ayyy congrats on 500!! Prompt: witch/familiar au please?
@queenvee08, I live to serve <3 this is definitely going to be a longer fic at some point in the future i hope you’re happy with yourself
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“What do you think? Hellsbore or mandrake root?”
Dean stops his perusal of the two herbs which, to be fair, look almost identical, to glance over at Cas.
Cas, who is still sulking from this morning, when Dean accidentally kicked him off the bed, doesn’t answer. The only indication he gives that he’d heard Dean at all is the irritated flick of one ear in his direction.
Asshole stays in cat form when he wants to give Dean the silent treatment. And sure, Dean can hold a sulk with the best of them, but it’s also disconcerting to be ignored by someone who’s intent on raising their hind leg and indulging in a thorough tongue bath. Especially when Dean knows that Cas only does that shit to get on his nerves.
“Come on. Cas. Come on. Asked you a question. Come on buddy.”
Dean can feel Cas’ low-grade frustration thrumming through their bond at the back of his mind. It’s like having an annoying song that you just can’t quite get out of your head, or a persistent itch that lingers, no matter how you contort your body to get at it. It’s annoying, but ultimately not damaging. Except Dean is done being ignored. He truly does want Cas’ opinion, seeing that he and Cas make a hell of a team (in the six months since he and Cas bonded, Dean’s understanding and abilities have only deepened, to the point that even Bobby says that with a little more practice, he’ll make a hell of a witch), but more importantly, he wants Cas’ company.
When he’s not being a grouchy little bastard, Cas is great to have around. If he’s in cat form, he’ll laze on the counter, sunning himself and batting at the random bits of string that Dean dangles in front of him. After some trial and error and one memorable time when Dean yowled, Holy shit Cas your claws, as Cas failed to gain purchase and ended up dragging his claws down the back of Dean’s neck, he’s learned the trick of balancing on Dean’s shoulders as Dean fills orders and experiments to make different combinations of spells. Dean’s gotten used to Cas draping himself on the back of his neck, like a warm, furry weight (fucker is heavy). And then there are the times when Cas will just curl up next to him, or wrap himself around Dean’s ankles, butting his head against him. It’s worth it then, for the daily allergy potion that he drinks (a twist of fate that his familiar ended up being a cat, the one animal that Dean’s allergic to, but it’s worth it if it’s Cas).
And if Cas is in human form, then that’s even better, because he’ll sit crosslegged on the counter and help Dean measure out ingredients for spells. He’ll read spells over Dean’s shoulder, suggesting improvements or modifications (Cas’ practical knowledge of witchcraft is formidable, his intellect staggering and sharp; every time he speaks, Dean’s reminded that he’s in the presence of a mind much quicker than his own). He’ll even, if the mood strikes him, deal with customers. Dean’s seen more than one granny come tottering in, looking for a joint relief aid, and come waltzing out, starry-eyed, from a conversation with Cas.
Not that Dean blames them. Cas is gorgeous.
He’s the kind of attractive that stops people in their tracks, the kind that makes people do an unironic double-take. When you add in that jawline, those shoulders, the long elegant fingers, thick runner’s thighs, and perpetually messy bedhead, and multiply it by his pack-a-day deep voice, and then throw in his intelligence–No wonder that people are falling over themselves.
And that’s the problem. Because Dean is one of those people.
It’s not forbidden persay, shacking up with your familiar, but it is the kind of weird that gets you talked about at parties. It’s taboo enough that only the fringe elements of the community will even entertain the notion, and then in whispers and titters. Kind of like having people figure out that you like weird kinky sex stuff. There’s no law against it, but they sure as hell look at you differently.
Dean’s not sure if he’s ready for that. And he’s damn sure not going to make a move until he’s sure that Cas is interested. And as for that…Dean has no idea. They may share a bond, but the bond doesn’t stretch to their every thought, which means that they can hide things from each other. And Cas can be closed off when he wants to be, which makes him almost impossible to read.
So Dean grits his teeth, keeps running his shop, and tries not to have a coronary every time he goes to sleep with Cas in his cat form at the foot of his bed and wakes up with Cas in human form snuggled up next to him (that probably means something, right? What? What does it mean?).
And then there are the times that he tries not to scream, like right now, when he poses another question to Cas, and the irritated scrabbling at the back of his mind gets louder. Cas pins him with a long look before he deliberately flattens his ears to his skull. A second later, he lifts up his lips to reveal two delicately pointed canines and hisses softly.
“Jesus, it was a fucking accident,” Dean mutters, turning away from Cas. See if two can play that game. He’s interrupted from his brief pity party by the sudden absence of aggravation from Cas. Instead, it’s replaced by intent focus, that steel-trap mind narrowing its sight until it finds a single focal point.
Forewarned, Dean is facing the door, magic already sparking at his fingertips, when it opens and Crowley comes through.
Crowley, who’s been after him for months to join the coven he keeps under his thumb. Crowley, who trades and barters in souls instead of money. Crowley, whose eyes flash red as he neatly sidesteps the Devil’s Trap Dean keeps hidden underneath the rug.
A low growl rumbles from Cas’ chest as he stalks over to Dean. It never ceases; Dean can feel it shaking through his body as Cas presses against his elbow. Their bond tightens and Dean feels the additional surge of magic, the familiar supporting his witch and boosting his powers. The magic surges through Dean, the purest drug he’ll ever need, and that, combined with the presence of Cas at his side, gives Dean enough fortitude to look at Crowley and snarl “Get the fuck out.”
Crowley pretends to be hurt. “Such a cold welcome Squirrel. And after everything I’ve done for you.”
Dean forces a brittle laugh. “You? You’ve never done shit for me, except try to get me in your pocket from Day 1. I told you then and I’m telling you now–I’m not for sale.” Next to him, Castiel hisses in punctuation, lips curling back to reveal his bared teeth. Without looking, Dean reaches down and settles his hand on top of Cas. He feels the fur standing on end, the tension running taut through every inch of Cas’ frame.
Crowley flicks a dismissive eye towards Castiel. “Can it pussycat,” he sneers, before he turns back to Dean, ignoring how Castiel’s growl rises in pitch. His eyes glow red in warning. “Last chance Winchester. Take the deal before something goes wrong.”
Dean doesn’t even need to consider. “How about you go to hell?”
He senses Crowley moving before he does, but it’s Cas who acts. With an inhuman screech, he launches himself from the counter straight at Crowley, claws outstretched.
A flick of Crowley’s fingers sends Cas flying across the room, his small body hitting the shelves. Cas’ high, anguished scream, somewhere in between a human and cat cry, strikes straight at Dean’s heart.
Magic sparks at his fingertips and this time it’s his turn to flick his fingers. He’s never been adept at nonverbal magic, but it turns out that with rage clouding his vision, he’s amazing at it. It doesn’t feel like it takes any effort at all for him to hold Crowley stationary, hand outstretched. No matter how much Crowley struggles, he can’t break free.
Dean chances a glance to the other side of the room. His chest clenches in worry when he catches sight of Cas’ human frame, sprawled unmoving on the floor, back to him. For Cas to lose control of his form–Dean turns back to Crowley. For the first time, the demon’s face shows fear.
“You head back to that pit of brimstone you crawled out of,” Dean snarls. The urge to hurt, to rend rises in him, dark and ugly–But then he feels, muted but still blessedly present, the calm pulse of Castiel in the back of his mind. It soothes the violence in Dean, long enough for him to look at Crowley and enunciate every word, just so that there’s no misunderstanding. “If I ever see you in this shop again, I won’t hesitate to rip you right out of that meatsuit and shove you down so far into the pit that it’ll take decades for you to crawl back out.”
