A/N: Inspired by my own scars. I have...a lot. There's this unique scar of mine, though, that I quite like.
Kingston
Favorite
Dean stared at the mirror and absently traced his fingers across his chest. His body was littered with scars, deep, shallow, nothing more than a cut, Dean told all those who would ask. Nothing more, nothing less. That wasn't true, of course. But why would he ever say otherwise?
His scrutiny began with the old scars. The ones that had first shattered his skin during childhood. A dog scratch here, something more there. Most had faded over time, barely visible. No one else would notice those ones, the ones pigmented white. Only him. They were just more flaws to add to the pile of wrong, he thought.
His eyes drifted to one of his newer scars, a mark he was awarded after fighting off some demon. To hell with the details, he could never recall them anyway. It happened far too much to bother going back, to retreat into his memories and think about. Someday that scar will fade, like all the rest. Maybe, he thought, if he was lucky, it would vanish completely. But when was that ever true.
Eventually his gaze caught onto his favorite scar. He barely ever considered it a scar. Scars were faults, imperfections. They were permanent reminders of inadequacy. But, thought Dean, not this one. Dean could stare forever and never become ashamed of it. Never be afraid that someone would see it and think him weak for being marked. For being mutilated. Dean's favorite scar was beautiful- a mere burning hand print on his shoulder. Mere, Dean laughed. There was nothing mere or simple about it, or most would assume. But it seemed there was. It was simply beautiful. It was simply flawless. It was simply Castiel. It was simply him, become us. Simply I, become we.
It was, quite simply, his favorite.