Chapter Text
The flame burning in the massive fireplace, along with the torches placed on the high brick walls, cast long, strangely shaped shadows that danced on the dark floor. In the dimness of the great hall, he could barely distinguish John's facial features, but even then, Dean knew the man's face was as hard as steel. Nothing unusual. It rarely was anything else these days.
"What do you mean by that, exactly?" Dean squeezed the words out through clenched teeth. A hot, white anger spread through his insides despite the chill hanging in the air. And that was new - especially since it was directed at his father. Dean didn’t normally allow himself such disobedience.
Today, however, nothing was normal.
"Precisely what I’ve told you, boy," John replied. He sounded angry, but a hint of tiredness lingered in his features. “The emissaries should reach our lands tomorrow evening. You have two days to pack. You will follow them to Dunvegan Castle to meet your future mate.”
A growl started forming deep in Dean's throat, but he swallowed it down. Turning to aggression wasn't an option when facing Lord John Winchester of Huntershire. His only hope lay in logic and wits. “You have no right to do this. Sam and Bobby would never agree to it.”
The words made his father straighten slightly in the wooden, ornamented chair. Dean's mother had once told him that it had belonged to the family for centuries, reserved for the rightful alpha leaders - such as herself. She'd been so sure about Dean becoming one in the future - everybody had been, including his father, now seated in a place that so clearly didn't belong to him.
“They're not here, Dean.” John's voice turned slightly impatient, as if Dean were a child who needed to be scolded. “The council supported my idea, so don't even think about getting out of it. This is our final decision.”
Dean's jaw tightened. Everybody knew that the council members - consisting mostly of his Campbell cousins - despised his ass. They'd wanted him gone from the castle as soon as they’d learned of Mary's passing, and only Bobby had kept them in check. "I'm not going anywhere until my brother's back," he countered.
"Shall I remind you that in his absence, I'm responsible for you?" Dean's father spat out angrily. "You will do as you're told, boy, and if you don't, I will tie you down and gag you before handing you over to the MacLeods! The choice of how you get to the Isle of Skye is yours!"
Dean almost scoffed. Choice. He hadn't had one of those in years - not since he'd presented, at least. Everything had changed after that, as though the fact he could carry a child was the sole defining trait of who he was as a person. And it was so unfair, especially because somehow, it hadn't been an issue for his mother - even if getting pregnant was tricky for alpha women. Still, Mary had given birth to both him and Sam, and had ruled over Huntershire, yet her omega son was apparently unable to do the same, since omegas were special - weaker, in desperate need of protection, and unable to do much of anything by themselves. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that Dean had years of combat training and had studied tactics and history for ages. From then on, the eldest son of the Winchester family was a fragile omega, and he was apparently to be traded like a sack of potatoes.
"Sam told me they rejected the offer from the MacLeod clan months ago," Dean said, trying hard to stay logical instead of just going feral. He didn’t have any of his knives or swords on him, and he wasn’t sure if - even as well-trained as he was - he could take on John Winchester completely unarmed. His father was a beta, but he was also a big, muscular man, and a very good warrior.
“We reopened the negotiations. It’s time for you to fulfill your destiny,” John said, looking away. From this new angle, Dean could clearly see the deep bags under his father’s eyes.
“You went behind our backs…” Dean muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “What did they offer you, huh? Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”
“We need resources, son, especially now. The MacLeod clan is influential and powerful. If we play this right, both our families will benefit greatly from this deal,” John said coldly, still not looking at his oldest son. “You know you should find your… your place. Your brother's and Lord Robert's emotions are clouding their judgment. Sam can’t rule the land hiding behind his brother’s back. And despite how you look, you are an omega. You have to mate eventually, Dean. This is your fate!”
“My fate?” Dean hissed. “It’s not fate, and we both know it. I just remind you too much of her, don’t I?” He knew it was a low blow, but he wasn’t going to just roll over and let his father do what he wanted with him.