He leaves Crowley pinned for a moment, just to make sure that the demon gets the message, before he relaxes his hand. Crowley’s feet don’t even touch the floor before he disappears.
Dean rushes to Cas’ side, gently turning him over. A thin trickle of blood runs from Cas’ hairline to his temple. Dean’s blood boils, but before he can perform a summoning to yank Crowley’s ass back and take every bit of Cas’ suffering out of his hide, Cas’ eyes flutter open.
Now, as always, Dean’s caught in their piercing gaze. His mouth goes dry and he becomes aware that he’s gently thumbing over the bolt of Cas’ jaw. He doesn’t stop.
“Crowley gone?” Cas asks, voice thicker and rougher than usual, but his eyes are lucid.
“Yeah. Asshole hightailed it out of here.”
And before he can second-guess himself, give himself a list of reasons of why he shouldn’t, Dean leans down and kisses Cas. It’s firm, unyielding and unapologetic, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind what he means.
Cas freezes, but only for a moment, and then he’s kissing back, hands reaching up to rest against Dean’s cheek. His fingers hook into the soft spot behind Dean’s ear, pulling him closer, and Dean goes willingly.
“Finally,” Cas murmurs, once they part.
“Finally?” Dean echoes, drunk on the memory of Cas’ stubble scraping against his chin, the bold sweep of Cas’ tongue against the seam of his lips.
Cas gives him his best flat stare. “I was spooning you every morning for two straight weeks. What did you think I was trying to do?”
Dean swallows, aware that he may not be as suave as he likes to pretend. “I thought you were cold?” he offers, when it becomes clear Cas is waiting for his answer.
“You thought I…” Cas murmurs to himself, before he rolls his eyes. “What would you do without me?” he asks, rhetorically, before he’s pulling Dean’s face down to his once more.
Don’t know, Dean thinks blissfully, as he proceeds to learn Cas and the variety of noises that Cas can be persuaded to make.
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Dean wipes his hands absentmindedly on the back pocket of his well worn jeans, leaving chalk dust behind. He stands proudly in the middle of a large sigil, drawn from memory by calloused hands. The cement floors of the basement have certainly seen better days, stained with blood and scorched with ash from past rituals. Castiel’s footsteps creak above him, his bare feet padding across the hardwood floors of the green room. The weight of Dean’s boots knock loose more dust as he ascends the stairs.
“S’all set downstairs when you're ready.” Dean says by way of greeting as he comes up behind Cas, winding a hand around his slim waist. Cas hums in response, eyes on his hands while he gently plucks leaves from a hearty looking plant. Cas’s indoor garden was a sight to behold, sprawling greenery and clay pots on every surface with a stunning variety of herbs, flowers, and weeds. He always looked so at ease back here, in his makeshift greenhouse Dean had brought to life by rigging LED lights. Cas had always been the one better with herbology, sure Dean could get by, but Cas understood, with his elegant fingers buried in the dirt.
“You got everything else ready?”
“Yes, this is the last thing we need.” Cas affirms as he drops the spiky purple leaves into his mortar and pestle and begins to grind.
“Awesome.” Dean’s smile is genuine and he breaks it to drop a quick kiss on Cas’s shoulder through his threadbare t-shirt.
The sun had long set on the corner store they owned. It was tucked away off the main downtown strip, filled with supplies for witches and humans in need of them. Charm bags and blessed tonics, aids for ailments of the mind and body, all displayed neatly.
After hours Dean did his bigger spells, the powerful old stuff that required complex ingredients and Cas’s help.
Of course Dean always preferred to do his magic with Cas around.
They make their way down the rickety steps with supplies in hand, and set up in a comfortable silence.
Dean takes a moment to let his gaze rest on Cas, knelt down anointing candles. His jeans are dark and snug around his firm thighs and his hair is due for a cut, inky and dark where it curls behind his ears. As he stands, Dean is reminded of his true form, a sleek black cat with the same bottomless blue eyes.
Once everything is up to Dean’s meticulous standards, he kneels to untie his boots. He steps into the center of the sigil, feeling the electricity in his blood begin to circulate. His fingertips tingle and come to life, the hair on the back of his neck stands at attention. He’s just getting used to the hum of the energy in the air when Cas joins him in the center and everything changes.
Cas is a powerhouse, his magic is unfathomable, old, made of stardust or pure light or something else Dean truly can't fathom. Before they were well and truly bonded Dean was flabbergasted, each touch from Castiel felt like a strike of heat lighting. Now though, their connection is a constant thrum somewhere between Dean’s ears, like a new sense. But when they pull off these big rituals, Dean is reminded of just how much power Cas has, and how he chooses to give it all to Dean.
Dean sets his shoulders and focuses inward. He reaches down, into his gut, into his soul or blood or wherever his magic resides, and draws it up. Dean’s magic is from his father’s side. It’s old like all magic, familial in that it’s been passed down through the men in his family for generations. It used to hurt. It took him years to build the pain tolerance to even light a candle without a flame or even read a simple tarot. His arms and hands are covered in neat white scars from the blood letting. It's brute magic. It takes strength and sacrifice to get results.
With Castiel though, it's beautiful.
Dean reaches out to take Cas’s hand, and he cheekily presses a quick kiss there before he closes his eyes to focus.
This time when he reaches for his magic, it's a bright ball of possibilities welling up inside.
He holds his breath a moment, letting the lick of heat inside him grow into a raging forest fire. He takes a deep breath and begins to chant.
The candles surround the sigil spring to life and the sigil glows a bright white. The smell of the herbs and ingredients are heady as their fragrance intensifies.
Dean lets it all well up, until it feels about to spill over. He opens his eyes to see Cas’s, catches a glance at his expression which is confident but soft. He knows Dean will succeed in this, they've certainly had harder rituals than this, but even then he remained sure. His faith in Dean is a constant. That’s Cas though, he’s always been a sure thing.
The rings nestled in the center of their ritual are smoking and the metal glows with scorching heat. The bands are nothing fancy, just a simple silver Dean had engraved with the date they met. By the end of this they'd be blessed with Dean and Castiel’s combined energy. By the end of the day tomorrow though, they'd be blessed by the state and represent a much more legally binding union.
The rhythm of Dean’s chanting slows and comes to a stop as he finishes. He lets lose a long breath as the wave of crackling energy spills over. Dean’s pounding heartbeat slows a bit and he opens his eyes.
Cas’s smile is brilliant. He reserves this one for Dean, wide and gummy and wrinkling his nose. Dean returns it with one his own. He picks up the now cool rings and rests them in his palm. They’ve planned a modest and cozy ceremony for sunset in the backyard. Sam will cry, Dean won’t ever admit it but so will he. They’ve already bonded for life, the wedding is in some ways just paperwork but to Dean it's more. He hasn’t always been able to bank on a lot of things. But Cas, he can always be sure of.
Castiel sits in the corner booth of a small café and waits. He has read through the menu about five times now and now there is nothing for him to do but stare out the window and wonder if every person who passes by is there for him.
He hasn’t been on a date in a while, not since he began the search for his witch. Now that he seems to have found him, his brother Balthazar has decided that he needs to turn his attention back to his love life.
Not that Castiel is certain that he and his witch are a good match yet. He likes Dean and their magic is compatible but he hasn’t yet allowed Dean to learn his name or see his human form. They’re still getting to know each other, building up trust, and Castiel would much rather be focusing on that.
