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THE SLOWEST DEATH IS HOPE

Dean was growling in his sleep again. Roman nudged his mate firmly, Dean's growl became a snuffle and he twisted onto his back before curling tightly against Roman once more. Roman nosed at him, a faint smile playing at his lips. It was good to see Dean so close to contented again, it was good to see Dean sleeping without nightmares. It'd been a long time coming.

Whenever they stayed in one of their dens, secreted in tree thickets or in slivers of caves cut into the harsh rock faces that stubbled their land, Dean would slip gladly into wolf-form and sleep fine for a while but eventually he would start barking and keening his way out of dreams in a manner that made Roman's heart thunder as he tried to calm his mate. Dean needed to spend time as a wolf though, sometimes it was the only thing that calmed him when he was awake. It was dangerous too – when Seth had first left them, Dean had spent almost three months in wolf-form, refusing to turn back, even for Roman. For a while, Roman had thought that he'd lost Dean's human side forever, another theft orchestrated by Seth, getting the last howling laugh.

Staying in their cottage, in human-form, sleeping in a bed together, that kept Dean present. He still sometimes windmilled with nightmares, his bruised knuckles hitting Roman and waking him immediately. He still sometimes sank his teeth past Roman's skin but Roman enjoyed the sensation and stroked Dean's jaw, letting him know he was appreciated. The cottage was home and so far, Dean and Roman had been able to keep it that way.

That was the strange thing. Some of their dens had been desecrated by Seth's new pack – the stench of Hunter. Stephanie, Randy and Kane still covered those places and made them unusable – but not all of them and the cottage remained untouched. On several occasions, members of the McMahon-Helmsley pack had tried to hunt down Roman and Dean, to clear their territory so that Stephanie and Hunter could claim it. Dean and Roman had always managed to repel the invaders but they knew they hadn't yet faced the full might of Seth's new pack so what was going on?

Strangest of all, sometimes when Roman was roused awake by Dean, he could smell Seth, as though his former mate was actually still close by, as though he'd been lying beside them only moments before. How was that possible? It fucked with Roman's head and heart and it definitely fucked with Dean's.

"Fucking games," Dean spat, more than once, his eyes hard and painful.

Roman and Dean were always waiting now, for a final surge, a conquering attack that as yet hadn't come. When was Seth going to try to sweep them away? When was he going to prove himself to his new pack by crushing his old one? Dean was wound tight, understandably paranoid, and Roman could feel the strain, around his eyes, in his bones, dragging him down, in both forms.

He fucking missed Seth, it only added to the strain. He missed Seth and he wanted him back. He wanted there to be less room beside him at night. He wanted Dean to stop watching for someone who should be there with them.

But Seth was gone, he'd shattered Dean and Roman. He was happy with his new pack, that was what every newsite said.

So Roman lay beside Dean, enjoying the peace they had while it lasted, trying not breathe in too much of the mysteries of Seth's scent.

Roman had been born into a large wolfpack, one respected throughout the country. He had cousins and uncles who'd done extraordinary things. A few of them couldn't understand why Roman had chosen to live on a wild-looking stretch of land with a couple of Weres who both had ragged backgrounds. Roman didn't explain his choices, because he didn't have to.

In wolf-form, Roman was large and powerful, his fur ranging from dark-brown to black. He roughhoused with Dean, chasing him across their land, trying to get Dean onto his back so that he could fit his teeth to Dean's neck. He used to do the same with Seth – three Alpha Weres who only submitted to each other. Roman hunted, bringing down deer, birds and rabbits, carrying them back to whichever den he and Dean were using or all the way back to the cottage. When staying in wolf-form, he ate the animals without hesitation, tearing into them with his teeth but always leaving enough for Dean. Dean did the same for him, they ate together, gulping and chewing and bloodying their muzzles. They couldn't change back to their human-forms until they'd fully digested, otherwise they'd be in for real uncomfortable nights.

Seth had once almost choked on a rabbit bone, he'd shifted back too quickly and his dinner had tried to kill him. Dean had laughed, even as he'd gripped Seth, helping him cough up the bone.

Roman was full of hundreds of stories like that, stories of his pack, his mates. Seth was everywhere. Dean might snarl and spit when talking about him but he still looked for Seth, every day.

Fuck. Seth.

Roman roared and ran.

That night it was Roman who had nightmares. He saw Seth laughing, his mouth wet with blood. Roman could remember how much he'd enjoyed kissing Seth, tasting that blood. But now, in Roman's dreams, Seth was always far away or if he was close, he was raking claws through Roman's flesh or choking him. Sometimes he was torturing Dean, tearing him down to his bones, laughing and sneering while he did it.

He leaned close to both of them to declare that he'd never cared about Roman and Dean, they'd only ever been a means to an end.

Roman woke up with a snarl, his teeth sharpening, his fingers already clawed. He'd first heard those words months ago, standing face to face with Seth, and still heard them sometimes when dreaming. He could still see how Seth had looked when he'd said it, his eyes scornful. Roman and Dean had thought then that they were rescuing Seth, that he'd been taken from their den, that that was why a swathe of their land had been destroyed by fire and was only now just starting to regrow.

Seth had laughed in their faces and had drawn blood.

For a moment, Roman could have sworn that Seth's eyes had been dead, the fire in them dulled by something powerful, but shortly afterward he'd joined the hunt for Roman and Dean. Roman tried not to think about that. If Seth had regrets, he was hiding them brilliantly.