At that, John’s dark, hurt gaze finally landed back on Dean. “She would've wanted this for you… And you will obey my order,” he said slowly, his voice dripping with coldness. “Pack what you need. Your possessions will be sent to Scotland before the ice forms on the roads. And Dean? You’d better think long and hard about how you want to travel there. Because I will send you like a piece of furniture if you force me to, and with that, you’ll seal the fate of your devilish horse as well.”
“You wouldn’t dare hurt Baby,” Dean said, horrified. “Mom gave her to me…”
John grimaced but quickly pulled himself together. “I will do what I must for your own good. Now leave. This discussion is over.”
Even though Dean wanted nothing more than to continue arguing for his freedom, he knew that there was no point in trying to convince John of anything. His father had been dead set on getting rid of Dean for a few years now, and the only people who could stop him were somewhere between here and London, on an official business. Dean had been supposed to travel with them, but of course his heat had had to hit too early, forcing him to stay in the castle and sweat his ass off in his chamber.
Without another word, he turned around and started walking. It was all nonsense, and he had no intention of going through with his father's plan, even though he didn't have the slightest idea of how he should proceed instead. John’s wrath was unmatched, and the man was truly unpredictable when angry. With Baby's life on line as well, Dean needed to be clever about it.
He walked through the almost empty hallways, passing the kitchen and chambers on his way, then up the stairs, reaching the wooden, heavy door. Once he entered the room behind it, he deeply inhaled the faint, familiar smell of jasmine and beech trees, letting it calm his fried nerves.
He had to think. There had to be a way to avoid all this. If he could only figure it out… He looked out the window into the darkness of the night.
There was no way he'd be able to do it alone; he was in a desperate need of an ally. Preferably someone smart, who had enough courage and wits to pull him out of this mess.
Luckily, he knew a fellow omega fitting this role perfectly.
+
“So… you're basically saying you don’t know what's in that deal?” The woman asked sceptically. “How did that happen?”
Dean sighed, then closed yet another book on Scottish lords they'd dug up from the family library. “I just don't, alright? I only know that some MacLeod bastard’s looking for a mate, and it's important for the omega to be a male.” He scratched his head, thinking. “It's weird, right?”
His redhaired friend moved her head from side to side. “I honestly can't tell. I only like females, and I know there are people out there dreaming of a male omega. I mean, you can carry a kid, so if someone has a preference for penises, why the hell not, y’know?”
Dean pursed his lips, leaning on the wooden chair that quietly creaked underneath him. He wasn't very picky when it came to the gender of his sexual partners - he hadn’t tried doing it with any alphas, though, too scared of getting pregnant by a random stranger. Since omegas couldn’t impregnate anyone, he eagerly used his private parts for fun with nice betas and other omegas. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about alphas in this particular regard, especially since everyone he’d ever asked about it said it was a completely different experience. Still, the risk was too great, and carrying a baby wasn’t Dean's dream, especially as an unmated omega.
“I wonder what kind of alpha needs to search for a mate like that,” he muttered, deep in thought. “This MacLeod fellow has to be weird. Or perhaps he’s just incredibly ugly….”
Charlie tutted at him. “Hey, focus. We've got work to do,” she said, poking him with another book. “We need a good plan, and to create one, we have to know who we're dealing with! Search for anything on MacLeods here.”
“Y’know, the idea is to run, not befriend them,” Dean grumbled, but took the book from his friend’s hand. Since yesterday, they'd managed to establish that his best shot was either to flee before the emissaries show up, or try to escape during their travel up north. There weren’t many horses out there that could rival Impala in speed, so the chances someone would catch up with him after he'd ditch were close to zero. That said, if he went through with it, he would be forced to lay low for a while - which wouldn’t be a problem if only Dean could hide in the woods. With winter fast approaching, this option was risky, and hospitality of strangers could be a tricky thing.
“You never know what will happen. If we end up in this castle of theirs after all, knowledge is our best ally,” Charlie reasoned, scanning another book with her finger following the text.
