Dean's heat doesn't kill him, although he's so ashamed by the time he comes downstairs he kind of wishes it had.
Beyond suggesting a trip into town for a suppressant shot and recommending Dean avoid heats until they figure out a) what the heck pulled him out of hell and b) if he's mated or it not, Bobby is mercifully quiet.
Dean still has trouble looking him in the eye though. He remembers Bobby patting him down with cool towels and making him drink water and juice. He has an awful suspicion that he might've seen Dean crying or fingering himself. Fuck, maybe even both at the same time. The thought is cripplingly humiliating, makes him want to crawl away and find some hole to die in. again.
After a day of walking on eggshells, Bobby corners him in the kitchen.
"Karen was an omega," he says. "You ain't done nothing I ain't seen before, so stop acting like you drowned a baby or something already."
Bobby fixes him with a glare, as if daring Dean to contradict him. Dean blushes bright red in embarrassment, but Bobby doesn't sound disgusted or repulsed, and awkward or not, it does kinda make him feel a bit better. A little.
"It's damn annoying," Bobby adds gruffly. "Sam's sposed to be the sensitive one.
---
Sam's eyes are brown.
The Impala is black.
John's messy scrawl, 'MC5', on the tape Dean pulls out of the glovebox is blue. He picks at the peeling label.
He doesn't tell his brother that he's mated. Sort of. Cause he isn't really sure that's what's actually happened. How could he have been claimed by an alpha when he was a corpse rotting in a pine box? How do you find your mate when you're dead?
What sort of... thing could have left its mark burnt into his arm?
Sam's already weirded out about Dean's return from the dead enough without adding in a demonic mate.
Bobby doesn't say anything.
They search for answers, for whatever pulled him out of Hell. Dean waits and wonders, scared and impatient all at once.
The mark on his arm itches and throbs.
---
Dean knows the moment, the instant, he sees him. His mate, his truemate, the one meant just for him.
The doctor years ago was right. It doesn't matter that Dean's never wanted a man before in his life, he gets one look at him and he's gone. Something primitive and omega in him recognizes the figure in the tan trenchcoat and bends, twisting deep inside.
Dean can barely even make him out amid the flashes of lightning and the rain of sparks in the barn, but there's no doubt that this creature is his mate. He feels it. He knows. The handprint pricks against his shirt.
The man - demon - whatever it is - looks around at the sigils covering the walls and casually walks across the elaborate devil's trap painted on the ground
Cold dread ices his veins and Dean lifts his sawn-off. His omega instincts are screaming at him because that's his alpha, but he's been ignoring them for years. He fires, no warning, straight for its heart. Bobby joins in beside him.
The thing doesn't even break stride. Just continues steadily towards Dean. It doesn't even bleed, whatever it is that's claimed him as its mate. As it gets closer Dean makes out the rumbled suit, dark hair and weirdly focused facial expression. It's obviously not human, it's just wearing one.
Dean keeps his eyes trained on it but backs away, palming Ruby's knife off the old work bench behind him.
It circles Dean staring at him with blue eyes that seem to glow. A little part of him is relieved they aren't yellow. He's close now, close enough that Dean can't help inhaling to scent him. Over the stink of old hay, fried light bulbs and gunsmoke he catches something static and fresh like a rainstorm. It's nothing like the musk of any alpha Dean has ever met, doesn't smell like any human he's ever met full stop. His body doesn't seem to care though, it's telling Dean something along the lines of: hell yeah get a whiff of this sexy motherfucker. No girl ever smelt this good. Bet he tastes even better! and for the first time out of heat and despite his fresh suppressants, Dean feels his body warm and slick in preparation for a knot as his dick gives a simultaneous twitch of interest.
The throb of arousal and animal want is so sudden and new and disturbing that Dean has to restrain the urge to turn and just run.
"Who are you?!" he barks instead, circling, knife in hand.
His mate tilts his head to one side and speaks. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."
And holy fuck what the hell kinda of voice is that?! He forgets to breathe for a second because the stupid omega voice in the back of his head is going nuts, wants to lick that low rumble out of the guy's mouth.
Demon the part of his brain not currently occupied with how turned on he is tells him. It's the only thing that makes sense.
He imagines being the plaything of something like Alistair up here, on earth where his body is real, where he's an omega and not just a name and a soul. Being mated to a demon. A demon he wanted to bend over like a bitch for the moment he fucking set eyes on him.
He'd sooner take the rack again.
"Yeah?" he asks, all bitter sarcasm. "Thanks for that." The demon almost nods, as if expecting gratitude.
Dean buries Ruby's knife in its chest.
The thing doesn't move, doesn't make a noise. There's no sigh of pain, no x-ray demonic light show. Dean steps back, stares in disbelief. It blinks at him a couple of times then looks down at the hilt of the knife with something almost like a fucking smile on its face. The blade clutters useless to the floor.
Dean's mind is a blank. He'd been so sure, despite the salt and the devil's trap... He shoots a panicked look at Bobby, who's looking equally freaked out, but hefting some iron.
Without even looking it catches the crow bar with effortless strength. It pulls Bobby close then presses a hand to the old hunter's head. He sinks to the floor in a boneless heap, eyelids flickering but out for the count. When it turns back to Dean it has an earnest expression on his face, like it's sorry.
Dean knows he should be doing something but he's honestly at a complete fucking lost and the thing's eyes are really blue, blue like whoa, and his - no, its - scent is making it hard to think straight and -
"We need to talk Dean."
Dean swallows a whimper at that fucking voice.
"Alone."
---
His mate's name is Castiel.
He tells Dean that he is an angel of the lord, that he pulled him from Hell because god has work for him.
His voice makes Dean's throat dry.
His scent, static like a rainstorm, makes Dean ache. Makes him think of light and burning and things half forgotten.
Dean is afraid.
YOU ARE READING
Grey
FanfictionIn a world where people don't see in color until they find their true mate, the first thing Dean sees when he pulls himself out of his grave is the blue sky. When Castiel raised him from the Pit, he inadvertently claimed Dean as his mate.
