Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Eric Kripke does. And he breaks my heart with it everyday.

-The First Time-

Anna.

Well then.

He hadn't really meant to let it get this far. Really. But now here he was in the back seat of the Impala with the red head hovering over him. It's not like he was complaining, though. Anna settled herself on top of him, kissing him heatedly. She pulled back just far enough to look him in the eyes as she slowly placed her hand over the pink puckered scar on his bicep. What the? A strange tingling sensation radiated from the touch. It was... Odd. Unsettling almost. It just felt wrong. He looked straight back at her as if he hoped he could find the reason he was feeling this in her eyes, but she said nothing. The feeling didn't go away until she moved the hand and when it left, a twinge of emptiness gnawed at Dean. He couldn't explain the feeling, foreign and shocking. But then he remembered the woman (or angel in a female vessel, he wasn't racist. Or would it be species-ist?) above him and decided not to dwell on it now. Choosing instead to fall back in to the familiar routine of his favorite pastime and let it take away his problems. If at least for a moment.

-The Second Time-

Dean had been living with Lisa and Ben for about two weeks now. At times he felt really bad for dishing out all his crazy on the small family, but they had been helping him a lot. Sometimes, he would have to leave the room because Ben reminded him so much of the brother that was in agony in the pit below him. Most of the time he had nightmares of the last moments of seeing Sam and the various ways he was being tortured now. Other times he would dream and feel the sickening twist in his gut while he watched Castiel exploding with a snap of Raphael's fingers. Lisa would always wake him from these dreams and hold him. Dean was never a person to cry very often, John had trained him that showing weakness worse than death, but in the last two weeks he had cried more than he ever had in his life. He felt guilty for subjecting Lisa to his fits, but was grateful nonetheless that she never kicked him out. Even after he had given her the long explanation of why he was such a wreck. She was shocked and horrified, but she believed him. He could tell that she was trying not to ask too many questions, though it's hard not to when someone tells you a story as big as his.

"Does that hurt?" Dean was standing at the closet trying to decide which shirt to wear when fingers gently brushed over the hand print.

There was the feeling again. Only it was different this time. Instead of a tingle, it was more like an itch. Out of place. Just wrong. His stomach clenched and it was like the feeling you'd get when you know you've forgotten something important. Something that you need to take care of now. But what? Unconsciously, Dean jerked away from the touch causing Lisa to pull the hand back and give him a questioning look.

"Uh, it's a little sensitive I guess." He cleared his throat not sure why he had reacted so violently.

"That's the mark that angel left on you, right? When he grabbed you?"

"Yeah," Dean felt a little twinge of annoyance at Castiel being referred to as 'That angel' "Something like that."

"Do you think it will ever heal or fade or something?"

"No, I don't think it ever will."

Lisa didn't touch his scar a lot after that. Every so often she might unthinkingly pat it through his clothes in a friendly gesture or run her hand along it during sex, but dean would always grab her hand and bring it up to his face, kissing her knuckles or something along those lines. Anything to keep her hands off it without him freaking out again and her asking more questions.

He didn't know why it was such a big deal. She was his girlfriend, but he was uncomfortable with the whole idea of her touching him there. It seemed private even though it was branded boldly on his arm for all to see. Sometimes, he would catch himself staring at it in the mirror. It pulsed and felt warm under his gaze. Dean could finally place the feeling. It was searching for something. It sounded nuts to talk about part of his skin as if it was sentient, but, hell, Dean had been involved with crazier things.

It, he, was looking for something. He just didn't know what yet.

-The Third Time-

The next time wasn't nearly as awkward. He had gotten Sam back. HIS Sam. After so long. Dean was almost afraid to breath, to blink. Maybe if he closed his eyes he would open them again and find out it a was all dream and that his brother would still be trapped in a cage with two seriously pissed of angels. But, he breathed, he blinked, and Sam was still there. They talked and caught up and joked as if none of it had happened. Of course, though, they knew they'd have to talk about the serious, 'soap opera' as Dean called them, subjects sooner or later.