“You sound like Sam, sometimes,” Dean muttered, then frowned and looked back at his friend. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘we’?”
Charlie froze, and her eyes suddenly grew comically big. She then shifted in her seat. “Nothing. I obviously meant you.”
Dean vigorously shook his head. “No, you're not coming with me!”
Charlie blinked, then sighed, and finally met his gaze. “You’re going to need me.”
“I am planning to hide in the woods, you freak!” Dean hissed, lowering his voice. The door of the room they were sitting in was closed, but inside of the castle there was no way to tell who could be listening. “It's going to be cold and dirty. You hate dirty stuff, Charles.”
The girl huffed, raising her eyebrow. “So do you.”
“I don’t… Alright, that's not important, anyway. The point is, it's gonna be dangerous. I can't drag you with me like that, it would be insane!”
“Why, because I'm an omega?” Charlie snapped back, a spark now visible in her green eyes. “Should I really remind you that the last time someone mentioned your subgender in this particular context, you broke his nose?”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that! You surpass everyone I know in skill with the bow. You can strike a target at a hundred yards with ease, I know you can protect yourself…”
“Good,” she grumbled. “Don't you ever forget that I can.”
Dean sighed deeply. “Charlie… that doesn't change the fact that I'm not taking you with me. This won’t be a fun adventure. I’m planning to piss John off, and possibly break a deal with a rich family. I can’t let the consequences fall on your head.”
“And I want to make sure you won’t have to deal with any consequences,” Charlie reasoned, closing the book she'd been reading. Her faint scent reminding him of blueberries, now a tad sour, carried through the air. “I don’t want to stay here, not knowing if you’re safe or not. It would drive me insane! Besides, you know I don’t have anyone here but you. John hates me, and he’ll get rid of me as soon as you’re gone. Or worse, make me mate or marry some bloke...”
Dean opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, glancing into the stubborn eyes of his best friend. She was loyal and straightforward, no matter the circumstances. She’d been like that since the very beginning, when his parents’ knights had brought a scrawny, redheaded kid as the only survivor of the fire in the nearby village, and Dean had still been a young ‘alpha heir’ feared by everyone. He’d never had a friend like that - fierce and brave, even though Charlie was never the biggest or strongest in the group. Leaving her at John's mercy wasn't really an option here. “I don’t wanna let anything happen to you, Charles,” he finally muttered, feeling his walls of defense slowly crumbling.
She reached for his hand, squeezing it a little. “It won’t. And I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. Who's gonna take care of you when your next heat comes, huh?” She added quietly.
At that, Dean had no choice but to smile. “Hey, mine won't be here until spring. Yours is gonna come way faster, lady,” he said, knowing all too well he'd just lost this argument.
+
The emissaries arrived at the castle the next day, just before the sun reached the horizon. Dean observed the two men approaching the gates on brown horses from the gallery’s window. They didn’t seem to be wearing traditional Scottish clothing, which wasn’t very surprising after Culloden. Kilts were rarely seen these days.
The two men didn’t look very hostile or muscular. In fact, they didn’t look like warriors at all, with their light riding gear and funny-looking hats, chatting on their way. Even though Dean should be the last to judge subgender from the looks alone, neither of the riders screamed particularly ‘alpha’ to him.
In the end, Charlie and Dean hadn’t been able to find much on the Scottish clan. The MacLeods were Norse descendants occupying a castle at Dunvegan, who had chosen to support the Government forces instead of the Jacobites during the rising. The current chief was a relatively new one, so they hadn’t found any information about him or his intentions.
“Lord Dean?”
Dean sighed, turning away from the window to look at the young maid who had appeared at the top of the stairs. She looked sad, just like many of the people working in the castle had been since the news of Dean’s departure had spread. It should have lifted Dean's spirits a little - and yet, it didn’t.
“Your father is asking for you downstairs.”
“Yeah, thanks, Annie. Let’s go,” he said, then followed the girl to the ground floor. He couldn't hide from his father forever.
