Taming A Jaguar Chapter Ten (Dean/Castiel)
Title - Taming A Jaguar Chapter Ten
Disclaimer - Don't own any of the characters, I just lock myself in my room and make them bend to my muse's will.
Rating - M ladies and gents, enjoy.
Word Count - 5,600
Warning - Gender!swap. Werewolf!AU. Eventually there will be smexy times of every type. There will also eventually be attempted sexual assault but not between the main couple. Also major character death more than once.
Summary - Using his second chance at life Castiel Novak comes back from Hell twenty years after his death to find his soul mate, the last face to swim before his eyes, the stranger than mourned the end of a werewolf's life. Unfortunately Adeana Winchester hunts his kind and is so far down the road of hatred it will take all the power Castiel has gained in his afterlife and all his charms to sway the hunter's stubborn point of view.
Back to Chapter NIne pt. 2!
Dean always found herself touching Castiel’s mark whenever she awoke. It never failed. Even after she’d finally managed to get through most of her waking hours mastering the compulsion, she wouldn’t obey her brain while asleep.
Damn sleep.
Not all sleep. Damn sleep with normal dreams, not that Dean had ever truly had those (unless horrifying nightmares counted). In this instance normal meant no meddling werewolves. She’d stopped secretly hoping he would have stayed there where she could have him unequivocally. She had made them mates in one of their shared dreams after all.
West Virginia was prefect not too hot to be humid yet enough that she had no problem with the Spyder motorcycle the Order had waiting at the private airstrip. She wore the helmet to keep traffic cops from pulling her over, but mostly to keep her hair out of the wind.
There was already plenty of human law enforcement at the warehouse supposedly at a “standoff” with Kyle and Belinda Lancaster, a married couple of serial killers.
Dean was here because the two happened to be werecobras. She had only dealt with one reptile prior to tonight, and knew some could be poisonous. Kevin had made sure to give her antidotes in emergency pressurized injectors.
Like usual she parked a decent distance from the targeted warehouse, and left her flashy red riding cloak behind. No one noticed the small dark-haired woman in black clothes where she found a gap in the perimeter.
Okay so the breach was only a five second opening on the other side of the chain-link fence, but it was a security gap Dean took advantage of nonetheless. She only made a soft grunt as she landed on the other side of the fence, and darted out of sight as the street cop passing by on his patrol turned and flashed the beam of his flashlight on the place where she’d just been.
There were a handful of cop cars, and even a SWAT van or two sprawled along the only accessible entries in. Dean had planned to take advantage of the unknown skylight but hadn’t wanted to risk crossfire from the law officers the moment they decided lycanthropes weren’t worth all this fuss.
Dean was positive that should this have happened close enough for the Order to have found the duo first the abandoned building would have been riddled with silver bullets within moments. No press.
There was only one poorly-marked news van and she avoided it fastidiously. She grabbed a passing uniformed officer and muttered, “Where’s Agent Waller?” When he only looked at her baffled she tried, “The man in charge?”
“By the SWAT van,” He pointed and disappeared. He would have made a good lycanthrope, or political gopher with that speed.
“Thanks,” Dean tugged her wallet out of her back pocket as she approached the commanding man of Irish descent currently shouting into a Bluetooth with a thick southern drawl and much spittle.
“Lieutenant Donnelly?” Dean called as soon as he lapsed into silent contemplation of what looked like a strategic map with colored tags marking people’s positions. How organized.
“You Agent Waller?” Donnelly answered, looking gruff.
Glad to keep herself on the outside of any territory disputes Dean shook her head and flashed her fake credentials. “Negotiator.”
“You Waller’s?”
“Yeah,” Dean grinned knowing Waller the NSA’s (or FBI as far as Donnelly knew) liaison with the Order wouldn’t be fully trusted with Dean’s dossier but would be told to expect Dean. Too bad the lumberjack was early. “SWAT team and patrols gotta get back, they’ll just get hurt.”
Having spent most of her life smaller than her peers Dean expected and noticed the appraising look Donnelly gave her. “Agent Waller--”
“Agent Waller isn’t here yet. It really doesn’t matter since I’m calling the shots anyway,” Dean made sure to keep her voice low and kept an eye out for eavesdroppers. It would cut down on Donnelly acting macho to safe face if there was no one to witness his emasculation. “I don’t want to bust your balls Donnelly since you’re the man here in Deton County, but if I have to I will show you what I get paid for.”