"Do you have a, ya know, burn mark thingy anywhere on you? From whatever pulled you out?" Sam tilted his head in thought. "What do you mean?" Dean sighed and shoved his left sleeve up to reveal the scar and pale freckled flesh surrounding it.

"Oh...Not that I know of. Wouldn't that only happen if an angel pulled me out?" Sam studied the skin making Dean squirm a little under his gaze.

"Hell, if I know. Ask Cas. For all I know, it could've been Santa Clause who hauled your ass outta there." Sam had shifted closed on the cheap motel bed.

"Do you mind...?" He gestured toward Deans arm. Dean nodded. To be honest, he'd wondered if he'd have the same reaction as he did with Anna and Lisa if Sam came in contact with Cas's burn mark on him.

And then fingers were on him, exploring, studying the scar like the eager student Sam is. It felt different, almost comforting, but still not right. The feeling of longing panged in his stomach again, but not as severe as it had when Lisa had touched him. The older Winchester was relieved that it wasn't an all together bad feeling like before, but the disappointment also dragged through him. If Sam, his brother, wasn't what he was looking for then what? Sam was all he had, the most important thing in his life. Great, this was just getting more and more confusing.

"Can you feel anything?" Sam had gone full into research mode. Making sure to assess every detail that might lead to any answers. Dean swallowed hard, deep in thought.

"Yeah." But he didn't explain any farther.

-The Fourth Time-

If anyone asked, this was not his fault. He wasn't responsible for this and you can make him. It was all Cas' fault honestly. He had to look so damn gorgeous. Wait, did he just think Castiel was gorgeous? If his idea of beauty was a 20 something looking angel-in-man's-skin covered in mud from their last hunt, then he was more fucked up than he thought.

And strangely he didn't have a problem with that. He didn't know what possessed him to move forward and capture Cas's lips with his own. His body seemed to have a mind of it's own and even though, very distantly in his subconscious he acknowledged that he should really stop, he kept going. The angel had let out a surprised gasp, but never pulled back. Instead, choosing to kiss back at his own shy, unsure pace.

So, that's how they got here. Sprawled out on the bed of a motel in Rhode Island, with Dean's shirt off and Cas' soon to follow. Somewhere in the very small part of his brain left not struck dumb with arousal, he thought of how glad he was that Sam had gone to help Bobby with a case this weekend. He really didn't want his little brother to walk in on him banging their angelic aid.

Broken springs on the mattress dug into his back ruthlessly, but the uncharacteristic softness of the skin above him made up for it all. Castiel was getting more and more aggressive as he got used to the movements, wanting more. Dean knew that Cas was a virgin and he expected to just take control and show the innocent angel everything he could do for him, but damn, Cas was giving the human a run for his money.

"Dean," Dean barely heard the mumbled words against his lips. They were so soft, but strong and heartbreaking. Castiel chanted Dean's name like his own little prayer. Dean curled his tongue, brushing the tip over the roof of the smaller man's mouth and Castiel moaned into the touch. Dean smirked at Cas' hands creeping up his stomach. Fingers skimmed up over his abs, his pecks, to rest on his shoulders. Cas touched him gently with reverence. Almost like he was praising every inch of Dean's body. And then very slowly, his hand slipped down to rest on the raised pink flesh on Dean's left arm. The fingers matched up exactly and the palm pressed firm into scarred skin. Electricity shot though Dean's whole body, lighting up his senses and making him see stars. If the room was too hot from body heat before, it was blistering now. Dean sucked in a breath. He felt everything, every sensation you could name. Elation, despair, ecstasy, pain, sadness, happiness. Burning, freezing, melting, his nerves were sparking and he felt like he was going to explode. It was quite literally the best feeling he's ever felt in his life. It felt so right. So unlike every time before, it made him feel whole again. No longer searching because he knew he had found what he needed and his body screamed for more of it. Dean hadn't noticed that it seemed to have the same effect on Cas. The angel had slipped down to his chin where he rested his forehead, shallow breaths escaped him and he look completely undone. Castiel hand remained on the scar-his hand print-and even though it did nothing physically, Dean could feel his skin there pulsing happily.