The entrance was crowded, with servants and maids peeking curiously at their guests. John stood just outside, wearing a dark wool coat and leather riding boots almost identical to Dean’s. It was probably the one thing they both agreed on - they would rather die than be caught wearing hideous buckle shoes.
His father merely glanced his way before turning his focus back to the two riders approaching at a steady pace through the courtyard. One of them, shorter and wearing a dark green hat with a colorful feather sticking out of it, looked around curiously. The other’s attentive gaze was focused on Dean and John. Up close, Dean noticed their clothes were made of expensive wool.
“Gentlemen, it’s an honor to welcome you to Winchester Castle. I trust your journey was pleasant?” John said as both riders dismounted their horses. His father even tried to smile, but Dean seriously doubted his muscles were still capable of such strain.
“Lord John, I believe,” the shorter one said with a small bow. To Dean’s surprise, the man’s English carried no accent. Beneath his yellow and blue coat, the man wore a matching vest. It couldn’t be very comfortable on horseback, Dean thought. “Yes, thank you. We are most grateful for your hospitality. I’m Gabriel of Engill, and this is Balthazar of the MacLeod clan. We come on behalf of Fergus MacLeod,” he said, gesturing toward the taller man, who bowed slightly as well. He wore a dark-brown coat and sported a small mustache above his upper lip. On his chest, he wore a silver pin depicting a bull’s head placed between two flags.
“Allow me to introduce my son, Dean Winchester of Huntershire,” John said, briefly turning to Dean as if showing off a piece of fancy furniture. “We’ve been expecting you. You must be hungry. Please, follow me.”
They moved back into the castle, his father leading the way to the great hall. Dean tried to discreetly listen to their guests’ chatter, but they kept their voices low, and it was lost in the sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor.
The massive wooden table was already set for them, and the smell of roasted, well-seasoned meat filled the air as they entered. Under different circumstances, an apple pie for dessert would have made Dean’s heart beat a little faster. This time, though, the divine smell of baked apples didn’t even make him look up.
“Lord Gabriel, I couldn't help but notice that your name doesn't sound very common. Is it French?” John asked once they were all seated.
Gabriel smiled a little, then shook his head, his light curls following the movement. Dean was sure that the guy would find a common ground with Sammy about all the oils and perfect brushes that kept his hair so shiny. “It’s Norse, actually. My family's heritage is… complicated. Fergus is my distant cousin,” the guy explained, briefly glancing at his companion.
“Forgive our curiosity, Lord John, but is there a reason why your omega offspring didn’t join us at the table?” Balthazar asked, raising his eyebrow at Dean's father. Just like Gabriel, the guy spoke without any discernible accent.
John blinked, then looked at Dean with a small frown. “But he's right here, gentlemen. Even though I must admit, he is unusually quiet.”
At that, all the eyes in the room turned to Dean, whose cheeks reddened slightly at the attention. He cleared his throat, focusing on his plate.
Gabriel was the first to shake off the surprise. “Right, of course. We're deeply sorry for our rudeness.”
“You're not rude at all. We're all very aware that Dean doesn't look like an omega. Or behave like one, for that matter. His mother and I,” John's voice wavered a little in the middle, “we were sure he'd present as an alpha, and he was treated like one up until he presented. I thought that was precisely why Lord MacLeod expressed his interest towards Dean,” John ended, frowning even deeper. “Am I mistaken?”
Balthazar, who was still observing Dean closely, shook his head. “You're not, my Lord. Let’s just say, me and my friend are quite frankly in awe of Lord MacLeod's… negotiation abilities. I believe Dean might be actually a perfect choice for our Cassie.”
“Wait, I thought MacLeod was the one looking for a mate,” Dean asked, unable to keep his mouth shut anymore. His father cast him a pointed look over the table, but Dean ignored him completely.
“Not for himself, no.” Gabriel explained. “He took up the difficult role of searching for a partner for my very stubborn alpha sibling.”
“Well, that's definitely good to hear,” Dean's father said, looking relieved. “I believe we can leave discussing the details of our deal for after the meal,” he added, gesturing for the servant to fill up their cups.