Donnelly was as mundane a human as they came. As an officer of the law he seemed to be in possession of a good gut instinct a sense that now gave credence to her words, and of course the menace was obvious (Dean had learned quick how to cut down on underestimating fools). “Anythin’ else ‘for I issue new orders?”
“I need rope…”
“SWAT,” Donnelly nodded and his Bluetooth came to life. “Roland I need to see you.”
Dean watched as Donnelly moved his chess pieces away from harm. While he was arguing with someone in his ear a statuesque woman all in black with “SWAT” across her chest came around the end of the truck.
“Tracy Roland SWAT Captain,” She introduced when Donnelly waved her impatiently toward Dean.
“Dean,” They shook hands.
“Dean?”
“Just Dean,” Dean nodded.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m going in through the boarded up skylight.”
A dark brown eyebrow arched high in counter to its partner. “Skylight?” She tried to get Donnelly’s attention but he was still busy.
“Yes,” Dean watched Donnelly’s face go red with anger at whoever was on the other side of his Bluetooth. “Negotiator.”
“Oh really?” Roland asked suspiciously.
Seeing a woman in authority had gotten Dean’s hopes up. “Yes,” She said with a soft sigh of disappointment as the woman half-ignored her.
“Donnelly!” Roland grabbed the man’s arm.
“Do whatever she says!” Donnelly shook his arm out of her grip and turned to pick up a clipboard. “I said now!” He yelled into the Bluetooth.
“You need a harness Rambo?” Roland asked as she turned to Dean with an exasperated roll of her dark eyes at Donnelly’s back.
“Just the rope is fine, no troubles,” Dean could do without just fine damn when she got up there, and got a good peek she might not even need rope. With the locals far away she could cushion her fall with a bit of lycanthrope energy, but appearance was everything in the Order.
The SWAT leader lead Dean to the van nearby where more than one coil of rope lay waiting just inside the open back doors.
“You want a vest?” Roland asked as she handed Dean a large coil of black rope.
“I’ll be fine as long as nobody out here gets an itchy trigger finger,” Dean didn’t bother playing normal the rope coil was definitely a challenging weigh for the muscular Roland who had to brush six feet, but Dean could handle it casually without any help from her metaphysical energy.
“So you know they’re not armed.”
Suddenly Michael’s words echoed through Dean’s mind, how her kind (humans) gave no chance of fair trial to lycanthropes there was only death. The words conjured the mental image of the small blond swan-girl from the arcade mall-a fraction of the old Alpha’s age but still with the same sad wisdom-and that idea made her voice break over, “I’m here to make sure no one else gets hurt.”
So far the tally was three.
Dr. Ito Watanabe.
Hansel McNamara.
Alfred Manerd.
No more.
“Lycanthropes listen to negotiators?” Roland asked softly even as Dean lifted the rope easily onto her shoulder like the strap of a purse.
“When I’m the negotiator they listen quite well,” Dean gave her a smile and got one in return.
“Special branch of the government, eh?”
Dean paused in turning away at the brunette’s words, “I guess you could say that.”
“You’re going alone?”
“Mm-hm,” Dean moved away quickly before Roland could object, and as soon as she was out of sigh she didn’t hold back on her speed. There was a rusted broken ladder that ran along the east wall, but a normal reach would have definitely not been enough to catch the bottom rung.
Even weighed down by the fifty pound coil of rope Dean’s vertical jump cleared most of the last rungs (the most rusted out decrepit part of the ladder). She tried to keep her ascent as silent as possible and when she reached the roof she kept her energy close around her.
After securing the rope she moved to the skylight most of the boards were already broken out. Jumping would be fun from her vantage she could see the shape and slight details of a single-story office built inside with what looked like a roof of sheet-metal that was easily high enough to keep her from breaking her legs should she choose to jump, but she carefully lowered the rope inside instead.
Just in case.
As she leaned over the edge Dean’s nose was assailed by gasoline fumes. The warehouse had never housed anything flammable but the Lancasters had obviously brought their own large collection and carelessly spilled it all over inside.
Note to self: watch sparks.
With one last sweep of the warehouse visible from her current point of view she twisted the rope around her leg, and caught a firm grip on the edge of the skylight before dropping down inside it. She lowered slowly until she was sure she could make a silent landing on the office structure’s roof then she let herself drop.
