A Dark Path

Untitled Part 5

Upon receiving his mission from Sam, Castiel went upstairs to find Dean. He was still confused by exactly what Sam wanted of him, but he understood the main component: spend time with Dean. Cas may have his doubts with being compared to this woman Collette, and being the answer to their prayers, but he wouldn't shriek at the duties that the younger Winchester had placed on him. If anything, Cas felt honored to be thought of as this parallel, and he would try his hardest to once again be Dean's salvation. 

It was no surprise that when Cas reached the elder Winchester's room, the door was closed. Cas knocked gently, only to receive no answer. He raised his fist again to knock louder than before. Nothing. Trying a third time, Cas put a little more strength behind the knock, but still there came no reply. Frowning, Cas turned the doorknob and cautiously entered the room.

The sight before him would have stilled Cas' heart if the angel's heart still worked like a human's. 

The hunter was laying in bed, the covers pulled up just past his hips, but not far enough that Cas  couldn't see defined hipbones. He wore no shirt, his muscles on clear display. Dean had his arms resting behind his head, which stretched his stomach out and Cas couldn't help but desire to come closer and touch that beautiful body. 

There were quite a few scars on his body, newly formed since the last time Cas had been able to heal him (the last time he had seen him). The scars were thin and paler than the skin it belonged to, and they somehow made Dean seem that much more authentic and handsome. That might have been because Cas acknowledge Dean as an accomplished warrior, and the greatest of warriors always had an arrangement of scars to showcase of their almost lost battles. The scars, the reminders of Dean's strength and need to fight on the side of humanity, were a part of Dean, and Cas accepted all parts of Dean.

The problem was, Cas had only been gone for less than a month. How had Dean managed to earn himself that many scars that quickly? Especially since he was supposed to have taken a break from hunting when Cas left him, and since going back on cases, Sam should have only chosen small hunts for them. As good of a hunter as Dean was, the scars of his torso shouldn't have existed. 

"Dangit Cas!" Dean shouted, pulling off his headphones and sitting up straight to glare at the angel at the foot of his bed. "Knock next time! I could have been doing something!"

Cas titled his head to the left at his last statement, but chose to ignore it for the time being. "I knocked. You didn't answer." He came close to the bed.

Dean heated up. Almost part of his displayed body seemed to turn a brighter red the closer Cas stepped. Furiously, he gathered his sheets closer to himself, making sure they were up to his belly button and tied behind his back. "Well, what do you need?"

"I came in to check on you."

Dean rolled his eyes, still in an aggravated mood and still beating red. Cas stared. 

"I'm fine. Thanks for checking. Now get out."

The angel frowned at the harshness in the hunter's voice, though he shouldn't have been surprised by its presence. The mark on his right arm flared and Cas found his hardened gaze on it in an instant. 

Dean noticed Cas's death glare at the Mark of Cain and covered it with his other hand, still pissed. "Cas," he practically growled. "Out."

Blue eyes shifted away from the now hidden mark up to angry green eyes. Dryly, Cas commented. "You have many news scars on your body. What have you been doing?" His eyes narrowed in the glare that he used to give when he was tempted to smite something. "I told you to take it easy for a while."

"I did alright," Dean groaned with another eye roll. "Shit happens though."

Cas reached out to touch one of the newly formed pale lines across the sculpted body that he had once recreated to perfection. His fingers were a sliver away from coming skin to skin before Dean's calloused palms encirled Cas' wrists. The hold was tight. Any harder and the bones in his vessel's wrists might have broken, but gratefully Dean didn't press any harder. With a deep, controlled breath, Dean pushed away the offending hand. 

Not long ago Dean wouldn't have had the strength to do such a thing to the angel. Even at half of his energy, the angel was at least twice as strong as the strongest human. Now, though, Dean was on his way to being more than human, and he had gained more than enough strength to outmatch Castiel. The thought of being out matched by the human he so often willing surrendered to frightened the angel and he took a step back. 

"I was only going to heal you."

Dean scoffed. "Don't you usually heal with two fingers to the forehead?"

The observation was so harsh, Cas found himself lying just to save face. "Since the grace I have is not mine, I find it hard to do small miracles I could once do without a second thought." That at least was true, though the second part wouldn't be. "Touching the injury directly would allow me to heal properly, as if I had my full strength."

"Well don't bother."

Cas frowned. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to be healed."

"Dean."

"Cas," Again the name was practically growled, and Cas wasn't sure what to do. 

Furious, either at Cas or himself or whatever else it was that was raging through Dean at that moment. the hunter swung his feet onto the ground and stood with gusto. Pivoting around harshly, one fist clutched onto the sheets, Dean made his way past Cas. Cas moved to watch Dean each step of the way, unsure what the hunter was doing, and unsure what he should do in return. 

Gruffly, Dean responded. "I'm going to take a shower. You need to be gone by then." And then he disappeared into the hall, leaving his door wide open. 

For a moment, all Cas could do was stand frozen beside Dean's empty bed. He reasoned with himself that the response he had received from his friend was only because of the Mark and nothing else. That didn't stop the ache settling into his chest.