There was an arm insistently wrapping itself around Roman's waist, Dean was tugging him determinedly closer. There were dark bags under Dean's eyes, his gaze flickering gold in the darkness. The wolf was close to the surface for both of them. Roman could smell Seth again. He quickly curled himself around Dean, wanting to be closer to the heartbeat that he knew so well. Dean kissed Roman's collarbone, then his neck. His teeth were surprisingly blunt for now. Roman moaned roughly.

"Right here, big guy," Dean muttered into Roman's skin.

Roman's brow furrowed, watching as Dean's gaze darted away for a moment towards the door, like he was watching for someone. Roman fisted claws in Dean's hair and pulled him up in a deep desperate kiss, trying to drown them both.

There was always a campfire burning on their land, usually with a pot hung over it, keeping the meat tender or the stew warm. They were both good at butchering whatever they caught and killed. Everything got eaten, Dean had a thing for liver and Roman really liked the texture of kidneys. They skinned the animals to make full use of the fur and skin, good for turning into outer-gear for trading and for themselves. The smell was part of them now, in their skin and hair, in both forms.

Roman had grown up living in a large more-than-decent house. He'd run as a wolf but had been used to living as a human most days. Nowadays, he definitely spent more time as a wolf. It felt good in a way that he couldn't really explain, just that it felt right in his veins and sinew, like he was always meant to be this close to his wolf-form. Dean and Seth had both lived lives like that before he'd met them, together all three of them had found a way to enjoy being human together as well as wolf.

How did Seth live now? In one of Stephanie and Hunter's ridiculous mansions? Did he dress expensively and parade around like the other members of the McMahon-Helmsley pack? Did he only break out his wolf-form for 'special occasions'? Did he even feel connected anymore to the animal under his skin, the way that he had done with Roman and Dean? Roman had read the media interviews, the press so interested in the newest member of the elite McMahon-Helmsley pack and had seen the public look on Seth's face, how fiercely happy he'd been.

When their pack had been a trio, Roman and Dean had sometimes fought, they'd scarred each other with claws and words, sometimes they hadn't had a civil thing to see to one another. But they'd always returned to one another, they'd always been mates. Seth claimed that he'd been the one keeping the pack together, that they owed him everything, and that he wanted more out of life than what they'd provided.

Seth talked too much.

When the moon was full, Roman felt everything more. He could hear more clearly, see further. His lust for Dean felt stronger too. They chased each other, hunter and prey both, until they collided together, rutting eager and bloody in the moonlight.

They both howled because it felt right together of course but it didn't feel complete without Seth there. Then three of them were mates, Seth rejecting them hadn't changed that. Did he feel it too, that empty yearning ache? Did he howl under the full moon while running with his new pack? Or had he found someone new to mate with?

If that had happened, Roman was sure that he would have felt it somehow.

Once the full moon lessened its pull, Roman stayed in his wolf-form until he got to the river that split their land and dove in. He burst to the surface in human-form, swinging his hair back, his still-sensitive skin prickling. He turned sharply, there was that smell again. It was like Seth was right there.

Roman dove below the water. When Dean cantered in, he was grabbed by the ankles and pulled under too.

They didn't talk to many other wolves but they did trade with Daniel Bryan and Brie Bella and they sometimes talked to Punk. Daniel lived life really close to the land, he and his mate spent as much time in wolf-form as Dean did and seemed totally happy. Brie was talkative, clearly adored Daniel and knew what she was doing when it came to hunting, skinning and defending her territory. The two tiny packs had one thing too much in common - Brie's sister had also joined the McMahon-Helmsley pack, leaving a scar all the way down Brie's torso. A wolf had to cut deep and really know what they were doing in order scar a fellow wolf. Nikki had been sure to.

"I saw Seth the other day," Daniel commented quietly, after a food trade. "He didn't look all that happy."

Roman paused before glancing up. Dean was tossing stones into the river, Brie perched on a nearby rock. She wasn't talking and Dean looked calm enough in her presence. He and Brie had developed an odd friendship. It seemed to involve a lot of silence, punctuated by occasional conversations that made them both laugh. Roman didn't understand it and Dean couldn't explain it – She's not a problem had been his only comment when Roman had prodded him about it once.

Dean stiffened, he'd clearly heard Daniel. He turned slightly but kept throwing stones, a little harder now. Brie angled her face towards the sun.

Daniel smiled at her and let his words hang without comment. So Seth apparently wasn't all that happy. Maybe his dreams of power and a rich untroubled life were starting to crack. Hardly surprising considering the company he was now keeping. Roman felt the strain all over again and shook his head. Seth couldn't do this; he couldn't give them hope and then crush everything all over again.

Any and all hope had to die.

Dean twitched, like he was trying to shake something off, Daniel headed towards his wife, leaving Roman alone with his thoughts. He could smell hair oil, over-sugared coffee and those damn chews that Seth had always cheeked. Roman was imagining things, he doubted Seth smelled like that now anyway. His tastes had probably elevated with his ambitions, no matter what state his happiness was in.

When Daniel and Brie left, Dean was still throwing stones. The moon threw shadows and light and Roman could still smell Seth, Dean kept darting glances for him, even as he tensed and snarled. Hope was a fucking killer. It saturated their dreams and waking.

Roman completely understood why Dean had disappeared so completely into his wolf when Seth had left them. Just to feel and not have to rationalize, to howl and growl and rut, to be totally instinctual and let go of every human responsibility, to just rage, together...

Roman still lingered to breathe in the painfully familiar scent, Dean's gaze still automatically searched out the gaps where he expected to see someone.

Roman took a stone from Dean's hand and threw it.

-the end