The Scars We Carry With Us

By: Lanku

Disclaimer: As awesome as that would be, I don't own Supernatural or it's characters. Though if I could get Castiel on a stick... or a leash... or with Dean, I'm not picky...

Dean doesn't know if you can call them nightmares if they actually happened, but they've left their own scars on him. He doesn't need anymore of them and he doesn't miss the ones he lost.

He's remembering again.

He wants to think it's just a dream, except that there's no way anyone's imagination could construct the kind of shit that's going through his head. He remembers every second of it, every slice and rip and tear that was made into his body and every desecration.

What's worse is that he remembers taking Alistair's deal and he vividly remembers inflicting every wound done to him onto others. And isn't that ridiculous? Isn't that completely sick? He's sure that there's a joke there somewhere because isn't there supposed to be some kind of 'do unto others' crap that the angels-

And then remembers. Or does he really? He realized he's awake and the warmth on his shoulder is really there. Castiel is sitting on his bed again, facing away from him. No part of the angel is touching him but the place where Castiel's hand burned into his skin is warm.

He's not even looking at him, but Dean suddenly remembers how to be calm again. When he stops gasping for breath, the angel turns to him with eyes that burn into his soul and see everything, more probing and more observant than anything Dean's ever known. "Hello, Dean," he says as though it's the most natural thing in the world, as though he hasn't realized that Dean's some kind of abomination. It was an order from where ever that he be raised from hell, but Dean's pretty sure that Castiel doesn't regret it despite all the crap he's pulled since.

But still, Dean's Dean and he feels uncomfortable by how comfortable he finds the angels presence. He wonders if things would be different if Uriel wasn't there for him to focus his dislike on whenever him and Sam disagree with what the angels have in store for them. "Nothing better to do up there, so you decided to skeeve on over and watch me sleeping again?"

Castiel stares at him long enough that he wonders if the angel has forgotten that his vessel is supposed to blink, and when Dean is just about to break the silence he says, "You were dreaming," as if it's a question or hypothesis or some kind odd and mysterious spectacle.

"I was remembering," his voice is gruff, and it's because he'd meant to choke down the words but they wouldn't stay down. "So, what? Come to file a complaint about Lilith getting her Grace back?"

It's the way he looked away for a moment that makes Dean realize that the angel hadn't even thought of that. Maybe it's just a human failing, but he doubts that Uriel would even hesitate, so it's probably just the angel himself. "You had a question for me," he says instead of answering, and Dean realizes that he does only seconds after.

He hesitates in asking it, but he figures that Castiel probably already knows what he want to ask and the angel is just humoring him. "You… well I know my body was pretty craptastic after the hellhounds so you had to heal those, but what about the rest of me? My scars and everything else? Just a side effect like this thing?" He touches his hand to the handprint burned into his skin and it's still warm under his shirt as though Castiel has had his hand there through the whole conversation.

He thinks that he's missing something, some significance to Castiel being there, something that he would probably be able to identify if he were looking at it from the outside, but as a participant in the moment it's completely flying over his head. The silence stretches again and then Castiel is standing up. His head tilts at an angle and his eyes drop to where Dean's hand is set. This time the angel doesn't snap back into the conversation, though. "Cas?" Dean asks.

And the angel's eyes snap back to Dean's fast, and Dean gets the idea that the angel was spacing out even though he's not really sure that that's something that angels do. Before he can question it, there's a warmth on top of his hand where the vessel's hand is and when he looks up he gets the distinct feeling that the angel is upset about something. He raises and eyebrow at Castiel, but then the angel speaks and it leaves Dean hot and cold and warm all over. "To help you feel clean again."

Dean wants to tell the angel something about cheesy lines and where to stuff them, but he's afraid his voice will crack if he tries to speak. He doesn't know if he'll ever get the taste of hell out of his mouth and he's actually pretty sure he never will, but he wonders if this is what healing feels like. He's not sure he likes it or that he ever will, but he knows that it's something Castiel is offering even though he doubts the angel knows he's offered anything at all.

It's only him and Sam in the motel room again, but Dean's shoulder is still a little warm. He watches Sammy's even breaths in the darkness for a long moment before he sighs and rolls over, pulling the sheets over himself as he attempt to get back to sleep.

A/N: Yeah... so I'm way new to this fandom, I've only gotten up to 'Heaven and Hell' in the fourth season as a matter of fact. I seriously only got into the show- through my love of Star Trek of all things- because of Castiel. Now that I finally get to see him in action (repeatedly in a loop sometimes thanks to Netflix) I couldn't help but have this gush out of me. I took a thirty minute beak from the show to write this before it ate me alive, but it went straight from my head to the computer to here, so sorry for any mistakes.