Seconds before she landed, Dean caught sight of a large hole in the ceiling just shy of where she intended to land. So either she rolled and made a bunch of noise when she landed, or she could stick the silent landing and go through the roof…making a bunch of noise.
The landing was silent, the quick roll surprisingly the same, but then came the protest of the roof and its impending collapse was enough of a warning without the resounding…
CRASH!
Dean landed in some sheetrock and lots of dust and ceiling tiles, but managed to stick her second landing too, albeit not nearly as graceful. She crouched and quickly caught sight of the half-naked couple making out on the ratty old couch furnishing the abandoned office in the condemned warehouse.
With silver ammo in dozens of submachine guns surrounding the building Dean was pretty sure the last thing she would have been doing was having sex (because no it wasn’t making out she’d interrupted). She moved for cover quickly knowing very well that the activity she’d interrupted made a damn good distraction.
The decent-sized man named Kyle was still half in his blue jeans his black hair falling heavily tousled all the way down to his sweaty shoulder-blades. He was trying to keep track of his new unknown enemy and shield the small woman who was just as disheveled on the couch.
Like the fumes from the gasoline the small room’s muggy air was thick with lust, and much more. Dean wasn’t sure if it was the mixture of other tender emotions that told her or the protective gleam she saw in Kyle’s blue eyes, but there was no doubt the two were mates.
Kyle was large enough to make Cerberus feel like he should lift weights, and it was perfect for shielding his tiny mate Belinda. “Whose there?” He shouted having missed Dean’s horrible entrance, and subsequent move to hide behind a desk.
Dean wasn’t about to answer but where blue eyes scanned the wreckage she’d left behind on the other side of the room, frightened hazel eyes zeroed right in on her hiding place. From around her giant mate Belinda either had better instincts or Kyle was exceptionally slow. Dean knew better than to assume anything at this point.
Knowing this would be the safest place to fight-being gasoline free-Dean drew her sword and got to her feet. At this vantage point she could only see Big Wide Kyle Torso and Tiny Belinda Legs.
“You don’t look like a cop,” Kyle murmured, eyes stuck on Dean’s gleaming blade.
“M’not,” Dean gave a one-armed shrug.
“Negotiator?”
“I wish,” Dean said with a shake of her head. “Although most wouldn’t hesitate to blow you both to kingdom come…What with the video footage they’ve got on you.”
Big Kyle seemed to know how serious a small woman could be, or he knew the smell of silver because his next words were, “Belinda had nothing to do with it.”
That was Dean’s hitch. The old Dean wouldn’t have hesitated on the double order, lycanthrope=bad. She had seen the security footage of Dr. Watanabe and McNamara, and Belinda hadn’t been there. The old Dean would have made Belinda guilty by association, told herself that there was no proof of inactivity on her part for the third murder (she had always been one of those “guilty until proven innocent” types where lycanthropes were concerned).
They didn’t seem to have much metaphysical power since both of them were first generation lycanthropes. Snakes were a difficult strain to catch; Dean was curious how these two hadn’t already been adopted--and thereby protected--by a lycanthrope group (for cobra’s it would be called a quiver if Dean remembered correctly).
She could be the brain, her man definitely has the brawn part covered; “I know you were both involved.” Dean moved out from behind the desk and didn’t even get enough time for a precognitive flash before Kyle’s large hand flashed out and slapped her sword aside.
Training kept the weapon in her hand but in that opening Kyle’s other meaty hand shot forward, fingers curled in toward the middle to deliver a palmheel. Dean only just got an arm up to block, back-handing Kyle’s tree-branch arm and swatting it away much like he’d done to her sword only she used some strength.
Kyle went flying into the nearby wall and anything Dean would have done was halted by a high, desperate voice calling, “No! No! Please!”
Then surprisingly strong tiny arms caught Dean around her waist and showed some aikido training as they tossed her, and managed to send her into the apposite wall as her mate. Dean made a Lumberjack-sized hole in the wall with her body, but didn’t have a problem snapping to her feet her sword still in hand.
Unfortunately Kyle had the same ease in recovering from his meeting with the wall giving him just a second or two on Dean. As she got back to her feet his forearm caught her just below the shoulders, clothes-lining her back with enough force to send her sliding across the vast amounts of gasoline pooling on the warehouse floor.
The liquid soaked her before she could get up and out of it, and she grimaced as the trapped fumes slapped her sensitive nose. “I’m sorry if you thought you could do this without punishment.”
“I won’t let you hurt her too,” Kyle’s voice came out hard and steely.
