Bruises That Won't Heal
Dean Winchester had seen it all. He had died. Several times. Been to Hell and back. Add Purgatory to that. The life he led wasn't for everyone. During his career as a hunter he had met hundreds and hundreds of people, some innocent, some less innocent, he had saved some and watched others die. The list of monsters he had encountered was long. He had made deals with demons. He had doubted the existence of God. It turned out He did exist. And angels, the warriors of Heaven were real, too.
Dean was sitting on a worn motel room bed wrapping gauze around his arm. Another battle wound, he snorted to himself. The wound would heal but leave a scar. Yet there were bruises that won't heal. His soul was intact. But his mind. All that he had been through. The pain. The suffering. Dean thought about his father. What a burden Dean and Sam must have been to their father. After Mary died a horrible death it must have been subterranean Hell to John.
Dean shook his head. There would be no offspring for him. No one to carry his name after his death. Well, there was always Sam. He might have a kid or two.
- Dean?
Dean turned his head. – Cas.
- Is something wrong?
- No, Cas. Everything is just peachy.
- Sarcasm, I assume. Dean, sometimes it helps when you talk to someone.
- Cas, stop it. You're not Dr Phil or anyone.
- I am not this Dr Phil person. I am Castiel. The Angel of the Lord. Your Angel.
Dean chuckled. He got up from the bed and reached for his angel's hands. – Yes, you are. Don't let anyone tell you any different.
Castiel tilted his head and stared at their hands.