"Uh, What...What was that?" His voice was shaky and came out in a whisper. Castiel's seemed no better.

"I didn't realize. I knew it was there, but I had no idea how powerful..." The Angel's voice was almost a growl, deep and, in Dean's opinion, sort of hot. "Wait, What was powerful? Explain, Cas. Now."

"Your scar," His fingers brushed gently across the hand print. It sent more shockwaves through them both, though not as severe as before. "it's from when I raised you, correct?" Dean nodded feebly, embarrassed that he had no ability to talk at the moment.

"There are affects when an angel of the Lord's true form comes in contact with a human. There are sometimes horrible consequences, like your friend Pamela losing her sight. There also can be healing effects if God grants us the power. But, when I raised you for Perdition, I not only raised your earthly body, but your soul as well." Castiel pulled up to lock his gaze with Dean's. The same burning, sincere look that was pure Castiel.

"There are stories that when an angel touches a human soul, bits of that angel's Grace is transferred into the mortal. It has never been proven, but when I left you that mark, I just assumed it was from my true form coming in contact with your flesh,"

"So, you're telling me that I have some of your Grace in me?" Dean was so confused. This was not how he had hoped his evening with Cas would go.

"Yes..." Castiel looked away from his face. The only time Castiel broke eye contact was when he was angry or hiding something. And because he was still on top of Dean making it very hard (Don't laugh at your own pun, Dean. You are not in the 8th grade anymore) to hide that he was definitely not angry. Farthest thing from it, it felt like. So, hiding it was.

"C'mon, Cas. There's something you're not telling me." Dean grabbed his face. The need to know what the hell was going on just barely won over the urge to kiss him. Though, if the angel didn't speak up soon, he didn't know how long he could be good.

"I never expected it to be so powerful. So, sensitive. For both of us."

"You felt it too?" It came out as more of a statement than a question. Castiel nodded, swallowing hard. Dean watched his Adam's apple bob and had to banish those thoughts from his head. For the moment.

"Yes. Quite a lot. But, normally, the Grace transfer wouldn't affect me as well. I believe it's greater than that. Almost as if..." Castiel's hand that was rubbing soft circles on the mark, moved down his human's arm to lace their fingers together. The moments were slow and exaggerated.

"When I gave you part of my Grace, you transferred to me part of your soul. And that scar is the place where we can feel each other the most. The gateway to where we are the closest. We are...connected." Their heartbeats were the loudest sounds heard in the hotel room. Dean couldn't speak. He could hardly think. Once upon a time, this would be just about the moment where he bolted. He waited for his teenage fear of commitment to rear it's self preserving head...but it never came. That, itself, terrified him. But he seemed oddly calm, as if he really knew what had happened all along and had been waiting for this moment. His arm that wasn't connected to Cas' cinched around the angel tighter.

"Yeah, I guess we are." Castiel visibly relaxed, relieved that Dean had not taken his speculation as horribly as he thought he would, but puzzled at the human before him. "You are not...Intimidated? Uncomfortable? Sharing your soul with an angel, it doesn't leave much of the 'personal space' that you love."

Dean shrugged and was unable to keep the smirk of his face when Cas squeaked as he pulled the smaller man's face in for a kiss.

"Eh, my soul was yours anyway."

AN: Written because I have the hugest Perdition mark kink. (Or Castiel's hand print scar, I don't even know what to call it) This was my idea baby after thinking "What if the scar held a connection between angel and man?" Anyway, hope you liked it! Writing fictions and looking at Destiel graphics on Tumblr are the only things keeping me alive until September -.-

Love you guys!