sooner or later, it would reach out to North if left alone. Nevertheless, their Laird sat there with the future of the clan on his lap, sending his mate off to war. So, they took arms and followed their Lord into the war, promising their lives and loyalty to keep him alive to return to his family. 

After drawing up a preliminary schedule, they left Garth in charge and returned to the castle. To take advantage of the time on the road, Michael and Dean turned the other carriage into a mobile office to pour over plans and strategy. Castiel was okay with that. He didn’t mind sharing the carriage with the pups and Menna who enjoyed playing with all four pups, leaving Castiel to his thoughts.

And there were lots.

Castiel hurried into the library as soon as he had the chance. Sam and Gabriel had undertaken a massive effort in cataloging and indexing the whole contents of the library, and Castiel was determined to peruse the opportunity to research as much as he could before meeting with Pamela. Sam and Gabriel shared a bemused look and took care of the pups, leaving him with the books.

The frustrating thing was, he didn’t find anything tangible. Some of the older tomes were so fragile he hardly dared to touch them and when he did, he found obscure language that rivalled Pamela’s on a good day. It didn’t help that he had no idea of what he was actually looking for: he only had a name and a gut feeling. The old texts didn’t mention either shaman by name and without names, all Castiel had to go by were narrations of the circle of life and the change of seasons.

The Northerners had a natural approach to death, just as they did to about everything. To them, death was a part of life’s cycle, a closing of a circle, and the beginning of the new. Living in an area with four distinctive seasons helped: they saw how nature woke up after a long winter, how it bloomed and ripened, giving harvest and stock to survive another winter, and then slowly withered and died down only to rise again.

The rhythm of it was a gentle swing, poetic in its continuity.

However, Castiel wanted more than just depictions of the turning seasons. He needed guidance and knowledge, something to understand his role in this all. Because that much was clear: whether he was ready or not, Castiel was part of the battle.

So, he read and researched and, on the side, felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for something—anything—to happen. 

Two days after returning to the castle, Castiel felt drawn to the grove a little way from the castle. When Dean saw the wax candle he was carrying, he didn’t ask where he was going, just gave him a gentle kiss and a soft smile, and took the pups for a horseback riding lesson.

The grove was what he and Dean had chosen for their family rowan, the sacred tree of the Northerners. They’d planted it after the pups were born and following the Northern custom, buried the placentas underneath it. The rowan grew straight and proud, sturdy despite being just a sapling, and its orange-red leaves were like small flames in the bright Fall morning. It was the place where Castiel came when he was feeling down and when he wanted to remember the pup he’d carried for such a short time.

After he lit the candle and placed it in the lantern right next to the rowan, he sat on one of the logs Dean had hauled there to use as stools. He closed his eyes, sending out his thoughts to the lives lost and yet to come.

When a soft breeze ruffled his hair and he opened his eyes and saw Pamela’s ptarmigan landing beside him in a flutter of soft feathers and a short moment later, Pamela herself emerged from between the trees. 

Castiel wasn’t sure how she made her way through the unknown terrain, what with her eyes being pure milky white and unseeing. It was one of the mysteries of the alpha.

”Hello, Castiel,” Pamela greeted him cheerfully. ”This is a nice place you have here. It feels soft and safe.” She seemed to take a look around, a gentle smile on her face, as if drinking in the feel of the clearing.

”Thank you,” Castiel answered as he walked to meet her halfway. ”Both for the compliment and for coming.” He guided her to sit down on one of the logs and took a seat beside her. ”There’s something we need to talk about.”

Pamela gave him a wry smile. ”I figured as much. You’re usually not so… careful.”

Castiel frowned at the choice of word, unsure of what she meant. Pamela sensed his confusion and cocked her head. ”You didn’t choose this place, did you?” she asked. She closed her eyes, and let out a noncommittal sound. ”Interesting.” She was silent for a moment, then asked without opening her eyes, ”You have a question, ask it.”

Castiel nodded, braced himself, and took a breath. ”Azrael and Amara—what can you tell me about them?” He expected to feel the same shiver and dizziness as in Maple Falls, but curiously, he didn’t.

Pamela’s eyes snapped open and the white in them increased until her eyes shone. ”Clever, Castiel,” she murmured and stared at him for long enough that he started getting uncomfortable. Finally, when Castiel was about to ask what was the matter, her eyes dimmed and she sagged minutely before letting out a long breath.

”She’s awake, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Castiel swallowed and something in him relaxed—not because the news was a relief but because now he knew.

”Did you ever wonder why of all possible mates, Dean’s father proposed you?” Pamela asked conversationally.

Confused by the sudden change of topic, Castiel blinked. ”No, not really. I always thought…” his voice trailed away and he made a face. ”To be honest, when I was told, I thought it was because he wanted an exotic breeding mare for his son and Michael was all too happy to provide,” he admitted, embarrassed. 

”He really didn’t,” Pamela said dryly. ”He wanted his son to have his true mate.”

Castiel gaped. ”But you said—”

”—Exactly what you needed to hear,” she interrupted. ”If I’d told you right after your attempted suicide that you’re our Lords true mate and the magical element that binds the clan together, what would you’ve done, huh?” Pamela raised a brow. ”I’m sure it would’ve gone just splendidly.”

”Well,” Castiel started and closed his mouth with a snap. 

Pamela hummed a non-committal sound. ”Tell me, have you been having odd dreams lately?”

”I have,” Castiel said slowly. ”They’re different from the other dreams I’ve had earlier. I have… this feeling that something is coming, something big and powerful, and we need to prepare.” He shook his head. ”When Michael arrived, I walked to meet up with him in the middle of the night because of a dream.” He shook his head. ”I still have them. They’re not nightmares, but they definitely leave me tired and worried.”

Pamela sighed. ”I suppose it’s time,” she muttered, mostly to herself before she turned to him and said, grave, ”What I’m about to tell you is for you and you alone. Do not repeat this to anyone else.  Also, don’t say their names unless you want them to find you. Names—especially the Old Ones—have power.”

”Azrael and Amara were—are—two of the most powerful shamans of the Old Ones. You already know their names, so I presume you’ve learned their story. Usually, they are not referred as their real names, but as Death and Destruction.”

”What’s the difference?” Castiel asked. ”I know they battled and even though she was more powerful he always won. Why?”

Pamela cocked her head and shrugged. ”Because Destruction leaves nothing behind,” she said, as if it was obvious. ”Death is a natural part of life. It’s the end of the cycle, and from it, Life begins.” 

Castiel frowned and thought back to the texts he’d read. They made so much more sense now. And if Azrael was Death… ”Was there a shaman of Life?” he asked.

Pamela didn’t answer but her lips drew into a small smile. ”You are about to face the greatest challenge of your life, Castiel,” she said quietly. ”You need to be strong.”

She pushed herself up and placed her hand fleetingly on his neck, right where his mating bite was. Then she nodded him a farewell and let out a piercing whistle as she started to walk away from the clearing. Her ptarmigan answered with a shrill cry, and soon after, Castiel was alone again.

He leaned forward to lean his arms on his knees and clasped his hands together, stared at the Rowan, thinking hard, going over their conversation word by word.

On his neck, the scar of his mating bite pulsed with soft white light until it faded back to normal.

Nobody questioned Sam and Gabriel’s decision to stay behind. They all knew Castiel couldn’t manage the castle and the pups alone, and both Dean and Castiel agreed that they would serve the clan better by staying behind. 

Michael, of course, didn’t understand.

”I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised about Gabriel,” he said, frowning at his lunch. ”He’s never been particularly responsible, after all.”

Castiel raised a brow. ”Really? What makes you think so?”

Michael shrugged and sipped his tea. ”He ran away when he was supposed to do his duty.”

”No, he didn’t,” Castiel said tersely. ”He ’ran away’ because you tried to force him to do something that went against his nature just because you felt you had the right to decide his life.”

”That’s what I meant—”

”No,” Castiel interrupted. ”You’re confusing duty with blind obedience. There is a thing called free will, you know? People are much more eager to do their part if they feel it’s important. Gabriel stays behind because he’s vital to the castle. On top of that, he’s been organizing safe havens for you to rest and replenish your provisions on your way to the South.”

Michael blinked. ”I had no idea,” he admitted slowly.

”Of course you didn’t because you never bothered to ask,” Castiel huffed. ”Gabriel is cunning and loyal. He’s fighting too, he’s just using different means.”

”My apologies,” Michael said.

Castiel shook his head. ”I don’t need them,” he said and sipped his tea. He’d been feeling odd for some time and the bitter tea was the only thing that seemed to help.

After a short silence, Michael shot him a sideways glance. ”Talking about cunning…” he said hesitantly.

”Yes?”

”I never realized your importance. I suppose that’s one more failure on my behalf,” Michael said slowly. 

”I don’t blame you,” Castiel said quietly, not meeting Michael’s eyes. ”It would be easy but there really is no point. You were brought up to a certain belief system, to the rigid set of rules about the proper roles of each gender.” He raised his head to give his brother a searching look. ”It’s a hard thing to overthrow, but if you truly want to learn, you can do it.”

Michael frowned and dropped his eyes to his cup. He stirred his tea and gulped it down, stood up, and said, ”I’m going to visit my daughter.”

Castiel reached out to grab his arm. ”She’s going to need a name, brother,” he said quietly.

Michael didn’t meet his eyes. ”Yes,” was all he said before striding away.

Staring after the rigid set of his shoulders, Castiel sighed. He wasn’t sure why Michael was so against naming his daughter. Because of superstition? Because he didn’t want to get too attached? Castiel had no idea.

That night, the pups were with Gabriel and Sam to give Dean and Castiel one last night together before… Before.

”I hate this,” Dean confessed into Castiel’s skin and turned his head to listen to his heartbeat. ”I don’t want to leave you behind.”

”We’ll be fine,” Castiel murmured, tracing circles in between Dean’s shoulder blades. ”Sam and Gabriel will watch me like a hawk anyway, and if for some reason they can’t manage it, Ellen and Bobby are also here. And I have the clan.”

”I still don’t like it,” Dean muttered. ”The wolf stays.”

”What? No!” Castiel protested, but Dean silenced him with a gentle finger on his lips.

”Yes,” he said, voice soft but stern. ”I can manage without him, and I think we’ll both be safer if he’s here instead of in the field with me.” He shuddered. ”I don’t even want to think about what could happen to you—to both of us—if he was killed there.”

”But what happens to you?” Castiel asked, worried. ”You’ve never been that far away from each other. Won’t it affect you?”

Dean shrugged and nuzzled his cheek against Castiel’s chest. ”Probably. But I’ll have the others.”

”I hope they are enough,” he muttered. 

Dean raised his head and looked at him. ”I will come back to you,” he said softly. ”I promise.”

”I’ll hold you on that,” Castiel whispered.

Dean didn’t say anything but reached up to kiss him. 

It was bittersweet, full of love and fear, saying more than either of them was willing to admit aloud. Castiel shifted slightly to let Dean fall in between his legs and wrapped his thighs around him, wordlessly urging him closer. Dean’s scent deepened and Castiel felt him getting hard against his stomach, answering Castiel’s own need. He pushed slowly inside, more intent on the feeling of intimacy than the act itself, moving so slowly it felt like he wasn’t moving at all. 