The only reason he agreed to go on this date is because he knows he’s in serious danger of pining after Dean. He is a good looking man, kind and attentive to a fault, but mixing magic and romance is rarely a good idea.
The doors to the café open, catching Castiel’s attention. His heart skips a beat when he sees that it is Dean who has entered. He is dressed in a nice, pale-blue shirt, looking around the café nervously.
He spots Castiel and begins to approach him, and Castiel’s stomach drops when he realizes why Dean is here.
He is Castiel’s blind date.
“Excuse me?” Dean asks. “Are you Casteel?”
“Castiel,” Castiel corrects faintly.
Dean looks him over, brief enough not to feel inappropriate, and smiles. “Hey, I’m Dean.”
He holds out his hand. Castiel takes it, palm tingling at the touch. He has felt Dean’s hand on him before, softly petting his feathers or offering him a comfortable perch. It feels different touching him as a human, more charged somehow, and Castiel knows he’s not the only one who feels that way when Dean’s hand lingers, dropping reluctantly only when Dean takes his seat across from him.
“Not to sound like a cliché, but have we met before?” Dean asks. “You look kind of familiar.”
He’s looking Castiel right in the eye as he says that, and Castiel flushes when he realizes that he recognizes the color.
So much for not pining.
Castiel opens his mouth, fully intending to explain the situation to Dean but something stops him. What if Dean, like him, has been raised to believe that magic and romance don’t mix? What if he’s one of those witches who wouldn’t dream of pursuing their familiar? Some of them do consider it a form of bestiality, as incredibly insulting as that is.
“I don’t think so,” he lies. “I’m certain I would remember.”
He can’t regret laying the lie on so thick when Dean blushes prettily at the compliment, smile turning softer.
“Just getting this out of the way, Balthazar told you that I’m a witch, right?”
Castiel nods, even though Balthazar did nothing of the sort. “What did he tell you about me?”
“Well, he didn’t tell me you were so good looking,” Dean says, and now it is Castiel’s turn to blush. “Didn’t tell me much, really. Just your name, that you are his brother, and that you work at the animal shelter downtown.”
Castiel nods in confirmation. He knows he should tell Dean the truth now, before this goes too far, but he can’t bring himself to do it just yet. He wants the chance to get to know Dean as a human, before Dean’s impression is inevitably colored by the fact that he spends half his time covered in feathers.
The date goes well, near as Castiel can tell. Dean is even more attractive when he is trying to be, all confidence, compliments and teasing grins. He tells Castiel some things he already knows, about his craft and his recently acquired familiar, and some things he didn’t, mostly about his family which he is clearly very fond of.
They finish their lunch and leave the café together. Dean takes Castiel’s hand once they’re outside and Castiel lets him, heart pounding harder when Dean’s fingers intertwine with his own.
“You live close by?” Dean asks.
Castiel nods mutely. He feels a strange mix of flustered and guilty, the two conflicting emotions making his stomach churn unpleasantly.
“Can I walk you home, then?”
Again, Castiel nods. He needs to tell Dean the truth before this date ends, he decides then. Keeping up the deception won’t just affect any potential romantic relationship but their connection as witch and familiar as well.
He takes them the long way home, both wanting to put off an awkward conversation and to hold Dean’s hand just a little bit longer. Eventually, though, they arrive at his doorstep.
“I had fun,” Dean tells him, and the way he says it warm and low makes it feel like more than a routine statement.
“Me too,” Castiel says. He draws in a deep breath. “Dean, I-”
That’s as far as he gets before Dean leans in, kissing him softly. It’s a brief kiss, just barely long enough for Castiel to catch on and begin kissing him back before Dean pulls away.
“Sorry,” he says, licking his lips. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I just wanted-”
Castiel cups his cheek and pulls him in, shutting him up with another kiss. They’re both smiling like idiots when they part.
“Wow,” Dean breathes. “Um. I’ll call you?”
“Please do.”
It’s only once Dean is gone that Castiel realizes that he didn’t tell him after all.
That evening, Dean summons him.
They’ve spent more evening together than not lately so it’s hardly a surprise, but it puts Castiel on immediate alert anyway. He takes flight from his living room window with trepidation, too nervous to enjoy it like he usually does.
In too short a time he’s arriving at Dean’s home, landing on a perch in his kitchen that Dean set up shortly after they met.
“Hey,” Dean greets, smiling. He has changed out of his previous outfit into tattered jeans and a faded t-shirt, the kind of clothes more appropriate for potentially messy spell casting. “That was quick.”
Castiel responds with a trill, feeling a rush of pride despite his anxiety.
“How was your day?” Dean asks, smile widening when Castiel replies with another trill. He can’t actually understand Castiel in this form yet but he likes to pretend he does. “Yeah, mine too. I had a date, it went pretty great. Hot guy, looks adorable when he blushes.”
Castiel inclines his head, knowing that if he could blush now he would.
“He had beautiful eyes, too.” Dean gives Castiel a fond look. “Kind of looked like, yours, actually. Who knew I was such a sucker for blue eyes?”
Castiel fidgets, the pleasure at Dean’s flattery turning into heavy guilt. He can’t keep this from Dean any longer.
He shakes his wings, kicking himself off his perch and transforming midair. Dean’s eyes widen, expression going from delighted surprise to recognition to plain shock in moments.
“I enjoyed the date as well,” Castiel says. “I was hoping there would be another but if not, I understand.”
Dean stares at him wordlessly.
“Just please tell me that I can remain your familiar.”
Dean opens his mouth. Closes it again. “You lied,” he finally says.
“I did,” Castiel admits. “But I wanted to go on this date with you and I was afraid that it wouldn’t happen if you knew the truth.”
Dean looks him over. “Did you lie about anything else?”
“No! I haven’t ever lied to a date like this before. If we continue our relationship in any way, I promise to be honest with you from now on.” Castiel cringes, reluctantly adding, “Of course, I understand if you can’t trust my word.”
Dean’s expression is closed off, impossible to read. “Guess I don’t have to call you, then.”
Castiel’s stomach drops. “I - I suppose not.”
“Summoning’s a lot more convenient, anyway.” Dean smiles and relief floods Castiel. “Cheaper, too. I don’t have a great data plan.”
“Dean, I - thank you.”
“You’ll stay on as my familiar, right?” Dean asks. He takes a step closer, and Castiel can feel the pull between them; it’s magic but it’s more than that. “I know some people have issues with mixing magic and romance, but I’m willing to try if you are.”
In response, Castiel pulls him in for another kiss.
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: Teen and Up
Word Count: 5200
Warnings: Animal on Animal Violence, very brief in the beginning.
On Ao3
With Autumn coming closer, Dean found his evenings dedicated to chopping wood and stocking up for the winter. Sam could have his fancy city living, but Dean preferred living out in the woods, away from people. Only people who truly needed him or his services would venture out to him, and he didn't have to deal with being disappointed by seeing the worst in people.
Dean lifted the ax over his head and brought it down, cleanly splitting the log in twain. Looking over to his pile, he took note that had a few more to do before calling it for the evening, and then he could kick back and read or pull up something on his laptop to watch. As he started to lift the ax over his head to finish the log he started, an unholy caterwaul and the screech of a large bird caught his attention.
Without a second guess, Dean sprinted in the direction of the cry, ax still in hand. The cries of the animal in distress were getting louder and more desperate. Dean skidded to a halt in a small clearing near his home. A large hawk was circling and slashing at a small, malnourished cat. The raptor was able to stun the cat with a sharp wing clip, causing it to tumble back towards a tree.
