Carried Out of Perdition

Printed Proof

Cheap smelling travel shampoo and a cracked bar of soap. Dean Winchester had never been one for fancy fragrances, nor did his budget allow it.

He and his brother Sam had just gotten back from a bloody fight with a demon named Pishacha. A flesh eating demon with the power to change its appearance or become invisible.

Pishacha is the one and only known offspring of a shapeshifter and a Rugaru (a human who, after it's first time tasting flesh, becomes a monster {See: S4,E4}) He was human, at a time. Pishacha knew of his cursed blood and made a crossroads' deal. Trading most of his life for humanity.

He won't have to worry about his "life" or "humanity" now, thought Dean.

Dean stepped out of the small shower and dried off with an old scratchy towel that had been run through the washer a few too many times. He hung the towel over the shower rod for later use.

Turning his back to a mirror that hung just above a sink that desperately needed to be re-calked, he looked over his shoulder in search of any wounds.

Mild scratches crisscrossed his back and a gash resigned near his waistline. In truth the scratches were of no concern, but they were inflamed and would need to be cleaned. The gash however, was an inch in width and depth, and maybe eight inches in length. Sammy would need to stitch that up when he got back with dinner.

Just as he was turning around he caught a glimpse of what looked like a burn. Or the scar of a burn. This was no major find, Dean had been burned many times throughout his life, but none in this particular spot that he can remember.

In an attempt to see the scar better, he leaned up onto the balls of his feet. The effort was wasted because the mirror was still too high to see properly. It didn't help that a good half of the scar was concealed by his butt cheek.

He grabbed the towel off of the rod and wrapped it around his waist. Even though Sam wasn't here--and Dean could easily walk around buck naked--Castiel had a bad habit of popping up without warning. And the last thing Dean needed was to be caught strutting in his birthday suit. A birthday suit that was a little more than soft down south, due to his cold shower, at that.

Dean walked out of the bathroom and over to a small closet. Its contents consisted of a safe that was nailed to the ground, hangers, and a stepping stool. The boys almost never kept their belongings in motel closets, accept for occasionally leaving some money or their multiple fake IDs in the safes. Most of their things stayed in suitcases or in Dean's impala.

He picked up the stool and carried it back into the bathroom. Dropping his towel he stepped up and bent over, showing his backside to the mirror.

Already feeling humiliated he spread his legs slightly and looked at the mirror between them. The bottom of his right cheek, combined with a portion of his thigh high on the right leg was a handprint, burned into his flesh.

Dean quickly stepped off the stool and faced the mirror, showing his left shoulder. An identical hand print was marked there. But Dean knew the whereabouts of this one. Castiel gave it to him when he raised Dean from Hell. Feeling violated, confused, and slightly bewildered, Dean walked out of the bathroom without his towel, to his suitcase where he grabbed his underwear and a clean shirt and pulled them on. He was just bringing out one of the only remaining pair of jeans that had not been bloodstained when he looked up and saw that Castiel had made one of his infamous entrances.

Dean stood still, racking his brain for any sarcastic comment he could think of, but all that came out of his mouth was, "How long have you been standing there?" Had he only seen him fooling with his clothes in the suitcase? Or had Castiel watched him while he walked out of the bathroom and Dean just hadn't seen him? It occurs to Dean that he didn't close the bathroom door before getting on the stool and checking out the hand prints. Had Cas seen that too?