Castiel felt both small and precious, basking in the love that shone from his alpha’s eyes and reverberated through their bond. He traced his hands along the knobs of Dean’s spine, the curve of his shoulder and the tendons that stood out from his arms, trying to commit to memory what it felt like to hold and be held, to be so close to someone that they felt like one.

His climax took him by surprise, rolling over him in a gentle wave that left him breathless and blinking away tears. Not long after, Dean came with a soft gasp, locking them together and pulsing inside of Castiel. He made a move to roll them to their sides but Castiel hugged him tight to keep him close. He didn’t usually enjoy being suffocated under his mate, but now he needed it. He needed Dean’s weight on top of him and his arms around him, grounding him and keeping him there. 

He’d have time to sleep alone and unanchored later.

In the morning, the castlefolk gathered in the yard to see them off. There were no cheery banners or shared smiles; everyone knew they were sending their loved ones to a possible death. There was nothing festive in that.

The clan had prepared them handy sacks that had been filled to the brim with travel food under Ellen’s strict supervision, and the newly enforced cart was loaded with food and drink, ointments, extra clothes, and gear deemed necessary for the journey ahead. 

Understandably, the Northerners were surrounded by their family and friends, but Castiel was pleasantly surprised when he saw the castlefolk share hugs and well-wishes with Michael’s troops as well. It made him proud.

He stepped beside Michael’s horse, one of the few saved from Luke’s attack. The gelding was skittish and pranced uneasily, sensing the nervousness of the people around him. Castiel stroked his neck to calm him down and clasped his brother’s arm.

”Safe journey, brother,” he said. ”Come home in one piece, alright?”

Michael raised a brow. ”Home?” he echoed.

Castiel gave him a level look. ”If you want it to be,” he said. ”I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but you do have a home here.”

Michael inclined his head and clasped his hand over Castiel’s. ”Thank you,” he said, somber. ”I’ll look after your mate,” he promised, nodded, and turned his prancing horse around to head back to his men.

Castiel blinked at the sincerity in his voice and gave his retreating back a considering look.

He was jostled from his thoughts when familiar arms embraced him from behind. He turned around in the circle of his mate’s arms and hugged him back tightly.

”Please stay safe,” he breathed in his alpha’s neck, a demand and prayer at the same time. 

Dean didn’t answer, didn’t promise anything, because they both knew they were futile. Castiel didn’t need the words: he felt Dean’s determination and commitment through their bond, and he knew Dean would do his everything to come home.

When the crowd around them hushed and parted, Castiel knew it was time. Hand in hand with Dean, they turned to look at Pamela, her face sad and solemn, holding a bowl with dark paste. She stopped in front of Dean and when the alpha bowed his head, she painted one single glyph, fápmu, on his forehead. He was the last one, and when it was done, Dean gave Castiel one last, lingering kiss, mounted his horse, and nudged him forward. 

There were no cheers, no uplifting speeches, nothing but grim determination and a burning wish to return home when it was all over.

Castiel stepped aside and watched the troops ride silently past him. 

Each bore the glyph on their forehead and each nodded at him, Northerner or not. He bore their homage in silence, meeting their eyes with silent pride and head held high, until the last horse was off the gates and all he saw was dust dancing in the air. Then, and only then, he closed his eyes, let out a shuddering breath, and sagged.

”It’s the hardest thing, to watch them ride out and be left behind,” Rufus said quietly from behind him. 

Castiel hadn’t heard him coming closer and hastily wiped his cheeks. He hadn’t ever realized they were wet. 

”You did good,” Rufus said gruffly, offering his solid presence for Castiel to collect himself. ”Just remember that you’re not alone.” He clasped Castiel once on the shoulder, a stinging grip of shared fear and pride, and walked back inside.

Castiel closed his eyes, blew his lungs empty and breathed in deep, taking in the fresh, crisp air of the North. 

This was home, this was where his place was. 

He opened his eyes with renewed determination and turned around. 

He had a castle to run and a clan to take care of.

It was odd, being without Dean.

He missed Dean’s scent in their bed and the comforting weight of his hand around his waist. He missed the constant presence of his mate, both in his physical form and in the familiar way he resided somewhere in the back of Castiel’s mind. He missed his voice, the way he made his day brighter and the nights softer. The way his mate completed him.

Even though there was always work to be done and people to look after, Castiel found himself stopping and staring out of the window, trying to see how far away his mate already was. He would lose himself in his thoughts, reaching out at something he couldn’t really grasp. Sometimes, he caught himself doing it, sometimes the wolf gently nudged him along. Sometimes, it was a maid or someone from the clan, looking for him.

Surrounded by people, Castiel was lonely, but he was never truly alone. 

During the day, he was constantly followed around by both people and totems and he spent his nights with his pups, the ermine, and the wolf. Being under continuous supervision was exhausting but he didn’t have it in him to be truly annoyed: the clan turned to him for support, advice, and leadership, and the twins missed Dean at least as much as Castiel did. 

So he buried his frustration and fear and concentrated on planning the new school and pouring over the castle accounts. The Lord’s duties had been delegated to Castiel and Gabriel and Sam took over Castiel’s duties. Between the three of them, they made it work. 

Apart from people being away, life went on. The clan concentrated on the everyday life; harvesting, storing food, and preparing for the winter. As surreal as it sounded, it didn’t feel like they were at a war: there were no soldiers invading their territory, no fighting, no refugees asking for help—nothing. And yet, the feeling of impending doom hung over them with the loss of people and their Lord. To help everyone to settle (and to ease his own mind), Castiel decided to invite the families left behind to the castle and offered them a place to stay for time being if they so wanted. Some of them declined, deciding to stay home, but most of them accepted the invitation.

”They don’t blame you, you know?” Gabriel mentioned one day, watching Castiel sort out rooms for yet another family. 

”I know,” Castiel said. ”But their loved ones are away because our brother brought war on our doorstep. It’s the least I can do.”

Gabriel shrugged. ”I didn’t say it was a bad thing, Besides, fussing around helps you to keep yourself from worrying.”

”As if anything could keep me from worrying,” Castiel muttered under his breath.

”I know,” Gabriel said quietly. ”We’re all worried.” He clasped Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed once before patting it a couple of times. ”I’m gonna go find Ellen and beg for something to eat. I’ll bring you something too.”

”I’m not hungry.”

Gabriel gave him a flat look. ”I didn’t ask if you’re hungry, I said I’ll bring you something. You probably skipped lunch again, so…”

He winced and Gabriel let out a theatrical sigh.

”What in Heavens’ name you’d do without me?” he asked no-one in particular and stomped into the direction of the kitchen, muttering about stupid omega brothers on the way.

Castiel snorted and shook his head but he felt lighter. He smiled fondly, grateful for Gabriel and his distraction tactics, and went back to his books.

All things considered, he wasn’t surprised when his dreams changed again.

Instead of a growing sense of impending doom, Castiel now dreamed of watching something he didn’t quite see, a map or perhaps a village from high above, waiting. He saw The White and the North, the wide plains in the middle, and the familiar shape of the South. He saw roads, animals, and even buildings but no matter how he strained his eyes, he didn’t see people.

It was disconcerting. The view was like a giant board game set up, waiting for the players.

Castiel wondered who the players were.

Often, but not always, he felt a looming presence somewhere behind him but every time he turned around to look, it vanished. It didn’t feel menacing or dangerous, but it had a sense of finality. He had an annoying feeling he should know who it was but every time he woke up after a dream like that, the answer had slipped from his fingertips and if he reached out for it, it dissolved like smoke from a blown candle.

It left him irritable and at the edge.

He kept trying to catch the presence but it eluded him—until one night, it didn’t.

When he whirled around, a thin figure with a beak-like nose and piercing eyes stood behind him. He was tall, clad in black, and leaned on a cane, and when he turned his head just a fraction to look at Castiel, his eyes saw through him into his very core.

Castiel shivered and a recognition sang through him. ”Azrael,” he greeted and inclined his head, knowing the name was true.

The sharp eyes flashed and a thin, reedy voice said, ”You are more than I expected.”

”I hope you’re not disappointed,” Castiel said.

”No, quite contrary,” Azrael said. He moved forward a couple of steps and stopped right beside Castiel. ”So much death,” he murmured, staring at something far, far away.

”I thought death was your thing,” Castiel said.

The shaman let out a huff. ”Only to a certain degree. Death just for the sake of death is… such a waste.”

Castiel nodded and followed Azrael’s line of sight. The landscape stretched before them, blurry and unfocused, and when Castiel concentrated, he thought he could see a flash of lightning on the horizon.

After a moment, Azrael turned to face him. ”There is much at stake. You know that,” he said. ”There will come a moment when you decide the fate of this land. But it comes with a price.”

Castiel swallowed. ”What price?” 

Azrael’s lips turned into the smallest shadow of a smile and Castiel shuddered. 

”You’ll know,” Azrael said, a promise of a thousand deaths in his eyes. 

Castiel turned to look at the landscape in front of him. ”What am I supposed to do?” he asked.

”You will choose,” Azrael whispered.

”Choose what?” Castiel asked and turned around again, but the shaman was already gone.

Four days after Castiel met Azrael in a dream, he realized he was pregnant.

He wasn’t sure of what to think. 

The timing fit his last heat but he was quite sure he should’ve felt it earlier, even with everything else that had been going on. He felt…different but he couldn’t quite put his finger to it. It wasn’t like his first pregnancy and he definitely didn’t feel like he’d felt with the twins. The only way he could describe it was that something was off.

Just to be on the safe side, he decided to keep his condition secret, not because he was afraid something would happen, but because for some reason, it felt like the right thing to do. And no matter how important the clan was to him, he didn’t want to let them know before his mate. 

Of course, there was no way of getting a word to him safely and even if there was, he wouldn’t have done it anyway. As cruel as it sounded, Dean needed to concentrate on more important things than his unborn pup. He needed to focus on the fate of his land and people.

Or that’s what Castiel told himself.

In his internal struggle, he forgot there was one from whom he couldn’t hide anything.

The morning when he finally gave in to his nausea and threw up, the wolf padded softly beside him and poked him in the stomach.

Castiel swallowed and sat heavily down, leaning his head on the wall behind him. 

”Yes,” Castiel answered hoarsely to the wolf’s silent question and closed his eyes. ”But please, don’t tell anyone.”

The wolf let out a low growl and when Castiel tiredly opened his eyes, he met his narrowed eyes and a hard stare. The only thing he felt through their connection was suspicion.

”I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. ”I’m sorry…I can’t explain it. Something is different—not wrong, just different—and I want to keep it a secret for as long as possible. I know that I can’t hide the belly forever but we’ll cross the bridge when we get there.”

The wolf cocked his head and seemed to consider his words for a long moment. 

”I would never ask you to hide things for me if I wasn’t sure,” Castiel said. 

The wolf let out a huff and lay down beside him, lowering his big head on Castiel’s lap.

”Thank you,” Castiel said softly and carded his fingers through the coarse fur. 

Not for the first time, he wondered how the wolf felt, separated from his human. Even though the Northerners could be separated from their totems for extended periods of time and distance, they had no knowledge of anything of this magnitude. Never before had a totem stayed behind when their human had traveled to the South.