Before the hawk could go in for the kill, Dean jumped into the clearing, shouting and waving his ax. "Shoo! Get out of here you dumb bird brain!" He chased after the bird, startling it into flight.
Dean cautiously approached the cat. It had been knocked out and was mewling pathetically in its unconscious state. Kicking himself for getting involved, Dean took off his flannel shirt and gently wrapped it around the small black feline, picking it up and gingerly carrying it back to his cabin. Healing this little guy or gal took priority. The wood would still be there tomorrow.
Once inside the cabin, Dean delicately laid the cat down on his workbench. In the better lighting of his home, he could see the damp fur and easily deduce that he was looking at blood. He scrunched up his nose as a sneeze started to build and shook his head. "Damn Allergies. Can you please wait long enough for me to look at this little guy?"
Dean grabbed a clean washcloth, a bowl of warm water and a bottle of one of his mixtures - lemon juice and oregano oil - and set it next to the cat. "Hey, I'm sorry little guy. I know cats don't like water or other shit on their fur, but I need to treat you before I can heal you, ok?" He gently pet the fur at the nape of the cat's neck before dipping the cloth into the warm water.
About halfway through cleaning and treating the wounds, the cat started to stir. It let out a very confused sound meow, causing Dean to chuckle. "I know, right? Last thing you know, you were outside with a big bad bird swooping in over you." The cat turned to look at Dean. "Aren't you a bright little guy? Sorry, I figured that out while cleaning you up." Dean tended to a final spot along the cat's rear leg. "Almost done, and I can get you something to eat."
The cat chirped in response and tilted its head.
"All done." Dean held up a finger and turned his head before sneezing. "Sorry little guy, I'm allergic to cats. But you do need some strength. I'm pretty sure I've got a can of tuna or something around here." Dean wandered over to the kitchen area and looked through his cabinets.
The cat rested it's head on its paws and watched as Dean dug through his rations. "Here we go. One can of tuna. I guess that's a little cliché, but you work with what you've got." Dean opened the can and drained out the excess water. "While we eat, I'm gonna look for a spell to heal you up a little more so you can be on your way, okay?"
"Mrow."
"Oh, you do speak. That's good to know." Dean laughed at himself. "And I'm talking to a cat." He dumped the contents of the can onto a plate and brought it over to the workbench. "Look, I'm not even going to make you move. Full, four-star treatment. Just don't tell your friends." Dean turned and sneezed again. "I would prefer not to sneeze constantly if I can help it." He turned back around to watch as the cat devoured the tuna. "When's the last time you had a good meal, huh?"
The cat purred loudly in response.
"That long, huh? Well, you savor that." Dean gave the cat a quick scratch between the ears and turned to grab some dinner for himself. After fixing himself a bowl of stew and grabbing a couple of books out of his shelves, he sat down at his workbench to eat. The cat finished eating its own food, and sat at the top of the book, looking down as though it were reading the pages along with him. The thought made Dean's heart flutter for a moment. The cat showed no signs of its own magic, so there was no reason to believe that a familiar had stumbled across him, let alone want to bond with him.
Dean paused as he came across the spell he was looking for. "Alright, Tuna Breath." He tapped the other side of the workbench to see if the cat would follow. When it did Dean smiled. "You're a smart cat. I bet someone is missing you something fierce." Dean grabbed the plate and his bowl and took them to the kitchenette. "I'm gonna draw a little circle for you to stand in, and then I'm gonna finish healing up the big injuries, okay?"
The cat tilted its head and meowed, appearing to observe as Dean drew out the casting circle for his spell. "It's been a while since I've had to heal an animal. Most people can stick to the city and do that. People come to see me for special spells." He finished the details and tapped the center of the circle.
When the cat walked over, Dean tilted his own head before shaking it. "Someone has trained you well, little guy." He gently scratched the top of the cat's head before muttering the words to the spell under his breath.
A green light emanated from the lines Dean had drawn. When Dean finished the spell, the light faded and the cat let out a high pitched, happy meow, headbutting Dean's Hand.
"No need to thank me, little guy. You just need to be more careful out there."
"Mrow!"
Dean laughed again before turning his head to sneeze. "Let me double-check those cuts, and then we can get you on your way?"
All of the significant cuts and contusions from the run-in with the hawk had cleared up. "I think now is going to be your best time to make a run for it, little guy." Dean scratched the cat under the chin. "Your fur will blend in nicely with the night, and it'll be harder for the big, mean, birds to catch you."
Dean scooped up the cat and tucked it under his arm before walking towards the door. "I appreciate you keeping me company today, but I need you to go and find your home." The cat squiggled in his arm and tried to escape free from Dean's arms. "Sorry, buddy. You make me sneeze. I can't keep you around." Dean pouted. "Besides, it's clear you've got a family. Don't you know where they are?"
Dean got outside and closed his door behind him before setting the feline down. The cat ran figure eights around Dean's legs. "Nice try, Cat. Tripping me up isn't going to get me to let you back into the house." Dean squatted and pet the cat one more time. "It was nice to have company for the day today." He gently patted the cat's hindquarters. "Be careful, little guy."
The cat slowly padded down the stairs of Dean's cabin before looking back up at him. If Dean didn't know better, he would have sworn that he saw a sadness in the cat's eyes before he turned off and ran away. Dean sighed and headed back into his cabin, hoping to read a chapter or two of his book before heading to bed.
The next morning, Dean was woken up by scratching at his front door. At first, he thought nothing of it, but the sound grew louder and more persistent. He slid out of his bed and moved to the door, looking out and seeing nothing there. But once he opened the door and looked down, his little friend from yesterday had returned, bearing a gift.
"Hello, Cat. What do you have there?" Dean crouched down and took the ball of fluff - a freshly caught rabbit - while the cat scampered in and hopped upon his bed. Dean shot a look from the door to the rabbit to the feline laying on his bed. "What part of allergic, didn't you understand?" Dean asked the cat.
"Mrow."
"Yes, you brought a rabbit. But I can feed myself, thank you." Dean crossed his arms over his chest, slightly embarrassed that he was conversing with a cat.
The cat rolled on his back and stretched, pawing at the air. "Meeeooow."
"Cute isn't going to cut it, mister." Dean sighed. "I'm not in the market for a pet, you know. Big, tough dude like me doesn't need a little fluffball."
"Mrrrrr." The cat had rolled back over and curled up.
"You going to keep sassing me?" Dean crossed into the kitchen and placed the rabbit in the sink before grabbing a large pot.
"Mew."
Dean filled the pot with water and placed it onto the stove, turning the dial to catch the flame. "I'll remember this, Cat." He walked back to his workbench and grabbed a bottle marked eucalyptus oil. "I guess I might as well make it so I can at least breathe in here."
"Meow."
"I'm glad you agree," Dean added a couple of drops of oil and some lemon to the pot of water. "Guess I'll see if I can find a recipe or a spell to keep myself from dying from sneezing too."
After prepping the rabbit, making himself some tea, and grabbing a book of remedies, Dean lounged back in his bed, looking for anything that could help with his allergies for the long haul. He didn't know how long the cat was planning on sticking around, considering it wasn't planning on going anywhere.
At some point, Dean must have dozed off, as he woke up to the cat sitting on his chest and swatting gently at his nose. "My nose is not a wild animal, fluffball."
"Mrow."
"I don't snore, nor if I did, would it sound like an animal in distress." Dean cracked an eye open and saw the cat actually glaring at him. "Okay, so if I was snoring, it's because there's an animal I'm allergic to sitting on my chest."