“Kyle!”
“I told you to get the fuck outta here,” Kyle’s sharp blue eyes didn’t leave his adversary even as Belinda moved to his side contrary to his command.
Even though she’d been sent to take care of them both when Belinda moved to block her attack Dean found herself hesitating. One of Kyle’s long arms curled around Belinda’s petite waist to pull her back into the protective shield of his body as his free hand shot out to grab Dean’s sword arm and twist it until she lost her grip on the weapon.
In such close quarters Dean only had a second to decide to use her lycanthrope energy offensively and her eyes met Belinda’s as she was pulled out of danger by Kyle. Why she was feeling like her grandma right now, giving the strawberry-blond the time to lean forward and close the small distance that had been growing between them.
Her jaguar clashed along the rising cobra as the girl darted in, but just as quickly froze in the midst of her attack. Whatever she’d been about to do, the sight of Castiel’s mark and the pressure of feline lycanthrope energy seemed to give werecobra pause.
“What are you waitin’ for!” Kyle hissed to Belinda before lifting the arm still captured in his hand up to his mouth and biting with something that felt suspiciously like fangs.
“No! Kyle!” Belinda used her tiny muscles to shove him away and he did indeed release Dean and stumble back. She lurched forward to catch the Lumberjack as she started to collapse. “You didn’t!” She chastised Kyle right into Dean’s ear as her dead weight brought her solidly into contact with her tiny supporting body.
“A little,” Came sheepishly, but for some reason Dean found her eyes closed and not quite giving a shit what words meant.
“She’s not human,” Belinda’s voice sounded much lower, like she was turning into a guy?
A guy.
Heh.
Like Castiel’s fratricidal brother.
“She’ll be okay then if she’s one of us--”
Dean stopped listening so she could chase Castiel into the darkness of anaphylactic shock.
…
Cool water on her face woke Dean an undeterminable time later. Confused at the icky smells that filled her nose she almost didn’t want to open her eyes to figure out where she could possibly be that had such a god-awful stench.
The large metal trash can was empty but still kept its delightful refuse scent. After opening her eyes she found the thick rubber lid was firmly closed, but there was a rather large rusted hole in the side of the metal bin. With the dim light that spilled through she saw enough time had passed that Kyle’s bite was now merely a suggestion, two small holes. She shoved open the lid and as she tilted her head back to look upward taking internal stock (everything seemed in proper working order) she got another mist of cool water to the face.
With a groan she rolled forward onto her feet and stood, trying her best not to touch the sides of the large bin. Her eyes peered over the edge and immediately were drawn to the roaring inferno that had once been the abandoned warehouse.
Half a dozen fire rescue trucks had joined the SWAT and local police department vehicles. One of the trucks had a water cannon and the errant breeze picked up some of its constant stream and sent it her way.
She remembered all the rusted out garbage bins and none had been pushed twenty feet away from the warehouse.
The only people she had to report to were back at the Lumberjack Shack, but if the werecobras were still fugitives human law would stay involved.
Before climbing out of the garbage bin Dean fumbled for one of the EpiPens Kevin had hoisted on her. An annoying voice that sounded a lot like Castiel had pestered her until she put it out of her head to leave them behind with her bike.
Roland didn’t seem surprised to see Dean limp around the flaming building. Donnelly was beside the SWAT captain and another man in a dark suit, Waller most likely.
“Ya lost my rope didn’t you?” Roland teased.
“Agent Winchester?” Waller held a hand out for a handshake.
And because Dean was in the mood she shook his hand garbage bin grimy, gasoline, bloodstained and all. “Dean please.”
“Miss--”
“Just Dean,” Dean rolled her eyes as Waller tried to politely tug his hand out of hers. She held on.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster?”
“Doused the entire place in gasoline,” Dean answered as she eyed the burning building while trying to forget how hideous she must look and smell and how glad she was there were no lycanthropes around to witness, just human noses. Castiel would-
“Ow!” Waller shouted in alarm as Dean’s fingers squeezed a little too hard.
“Sorry,” Dean released the whining man with an apologetic smile.
“Mr. Lancaster had a GPS chip but it has him in his apartment downtown, the missus’ chip is malfunctioning,” Waller shook his hand and gently prodded the bones in the back of it.
Just my luck. “I’m on it,” Dean nodded and started away only to have Roland catch her arm.
“Are you all right?”