Then again, never before had a totem been connected with two humans either.

Castiel hoped that his connection to the wolf helped to ease the strain he felt from Dean being so far away. 

His mating bond felt stretched out and thin, but it was still solid, still there. Ever since Dean had left, Castiel had gone to bed with Dean in his mind, trying to project as much of love through their bond as he could. He wasn’t sure how much of it went through—sometimes he felt a flash of emotion back—but he kept on doing it. He had to.

As the weeks went by, the bond became muted and distant. It felt odd. 

He couldn’t remember how it had felt, being without the mating bond, without feeling Dean as a part of himself, but he was quite sure it hadn’t felt like this. There was a constant low-key longing and a hollow throb in his sternum that was like a pebble in his shoe or a sore in his mouth—something one didn’t feel until it stung, and then it hurt so much he had to close his eyes and breathe for a moment.

Like now.

The wolf nudged his hand, startling Castiel from his thoughts with his cold, wet nose. The totem whined and snuggled closer, pushing his nose under Castiel’s arm and against his stomach. His ermine wiggled his way down from around his neck and squeezed himself beside the wolf’s head, seeking and offering comfort.

”I know, I miss him too,” Castiel choked out and leaned forward to bury his nose in the wolf’s fur. 

He tried to hold back the tears but he couldn’t and they spilled out silently and seeped into the wolf’s fur as he cried.

Ever since the troops had headed to South, Castiel had made sure to spend time with his little niece every day. Michael had left some of his shirts behind to keep his scent on his daughter, but Castiel wasn’t sure how much good they’d do. Nothing in their interactions spoke of Michael spending much time with her in the first place. It wasn’t surprising—he was a traditional Southern alpha and they rarely spent as much time with their pups as the Northerners did.

Castiel had started calling her Hael. He’d first considered calling her Naomi after their mother but decided against it. Their mother’s relationship with Michael had been of more formal than maternal kind and Castiel wasn’t sure he wanted to remind Michael of it. Hael was an old Southerner name and an abbreviation of Michael’s own name so he figured it would suit her.

And if the worst happened, she’d always carry a part of her father with her.

All things considered, the little pup had adapted well to her new life. She spent most of her time with Menna’s family which was purely common sense, considering she was just an infant. Castiel made sure to compensate both Menna and her mate for their extra duties and offered his help with her older pup in case she wanted to have a little time of her own. Menna always declined, polite but firm, and left Castiel feeling slightly foolish in his attempts.

”Why would I need a time off? She’s just a tiny pup,” Menna asked one day. ”She doesn’t take much space or time. We’ll be alright, thank you.”

”Sorry about that,” Mads apologized when he saw Castiel out. ”She’s grown fond of the little Lady,” he said gruffly. 

Castiel had cocked his head and said gently, ”I don’t think she’s the only one.”

Mads coughed with slightly pink cheeks before offering him a rueful smile and bidding him a good day.

Yes, the little heir of the Novak clan was alright, Castiel thought. One thing less to worry about.

It was a relief.

There was one promise Dean had made and which he diligently kept: he sent letters whenever they stopped and he had a secure access to ravens.

The first letter came from Maple Falls just four days after their departure. Gabriel gave the most undignified snort when he brought it to Castiel, muttering something about whipped alphas and saps under his breath. But he did leave Castiel to read the letter in peace and he never made fun of his shaking hands.

Dean wrote of everyday things he saw on the road, bitingly accurate analyses of Michael, and worries of what lay ahead. The further South they went, the further apart the letters came and the more serious their tone turned into. The cheery notions gave way to grief and horror. Castiel tried to help by sending even more love through their bond, hoping it somehow managed to reach Dean.

Five weeks in, he was going through the castle accounts while the pups napped with the wolf when he heard a light tap on the door. A moment later, it opened and Gabriel peeked in.

”Can I come in?” he whispered, nodding in the direction of the bed. Gabriel loved the pups dearly, but he was the first to admit they could be a handful. At Castiel’s nod, he entered, carrying a letter. 

His fox trotted after him in and headed straight to the bed, hopped up, and curled down near the pups. He was always extremely fond and patient with the pups and had acted as a living walking aid when the pups had learned how to walk. It had been a hazardous time. He still bore a patch of grey fur on the side of his flank where Maryann had accidentally ripped his fur off when she’d fallen over.

”This just came in,” he said, handing the letter to Castiel. ”You want me to go?”

”No,” Castiel said without looking up. The letter was the first one in over a week, and Castiel traced his fingers over the familiar curves of the slightly stained letters spelling out his name before cracking the seal open.

”They’ve reached the Great Plains,” he said aloud as he read further. ”And—” he stopped and pressed his hand to his mouth to bite back bile. ”They’ve entered Luke’s territory.” Unable to read further, Castiel closed his eyes and turned his head, shoving the letter at Gabriel.

Silently, Gabriel took it, eyed it through, and swore long and hard.

”This is insane,” he said tightly. ”And by that, I mean that he’s truly gone crazy. The Luke I remember was always arrogant and too smart for his own good, but…” He let out a long breath. ”I never would’ve thought—”

He stopped and his eyes snapped up and met Castiel’s with frightening intensity. ”The rumors—” he started.

”I don’t want to think about the rumors right now,” Castiel interrupted as he stood up and walked up to the cabinet where he kept all Dean’s letters. Swallowing, he reached out to place the newest one on top of the pile and realized his hands were shaking. He closed his eyes and clenched his hands into tight fists, trying to calm himself down and let out a startled breath when Gabriel touched his shoulder.

”Cassie, it’s okay,” he said quietly. ”We’re all scared.”

Castiel ducked his head, blinking away tears and nodded.

”You’re not alone,” Gabriel reminded. ”You don’t have to bear this on your own.”

”I know,” he said thickly and clasped Gabriel’s hand with his own. ”But thank you for reminding me.”

After that one particular night, Castiel never dreamed of Azrael again. Instead, he dreamed of happier times, of summer days and lazy nights, of laughter and joy. 

Sometimes, he saw his son and daughter with Dean, sometimes he was alone, sometimes he dreamed of two pups, sometimes three. 

Sometimes, the third stopped in the middle of their play and turned to look at him with eyes that saw too much and nothing at all.

When Castiel realized that the third pup never shared a dream with Dean, he woke up with tears in his eyes and the taste of ash in his mouth.

And that was when he understood what Azrael had said.

”There will come a moment when you decide the fate of this land. But it comes with a price.”

The fate of this land.

Castiel was furious. The choice presented to him wasn’t a choice at all and the shaman knew it. How could he even ask something like that? To choose between his unborn pup and his mate? 

He wanted to go back to sleep, to hunt down the shaman and demand him to make it right, to make it fair. He didn’t want to be the one to make the choice.

He didn’t want to be the one to decide who got to live.

And then, almost a moon after the letter he’d shown to Gabriel, Castiel woke with a gasp. Slightly disoriented, he took in the dim bedroom, wondering what had woken him up. The pups were spending the night with Ellen and áddjá Bobby to give Castiel a night for himself.

Before he had the chance to get up, he felt his world shift as his bond to Dean grew taut and resonated with pain. Castiel gripped the sheets pooled in his lap and screamed as the bond writhed in his chest like a living, tormented being, trying to break free from within him. It felt like it went on forever and when the pain suddenly stopped, he sagged against the bed, limp and exhausted. 

He reached for the bond and felt—nothing.

Panicked, he grasped at his chest, feeling the very place that had been in such a pain just moments ago, reached deep within himself to the familiar, pulsing warmth that was his bond to his mate, but he found nothing.

Then his world shifted again and everything went oddly grey, like he was inside of a cloud instead of in his own bed.

”It is time,” he heard, Azrael’s voice coming from everywhere around him.

”For what?” he asked, confused. 

”The Cycle to begin anew.”

Castiel blinked and shook his head.

”Decide, Castiel.”

”I can’t,” he whispered. ”It’s not fair!” 

He heard a hiss and the shaman snapped, ”Don’t be obnoxious, eadni. You don’t have time for it.”

Castiel let out an anguished sound. 

Azrael was right. He didn’t have the time.

He closed his eyes and sent a plea up to Heavens that the Ancestors would forgive him. 

”I choose the clan,” he said. ”I choose my alpha. I choose—” 

He paused and steeled himself. 

”I choose to give life.”

The moment he said it, his bond to Dean vibrated as if it carried a great sound and then lit up with blinding pain. Unable to scream, Castiel writhed and gasped as time rushed forward to gain back the moments lost in the fog with the shaman. He squeezed his eyes shut against the burning tears and bit his lip bloody as the world—the real world—started to go grey on the edges.

Right when he was about to lose consciousness, he heard the bedroom door slam open, a howl full of heartbreaking sorrow, and something that reminded him of a flap of wings.

Dear Cas,

Is it stupid that I miss you already? 

I’m writing this at Maple Falls and Jody keeps giving me knowing looks from the other side of the room. We’re leaving tomorrow at the first light and it feels… I don’t know how it feels. I get that Michael’s troops are eager to get back home but for us, it’s not the same. I don’t think anyone of us is that excited. But it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?

I’ll send this before we leave. I don’t know when I can send you another. I know there used to be reliable carrier pigeon stations on the way, but Michael isn’t sure if it’s still the case.

Speaking of Michael, your brother is grating on my nerves. Wish me luck and patience so that I don’t strangle him before nightfall.

—Dean

Dear Cas,

We’ve been on the road for over a week now. It’s been…interesting to say at least. Michael keeps to with his own men and rarely interacts with us, except when he’s issuing orders. And he does love orders. It makes me think what kind of a life he had before everything that happened. Was he always such a humorless dick?

—Dean

Dear Cas,

I found a butterfly that made me think about your eyes. It was just as blue. Victor rolled his eyes when I told him. 

—Dean

Dear Cas,

How are you? 

Honestly, it sucks that I can’t hear your voice or know how you’re holding up. I can feel you through our bond but it’s not the same, isn’t it? I try to think of you every night before I fall asleep but I’m not sure how much of it comes through. So, just so that you know: I love you and I miss you. I can’t wait for this journey to be over so that I can come back home.

And I miss our wolf. Our connection feels…detached. A bit like when I had that hideous toothache and Pamela gave me that weird bark drink that made me feel I was both drunk and stuffed inside a giant pillow. But I think our people’s totems are helping somehow. It’s nowhere near as strong as that one time after the confrontation with Gabe but it’s there. I think it’s one of the reasons why I’m dealing with this so well.

Michael seems drained. The poor guy is stretched thin, like too little honey over a too big slice of bread, as Gabe would probably say. He isn’t very nice to be around. He has this pinched look on his face and a certain stiffness in his shoulders that just feel off-putting. I’m not sure if he does it on purpose, if it’s the situation as a whole, or if it’s just the way he’s grown to be. Whatever it is, it makes him a hard alpha to approach.

Sometimes, he looks at me oddly. I have no idea if he wants to ditch me or if he hopes I’d just shut up.

Yeah, about that… See, I’ve taken up a hobby. Each night, I gather our people around the fire and we tell stories or sing songs (they’re usually lullabies, but who cares? Not us). At first, I did it just because I missed you and the pups and the wolf, and wanted to send my thoughts to you all through the song. Before I knew it, it had turned into a sort of gathering, and now we sit by the fire and sing until we go to bed. 