+
Lying on his bed with his hands tucked under his head, Dean looked at his wooden ceiling. It was nearly dawn, judging by the grayness that had started to come through his window. Almost time to go, then.
He hadn’t learned much more from their guests during the meal, and afterward, his father had invited Gabriel and Balthazar into his study, leaving Dean behind. Not that he had expected anything different, really, but Dean would be lying if he said it hadn’t stung just a little more to be completely excluded while his fate had been decided without him. Since he’d always been a resourceful kinda guy, he had used the extra time to poke about their guests’ very modest luggage, finding out Gabe and Balthy weren’t completely harmless - both men carried sharp dirks hidden under their saddles, and in one of Balthazar’s saddlebags, Dean had even discovered a pistol. He’d always found this kind of weapon interesting, even though he’d never had a chance to fire one. He was, however, an excellent shot with daggers and knives, and he suspected there was no reason it would be any different with firearms.
He had to say, even in such a short time of acquaintance, both men didn’t seem very hostile to him. Apart from the fact they’d technically come here to take his freedom away, Dean suspected Gabriel and Balthazar were much better company than John would ever be. That in mind, he’d finally decided to play along and set off with both men, waiting for a good opportunity to flee somewhere along the way. He felt almost sorry for ruining Gabriel’s mission to bring a decent partner for his sister, but he wasn’t going to sacrifice his whole life for some picky alpha girl with a strange taste for strong male omegas.
And what kind of name was ‘Cassie,’ anyway? A short version of ‘Cassandra’? They definitely hadn't stumbled upon that name in the books. He scoffed, then rolled onto his stomach, burying his nose in the familiar jasmine scent he’d soon have to leave behind - at least for a while.
Dean had always been tall and broad-shouldered, and almost nobody suspected his real subgender unless they got a good whiff standing very close to him - but since it was considered very rude to randomly sniff strangers’ necks, everyone who didn’t know him well assumed he was an alpha. That said, his father hadn’t been completely honest about Dean’s behavior - because the omega’s traits shone through his demeanor quite brightly if someone paid enough attention. Dean absolutely loved clean spaces and being clean in general, taking baths way more often than his stinky alpha brother. He liked the softness of certain materials, the sound of music, and helping in the kitchen, even though his father strongly condemned this activity. He loved spending time in his bed, and he’d built something resembling a nest a few times in the past, even though living under one roof with John didn’t give him many reasons to feel safe enough for his primal instincts to take over. He also loved to cuddle, which he’d never admit to Sam or any of his friends, who all thought he was just into casual sex.
Which, yeah, he was - but that definitely wasn’t the whole truth. He liked kissing and cuddling just as much, not that he’d ever say it out loud.
Damn, he would miss home, even though he knew he’d be back eventually. He also knew Sam and Bobby would absolutely lose it when they found out what John had done. Sam would probably try to follow Dean the second he returned - if Dean didn’t beat him to it first, anyway. He just hoped he'd get back before his brother, because the last thing he wanted was for Sammy to do something stupid.
When a few moments later golden rays of sun reflected off the wall, Dean was already tying his leather boots. He was going to get through this, dammit, and prove to his father that underestimating him just because of his gender was the biggest mistake John could ever make.
+
“Why the hell is this horse so huge?” Gabriel asked, eyes wide, taking a step back.
Dean snorted, pulling the reins to move Impala’s head away from the man’s hat. For some reason, she was very interested in the colorful feather, and he didn’t trust her not to try munching on it. “She’s a special kind of thoroughbred. Not very friendly, either, so don’t try to piss her off, or she will bite.”
As if on cue, Baby snapped her teeth, forcing Gabriel to move even further away.
“Remarkable animal,” Balthazar commented from a safe distance, patting his own horse’s neck. “I’ve never actually seen a completely black thoroughbred.”
“Yeah. Like I said, she’s special,” Dean said, adjusting Baby’s saddle.