“Alive and kicking,” Dean grinned and removed her arm. She caught Waller’s gaze. “Let me know if the status on the female’s chip changes.”
“Sure thing.”
Dean hoped Waller kept the local’s out of things. She saw Donnelly shoot her a look and she told him, “They’ll be out of the county by now.” She turned her attention back to Waller and gave him a nod, “You’ve got my number.”
Castiel jumped out of the back of the pick-up truck and rolled off the road and into a ditch. He grimaced as he had to readjust his broken leg so the bone would knit straight.
Castiel got to his feet and limped into the forest.
Castiel rolled his eyes.
“Pussy.”
Castiel rolled his eyes again and pushed Cerberus back down.
The Spider had run short on gas only a few miles from the reservation. Castiel had tried to get it gas but had realized he’d left his wallet in his other pants at Dean’s.
He’d left the car there with the keys in the glove compartment and jumped into the back of a beat-up pick-up truck.
Castiel had wanted to stay in town just in case Dean came to her senses.
That had originally been why he decided to leave. Soon the Lumberjacks would be after him and he knew they weren’t all reliant on their mark to find their prey. They probably had a picture of him by now.
A familiar smell came to his nose, and he moved toward it. “Anna?” He called his eyes scanning the trees.
He found the submissive hiding in a tree in her wolf/human shift and when she looked down at him he realized she was terrified. “Anael? Hey, it’s Castiel,” He reached up toward her.
“I will not hurt you,” Castiel beseeched. “Are you all right?”
“Back away.”
Castiel glanced over his shoulder and turned when he saw his father in his own in-between shift. “I will not hurt her.”
“Castiel?” Michael moved closer.
“Castiel?” Anael’s soft voice called out trembling and terrified out of her tree. “Is it really you?”
“Yes,” Castiel turned back to her and had to step back as Michael moved in front of him.
“You smell different,” Michael stepped after him and Castiel retreated another step it was just like the good ol’ days.
“It is still me,” Castiel felt his anger at his father feed Cerberus and he held his hands up to hold them both off. “Please dad...She’s scared.”
“Of you,” Michael said moving close again Castiel had to stop stepping back as he came up short against a tree.
“No,” Castiel saw the submissive drop down out of the tree. Castiel had protected her before his death and after. When she’d been forced to do the most detestable he’d stepped in.
Depending on the dominant Castiel was a good replacement but sometimes he’d had to fight hard.
“I am different,” Castiel admitted. “But I am not here to hurt anyone.”
“Why are you here?” Michael growled suspiciously.
“Father...” Castiel wished his father had been more father and less Alpha. “I found her and she does not want me.”
Castiel saw the relief in Michael’s eyes and almost immediately the remorse. He didn’t back down however and didn’t lower his power.
Castiel kept the tears at bay but knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it. “I have less than three months...”
“Three months?” Anael said timidly. She hadn’t understood the change that had come over Castiel he would always be her hero. Castiel had been relieved she didn’t treat him any differently and he had protected her much better.
What had happened to her since he’d left? He hadn’t even worried about her Dean had consumed him. He looked her over noticing she was still afraid of him, and it hurt.
“Until my year is up,” Castiel had never explained to his father how he had come back from the dead after twenty years. “Then I go back to Hell.”
Michael was floundering in confusion and he glanced at Anael who bent her head submissively.
That’s when Castiel noticed the collar on her. He went very still as he remembered his own. It was a choke collar that could tighten with horrible silver hooks on the inside. It was usually a punishment for submissives that weren’t acting their role.
Anael started to leave but Castiel was already behind her. He winced as her fear spiked and Cerberus lifted his head. “I’m sorry!”
Castiel took her arms in his hands and tried to calm her, but seeing that collar had made him angry. “Do not be scared. Please do not be scared of me.” Michael was pushing him away and pulling her away from him by her collar. “You are hurting her!” Castiel snarled shoving his father’s paw away. “Stop!”
Anael whimpered and howled in pain as Michael threw her to the forest floor. “I am her Alpha she should be honored that I’ve had such an interest in her.”
Castiel met the woman’s hazel eyes and saw the pain and fear. “How could you let anyone put that collar on her?”
“I put that collar on to remind her of what she is Castiel.”
Michael didn’t know what hit him. Suddenly he found himself seriously lodged in the trunk of a large tree. He looked up woozily to see Castiel stalking toward him his rage blazing hotter than the older werewolf had ever felt.