How are you? Are you okay? Are the twins behaving themselves? Has Jo made a move about Charlie yet? I told her to get on with it but she was being stubborn and shy. You might need to give her a push.

—Dean

Dear Cas,

I managed to bully Michael to sing. Think about that!

—Dean

Dear Cas,

I’m sorry it took me so long to write. Or, well, writing didn’t take long, but we’ve been through some nasty places and I had no way to send you this until now. I… I guess you might have felt something from me a short while ago. We crossed through a village Luke had passed earlier and it was horrible 

I don’t know what to say.

The village looked a lot like Maple Falls. It had an inn, a blacksmith’s shop, a bakery, and a butcher, a marketplace… The houses were a bit different but that’s a given. It’s a far way from the North, after all. 

But it didn’t look like Maple Falls. 

Because Maple Falls doesn’t have burned down houses, cats nailed on the doors, and severed heads hanging from their hair like bundles. Maple Falls doesn’t stink like death and decay, like madness and rage. Maple Falls is alive. This place isn’t.

Aleksei threw up on himself and his totem (the wood grouse that landed on our wolf last summer if you remember?) almost flew against the wall of a house in his distress. We cleared out as fast as we could, but it did nothing to the images I have burned into my brain right now.

I know Michael told us Luke is insane, but I didn’t know. I never thought it would be like this.

I never thought I’d have to think about my people—our people slaughtered like that.

This is madness.

I miss you.

—Dean

Dear Cas,

Tell Gabriel to add saffron to his pumpkin honey. It tastes awesome.

—Dean

Dear Cas,

There is a chance your brother is a decent man after all. I guess nothing makes you know a person like spending a couple of moons of the road, sharing the tent and food, and smelling each other’s sweat day in and day out.

I know that what Sam and I have is special. Of course, I say it because he’s my brother, but now that I’ve been observing both Michael and his men, it seems more and more obvious. I don’t know if it’s because I’m an alpha and Sam’s a beta or if it’s just in our nature, but… I can’t explain it. The easiness and the way we trust each other no matter what?

Michael seems lonely. I’m sure that if I told him that, he’d scoff and offer me a platitude of a Lord being a lonely occupation, but I don’t buy it. I’m not lonely, and it’s not just about me being a Northerner. But then, I’ve always liked having people around me. I don’t want to do things alone, I want to do them together, as a family and a clan. 

I tried asking Michael about what he feels about his family, but he didn’t want to talk about it. I know he’s lost his mate and he’s far away from his daughter but it’s still odd. I mean, if I didn’t have these letters and Victor, I’d go crazy.

What do you think Michael wants to do with his life after this is over? I know I said I never thought to take in your whole family when I signed the contract with you, but I want you to know that if Michael wants to stay, he can. Perhaps spending some time with a family who actually likes each other would do him some good.

How are things back home? Have you started planning on the Midwinter Feast already? 

—Dean

We met Luke. He’s insane.

Niklas is dead.

Dear Cas,

I’m sorry! I know it’s been too long since I wrote but I didn’t have the opportunity. 

Our bond is so thin that at times it’s like it’s not there. It scares me. It reminds me of the time I almost lost you. Please be safe! I can handle almost everything else but not losing you.

It’s been two moons now—I think. The sky is so bright here that sometimes, it’s hard to see the stars or the moon. I heard Michael talking with Raphael about it—apparently the sky is unnaturally bright and they’re uneasy. They think it might have something to do with Luke.

Yeah. We met him. 

We’re not sure how it happened, but they managed to surprise us. There was nothing that seemed suspicious about the village we passed but he’d somehow been hiding in there. His troops managed to hit some of our people and like I said, we lost Niklas. 

Please pass my condolences to his mate and mother. He was burned under strange stars but we had no means to get him home. We sang to him and to all those we’ve seen killed so far.

Remember how I always felt about Pamela? Luke’s nothing like her. Nothing. 

He’s painted his face red and it seems like it’s raw flesh or fresh blood and he wears an animal skull as a helmet and the pelt as a cape. I didn’t get a good look at him but I saw his eyes. They were completely red. 

He looks like a monster and acts like one.

Michael tried to talk to him but he laughed and flung something at him. It was his mate’s head. 

I had to bodily drag your brother away after that.

I have no idea why he wanted us to meet like that. 

I have no idea why he let us leave.

I have no idea what happens when we face him in the field.

—Dean

Dear Cas,

South is a strange place. 

We’ve reached a fort that belongs to a minor Lord loyal to Michael, Metatron I think? Michael said you’d remember him, but if he behaved like this to you, I don’t think your memories are that fond. He’s a pompous ass who’s too fond of posturing and flowery speeches, but he’s also sly and if he didn’t know he’d be dead if he turned coats, I’m sure he would’ve sold us out to Luke already.

I don’t understand how anyone would want to live like this, with a rigid hierarchy and polished hypocrisy. The Southerners all seem to have sticks up their asses. Perhaps it makes up the lack of spine.

The only good thing about this whole farce is that Michael seems uneasy when Metatron jabs at me or our people. Sadly, I don’t know if he’s uneasy about his lack of manners or because he thinks we don’t deserve the treatment.

We’re supposed to stay here for a week, to rest and recuperate, and then ride out to confront Luke once and for all. Metatron isn’t coming with us: he claims that he’s old and frail… doesn’t stop him from harassing the maids, though. 

I’m not sure of what to think. In a way, I’m glad we’re finally here and about to start what we came here to do. But I’m also worried that this will last far longer than any of us is prepared for.

I’ll try to write from the field, but I don’t know how long it’ll take.

—Dean

Dear Cas,

This is madness. Pure, utter madness. There is no point, no reason for any of it.

Yesterday, we found out that something about Luke’s powers convert the men with dead totems into berserkers instead of paralyzed shells filled with grief. We lost fifteen of ours because of that. I had no idea it was even possible. It shouldn’t be.

Some people we’ve met on the road whisper about witchcraft. Some say the skull and pelts he’s wearing are totems but that can’t be true. It’s not possible! I’m usually not one to listen to such things, but something about him makes my skin crawl. He feels wrong.

I’m scared, Cas. I wish I wasn’t here, facing a madman filled to the brim with power no human should wield.

This isn’t right.

I love you,

—Dean

Dearest Brother,

First, let me assure you: your mate is very much alive. He was injured when facing Luke, which you most likely felt. He was tended to and he is recovering. I am sitting right next to his bed while he sleeps and writing this on his demand.

We are currently at an impasse and unsure of what will happen tomorrow. Today’s events have had an impact on everything around us. The thing I saw

Let me rephrase.

I know I haven’t been the best of brothers to you, but believe me, I did try. However, learning to know your alpha has given me a lot of thought and, even though I can still say you are far too stubborn and strong an omega for my tastes, you and Dean fit together well. I also know it sounds crude, but there is no other way to phrase it.

Your alpha is a strange one.

I am aware that he has been writing to you this whole time, ever since we left the inn at the charming village by your castle. At first, I thought him soft and sentimental and thought he would stop as soon as we were further—or that he would at least run out of paper and ink. 

Alas, writing to you centers him and it turned out he packed an impressive amount of paper with him. 

I don’t know how much Dean has told you about this war. I didn’t see it proper to ask him what he writes—his thoughts on those private moments are for you and you alone. I know he is appalled and sad about much he has seen because our ways are so different from the Northern ways. 

However, discussion about that is for another time.

Rather early in our journey, Raphael told me all Northerners believe you are true mates. I scoffed and thought it was a fantasy, a mere story told to children and young omegas. But the more I heard the more sense it started to make, and even though I do not believe in matches made in the Heavens, I am finding it difficult to brush it all away.

I know you never knew our Father, at least not the way I knew him. He was a stern man with high morals and a set of rules, but he also cultivated ideas of beings of wiser and mightier origins. He thought we were descendants of the Old Ones but I always thought it an old man’s vanity. Luke, however, embraced his ideas with open arms. 

I never believed in any of Father’s stories and I thought Luke’s claims about the powers he had gained were ludicrous. Up until I saw what he had truly become.

And I never believed the stories your people told around the campfires. (Mind you, I am saying ’your people’ not because I shun you, but because they hold you in very high regard, little brother. They are here, fighting for the North at least as much as they are fighting for you.)

I did not believe until I saw.

The fighting had been intense, as Luke’s powers both sustained and forced his troops to continue even though they were exhausted and even when their totems had perished. I am sure you do not want to read such things so I will not elaborate. We had managed to secure an easily defendable place but, well, defending a spot gets harder the more tired the troops get and since Luke’s men didn’t seem to be suffering from the same problems, they were close to overpowering us.

Your mate had come up with a plan to circle around Luke’s troops and attack to his flank. It would have worked well if they had not managed to react faster than we anticipated. By the time I reached your mate there, Luke had him pinned against a rock and right before my eyes, he swung his sword. It would have ended Dean’s life there and then had he not been able to block it. As it was, Luke’s sword buried into your alpha’s shoulder instead of his neck.

I was sure his life was over but then I heard the mightiest roar and a terrible scream and… I have no words to describe it. As if out of thin air, a massive bear emerged, accompanied by the biggest raven I have ever seen and together, they lunged at Luke and his totem, tearing into them with a fury unlike I have ever seen. Luke’s men tried to defend him, but every arrow and sword went through the bear and raven and caused no harm. It was as if they were ghosts. I know it sounds unbelievable, but it is the only way I can describe them.

As soon as I was able to get close, I carried Dean to safety and I have not left his side since. From my men, I know that Luke’s totem is dead, but he is still alive. I am not sure what will happen, I suppose we shall be wiser tomorrow.

I am sending this to you with the raven because that is what Dean told me to do. He seemed to recognize the bear, but he fell unconscious before I was able to talk with him.

With best of luck and wishing you well,

Your brother Michael

Dear Cas,

Are you well? Please, be well! Please, my love.

I know you’re alive and that gives me strength. 

I know because I’m gripping our bond and I can feel you.

I don’t know what happened.

All I know is that I should be dead and I’m not. 

When Luke was about to kill me, I heard my dad’s bear, but that’s… impossible. 

The last time I saw him, it was the summer when you were still pregnant, right before Gabe arrived. And I know my dad is dead. But… I recognized the roar of his bear and I swear to the Heavens and the Ancestors that it was him.

I think I owe my dad my life, and I don’t know how.

Michael keeps looking at me oddly. He frowns and narrows his eyes, and opens his mouth like he’s about to ask something, but then he gets this pinched look on his face and shakes his head. It’s annoying, mostly because I have no idea what he wants to ask.

My shoulder is busted for good, I think. Luke was aiming for my neck and if I hadn’t been lucky enough to parry his swing, my head would be in a ditch somewhere right now. It’s good because I like my head where it is now.

We have no idea what happens next. Michael said that Luke’s totem is dead, but I don’t know if the power he used to keep his men alive after their totems were gone will work for him. But honestly? I think he’s insane enough to keep going even half-alive as he is now.

I’m not gonna lie to you, Cas; I hate this. I hate these barren, burned lands that stretch around us, I hate the stench of death and wrong that clings to the very soil, I hate the empty look in our people’s eyes. 