“It is a strong horse. Reaching Dunvegan in less than ten days shouldn’t be a problem for her,” John supplied from his place by the front door. Behind him, a group of maids and other servants had gathered; some of the older women Dean had known since he was a kid were trying to stop their tears from falling. The head chef, Mildred, had made Dean an apple pie and wrapped it for the journey so he could stow it safely in his saddlebags. He really wished he could assure her he’d be back shortly, but he didn’t want to risk the information reaching the wrong ears.
Balthazar chuckled nervously. “There is no need for any rush, my Lord. I doubt anyone expects us to be back so soon.”
Just then, behind John’s back, a small figure with ear-length red hair and a bow on her back emerged from the stables, leading her gray horse in their direction.
Everyone turned that way, including Dean’s father, who squinted at the young woman. “What is she doing here?”
“She is coming with me,” Dean stated, leveling his father with his gaze. “You never said I can’t bring anyone with me to Scotland.”
Meanwhile, the woman approached the group, smiling widely at everyone except John. “Hi there! Name’s Charlie. How’re you guys doing?”
“I’m sorry, you want to tell me she’s willingly following you into another country?” John asked Dean through clenched teeth, clearly trying not to lose it in front of their guests.
“My Lord,” Charlie started, offering John a curtsy. “Is it not standard procedure for a royal blood to have their maid travel with them?”
Dean could see all the veins on his father’s forehead almost popping out from anger. “Right, a maid,” he said, casting Dean a dangerous look. He knew as well as anyone at court that Charlie was nobody’s maid, and certainly not Dean’s, but it wasn’t like he could lose his temper about it now.
“The more the merrier,” Gabriel supplied, smiling at the woman. “I hope you know a lot of stories incriminating my future brother-in-law.”
“Oh, all of them,” Charlie chirped.
“I’m deeply sorry for such an inconvenience,” Balthazar spoke next, “but would you two be so kind as to hand over your weapons to me?”
Dean frowned at that. “Our weapons? Why?”
“Do what he says, son,” John interrupted before Balthazar could say anything else.
Dean didn’t like it in the slightest, but he ultimately reached to his belt, unfastening his sword. Charlie did the same with her bow, passing it to the taller man. Once Balthazar secured Dean’s main weapon in his saddle, he put all of their daggers and knives in his travel bag. Dean had the strangest feeling that the guy wasn’t particularly happy with the job, almost as if it hadn’t been his idea in the first place.
“Alright, we’d better get going,” Gabriel said once they had fastened the last straps on their horses and saddlebags.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Lord John,” Balthazar added, bowing slightly. “We promise to take care of Dean as if he were our own blood.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” John said, inclining his head in return. “Before you go, would you be so kind as to let me say goodbye to my son?” He asked just as Dean raised his foot into the stirrup.
Gabriel and Balthazar nodded, then mounted their horses and walked a few steps away. Charlie reluctantly did the same.
When they were out of earshot, Dean turned to John. “Yes, sir?” He asked, squaring his jaw and bracing for harsh words.
To his surprise, his father’s eyes weren’t cold anymore. On the contrary, John looked almost as if he were about to cry. “I know you don’t understand my reasoning,” he started, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “but I do want what’s best for you, boy. I truly believe your happiness lies with your future mate. I know your m-mother would say the same if she were here.”
Dean didn’t say anything, because there wasn’t anything to say, really. He'd been happy at home, surrounded by his friends and family, but for John, it clearly hadn’t been enough. It felt a little too much like exile, and nothing his father could say would change the hollow feeling settling behind Dean’s ribs.
He was also certain that if Mary were really here, she wouldn’t try to get rid of him the moment the chance had presented itself.
“Please, don’t try anything stupid,” John continued, squeezing Dean’s shoulder once before letting go. “I will send the carriage with your possessions shortly after you. Be safe, son.”
Without another word, Dean turned on his heel, mounted Impala with a few quick movements, and guided her after the others.
He rode without looking back until his father’s castle had long disappeared over the horizon.