"Meow." The cat walked down Dean's chest and curled up on his lap.
"You can't even get sassy at that one, Cat." Dean ran his fingers through his hair before sitting up. He started gently stroking the fur down the cat's back, taking notice of how much difference a day had made. "You know, if you're gonna stick around and not go find your family, I get to name you."
The cat turned it's head and looked at Dean.
"Oh, now you're intrigued." Dean looked around the room. "I got it. Déardaoin."
"Mrow." The cat turned around and sat down facing Dean.
"You gonna live here, I get to pick the name." Dean scratched behind Déardaoin's ear, causing him to purr. "Yeah, you'll get used to it. Especially if you want scratches and pets."
Déardaoin batted at Dean's nose pulling a chuckle out of him.
While Dean continued reading his book, Déardaoin curled back upon his chest. At one point, while stretching, Dean was able to catch a good look at the cat's eyes. They were a gorgeous shade of blue that he hadn't noticed previously.
"Hey, pretty boy," Dean pet under Déardaoin's chin, getting him to hold steady long enough to take in the color. While cats could certainly have blue eyes, there was something utterly different about his shade. "Your eyes are so pretty."
"Mew."
"Is that you saying 'Thank you?' Well, you're welcome." Dean closed the book and laid it next to him. "I get the feeling you're not a hundred percent cat, though, are you?"
Déardaoin froze and looked at Dean.
"You aren't. You act too... human." Dean ran his hand down the cat's back. "I mean, maybe I'm just a little crazy, l live out here by myself. I only see other people maybe once every other week. Maybe I'm just hoping you're more than a cat." Dean waited for a reaction. "Maybe you're cursed. That would suck being cursed as a cat. But I say that as being allergic to cats. Imagine being allergic to yourself."
Déardaoin curled back up on Dean's chest.
"Or perhaps you're a familiar." Dean felt the cat tense on his chest. "One that never resonated, so you ran so you wouldn't be forced to? Or you can hide your magic. That would explain why I can't figure it out." Dean sighed.
"I never resonated. I think my mom and dad were embarrassed." Dean gently played with Déardaoin's tail. "Sam hasn't either, but they don't know that. They're dead. So Sam got to miss out on that."
"Mrow?"
"Sorry, Déar." Dean smiled softly. "This is a little crazy and all. Just seeing you yesterday over my book while I was reading made me wonder how much I was missing."
Déardaoin stood up and headbutted Dean before hopping down and jumping up onto the windowsill of an open window. He let out a sad meow before slipping out of the window.
Dean spent the rest of the evening doing his regular routine. He made his dinner, setting aside a small portion for Déardaoin in case he came back, going through his stocks to see what he needed from town, before standing in front of his bookshelves. He was confident at this point that his cat wasn't, in fact, a cat. Nor was the cat in fact his. He could have been anything.
Dean ruled out shifter almost immediately. He had wards set up all over his land to keep away evil and malicious creatures. While not all shifters were wicked, any creature with therianthropy would trigger them. He knew it wasn't a Wampus or a Sith, they couldn't break through the salt lines that he buried around the perimeter. That meant that Déardaoin was either a cursed human or a familiar.
While Dean secretly hoped for the latter, he pulled out a book on curse breaking and climbed back in bed.
xxx
Dean woke up in a rush, looking around his cabin. Sitting at his workbench was a gorgeous man, peacefully watching over him. "Hello, Dean."
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Dean slipped out of his bed and crossed the cabin.
"In a sort."
Dean looked the man up and down. Even in the pale moonlight, he could make out his dark brown hair, and beautiful blue eyes. "What does that mean?"
"It means that you know me."
"I feel like I do," Dean admitted. "Your eyes. I know those eyes."
The man offered a sad smile and nodded.
"Why are you in my home? How did you get in here?" Dean looked around. "I should have been alerted."
"That's because we're not really in your home, Dean." The man stood up and closed the last bit of distance between them. He gently placed two fingers against Dean's temple. "It's more of us being in here. You're dreaming at the moment."
"You can't dream someone you don't know."
"You're doing more than dreaming, Dean. I can't stay here anymore, but I promise to explain as soon as I can." He leaned in and softly kissed Dean on the lips. "Wake up."
xxx
Dean woke up, sitting up and pinching himself. He was actually awake this time. He traced his fingers over his temple then his lips; his dream fresh on his mind. Dean had no clue who the guy in the dream was, he would remember someone that beautiful.
He got out of bed and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing himself a cup of water. The bowl that he had left on the floor with food for Déardaoin was empty, and after he finished his drink, he looked around his small cabin, searching to see if the cat was hiding anywhere.
With no luck searching inside, Dean decided to take a quick look outside. He opened the door and found not only Déardaoin, but a giant of a younger brother squatting down to pet him. "Sam?"
"Hiya, Dean." He stood up and climbed up the stairs, pulling his brother into a bear hug.
"You're here like, a week early."
"Yeah, well, Ellen and Missouri sent me out." Sam let go and walked past Dean into the cabin, followed by Déardaoin. "Also, when did you get a cat? I thought you were allergic?"
"I rescued him from a hawk. He seems to think that means I'm keeping him." Dean crossed his arms and stared down at the cat who let out a quiet meow in response.
"Well, maybe the hawk is what I'm looking for. I'm not entirely sure, and I kinda need your tracking skills. These are your woods, after all." Sam sat on the stool at Dean's workbench.
Dean sat on his bed and faced his brother. "I don't own these woods. I inhabit them. Now tell me, what's going on."
"So get this, Ellen and Bobby caught wind of a clan of familiars that went missing."
"A whole clan?" Dean crossed his arms.
"Yeah. From what Bobby found, the clan was either forced into bonding with members of Abaddon's coven or... worse." Sam shuddered while Dean shot a quick glance at Déardaoin.
"Okay, so they're not all accounted for?"
Sam shook his head. "Missing four to be exact. Ellen and Missouri tracked them here. Probably ‘cause you keep these woods safe."
"I mean, Ellen is the best divining witch I've ever met." Dean shrugged. "I can track, and I can heal. I'll help. But I have a feeling that there's someone else who can help us more."
"Who? Bobby's on his way back, and we want to get these four safe before they're found."
Dean looked down at Déardaoin. "Is that where you went last night? To check on your friends?"
"Meow."
"Dean, that's a cat." Sam shot his brother a bitchface.
"Mrow."
"Stop sassing, Déardaoin, let's go." Dean pointed at the door.
Sam opened the door and let Déardaoin out. He looked at Dean before following. "Are you sure he's one of them?"
"I was like fifty percent sure that he was a familiar last night. Now I'm like ninety percent after hearing about this situation with an attacked clan."
The two brothers stepped outside to see the cat waiting patiently at the bottom of the steps for them. Sam looked at Dean, surprise barely contained while Dean shrugged and gestured to follow. The group trudged through the forest, heading towards an abandoned thicket that Dean was familiar with.
"This would be a perfect place to hide. It used to be a deer grove before they moved on."
"Mrow," Déardaoin called before stopping, causing the two brothers to stay in place. The cat moved forward a couple of steps, a blue light enveloping him before a familiar-to-Dean man, wearing black slacks with a white shirt and black waistcoat, stood in his place.
Dean's jaw dropped. "You?"
"Hello, Dean." Déardaoin turned to Sam, "And a pleasure to meet you, Sam."
"You two know each other?" Sam looked back and forth between the two men.