I hate that I could feel your pain when Luke struck me down and I hate that I can’t be there now, with you.

At times it’s like you’re not even there, like the bond we share was just a dream I had. But then I grasp it and it feels solid, and I can believe again.

I miss you.

If this war isn’t over yet, I… I don’t know. I’m so tired. And yet I wonder if I even have the right to be tired and angry when I’m just a visitor in these Southern lands. I don’t belong here, this isn’t my home.

You are my home.

You’re the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing on my mind when I go to bed.

I love you.

Please be well,

Dean

Michael and Victor just ran in: Luke’s troops surrendered. It’s over.

Cas, it’s over!

We’re coming home.

When Castiel slowly came back to, he was laying in his bed with his ermine snuggled by his neck and Gabriel’s fox against his side. Carefully, he turned his head and saw Pamela sitting on a chair, watching him.

”This seems oddly repetitive, don’t you think?” she asked, raising a brow.

”I guess,” Castiel croaked and coughed. 

Without turning her head, Pamela reached out her hand to take a glass from the table right next to her and handed it to Castiel. ”Drink up,” she said. ”It’ll be good for you.”

Carefully, he pushed himself to sit up, wincing at the pain that flared through his abdomen and took the glass. He didn’t bother questioning her but he still made a face at the taste.

”You gave everyone quite a fright,” she chided. ”Again.”

”I didn’t do it on purpose,” Castiel pointed out as he handed the glass back.

She smirked. ”I know. But they don’t. If I’ve understood correctly, you’ll be facing quite a lecture from Missouri.”

”Oh Heavens,” Castiel sighed and rubbed his face. He wondered if it would make any difference if Missouri knew the truth.

Pamela cocked her head and said quietly, ”You made a hard choice.”

He shrugged and dropped his gaze to his hands. ”It was the only choice.”

”Doesn’t make it any easier. How do you feel?”

He shrugged again. ”I don’t know. How am I supposed to feel?”

Pamela gave him a slight smile, tinted by sadness. ”It’s not my job to tell you that. You need to figure it out all by yourself.” She stood up and said, ”There’s a new letter,” before she left.

Castiel sighed again and lay back down on the bed. 

He wasn’t sure of what to think. He was physically and emotionally drained, and the only thing he was able to think about was that he was alive, Dean was alive and, hopefully, their clan would survive.

Instinctively, he checked on the bond and let out a relieved breath when he found it intact. He’d latched onto it blindly as soon as he had regained the first sliver of consciousness, but it still was a different thing to check it that Pamela had reminded him of his choice.

So… that had happened.

Curling more into himself, he pressed a hand on his stomach. It hadn’t even started to swell properly, but it still felt flatter, emptier under his palm. He closed his eyes and with a sigh, hoped the Ancestors watching over Dean and his clan would find it in them to forgive him what he’d done.

He wondered how Dean would feel if and when he found out. Would he hate Castiel? Would he even want to touch him anymore? 

Would Castiel himself want Dean to touch him?

Feeling his mind ready to spin out of control, he closed his eyes and centered himself, breathing in and out a couple of times. He would have time to think about all that later. Right now, he had a castle to run and people to care for. He’d have time to worry about Dean’s reactions later when he came home.

Whenever that was.

A cold, wet nose poked Castiel on the neck, startling him from his thoughts. He opened his eyes to meet the wolf’s sad, serious gaze and felt a nudge from the connection. It was a reminder, an apology, and consolation wrapped in a bundle of compassion, and Castiel felt his eyes prickle. He didn’t think he deserved the wolf’s understanding, but he accepted it, glad and honored.

The wolf huffed and poked him a little. Gingerly, Castiel turned to his side and stared at the letter Pamela had left on the bed beside him. His name stood against the paper in the familiar, bold letters, precise and neat, the way he remembered Michael had always written. He wrote like he liked to rule, with no room for interpretation or questions. Just facts, clean and stark.

He wondered why Michael had written him. 

Slowly, he pushed himself to sit up, wincing at the twinge in his abdomen, picked up the letter and opened it, willing his hands to stay steady. He read it once, then a second, and a third time before lowering it to his lap and staring unblinkingly forward.

”Huh,” he said aloud.

The wolf let out a questioning sound.

”I— I don’t know what is more unbelievable,” he mused. ”That Michael actually thought this through or that what he saw really happened.”

He heard a soft knock on the door and a moment later, Gabriel peeked in. ”Pamela told us you are awake. How are you feeling?” he asked as he walked in.

”Fine, all things considered,” Castiel said. ”At least this time, I don’t feel the urge to jump down from the wall.” He meant it as a joke but it fell flat. 

”Don’t,” Gabriel warned tightly. His eyes were red-rimmed and when he fluffed Castiel’s pillow to help him to sit up more comfortably, his hands shook.

Castiel winced, feeling guilty. ”I’m sorry, that was an incredibly stupid thing to say.”

His brother sighed. ”No, I know why you said it. It’s just…” He lowered his hands and looked Castiel straight in the eyes. ”You are important, Cassie. To me, to this people, to this land. Losing you isn’t a joking matter.”

Chastised, Castiel dropped his gaze to his lap. ”I’m sorry,” he said again.

He wondered what Gabriel would think if he knew what had really happened.

Sometimes, Castiel wished the clan’s totems weren’t so attuned to him. Sometimes, he would’ve just liked to be left in peace, alone with his thoughts, without prying eyes hovering above and around him. Intellectually, he knew they gave him privacy, but it still grated him when someone knew where he was at all given time.

But it was what it was. There was nothing Castiel could do to it. 

He pinched his lips together in a tight line and continued forward towards the clearing behind the castle, carrying with him a lantern and two candles. When he finally reached the rowan, he placed the lantern underneath it beside another, older lantern and lit the candles before walking back to the fallen logs.

He sat for a long while, staring at the dancing flames, his mind blank.

If there was a Shaman of Death, there was bound to be the counterpart, a Shaman of Life. Pamela had never said it out loud but the implication was there, in Castiel’s choice and what had come after.

Castiel might have come to terms with the fact that he was the piece that bound the clan together and provided the land, but he wasn’t ready to claim a title of a shaman. 

All he’d done was to agree to lose his pups to save his mate and, consequently, the clan.

That was all. Right?

Finally, when the candles had burned low, he raised his head and gazed up at the sky.

”I don’t know what I am,” he said quietly. ”I don’t know if I’m just an omega, a Laird to this castle, or something else. I’m not sure I’m bold enough to claim that kind of a title for myself.

”There are two of you up there now; the one I wasn’t ready to bring into this world and the one I was ready to sacrifice for others. I hope you are with the elders, the ones who can look after you.”

He stopped and rubbed a hand over his face, unsure of what else to say. He didn’t know if his words held any meaning or if he was just uttering them into a void to ease his own mind.

He dropped his chin on his chest and let out a long breath and startled when he heard a twig snap behind him. Turning, he saw Sam waiting by the edge of the clearing. 

”Am I disturbing you?” he asked softly. ”My owl led me here,” he continued, pointing up where the familiar black-speckled white bird was hovering. 

Castiel was quite sure Sam had stepped on the twig on purpose to alert him of his presence. He nodded and patted at the log, inviting Sam closer.

”Another letter arrived. It’s from Dean,” Sam said, handing him a sealed envelope as he sat down.

Castiel felt almost faint with relief. If it was from Dean, he was well enough to write. With trembling fingers, he opened the letter and rushed through the words, stopping on the final rows.

It’s over. We’re coming home.

He let out a sob and clasped a hand over his mouth.

”What is it?” Sam asked, worried. ”Is it bad?”

Castiel shook his head, still pressing his hand to his mouth. Sam dropped to his knees in front of him, trying to look into his eyes. 

Castiel gripped his arm tight as he gasped, ”He’s coming home. It’s over. They’re coming home!” 

He let out a watery laugh that turned into sobs, and then he didn’t know anymore, just gripped Sam’s arm and held on to him as he tried to push all his joy and love through the frayed, fragile strands of stretched-out bond to let his alpha know he’d received his message.

Sam hugged him so hard it almost hurt and let out a relieved, ”Thank the Heavens!”

Castiel buried his face on Sam’s shoulder. ”He’s coming home,” he whispered, over and over again. ”Dean’s coming home.”

Even though he was fervently happy that the war was over and Dean was coming home, Castiel was also relieved the journey would take some time. He’d have time to properly prepare the castle for the long winter but also to recover from his miscarriage. So far, the only ones who knew about it were his immediate family, Pamela, and Missouri. To the rest of the clan, he could say his fatigue was because of Dean’s injury. 

He wasn’t happy to keep the clan from finding out but he wasn’t sure how they would react. He hadn’t even told Sam or Gabriel what the miscarriage had really been about—not because he didn’t think they wouldn’t support him but because he didn’t want to see their horrified looks.

Thing was, he would do it again. If put in a situation where he had to choose between his mate, pups, and clan and an unborn pup, he would make the same choice again, no matter how much it hurt.

After his miscarriage—and, apparently, Dean’s miraculous brush of death—Castiel’s dreams had turned back into the familiar vivid, murky, and surreal kind they’d been before all this had started. They still held the same intensity but the suffocating sense of doom was gone. 

In a way, he felt almost disappointed. As disturbing it had been to meet the old shaman, Castiel would’ve embraced the chance to ask what had happened and make sure the soul of his unborn pup was looked after and in peace. But at the same time, he was glad he didn’t have to—there was something disturbingly alien about the shaman, an otherworldly feeling that eluded Castiel and made his mind shy away. 

He didn’t know if it was because he was dealing with a true spirit or because he wasn’t a Northerner.

His trips to the grove became a daily occurrence. He brought candles with him and placed them in the lanterns under the rowan and sat on the log bench, lost in his thoughts. Sometimes the wolf accompanied him or sometimes Pamela’s ptarmigan or Sam’s owl flew by in soft flutter of wings. Mostly, he was left alone. The clan sensed his need for solitude and respected it by staying away.

Perhaps it had all been a loan, Castiel mused, watching the little flames dance in the lanterns. A temporary sliver of life force and happiness, stored in him to be kept safe until it was needed. 

Was that the reason this pregnancy had felt so different from the start? 

Castiel didn’t know. He didn’t even know if something like that was even possible or if this was just a way for his mind to try accepting the situation.

He probably would’ve wallowed in his grief and musings for too long if he didn’t have his pups. Marcel and Maryann filled the castle with shouts, laughter, and exasperated groans, with life and excitement, forcing his sadness to yield and fall back. 

It wouldn’t be gone for good, but with the help of his family, Castiel was able to keep on going. 

This sadness would rest within him for the rest of his life, hand in hand with the loss of his first pup.

It was a surprisingly comforting thought.

When Castiel got word that Dean was about ten days ride away, he started making preparations. He needed to see his mate and he needed to see him alone, before they returned to their duties and office. It was a visceral burning deep in his gut, urging him. Luckily, everyone at the castle agreed.

