A/N: I haven't written in a long time, but something about the themes of last season and this season made me want to write. So, little tiny story for you. Hope you like it. :)

Forgiveness

It's the fourth time this month that Dean has returned to the bunker with cuts and bruises on his face. At least two of the cuts look very deliberate, as if he had been immobilized while someone sliced meticulously into his cheek. Those cuts have to sting, but Dean hasn't put any disinfectant on them or made any effort to treat them at all. He acts like he hasn't even noticed his injuries.

Cas doesn't try to ask this time. He knows what the answer would be.

So, he takes a different tack. He waits until Dean has seated himself at the table with a book of some kind. Cas, pretending to be interested in the reading material, slowly rises from his own seat across from Dean and walks over. He stands next to him and peers over his shoulder. After pausing for a few seconds so that it seems like a natural progression, Cas shifts closer with the pretense of getting a better view of the book. Dean fidgets a little, beginning to feel uncomfortable, but he doesn't move.

When Cas starts to raise his hand, Dean finally tilts away from him and turns his head to look him in the eye.

"Whoa, Cas, buddy. You picking up moves from Danny Zuko now? You skipped the fake yawn and stretching your arms over your head," Dean jokes with a smile that doesn't quite cover up his apprehension.

"Dean, hold still," Cas says evenly, determined to accomplish his mission. His ring and pinky fingers curl inward while he extends his index and middle. Dean recognizes the movement and scrambles sideways out of his chair.

"Cas, no. I don't need that, okay? It's just a couple of scratches."

Cas, now poised with one knee on the chair that Dean has just vacated, looks at him doubtfully. His hands feel useless now that they can't touch Dean, so he places them on the table and chair back for balance instead.

"Why do you keep avoiding this?"

"I-I'm not, man, what are you even talking about?"

"You won't accept healing from me anymore. Why?"

"Because, uh—" Dean flounders for an excuse. When he comes up with one, he smiles and raises his hand as if he were physically serving it up on a platter. "I-I don't want you wasting your mojo! Yeah, I mean, this'll heal on its own, so you don't need to—"

"I want to," Cas says in a forceful voice just as the door swings inward. Sam, still walking into the room with his open laptop in his hands, looks up at that last part of the discussion and sees how they are positioned.

"Yup, sorry," Sam says. He doesn't even stop walking; he just spins around on his heel and continues right back out the door with the air of a man who has entered the ladies' lavatory by mistake and wants to get out without causing further embarrassment. Dean stares at the door, arms spread out to his sides, an incredulous look on his face. He seems less upset about Sam interrupting the conversation than about Sam leaving without taking Dean with him.

"Really, Sam?" Dean grumbles.

"Dean," Cas speaks firmly to reacquire his attention. "We have to fix this."

"I'm telling you, they'll heal—"

"That isn't what I mean, and you know it. You're evading the subject on purpose," Cas says, and that's unusual for him. He doesn't like to coerce Dean into doing things that he doesn't want to do. In this case, though, he thinks that a more aggressive tactic might be necessary. Ever since the Mark of Cain was removed, Dean has been clamming up when Cas tries to touch him. He seems to be fine with touching Cas, but being touched incites some kind of panic in Dean. Cas doesn't think that waiting patiently will work this time, because it seems that Dean wants to hide whatever is bothering him and let it fester. Cas almost feels the determination on his face give way to sadness, but he holds it back. "Why won't you let me heal you? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Dean groans. "No… You didn't do anything." He flinches slightly, as if he is remembering something that caused him pain. When he comes back to the present, he can't meet Cas's eyes. "That's the problem."

"What can I do to make it right?" Cas asks immediately.

"Nothing, all right? Nothing. This is on me."

Cas now has an idea of what has upset Dean. He contemplates for a moment, casting about for a way to test his theory without outright stating it. Then, he lets some of the sadness that he had held back before leak into his expression.

"Dean, please. It hurts when I can't help you," Cas says with just the right amount of weakness in his voice. Dean's reaction to that tone and the allusive phrasing confirms his suspicions. He looks terrified, startled and ashamed. He is almost certainly remembering the last time Cas had begged him like that: when Dean had given in to the Mark of Cain and beaten Cas half to death. It isn't a pleasant memory for Cas, either, but at least he has already processed it and put it behind him. Dean clearly has not.

