Chapter Text
“You should show me some respect.”
Dean’s gaze flickered with uncertainty. He swallowed the lump he could feel building in his throat and tried to ignore the spike of arousal rushing through him at those words. This was dangerous and he should walk away from the angel.
Castiel was staring into his eyes, stripping away every layer Dean had constructed so well over the past decade until he felt bare to the core. His heart and thoughts were raising, urging him to do the right thing, to not be reckless, but there was something in the angel’s eyes he could not turn away from.
“Make me!” The words came out before he had any chance to overthink them. Hanging in the air between them and increasing the tension further.
Castiel’s eyes narrowed, his gaze turning thoughtful. “You are challenging me, even if you have no chance of winning. Why?”
Dean sneers at Castiel “Not one to just roll over and let your army of feathery dicks have your way with me.”
Castiel tilts his head and raises his left eyebrow at that. “I can ensure you we do not expect you to roll over for us. There is no need for you to take on such a submissive stance for the task at hand.” A pause and another assessing gaze “But then again, that’s what you are longing for isn’t it Dean? Somebody who strips away the burden and weight of all this power and choices.”
Dean’s white-knuckling the edge of the worn kitchen counter, trying to withstand Castiel’s intense stare and to hide just how much he is craving the freedom of not having to choose or to fight for a change. He fails in the end, breaking their eye contact and taking in a shuddering breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in. Dean feels raw and doesn’t understand why the angel across from him is able to unravel him so easily.
There is a long moment of silence between them, heavy with words unspoken, words Dean wants to say but can’t. As if sensing Dean’s distress, Cas turns away, deciding to leave him be for tonight and if not for his angelic hearing, then he would have missed the words whispered by Dean, but he doesn’t.
He stills, only turning his head to show that he is paying attention. “What did you say?”
“I said, what would you really be willing to do if I don’t play by your heavenly rules?” an intake of breath and then more deviant “What if I am not who you think I am? What if I can’t save shit? What if I maybe would have deserved to stay in hell for eternity? What then Cas?”
Cas turns fully, taken aback for a moment like somebody had accused him of stealing newborn babies from their parents' embrace.
Dean felt a pang of guilt for having to disappoint yet another person in his life, but it was better like this. No point in prolonging the inevitable. Surely, Cas would realize that what Dean said is true and maybe he will punish Dean, and maybe that is what he deserves.
Dean’s eyes meet deep blue and there is a flicker of fondness in them, but it is gone so quickly that Dean isn’t sure if the twilight in the kitchen is playing tricks on him. There is no time for Dean to question any of it because Cas grabs his shoulder and with a whoosh, he finds himself in one of Bobby’s spare bedrooms.
“What the …, Cas what the heck?” Anger flares up in Dean, but he is taken off guard by the warmth of Cas’ hand which is still lingering on his shoulder, right above the handprint the angel had left a few weeks ago.
He feels the energy radiating from Cas’ hand in waves, trying to connect with the scar hidden underneath the layers of cloth and he can feel his skin throbbing like it is answering to the touch.
Cas tightens his grip slightly and Dean grabs his wrist as he starts feeling sparks zapping across his skin.
“Dean, look at me!” Dean’s eyes snap away from his shoulder as an immediate reaction to the command. “Cas … I …”. He doesn’t know how to articulate what he is feeling. There is just so much. So many feelings and emotions, which he knew were there, but usually buried deep inside and behind a layer of protective walls. Walls that stop them from breaking free as they did now. Walls that stopped them from causing Dean to break apart.
Dean had started shaking and he felt like there was not enough air in the room. He was losing control and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.
The minutes that followed were all but a blur and when Dean became again fully aware of his surroundings, he found himself sitting on the bed, breathing unevenly and Cas standing three feet away from him with concern written all over his face.
“What…” Dean’s voice cracked, and he had to try again. “What just happened?”
Cas remained silent, gaze roaming over Dean’s body. His eyes, like Dean himself, were hiding the answer to that question. His left shoulder, with the handprint that still seemed to call out to Cas. His chest, with its still too fast-beating heart and his hands which were gripping his thighs tightly trying to ground himself. When their eyes meet, Cas could still see the storm of emotions linger in them.
“I am not sure, but it seems like the handprint remains a direct connection between us.” Whatever just happened seemed as unexpected for the angel as it was for Dean. “What do you mean with remains?” Cas hesitates, not wanting to upset Dean more than he already was. “Cas out with it! What is going on here?” Dean gestures at his shoulder to emphasize his words.
Cas's eyes lingered on the flannel which was covering the mark he had left behind the day he had pulled Dean from hell or rather when he found the righteous man shattered into pieces and made him whole again.
He will never forget the moment when he first laid eyes on Dean’s soul because it is the brightest and most beautiful life force he has ever seen. But it was true that the brightest lights are sometimes born from within the deepest darkness and some of the pieces Dean was made of had so much terror, pain, and despair woven through them that Cas knew he had to do something to ensure that Dean would not break apart and go mad as soon as he was reborn and returned to Earth. Something he wasn’t sure he should share with Dean at least not yet. Too much depended on Dean to succeed and to stop the Apocalypse.
But Dean was still staring at Cas, not willing to let this one go and clearly demanding an explanation.
“Dean, how do you think that scar came into existence or why it is on your shoulder?”
Dean shrugged “According to your own words you gripped me tightly and raised me from perdition. I assume the gripping tight part is where this beauty happened.” He pointed to his shoulder with another twirl of his wrist.
Cas nodded in understanding. “I see how you would come to that conclusion, but that’s not the reason for the mark.”
Another moment of silence.
“Well Cas, care to share with the rest of the class?”
Cas tilted his head in confusion, but Dean interrupted him before he was able to respond, having no patience for Cas's oblivious nature in the current situation. “It’s a saying Cas. What’s the rest of the story? Details Cas.”
“You weren’t whole when I found you in hell.” Another pause, then hesitantly “I had to re-create your body as a suitable vessel for your shattered subconscious. The handprint on your shoulder could be compared to the navel of a newborn baby. It’s where my grace was attached to your body while I assembled the various pieces of your being inside of it.”
Dean squinted at Cas as if trying to figure out if the angel was taking him for a ride. “That sounds oddly maternal.” Cas' explanation made as much sense as anything these days, but Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more. “Ok, so let’s say the umbilical cord of grace got cut once you were done and pulled me out. Why is there still a connection between us or between me and your grace?”
Cas frowned, clearly not happy with his inability to provide a clear answer to this question. “I don’t have any prior experience to draw conclusions from, but it is essentially a healing wound, making it potentially more sensitive to the touch of my grace.”
“Great, does this mean I will have a panic attack every time you touch me?”
Cas grimaced as if Dean had just slapped him in the face and avoided his gaze, feeling ashamed of his next words. “I might have tried to probe your subconscious with more force than necessary earlier, which most likely caused your reaction.”
Dean’s eyes widened. “What? How deep did you dig?” Dean suddenly felt violated and it made him feel sick to the stomach. Cas could sense his discomfort and spoke his next words quietly. “I am sorry Dean. Your subconscious was calling out to me and I thought that …” Cas trailed off and Dean wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to say more or he didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter.
Cas regarded Dean with an unreadable expression before turning away and moving towards the door. “Get some rest, Dean. We will talk more later.”
Dean had no time to respond because the angel was gone the next second and Dean was left on his own to deal with the aching feeling in his shoulder as well as his heart.