He’d meet Dean at Maple Falls and spend a day with him before returning to the castle. Gabriel and Sam would take care of both the castle and the twins while Castiel traveled with just Rufus, a young beta guard, and half a dozen totems hovering above them. For a short moment, he’d actually thought about riding to Maple Falls but decided against it when Gabriel dryly asked him if he seriously was going to force his injured mate to ride back home. 

Yes, Gabriel did have a point. Dean would probably appreciate the privacy and ease of the carriage ride.

They reached to Maple Falls early in the morning Dean was meant to arrive, only to see Jody waiting for them at the Inn’s doorstep, her breath billowing in the cold air. She welcomed him with a smile and a tight hug that Castiel returned with equal force. Over the years, Jody had turned from a trusted Innkeeper into a dear friend who was a pleasure to meet every single time.

”Do you want me to draw you a bath?” Jody asked as she ushered him inside. ”Or would you rather wait for Dean and get something to eat meanwhile? I’m sure that as delicious as Ellen’s rations are, you could use something hot. Cider and stew?”

Even though Castiel would’ve loved a bath after almost three days in the carriage, he decided against it. ”Thank you, but I think I’ll wait. And yes, I’d love something hot if you can spare some.”

Jody rolled her eyes and didn’t deign him with an answer, just pushed Castiel towards a plush armchair right next to the crackling fireplace. Castiel sat down with a sigh and rolled his shoulders, smiling brightly as he saw Donna hurrying over with a bowl of hot water and a sponge which she almost spilled on him.

”Thank you,” Castiel said with a warm smile over her apologies while washing his hands. ”How are things with you? Has Garth proposed you yet?”

Garth and Donna’s budding relationship was the focus of their gentle teasing. They were head over heels for each other, but Donna was shy and skittish because of her background and Garth… well, he was subtle as a brick and about as oblivious, and even though he had been told time and time again to just ask Donna, so far he hadn’t quite managed.

Donna let out a nervous giggle and blushed before she shrugged and nodded shyly. ”Yes,” she said and split into a wide smile that lit up the whole room.

Castiel cast his eyes up. ”Sweet Heavens, it was about time!” he sighed, startling a bark of laughter from her. ”Do you have plans where you’ll live?”

”Garth is renovating a house,” she said, beaming. ”It’s the one behind Crowley’s warehouse. It’ll be bright blue because that’s my favorite color.”

Castiel grinned at the image.

Knowing Garth, he would probably go overboard and the house would look hideous. Crowley would get a hissy fit and perhaps break into hives at the sight. 

Castiel knew Dean was getting close when the wolf perked up, gave him a quick glance and an insistent nod towards the door, and ran outside to wait. Castiel finished his food in a hurry and jogged after the totem, peering eagerly at the road. The whole clan knew their Lord was on his way home and it Castiel was soon joined by others eagerly waiting for their loved ones returning from war.

Soon, he saw the familiar shape of Victor’s gyrfalcon soaring through the air and circling around the inn. It screamed, a challenge and an announcement at the same time, and surrounded by welcoming aviating totems, it landed on the perch outside the inn.

Castiel smiled and stepped closer. ”Welcome home,” he said softly. 

The totem stared at him with unblinking eyes, ruffled his feathers, and huffed before he started grooming himself. It looked slightly worse for wear, with tangled and blood-matted feathers and a scar on his neck. But it was alive and healthy enough to fly that far ahead of his human which meant that Victor was at least relatively well.

The scream had alerted the whole town, and in no time, the majority of the townspeople who had pretended to do chores had abandoned all pretence of work and stood to wait  around Castiel.

When they started hearing the telltale sound of hooves, the excitement notched up even more. And when they finally saw the band of people, a collective sigh of relief went through the crowd.

The party was significantly smaller than the band of brothers that had departed so many moons ago. The men and women looked exhausted, some were sleeping or unconscious in their saddles, and some were openly crying. But Castiel couldn’t spare a moment for them. No, he concentrated fully on the most important thing in his world at that moment.

Dean.

Dean, who was drooping on his saddle, his face ashen and his right arm bandaged to his chest. 

Castiel hurried to his side but was almost run over by the wolf who rushed to Dean and rose on his hind legs to lean on Dean’s horse to reach his human. Only the nerves and experience of the steed prevented it from dancing away from the totem.

”Hi there,” Dean slurred and patted clumsily the wolf’s head. ”I missed you too.” 

He bent slightly to press his nose on the wolf’s fur and swayed. Castiel broke into a run, just in time to catch Dean as he slid down from his saddle into his arms. They didn’t say anything, just gripped each other tightly and buried their faces into each other’s neck, scenting each other in deep gulps of air that sounded like sobs. 

Dean smelled like grief and sickness and the smell of death lingered all over his clothes. 

Castiel didn’t care. 

Dean’s breath hitched against him and his heart was pounding, frantic, and that was all that mattered. 

Dean was alive and he was home.

A heartbeat, eons later, Castiel felt a respectful touch on his shoulder. He looked up and met Jody’s tear-brimmed eyes and a fond smile. 

”The bath is ready,” she said softly. ”I’ll have food brought up and tell my staff not to disturb you.” She reached out to touch Dean’s cheek in a gentle, maternal gesture that spoke volumes. ”We’ll take care of everyone. Welcome home, Dean.”

”Thanks,” Dean answered, leaning heavily on Castiel.

”Now, off with you. You stink, my Lord,” she said wryly and inclined her head towards the inn.

Dean huffed and let Castiel lead him away. With the help of their wolf, they slowly made their way straight into the second-floor bathrooms. The huge bathtub was filled, with several buckets of steaming hot water to the side. A stool with loofas and a selection of soaps stood on the right side of the bathtub, and on the left side was a table laden with simple yet nourishing food easy to eat while bathing.

Wordlessly, Castiel stripped his mate with gentle fingers, easing open the knots and buttons sticky with grime, sweat, and blood and peeled off dirty clothes, prompting Dean to lift his feet one at a time to get his pants off. When Dean was naked, Castiel shed his own clothes with efficient moves and pushed the dirty garments into the corner to be dealt with later.

Keeping an eye on his exhausted mate, Castiel added cold water into the hot water bucket until he was satisfied with it before he guided his alpha to stand by the drain. Dean closed his eyes when Castiel poured water over him to wet his hair and lathered him from head to toe with soap. It took several rounds to get his hair and beard clean, but Castiel said nothing. He soaped his mate again and scrubbed away the dust of the journey and the sweat of the battlefield, washed away the memory of the days they’d been so far from each other, removed a layer after a layer until nothing else remained but the raw skin under the Northern skies.

Castiel re-memorized Dean, running his fingertips over skin and scruff, tendon and vein. His mate felt different and familiar at the same time; he was both old and new. The skin was more taut over the muscles due to sparse diet and battle, there were more crow’s feet around the eyes, and the shoulder… An angry red, puckered scar spread from his right collarbone over the shoulder into the shoulder blade, screaming how near he’d come to lose his mate for good. He hesitated touching it, hovering his fingers over the newly formed tissue, and when he finally braved it, the scar felt cool and smooth under his fingers.

He wondered if Dean felt his touch.

After washing out the final suds from Dean’s hair, he gently helped him into the bathtub and stepped in behind him. With a deep sigh, Dean leaned his head back against Castiel’s shoulder and gradually, Castiel felt him relax and he let out a long, slow breath. 

Suppressing his urge to crush him against his chest, to grip him tight and never let go, Castiel coaxed him to drink several cups of yet another herb infusion Pamela had made and fed him small bits of dried meat, cubes of tangy cheese, and small cakes that tasted like honey and nutmeg and when Dean quietly said he couldn’t eat more, they rested in silence as their wolf guarded the door.

When the water grew uncomfortably tepid, Castiel urged his alpha up, dried him with a big, fluffy towel and wrapped him in a warm bathrobe Jody had left them. The corridor outside the bathroom was suspiciously devoid of both servants and customers for such a busy night and Castiel made a mental note to thank Jody for her consideration later.

In their room, Castiel lathered Dean’s scar and back with an ointment Pamela had given him, trying to remember how she had instructed him to rub it in to encourage the blood circulation and relaxation. The ointment felt warm to touch and smelled of pine needles and blueberries, taking him back to the lazy days of summer.

As he turned to take out a fresh shirt, Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm. ”Thank you”, he said hoarsely and swallowed. ”Just— thank you.”

Castiel cupped his cheek. ”Always,” he murmured.

He tucked Dean in and made sure to support the injured hand before settling behind him and pulling the blankets over them. 

”Goodnight,” he mouthed in his mate’s neck and closed his eyes.

As their wolf lay down in front of the door, watching over them, Dean and Castiel slept.

In the morning, Dean held an emotional speech to Maple Falls residents, thanking them for their sacrifice and remembering those who hadn’t made it back. They were all misty-eyed and many were openly crying, and before they started their slow journey home to the castle, Dean invited them to the Midwinter Feast, reminding them that in this hour, celebrating the new cycle of life would be even more important than ever before. 

By his side, Castiel gripped Dean’s had and he held Castiel’s hand back so tight it hurt. It was a good hurt because it was a sign he wasn’t dreaming.

Castiel invited Michael into their carriage, but he declined, saying that he didn’t want to intrude and pointing out that Dean and Castiel needed the chance to be alone. Touched by his thoughtfulness, Castiel thanked him and retreated into the carriage with his mate. Michael rode beside them, the remaining Southerners surrounded the carriage, and with their Northerner brothers-in-arms, kept the Lord of Grey Castle safe. Dean was hardly the only one carrying serious injury, but he was the only one who made the journey to the castle. The others had stayed at Maple Falls either because they lived in the village or because their injuries prevented the three-day journey.

Castiel spent his time either silent or talking about everything and nothing, a soft commentary of everyday life in the castle and Maple Falls, of Garth’s house renovating and Jo’s crush on Charlie, of how he had walked in on Ellen and Bobby kissing in the kitchen and of Gabriel’s plans of planting vines on the southern side of the castle. 

He didn’t talk about Marcel and Maryann crying themselves to sleep because they missed their dad, of Hael, of his own sleepless nights both waiting for his mate returning and dreading it.

He didn’t talk about his sacrifice.

Dean drifted in and out of sleep, resting his head on Castiel’s lap and his good hand brushing the wolf’s fur. Uncharacteristically, the wolf rode with them, but Castiel figured he too needed the physical confirmation that his both humans were finally back where they belonged.

The closer the castle they got, the more totems gathered to see them home. In all of his time in the North, Castiel had never seen such a sight and if the astonished look on Dean’s face was anything to go by, neither had he. The troops around their carriage gave way to an escort of totems, respecting the return of their Lord, but it wasn’t until Sam’s owl and Pamela’s ptarmigan arrived with shrill cries and a silent flutter of wings that Castiel saw the last remaining tension leaving Dean’s shoulders. Neither of the aviating totems stayed for long, but it was long enough.

The Lord was finally home.

By the time they pulled into the castle yard, the whole castlefolk was waiting for them. The twins could hardly contain themselves when they saw Dean and when Castiel opened the door to let the wolf out, they ran over to climb in and on Dean’s lap. Even though he had been away for a long time, the pups recognized him by scent and latched onto him. They jostled Dean’s arm and hurt his shoulder but Dean hugged them close and scented them deeply like a man starved.

Castiel decided to give them a moment and climbed down to have a word with his brother.