"I did overhear Dean tell you that he rescued me from a hawk." Déardaoin smiled. "However, this is the first time that Dean has seen this form in person."
Sam tilted his head and looked at his brother, who threw his hands up in defense. "Dude, we're witches. Weird is what we do."
Déardaoin laughed softly in response. "I must say, I appreciate the mirth you've brought me the past couple of days. It's been unpleasant for myself and my surviving clan members. We're all but drained, and we need safety and rest."
He turned back to the thicket. "I'm going to go get them. They may be a bit wary, but please don't hold it against them." Déardaoin disappeared into the stand of trees.
"I don't even know how you do it, Dean." Sam ran his hand through his hair while shaking his head. "You had no clue of the situation going on, and you still managed to get wrapped up in it."
"Pretty sure Mom wanted my middle name to be Trouble, not Michael."
Sam snorted, as Déardaoin came back out, a fox and a corgi walking by his feet and a ferret in his hands. "The rest of the Clan Angelus, at your service."
The fox cautiously sniffed the air and walked up to Sam while the corgi came bounding through, running around in circles around the two brothers. The ferret scampered up Déardaoin's arm and sat on his shoulder. "I'll complete the introductions when we're back in the safety of your home, it's not safe to say our names in the open air."
Dean nodded and lead the way back to his cabin, careful to not trip over the hyperactive corgi.
Once back at the cabin, Sam headed towards his car and started pulling out some of the extra rations he had brought for the trip. Ellen had warned him that he would be searching for the familiars and that Dean would probably cooking for them. So she sent him with enough food for a small army.
Dean chose to set up and cook outside, with so many bodies and not that much room inside the cabin. It was awesome for him, and great for a plus one, but it was iffy at three and not meant for more than that. As prepped and cooked the food for the group, his eyes kept traveling back to the familiars. They had been through so much, but they looked at peace.
It brought a spark of joy to his heart that he could help them heal, but it reminded him of what he believed he could never have. And watching Sam with the fox of the group stung him even more. Dean started to lose himself to his moping when the startled squeal of a ferret on the back of corgi and the laughter of the two men brought him back to reality.
Déardaoin cleared his throat. "Alright, as promised, especially since you three appear to be settling in." He pointed at his clan members. "I said there would be introductions." He started by picking up the ferret and setting it on the table. "This little trouble maker is Charlie. She's feisty, and always getting into trouble."
The ferret squeaked, apparently in defiance, then scampered her way over to Dean.
"He can't understand you, Charlie.”
Dean put his hand down and let her scamper up and sit on his shoulder. "I think a shoulder ferret is cooler than a parrot. Does that earn me points?"
"With Charlie? Yes." The familiar in human form smiled. "The fox, who is currently resting her head on your lap, Sam, is Amy."
"Hello, Amy." Sam gently scratched behind her ear. "I can't wait until your strength is back so we can talk."
Dean smiled at his brother and could have sworn that he heard the ferret on his shoulder sigh contently.
"The assbutt Corgi that is running around is my older brother, Gabriel. He came under the bribe of sweets, and that we would help him find his witch, Kali. He's cut off from restoring his power until he's with her again."
Gabriel barked and chased his tail.
"No, Gabe, you're not going to stay a dog permanently. You'll get enough power to change back to your human form if you rest for two seconds."
Gabriel sat down for precisely two seconds before running around again.
Finally, Déardaoin looked at Dean and gave him his full attention. "As for me, I am Castiel. Youngest son of the Angelus Clan."
"Castiel." Dean tested the name out on his tongue. "It suits you."
"You're the first person to say that. Even Gabriel makes fun of it." Castiel smiled. "I apologize for intruding on you like I have. You've been so kind."
Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Dude, I fed you canned tuna, I'm sorry."
"You had no idea that I was a familiar. Even then, it was like ambrosia to me. I hadn't eaten in at least a day. My magic was so weak, I'm surprised I had anything left. I had been using my powers to keep us hidden." Castiel shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Then why did you come to me?"
Castiel blushed and looked down. When he didn't answer, Dean felt a little nudge against his cheek from the ferret on his shoulder.
"Hey, Castiel. What did you mean when you spoke to me in my dream? That I was more than dreaming?"
"What all do you know about Familiars?"
Sam looked up at Castiel's question. "We don't know much. We've never resonated."
Castiel turned and smiled at Sam. "You will soon, Sam." He turned and looked back at Dean. "And you started last night."
Dean's heart skipped a beat. "You, in my dream?"
"You knew me, but you didn't know my human form." Castiel moved closer to Dean. "You recognized something, though."
"Your eyes." Dean closed his own eyes remember the not-a-dream from the night before. "I would know those eyes anywhere." Dean felt the ferret sigh on his shoulder again. "What is she? A hopeless romantic?"
Castiel chuckled. "Charlie very much believes in true love, soulmates, familiar bonds." He held his hand out to Dean's shoulder. "Come on, Charlie." When she refused to move, he leaned in and stage whispered, "I can't kiss him if you're on his shoulders."
The ferret scrambled across Castiel's arm and ran down on to the table, turning around and watching them expectantly.
"Sorry Kiddo, you're not going to see that. I need to finish cooking dinner. You guys need to get your strength back." Dean patted Charlie's head before walking back to his makeshift kitchen.
The ferret exploded into angry chirps and squeaks, disappointed at being duped.
Dean finished cooking and plating up the food, and more than happily helped feed Charlie while Sam fed Amy and Castiel fed Gabriel. Sam joked about having the weirdest family dinner ever.
After dinner, Charlie ran off to play with Gabriel again, and Amy came over to finally meet Dean. Sam took that opportunity to call Ellen and give her an update on what was happening. Castiel, being in human form, was able to speak somewhat on Amy's behalf, like he had for Charlie and Gabriel, and confirmed that Amy was resonating with Sam.
"The reason Sam hasn't felt it yet is that, like I was, Amy is still weak and needs to regain her strength. Once she has a little extra magic to spare, the bond will form naturally." Castiel paused and thought on his next words. "I will say being in your wards is rejuvenating. I felt guilty leaving them alone as long as I did, but between getting injured, you healing me, and then, well..." Castiel blushed.
"Perhaps another night here for all of you will do you good?" Dean blurted out.
Cas raised his eyebrow. "All of us?"
"I feel the pull now, and of course I want you to stay. But I know that you won't be ok unless they're ok. And I want them to be ok also." Dean shook his head and shrugged. "I have a loft that Sam sleeps in when he stays. I'm sure he can get up there ok, and I don't think you're going to pull this beautiful girl away from him." Dean scratched Amy behind her ears.
"And Charlie and Gabe?"
"You've been in there. I have tons of baskets for storage. We can give one to Charlie to nest in for the night. Gabe, I mean, I know it's not pleasant, but I have spare blankets and pillows, I can set him up with a bed on the floor out of the way so no one trips." Dean looked at Castiel. "I can make everyone fit."
"You mentioned everyone but me." Castiel tilted his head.
"Oh. Uh. I assumed." Dean turned bright red. "I'm sorry, Cas."
"What did you assume?" The corner of Cas' mouth quirked up into a sly smile.
Dean shook his head. "The familiar bond thing, and you know." He stumbled over his words. "You can have the bed. I can steal a pillow and sleep on the floor."
"No." Cas shook his head. "Absolutely not."
"Well, you're not..."
"No, I'm not," Cas interrupted.
"You were just messing with me, weren't you?" Dean asked, his face twisting into a fake pout.
