Dean had feared to scent-mark Claude. But in his werewolf form, he had no other way of pouring out the intense emotions that accumulated that afternoon they spent together. He couldn't tell Claude how reassuring it was to see the vampire hunting, or how mesmerizing it was to have seen Claude's own red eyes. He scent-marked Claude, used the glands around his nose and prodded at the points where the vampire's (racing) pulse was strongest. Claude had been confused about what Dean was up to, but then it dawned on him, and still he hadn't told Dean to stop. Dean didn't want to hope, because all the signs seemed too good to be true. He had touched his forehead with Claude's upon seeing the beginnings of inner conflict held between the vampire's eyes. I'm right here. They breathed each oth