”Hael has grown a lot,” he said when he noticed Michael standing by his horse and looking around, searching for his daughter. 

”Hael?” Michael echoed, frowning.

Castiel gave him a rueful smile. ”I had to call her something. I briefly considered naming her after our Mother, but…” He paused when he saw Michael’s wince. ”I decided to call her Hael so that she carries both your name and a traditional Southern name.”

Michael cocked his head and cast a considering look at Menna who was walking towards them. ”Hael,” he muttered. ”I think I like it.”

”You don’t have to,” Castiel said. ”She’s so young that she’ll easily get used to a name of your choosing.”

Michael gave him a small smile, just a twitch of his lips and inclined his head. ”I like it,” he repeated. ”Thank you for naming my daughter, brother,” he said and reached his hands to pick up Hael.

Castiel held his breath, waiting for the pup’s reaction. She’d spent the majority of her time with Menna’s family and quite possibly considered them her family, and Castiel wasn’t sure how well Hael had even imprinted on Michael.

The pup went stiff when Michael held her close, either because she felt he was a stranger or because Michael himself was nervous. She allowed him a short moment of scenting before she grew fussy and Michael reluctantly handed her back to Menna.

”She’ll come around,” Menna assured him. ”You just need to spend more time together.”

Michael gave her a serious nod and turned to retrieve a bundle from his saddlebag. ”Dean instructed me to give her something that smells like me,” he said and gave the bundle to Menna. ”I hope this will suffice.”

Castiel blinked and smiled.

There was hope for Michael yet.

Life slowly trudged on. Castiel was busy with running the castle and taking care of Dean and the approaching Midwinter Feast ate up all the available free time he might have had. The Feast was going to be bigger than ever before and not only because of the Southerners that stayed over but because they all felt they needed this short respite from the winter, a stronger reminder that the old year was gone and the new one was about to begin.

That everything was ready to start over.

But even though he was busy, Castiel still mourned. It didn’t matter that the circumstances were vastly different from those of his first miscarriage or that this pregnancy had never lasted long enough for the castlefolk to find out, the emotional burden was there. He snuck out to visit the grove whenever he could but with Dean still recovering and dozens of injured men under their roof, it wasn’t as often as he would’ve liked. 

Of course, Dean knew something was bothering him but he didn’t pry. He asked a couple of times but stopped after Castiel evaded his questions and kept shooting him small, sideways glances when he thought Castiel wasn’t watching. They were sad and thoughtful, and they twang unpleasantly in his chest.  

Castiel knew he should just tell him but he wasn’t sure how. 

And what would happen after? Would Dean detest him? Berate him? 

Would he want to touch him again?

Surprisingly, it was Michael who finally confronted him.

”I apologize for overstepping but whatever is bothering you, you should talk to Dean,” he said one day when they were out with their pups. Michael didn’t look at Castiel but kept a close eye on his daughter.

During the previous night, snow had fallen and covered everything in a white, fluffy blanket. Neither Michael nor his fellow Southerners had ever seen snow before and even though he was more reserved than his men, his eyes were light up with wonder. His totem had lifted his paws, unfamiliar with the feeling of cold and wet, but was now trotting around the pups, keeping an eye on them. 

Just like the previous year, the older pups had started building snowmen as soon as they had reached the field and the younger pups were rolling around and piling on each other, laughing and screaming with delight. The adults and their totems watched over the pups and made sure the younger and smaller didn’t get trampled. Castiel knew it was all just for show: it wouldn’t take long before the castlefolk would start a snowball war.

When Hael started to cry, the wolf got up, shook himself, and gently picked her up, intending to carry her a bit away from the ruckus. He didn’t get very far, though, when Michael’s totem interjected. Surprised and not a little intrigued, Castiel watched avidly as the totems regarded each other for a while before the wolf beckoned his head ever so slightly, lowered the pup on the ground, and took a step back. 

Michael’s curly coated retriever picked her up and somewhat stiffly made his way to his human. It looked more uncomfortable as the totem was smaller than the wolf and still limping from his encounter with Luke and his totem, but he managed just fine.

Michael knelt down to pick his daughter up and, for a moment, they just silently studied each other. Then Hael leaned closer and smacked her snow-covered mitten right in Michael’s face. Michael blinked several times and then he grinned and bumped the pup on the nose.

Castiel hid his smile in his thick woollen scarf. Looked like they were going to be alright.

”Don’t think I forgot you didn’t answer me,” Michael said, calmly wiping melting snow from his face. ”And please, don’t say it was not a question,” he added flatly before turning to give Castiel a serious look. ”I know it is none of my business, but during my stay here and with Dean, I have grown to respect you both. I can see something troubling you both. You should take care of it before it grows too big.” 

Castiel stared at him in a slack-jawed surprise and didn’t come up with anything before Michael nodded and turned, leaving Castiel blinking after him.

Of course, Michael was right. If Castiel prodded, he could feel Dean’s confusion and sadness through their bond even though he sensed Dean was trying to tone it down a bit. He didn’t want it—either the hurt or his alpha hiding things from him. So he made a decision.

He turned to Jo and asked, ”Could you keep an eye on them for a while? I need to talk to your mother.” At her nod, Castiel called to his pups, ”Papa’s going to go in for a while, okay? Aunt Jo will stay here with you,” and turned to make his way inside and into the kitchen.

He didn’t even make it to open his mouth before Ellen raised a brow and said, ”About time. That boy’s been pining so hard it’s giving me a headache.”

Castiel winced and was about to apologize, but Ellen waved it away. ”None of that,” she said sternly and packed a big basket with an ease borne of years of practice. ”I know you needed to do this at your own pace,” she said and showed Castiel two padded flasks. ”Mulled wine and hot tea. The padding will keep them warm. Take your time,” she said softly and she handed him the basket. ”Bobby’s been grumbling about not getting enough áddjá time anyway.”

Castiel nodded. ”Thank you, Ellen,” he said. ”Don’t let him feed them too much honey cakes, or you’ll never get them to bed.”

Dean was in his study, double checking Sam’s notes with a frown. When Castiel knocked on the door frame, he looked up and blinked.

”Something wrong, Cas?”

Castiel shook his head. ”No. I was wondering if you’d have time for a short walk.” He lifted the basket and offered a small smile. ”I asked Ellen to pack us something to eat. She and Bobby will look after the pups tonight.”

Dean didn’t even try hiding the relief that flickered across his face. ”Yeah, sure. Just… let me grab the furs.” He made some hasty notes on the margins of the papers and set them aside on a neat pile before pushing himself up, hissing at the pain on his shoulder. It had started healing well, but the wound had been a big one, and the winter made it act up. Dean didn’t complain, but Castiel saw the gray exhaustion on his face after a long day. He had a couple of different ointments from both Pamela and Missouri, but despite their combined efforts, Dean would most likely have aches on his shoulder for the rest of his life.

They walked at a leisurely pace, enjoying the silence after the hassle of the castle. Dean didn’t say anything when Castiel led them towards the grove, but when he saw Castiel kneeling down to light two lanterns under the Rowan, his eyes widened with understanding.

”Oh, Cas,” Dean sighed and reached out to him, resting their foreheads together. ”Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean murmured and pressed a kiss to his forehead. ”You don’t have to carry this alone, not anymore.”

Castiel swallowed and smiled tightly. ”It’s… complicated,” he said quietly. 

Dean raised his head and gave him a searching look. ”Okay,” he said and gently pushed him towards the logs and the lunch basket. ”Tell me,” he said simply and sat down.

Castiel occupied his hands and his eyes by dealing food out of the basket. ”Remember when I told you about the feeling I got? Before Michael arrived?” Dean let out an agreeing sound. ”After you rode out, it didn’t stop. It… changed.”

Dean was silent for a moment before asking, ”How?”

”I started having dreams,” Castiel said. ”Different from my previous nightmares. But it had started even before that.” He took breathed in deeply and held it for a moment before letting it out in one, big whoosh. ”It started with Crowley.”

Dean’s hand froze midway, holding his mug. ”Crowley?” he repeated slowly, his breath blowing the steam from his mug towards Castiel. ”What are you talking—” He stopped and lowered his mug, giving Castiel a narrowed look. ”The Council meeting,” he stated.

”Yes,” Castiel nodded and sipped his wine. ”He came to talk to me after his little tirade. He told me a—a story. I tried finding out more about it but didn’t get much.” He huffed and shrugged. ”Your ancestors weren’t very big on writing down old lore. Anyway, I got help from Pamela, but in the end, he contacted me himself.”

”He?” Dean asked slowly.

Castiel frowned at his hands on his lap. ”When Luke was about to strike you down and something happened, what did you see?”

Dean blinked. ”I wrote you about it, right? I heard my dad’s bear but that’s all. I was too busy not getting killed.”

Castiel nodded and bit his lip, thinking hard. Finally, he made his decision and reached down into his pocket, digging out Michael’s letter. ”Read it,” he said as he handed it to his mate. 

Hesitantly, Dean accepted the letter and opened it. He started reading with a slight frown between his eyes, blinking at times, raising a brow at other times, and even rolling his eyes at Michael’s words. 

Then he froze.

”What?” Dean asked, his voice breaking. ”Did he really see this?”

”He believes he saw the spirits of your father and Azrael, the shaman,” Castiel said quietly.

”But how—” Dean started and shook his head. ”It should be impossible. They’re dead.”

Castiel swallowed and said, ”It’s not that simple. After you left, I started having more and more vivid dreams and, by the time you met Luke for the first time, Azrael made contact. I was expecting him already because Pamela had warned me.” He fell silent and stroked the fur they were sitting on, avoiding Dean’s gaze.

”Cas, what happened?” Dean asked when the silence stretched.

Castiel swallowed and blinked back tears. ”Promise you won’t hate me,” he whispered.

Dean let out a distressed sound. ”Cas, you’re scaring me. Just tell me, please.”

Castiel squeezed his eyes closed and clenched his hand into a fist. ”Some time after you rode out, I found out I was pregnant,” he said in a low voice and ignored Dean’s sharp inhale. ”I felt fine, but I knew something was different. I asked Pamela about what was going on with Azrael and Amara, the spirit that had possessed or working with Luke, and Pamela… She said, ’Death is a natural part of life. It’s the end of the cycle, and from it, Life begins.’  

”I didn’t really understand it then, but in the afterthought, it was quite clear.

”When Luke struck you down, I felt it. I knew you were going to die unless I stepped in, and he asked me to choose.” He swallowed around a dry throat and opened his eyes, meeting Dean’s wide eyes. ”I don’t regret my choice. If I had to choose you and our people over an unborn pup, I would do it again, even if I’d hate myself for the rest of my life.”

For a moment, Dean was silent then he sighed and shook his head. ”Oh Cas,” he said and cupped his face in his hand. ”I’m so sorry. That’s a terrible decision to make. I’m so sorry you had to face it alone.” 

Castiel didn’t know when Dean had taken off his mitten, but his hand was hot against his chilled skin, and the sensation was doubled when their bond flooded with love and understanding. He let out a strangled sound and scrambled forward into Dean’s arms, gripped his fur jacket in his hands so hard it hurt and just breathed. A weight he hadn’t realized he had been carrying lifted and he felt lighter. The grief and guilt over the lost pup weren’t gone—the loss was something he knew he would have to live with the rest of his life—but it was more bearable.