"I was." Cas leaned across the table and kissed Dean softly on the cheek. "How did I get so lucky that I have a witch who is all about family, and willing to take in what's left of me and mine when I need it the most?"
Dean blushed. "How did I get so lucky that my familiar was able to charm me as a cat? And put up with the fact that I have an allergy to cats?"
"You did not just ruin my attempt to be ruin romantic, with reminding me of the fact that you were barely able to breathe through your nose."
"I think that's actually quite romantic." Dean smiled, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing. "It means that I'm willing to show my gross side for you."
"Well, luckily, that shouldn't be an issue once we're fully bonded." Cas reached his hand across the table, offering it to Dean.
Sam returned, and Amy bounded back over to him, walking back with him. "Who's fully bonded now?"
"No one yet, Sammy. Go set up the loft. You and Amy can crash up there." Dean took Cas' hand and stood up, pulling Cas to his feet. "Let's go get the rest of the family settled in for the night. We have forever to figure out you and me, Cas."
Dean pulled Cas into a warm embrace, starting the steps to completing their bond with a real, waking-world, first kiss.
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Castiel’s never actually seen his next-door neighbor. He’s heard weird sounds and smelled sage and all different kinds of herbs coming from the house, though. He’s starting to think his neighbor may be a witch or a Satanist, neither of which bodes well for Castiel.
Aside from that, he’s felt a pull toward that house since he moved in, nearly six months ago now. Cas has tried bringing dinners and baked goods over to introduce himself, but his knocks have never been answered.
He doesn’t do it often, but one night he shifts into his feline form and heads out for a walk in the nearby forest. It’s peaceful and warm outside, and Castiel stays out until well after the sun sets. He doesn’t head home until the evening chill starts to creep through his fur, chilling him to the bone.
It’s not a terribly long walk back to him home—he hadn’t wandered too far—but he finds a light on in the back of his neighbor’s house. It’s in a window he could easily leap to in his current form and curiosity gets the better of him. He leaps onto the windowsill, peering inside.
There are plants everywhere. There are two baskets hanging above the window, winding leaves trailing all the way down to the floor. There are flowering pots scattered around the room, along with a few succulents adorning the desk underneath the window, which seems to be the only furniture in the room.
There’s a man sitting in the middle of the room with his eyes closed and his hands resting loosely on his thighs. He’s shirtless and Castiel takes a moment to drink in the dark black lines of tattoos that cover nearly every inch of his arms, with a few more scattered across his chest and stomach. He can’t make out the man’s face with it bowed like it is, which is unfortunate. Castiel would guess that he’s beautiful.
A big, fat raindrop lands on Castiel’s head and startles him. He loses his footing and crashes to the ground with a dull thud. Meowing lamely, he gets to his feet and bats at the wet spot on his head just as it starts to pour.
The sliding glass door nearby slides open and the man Castiel had been spying on smiles at him. “Hey there, kitty. C’mon inside, get out of the rain.”
Castiel eyes the man warily, but eventually accepts the invitation. He doesn’t want to stay out in this storm, and he has felt a draw toward the house since he moved in.
The man slides the door closed behind him, grabbing a towel off the couch nearby and kneeling down near Castiel. The man holds up the towel, raising an eyebrow. “May I?”
Castiel watches him for a minute before taking a few steps closer. The man gently dries him off, petting down Castiel’s back slowly.
“There we go, all dry. You hungry? I don’t have cat food but I have a few cans of tuna.”
Castiel blinks up at the man, curling up next to him on the floor. The man smiles and pets Cas gently.
“No collar on you, hm? I wonder whose kitty you are, they must be missing you.”
If only, Cas laments. He doesn’t have anyone to go home to, just an empty, sparsely decorated house.
The man continues to sit there and pet him, much to Castiel’s enjoyment. He’s hardly ever around anyone in his feline form, he’d forgotten how nice it can be.
Eventually, once the rain stops, Castiel pushes himself up onto his paws and crosses to the sliding door, looking back at the man. He seems to take the hint, unlocking the door and letting Castiel outside.
“Be careful going home, bud.”
Castiel meows quietly, feet squishing the rain-soaked ground as he heads home.
~
He finally meets his neighbor in person the next day. He’s leaving for work when his handsome neighbor comes outside, clad in a gray bathrobe and slip-on shoes.
“Hey, man. Sorry we haven’t had the chance to meet yet. I’m Dean.” He extends a hand, which Castiel shakes.
“Castiel. Busy times?”
Dean smiles. “Winter’s my busiest time at work, things are finally starting to slow down now that it’s springtime.”
Castiel smiles politely. “Well, it was nice to finally meet you, Dean. I’d like to stay and chat but I need to get to work.”
“Yeah, man, by all means. I’ll see you around.”
Castiel turns to head to his car but Dean reaches out and grabs his forearm. “Hey, do you have a cat?”
Castiel freezes momentarily before turning back to Dean. “I do. Why?”
“I think he might’ve been over at my place last night, during the thunderstorm. Black cat with white paws?”
Castiel nods slowly. “That’s him, yes. I hope he didn’t bother you?”
“Nah, man, not at all. He get home okay?”
“He did, thank you. Have a good day.”
Dean smiles, releasing his arm. “Yeah, you too.”
Castiel smiles tightly, heading off for work.
~
He tells himself there won’t be a repeat of him snooping on Dean, but that only lasts a couple of days. The pull back to the house is too strong to resist, so he shifts to his feline form and makes his way to Dean’s house.
Dean’s in the living room this time and he looks over at the sliding glass door at the same time that Castiel steps in front of it, almost like Dean had been expecting him. He slides the door open and allows Cas inside.
“Met your owner the other day,” Dean says, sliding the glass door shut. “Bet he’s missing you. Sure you don’t want to go home?”
Castiel blinks up at him in response before hopping up onto the couch and curling up into a ball. Dean chuckles, sitting back down and petting down Cas’s back gently. “Guess you can hang out here for a while, but you gotta get home soon. Castiel will be worried.”
Dean scratches behind Cas’s ears and he can’t help the purr that rumbles through his chest. Dean chuckles quietly, but then falls silent.
He knows it’s creepy to trick Dean like this. Dean didn’t ask for this and Castiel is taking advantage of his hospitality. Still, he can’t bring himself to stop. Night after night, he returns to Dean’s home, almost like he’s being lured there by a siren song. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to.
It doesn’t help that Dean’s started to treat him like a pet, either. He’s taken to leaving the glass door cracked open enough that Castiel can come inside whenever he pleases, and there’s almost always a bowl of tuna fish waiting for him in Dean’s kitchen.
After about a month, Castiel lets himself explore Dean’s home. It’s a single-story, similar to Castiel’s, but bigger. Dean has two spare bedrooms, though one of them has been turned into an office with papers strewn on nearly every surface. There’s a bathroom off the hallway, with the kitchen and living room on the other end of the house.
There’s a door right next to the living room that’s closed. Castiel paws at the door, looking around to find Dean watching him. He paws at the door again, intensely curious about what’s behind it. Dean purses his lips but eventually crosses to the door and opens it, letting Castiel inside.
Castiel scrambles out of the room so quickly that he trips over his own paws and falls flat on his face. Everything slots into place and he bolts for the glass door, praying that it’s still open.
It’s the room Castiel had seen him in that night so many weeks ago. He hadn’t seen everything from that window, though. On the same wall as the window are two bookshelves full of witchcraft books, supplies, and a second desk set up as a workbench. His neighbor is a witch.