“You’re her king,” Cerberus growled in disgust. “You’re supposed to protect her!”
“Who are you?” Michael wheezed as he felt something sharp jab inside more than likely a rib.
With a grunt Cerberus tore the wolfman out of the tree and sent him into another. “I’m the one that does his dirty work.”
“You have come for my pack!” Michael growled as he found the strength to pull out of the tree as Cerberus moved toward him again. “I knew it--” He choked off as Cerberus’s hand locked around his throat.
“Your pack already belongs to me old man,” Cerberus laughed. “There isn’t one of you that aren’t mine to cut and fuck as I please.”
That line made the Alpha realize he wasn’t talking to his son. He had suspected treachery from him since he’d returned to the living, but they hadn’t been strong just an old Alpha’s paranoia.
Cerberus looked over his shoulder at Anael and Michael watched her jump to her feet and run to them her head bowed submissively as if she’d been called. Michael could feel the strange mixture of Cerberus’s and Castiel’s energy guiding her like a gentle hand on her elbow.
Michael watched her as she lifted her paws to remove the collar and hand it to Cerberus.
“Go,” Cerberus ordered and she was gone into the forest.
“Castiel,” Michael tried to reach him. “What are you doing?”
Castiel chuckled and pushed the monster back down.
Cerberus was definitely conflicted and it was Castiel’s fault.
It was Castiel that slipped the collar around his father’s neck and tightened it until he yelped in pain. “How does it feel?” Castiel growled into his father’s furry ear as the old lycanthrope lowered to his knees. “Get up,” Castiel used the collar to lift him back to his feet.
“Castiel please--”
Castiel let go and let him fall back to the ground. This wasn’t him. He knew the rage had been harder to calm since he’d met Dean. At the thought of her it evaporated in the face of his sorrow.
“I apologize. I should not have come,” Castiel whispered and turned to move back to the road.
“Castiel.”
“I could never stand how you let submissives be treated...” Castiel turned to look at his father. “I do not know if we will stop next time.”
“What has happened to you?” Michael asked.
“Do not worry,” Castiel gave him a sad smile. “I will be out of your fur soon.”
“Castiel wait,” Michael called as his son turned away. “Nathaniel is dead.”
“I know I saw,” Castiel frowned. “He was disobeying orders by leaving the reserve to hunt me and a hunter found the hunting party.”
“Who?”
Castiel shook his head, “Sorry about Nathaniel.”
“You…are the only son I have left.”
“What? Now that I am the only one I can have the pack?” Castiel shook his head in disbelief. “It hardly matters I will die too in less than three months.”
“Castiel,” Michael was there his hand on his shoulder, and when he met his father’s eyes it was warily. “Come home, until your time is up.”
Castiel was struck silent by his father’s kindness. He nodded and followed him through the forest. Castiel didn’t want to tell him he had never felt like he had a home until Dean.
It wasn’t as if he thought he would fit easily in her Lumberjack life...What relationship was easy?
Michael looked back as Castiel stopped in the trees. “Castiel?”
How could he give up so easily? He had gotten himself out of Hell! Here he was giving up on something small like this.
Castiel asked as he followed his father through the forest.
Cerberus was quiet a moment and Castiel could feel the demon’s sorrow.
Castiel frowned as he gave his wolf a silent nod and shifted into his wolf form. Soon he would know how it felt to have his soul mate totally and eternally out of his reach. He tried his best not to dwell on her, but he might as well try to deny the pull of the moon. Sure he could do it but not for long and most of the time it hurt.
Castiel told his father.
Michael looked over at him and paused a moment to shift to wolf. Michael suggested.
Castiel argued. The Vidar of a pack was a rare title since the Alpha of a pack was supposed to protect the weaker of the family.
Michael agreed.
And sometimes even if it was wrong.
Michael’s eyes met Castiel’s.
At the thought of it a longing bordering on painful ran him through.
Michael must have felt some of what Castiel did because he didn’t say anything else. With a tensing of his body Castiel felt energy flooding toward him and Michael’s guard appeared in various states of wolf. Before they could attack Michael moved in-between them and let loose his power, and they backed away.
Castiel wasn’t privy to what he told them telepathically but soon they relaxed and gathered loosely around the two of them. Castiel eyed his father’s second-in-command a jet black wolf with cool green eyes that reminded him of Dean. What didn’t?
Cerberus reared his ugly heads again.
Onward to Chapter Eleven!