Dean hummed something under his breath and just held him tight. Castiel figured it was probably killing his bad shoulder, but he couldn’t let go, not yet. 

”You’re unbelievably brave,” Dean murmured into his ear. ”Facing all that all by yourself. I’m so damn proud to be your mate.” He drew back a bit and ducked his head to look into his eyes. ”And I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, understand?”

”Okay,” Castiel whispered back.

The kiss they shared was a collision of cold lips and slightly snotty noses, but it was also filled with hope and trust. 

The Midwinter Feast was a welcome respite from the recovery from the war. With Gabriel’s help, Castiel had planned the menu to suit Michael and his troops’ tastes to honor their Southern roots and they were properly stunned by the whole event. As far as Castiel remembered, the Novak clan had never had anything like this; the whole clan coming together to celebrate the turn of the year.

There was something cathartic in lighting the bonfire. Traditionally, the Lord lit the bonfire together with several key members of the clan, and this time, Dean had invited Michael to be one of the torchbearers.

”Let the fire burn away the darkness of the old year and give way to the new year, to new life,” Dean intoned as the bonfire lit with a whoosh. 

He stood in silence for a moment and then started to sing and after the first few lines, the clan joined in. Jápmin Lávlla, the Song of Death, carried their sorrow and memories of their fallen friends and family up to the stars and the Ancestors. The Southerners listened with bowed heads and wet eyes, unable to join in but touched by the music and feeling.

A little to Castiel’s side, Michael was holding his daughter and gazing into the fire with an inscrutable look on his face. As the last notes of the music died and the spell was broken, Hael fussed a bit and smacked him on the chin. Michael seemed to huff, took a hold of her hand, and pressed a kiss on top of her head. When he raised his head, he met Castiel’s eyes and nodded.

Castiel smiled and nodded back. 

In the previous years, the clan had mingled and played around the bonfire, but this year the mood was more somber. The people didn’t stay out that long, returning to the Great Hall that was once more laden with food and drink for everyone to eat their fill.

”I’m going back in,” Dean said, rubbing his shoulder. It was a cold night and his injury tended to ache easily despite Pamela’s ointments. ”Do you want me to take the pups?”

”Yes, thank you,” Castiel answered. Trust Dean to sense that he wanted to stay outside with his own thoughts for a while longer.

”Okay,” Dean said and kissed him on the nose. ”Don’t catch a cold.” 

Castiel watched with a fond smile as his mate ushered the pups into the fur-lined sled and started pulling it towards the castle, pretending to be a horse. The wolf started to follow him but hesitated and looked at Castiel over his shoulder.

”Go on,” Castiel said and pushed his reassurance through the connection to the totem. ”I’ll be alright.”

The wolf flickered his ears and trotted after Dean and the twins, earning a delighted squeal from Maryann.

Smiling, Castiel shook his head and turned back to the bonfire. It had started to collapse into a heap of embers, sending dancing sparks up to the dark sky. He followed them with his gaze, wondering if one of them would reach the place where his loved ones were.

When he heard someone walking to him, he turned to look and wasn’t surprised to see Crowley.

”Good eve of the new season, Castiel,” he said. There was something formal in his tone and the way he inclined his head as a greeting.

”The same to you,” Castiel answered.

They stood side by side for a moment before Crowley said, ”Walk with me,” and started slowly walk around the bonfire with his hands clasped behind his back. Curious, Castiel followed him.

”This war was hard on everyone,” Crowley said, looking straight ahead. ”I’m glad it’s over.”

”I’m sure everyone agrees,” Castiel murmured.

”My condolences for your loss,” Crowley continued, ignoring Castiel’s comment. ”It was a hard choice to make.”

Castiel stopped and gave him an incredulous look. ”Excuse me?” he asked, not sure if he’d heard right.

Crowley stopped and looked at his feet for a moment as if considering something before he turned to face Castiel. ”I was expecting you,” he said. ”Or, well, not you, but what you are.”

Stunned speechless, Castiel stared.

”Azrael’s line is still alive,” Crowley said. ”His blood was passed on through the maternal line, from the mother to the eldest daughter, generation after generation—until I was born.” He gave Castiel a wry smile and started walking again. ”I’ve been waiting for you for my whole life.”

Castiel followed him, mulling over his words. Suddenly, things started to make more sense—the way people seemed to shy away from Crowley and how he always seemed to know and see more than others. 

”Are you the Shaman of Death?”

Crowley’s lips twitched. ”As much as you are the Shaman of Life,” he answered. ”We both are merely their representatives in this world, physical manifestations of something bigger.”

”Makes sense,” Castiel agreed. ”It also explains how you knew what was about to happen.”

Crowley scoffed. ”That’s just because my mother was obsessed with Azrael and not a little crazy. People used to call her Rowena Ravenheart and she thought it was the greatest compliment a person could ever receive.” He let out a long-suffering breath. ”Her totem was a blackbird but she pretended she was Azrael’s raven incarnate.”

”Oh,” Castiel said. 

The bonfire was almost burned out and the cold was seeping into Castiel’s furs and he shivered. Above them, the pale stars twinkled and the Northern Lights crackled, casting their light on the snow. 

He turned to face Crowley and asked, ”So, what happens next?”

”What do you think?” Crowley asked with a raised brow and opened his arms wide. ”Life happens. Death. Seasons change, we get older and watch our pups grow up.”

Castiel blinked. ”That’s it?”

Crowley’s lips drew into a smirk and he tipped his head in a bow. 

”Good night, my Laird,” he said and walked away.

Due to the weather, Michael and his troops spent the winter in the North. Grey Castle was mostly unreachable during the long months of winter as the passes snowed closed and the roads became unfit to travel. Of course, the castle wasn’t completely isolated: the carrier pigeons still flew back and forth and the Northerners were just as adept to travel by sled and skis as they were by horse and foot. But the tradition dictated that the winter was for slow hibernation, for time spent together.

At first, Castiel had been worried that the winter would be too much for Michael, not only because he was an alpha without a clan, but also because of the blue darkness of Kaamos. But as time slowly went by, Castiel saw the subtle change in his brother. Oh, Michael could still be an ass, but he seemed to unravel a bit and became more approachable. At times, he almost seemed to enjoy himself.

Almost.

And little Hael was good for Michael. The more she spent time with her father, the closer they become, and the more relaxed Michael grew. Over the moons after the Midwinter Feast, Menna had started slowly weaning her and even though the pup still spent a lot of time with the maid’s family, she had moved into Michael’s quarters. 

To Castiel and Gabriel’s surprise, Michael declined the help from servants but wanted to take care of his daughter by himself. Castiel was sure it was because of how at ease Dean was not only with his own pups but with practically every pup around the castle. Michael had always been competitive and in this case, Castiel fully endorsed the trait. Sure, Michael would never be like Dean around pups, but if Dean’s influence helped him to build a relationship with his own daughter, all the better.

After the initial distrust, the wolf and Michael’s curly coated retriever had slowly thawed towards each other and were often seen in pup-sitting duty together. They shared a grudging respect for each other and at times when they lay down, their tails or feet almost touched. They both studiously ignored it, and Castiel had to bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snickering. 

Dean wasn’t as polite and earned himself haughty looks from the wolf after chortling aloud.

And Castiel himself?

As the days gradually grew longer, he got better. Every moment in the sun helped him to push the sadness away and with every blooming coltsfoot, he felt lighter. Talking with Pamela helped a lot and Dean’s love and faith in him were unshakable, but what truly made the difference was Crowley.

Somehow, learning that he and Crowley were the two polar opposites of the same cause, the sides of the same coin, eased Castiel’s mind more than he could’ve believed. Life and Death belonged together and completed each other, and each was as important as the other. Every living thing traveled towards its own death only to give way to new life, new possibilities, to start the cycle anew.

It helped him to come to terms with that the life he had carried inside of him for that short while hadn’t died, it had been redirected where it had been needed more. And one day, when it was time, he would carry new life again and bring it to the world when it was ready.

It didn’t take the pain or sorrow away but it helped him to make peace with himself.

When the spring fully arrived and nature slowly woke up from its long slumber, Michael started getting restless. He was often seen on the wall, staring at the horizon with a wistful look, and it was where he Castiel found him when he decided it was finally time for them to talk. 

”The roads will be safe to travel in a couple of weeks,” he said, stopping beside Michael and handing him a mug of mulled wine.

Michael startled. ”I haven’t—” he started but Castiel stopped him with a hand on his arm.

”Brother, you don’t belong here,” he said quietly. ”And I’m not saying this because we want you gone. You have mellowed out during your stay but the North would never make you happy—and not only because you’d need to be under another alpha.”

Michael deflated and his shoulders slumped. 

”What are you going to do?” Castiel asked. 

Michael sipped his wine before he said, slowly, ”I think I should return to South, but I am not sure if there is anything to return to.” 

”Remember, you are not alone,” Castiel said gently and squeezed his arm. When Michael gave him a doubtful look, he smiled. ”Gabriel has a lot of contacts.”

Michael looked disbelieving. ”And you think he would be willing to help me?”

”To get you out? Absolutely,” Castiel joked but when the joke fell flat, he sobered and sighed. ”Believe it or not, Michael, Gabriel has never wished you ill. The only thing he wanted from you was recognition and for you to respect his choices. Despite the bad blood between you two, you are still our brother and we will do whatever we can to help you.”

Michael frowned but didn’t say anything. They sipped their wines and gazed at the clouds on the horizon. The air was cool and smelled of rain. 

Castiel breathed in deep, taking in the promise of water and new life. ”There is much to rebuild,” he said after downing his wine. ”Word is that the survivors of the war hope that their new leader is familiar with the land and governing.”

”Is that so?” Michael asked and didn’t look impressed when Castiel gave him a wink.

”What do you think I should do with Hael?” Michael asked a moment later, frowning at his empty mug.

Castiel blinked. ”She is your daughter,” he said carefully. ”You can either take her with you or leave her here to be fostered. Either is fine with us but the choice is yours.”

Michael nodded and stayed silent for so long that Castiel was sure he was done with talking. He was about to return back inside when Michael let out a long breath.

”You have built an exceptional life for yourself and your family here, Castiel,” he said. ”And even though I cannot say it would be the right kind for me, I do appreciate the chance to experience it. Believe me, I shall be forever grateful for the safety your people gave to mine, but this is not the place for either me or my daughter.

”I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye but believe me, brother, when I say that you and your family are dear to me,” he said solemnly. ”I am proud to be your brother, Laird of Grey Castle.” He gave Castiel a formal bow and left.

Well then.

Holding his now cold mug, Castiel cast a look at the lands stretching around the castle. 

This was his land, his people, and he loved it with every bit of his being.

Closing his eyes, he reached inside of him for the bond, cherishing the strength and brightness of it and thought about Michael’s words.

They had survived the war against Luke and, against all odds, won. They would all carry the scars for the rest of their lives, physical and emotional but together as a clan, they would rebuild and thrive.

They would be fine.

Above him, Pamela’s ptarmigan gave a shrill cry. She circled once around the castle and headed towards the North, flying until she vanished into the clouds.