Dean purses his lips ever so slightly, as if swallowing his own fear. He goes to his knees in front of Cas. Cas swings both of his legs around so that he is sitting sideways on the chair. He lifts his hand again, knuckles gently grazing down Dean's temple and jawline. Dean stares at Cas's knees, unable to meet his eyes. After nearly a minute of Cas just lightly stroking the facial nerve path—a technique that he had once seen Dean use to calm an infant—the silence is broken.

"Don't ever let me do that again," Dean rasps. Cas squints with confusion.

"Do what?" he asks.

Dean reaches up and takes hold of the hand that has been so kindly caressing his face. He still won't raise his eyes.

"Don't let me hurt you like that again," Dean says.

"Dean," Cas almost sighs in despair, "what you did while under the influence of the Mark—"

"It's not just that!" Dean's grip on Cas's hand tightens. "I keep doing this. Everyone I've ever—" He falters and then rephrases. "Everyone I care about, I end up hurting them. Don't let me do that to you. I get that you don't wanna fight back 'cause you're afraid you'll hurt me, but you gotta at least run. Don't just—just let me whale on you like that, because if I go too far—if I killed you, I'd never…"

"Never forgive yourself?" Cas asks quietly. Dean takes in a shaky breath and the edges of his eyes are shinier than they should be. Cas makes no mention of it. "Dean, I have already forgiven you. In fact, as far as I'm concerned there was never anything to forgive in the first place."

"You shouldn't forgive me. After what I did to you… I almost killed you."

"But that wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it."

"I know," Dean says, his voice rough from the strain of holding back. "I can never help it. I can never stop myself. I can't control myself. That's why I need you to help. If something like that ever happens again, you have to promise me you won't let me hurt you. I'm serious," he says as Cas opens his mouth to protest. He finally manages to meet Cas's eyes. "This is important. 'Cause I don't wanna hurt you, either. I never want to hurt you."

Dean is staring up at him. His eyes are wide and vulnerable, and Cas wants to comfort him, but he can't think of a way to do it. The attention focused on his face does remind him that his lips have gone dry, and he moistens them with a quick flick of his tongue. Dean's eyes snap down at the movement, then go straight back to Cas's eyes, surprised and a bit alarmed. He hastily lets go of Cas's hand and backs away.

"H-heh, wow, this is starting to look like something it's not," Dean jokes, smoothing a hand back through his hair.

"Really? What does it look like?" Cas asks seriously.

"Nothing, man. Nothing." Dean is grinning with nerves, and he looks at Cas to make sure that everything is cool between them. Cas tilts his head, and Dean's face reddens. "Uh, so, um," Dean says articulately, snatching the book that is still open on the table, "I'm just gonna…"

"Dean," Cas interrupts. Dean looks back at him again, and Cas raises his hand. "I would like to heal you now. Is that all right?"

Dean's left hand is twitching at his side, and his right hand keeps the book tucked against his chest as if it is a shield to protect his heart. After a moment of staring, Dean moves a little closer and leans down. Cas offers him a small smile of encouragement as he reaches up with two fingers. A quick touch to the forehead instantly erases every one of the cuts and bruises on Dean's body. Cas lowers his hand, continuing to smile up at him, glad that Dean has accepted his healing. Dean clears his throat and rises to his full height.

"Thanks, Cas," he mumbles, turning away so that Cas won't see him licking his own lips.

"You're welcome," Cas replies. They leave it at that.

Later, when they are getting into the Impala to head out for their next case, Dean allows Cas to place a supportive hand on his upper arm and stroke down to his elbow. Once they have been driving for a while, Dean notices that Sam keeps looking between him and Cas with a smile on his face. Dean tells Sam to shut up. Cas points out that Sam hasn't said anything, and Dean says that Sam was thinking it, to which Sam scoffs and says that yes, he was. Sam shakes his head, grinning as he looks out the window. Things are starting to get back to normal. Well, as normal as things ever get with this family.