The sliding glass door is closed and locked when Castiel reaches it. He lets out a pathetic mewl as he looks for another way out.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Cas,” Dean murmurs, standing across the room with his hands held up, palms out, no doubt in an attempt to ease Cas’s worries. It does no such thing, especially given that Dean knows he’s a familiar now. No point in hiding anymore, he supposes.
He shifts back to his human form, directing his icy glare at Dean. “Then let me go.”
Dean motions toward the door. “You’re free to leave whenever you’d like, but I was hoping you’d hear me out.”
“Why would I listen to anything you have to say, witch? Your kind has enslaved familiars for hundreds of years, why should I even slightly trust you?” Castiel spits, already backing up toward the door.
“Because I’ve known you were a familiar since I introduced myself. If I wanted to hurt you, I could’ve done it before now.”
Castiel doesn’t relax his stance, but Dean does have a point. “What do you want?”
Dean puts his hands down. “Your help.”
Castiel scoffs. “My help? What could you possibly want from me?”
“You can’t tell me you haven’t felt it, too,” Dean says, frowning. “That pull? I’ve never felt it before but it feels like all the explanations I’ve read about true matches.”
He frowns. Now that he thinks about it, that inexplicable pull he’s been feeling for months is exactly what he’s imagined a true match would feel like. “So what?”
Dean frowns. “I’ve been here for years, protecting the town, but it’s getting harder and harder. The weather’s getting more extreme and I can’t counter it on my own anymore. I don’t have the strength.”
Castiel wrinkles his nose. “Protecting the town? Yeah, right. Your kind doesn’t do anything for the benefit of others. Nice try, though.”
Dean’s frown deepens. “I get why you’d think that, but I really have been protecting the town. At least, I try to. People come to me for protection spells and charms. It’s not a huge income, but it pays the bills.”
Castiel scoffs. “So you take advantage of people in vulnerable situations.”
Dean sighs, running a hand through his own hair. “Fine, just… forget I said anything.”
“Gladly,” Cas bites out, unlocking the glass door and heading back to his own house.
~
He doesn’t think about Dean again for another few weeks. He’s determined to forget about the witch, despite the continuous pull to the house. He’s successful, at least for a little while.
Near the end of the summer, a storm settles over the town. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but this storm rapidly turns into a tornado that’s heading straight for their little town. This isn’t an area that typically gets tornados and it could be catastrophic if the town isn’t protected.
That’s why Cas isn’t shocked when Dean comes knocking on his door. He looks wild—his hair is disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it and he looks panicked.
“I know you hate the idea, but I can’t do it by myself, I’m not strong enough. Please, Cas.”
Truth be told, he hates the idea. But this is his town, too, so he grabs his keys and follows Dean back to his house.
“What do you need me to do?”
Dean lets him into his house, leading him to the room Castiel had seen the very first time he’d looked inside Dean’s house. “Just focus my magic. If you can do that, I should be able to make the storm dissipate.”
Castiel nods, shifting into his cat form and blinking up at Dean expectantly. Dean hesitates for a moment before sitting cross-legged on the floor and sinking a hand into Cas’s fur.
Dean’s magic is tingly and warm as it passes through Cas’s body. Despite never having worked with a witch before, it’s nearly effortless to focus Dean’s magic, and the room crackles with power. It’s intoxicating, having that much power coursing through his body, and it looks like Dean’s feeling the same way.
Cas glances up at the witch and nearly stumbles away in fear. Dean’s eyes are glazed over and glowing brightly. A crack of lightening lights up the sky and the thunder rumbles Dean’s house. They sky darkens and it starts to downpour, almost like Dean’s trying to accelerate the tornado, not stop it.
He thinks about moving away from Dean, but at this point, he has to trust the witch to do what he’d said he’d do. He watches out the window, nervously jumping when a particularly loud rumble of thunder makes the window rattle in its frame.
The storm clears just as quickly as it had started and the sun shines down again, lighting up the room. Dean looks particularly beautiful in this lighting, though Cas would never admit that.
Dean’s hand slips from his fur and he slumps to the ground. Cas springs to his feet, pawing at Dean’s cheek.
Eventually, Dean’s eyes flutter open and he smiles weakly at Castiel. “I’m fine, man. Jus’ tired. You can go, thank you for your help.”
Castiel shifts back to his human form, pulling Dean to his feet. “Come on, at least rest in bed and not on the hardwood floor.”
Dean acquiesces, letting Cas help him to his feet and lead him to his bedroom. Dean crawls into bed and is sound asleep before Cas can say anything else.
Cas thinks about going home, he really does, but his guilt stops him. He’s spent all this time hating Dean for being a witch when he really had been protecting the town. So, instead of going home, he makes his way to the kitchen and searches through the cabinets and fridge. He settles on making a simple dinner of chicken alfredo, quietly working in Dean’s kitchen as the other man rests.
“You’re making me dinner?” Dean’s voice comes from behind him, so Castiel glances at him quickly before setting the plates of food on the table.
“I figured I owed you an apology, and I thought I’d make sure you ate something. I hope you don’t mind.”
Dean smiles and shakes his head, taking a seat at the table. “Nah, man, I appreciate it.”
Castiel nods, sitting down and eating quietly.
Dean does the same, sighing happily after a moment. “Cas, this is delicious.”
Castiel smiles softly. “Thank you. Are you okay?”
Dean hums. “Better now. Just drained. What made you change your mind?”
Castiel shrugs. “It’s my town, too. Whether or not I trusted you, I had to try.”
Dean smiles. “You ever done that before? Focused someone’s magic?”
Castiel wrinkles his nose, shaking his head. “I’ve stayed as far away from witches as possible. Your kind tend to treat mine like crap.”
Dean frowns but nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry about that.”
“Not your fault. Besides, I may have been a little hasty in judging you.”
Dean raises an eyebrow, smirking. “That mean you trust me?”
Castiel shoots him a glare, though there’s no heat behind it. “Trust is a strong word. But yes, somewhat.”
Dean hums, finishing his dinner and leaning back in his chair. “Well, looks like I owe you dinner.”
Castiel smiles. “Technically, I owe you dinner, since you paid for all of this food, I just cooked it.”
Dean smirks. “Well, I ain’t gonna say no to a date.”
Castiel blinks at him. “A… date? You want to go on a date with me?”
Dean raises his eyebrows. “Uh, yes? Have you seen yourself? Not to mention you’re actually kind of nice when you don’t hate me.”
Castiel flushes, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I, um… I’m free Friday.”
And then one morning, Dean wakes up to find that the visitor perched on his windowsill is no longer a crow at all.
Instead, there is a man lounging on the sill of the open window, back leaning against the side of the windowframe and one leg dangling off the edge into the open air. [x]
I seriously blame @saltnhalo and her amazing fics that never fail to inspire me with their aesthetics
Also, I’m never drawing on white paper again. (Hahaha computer/tablet bug thought it was gonna stop me from exploring drawing stuff) (pls click on the pics)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, Linda Tran
Additional Tags: witch!Dean, Witch!Bobby, Familiar!Castiel, accidental bed sharing, Storms, Flowers, Dean just adores his plants, Connections, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers
Series: Part 40 of Prompt Galore
Summary:
Dean's magic has been steadily running out ever since he moved to the city and his weary body is begging for a vacation. Bobby's direct orders to do so have him heading to the White Mountains to soak up some much needed earthly magic and along the way he picks up something else out of the storm.
Witch Dean is something I didn’t know I needed in my life! It’s a short fic, which is a pitty because I want more! Highly recommended 🖤
