"That should've faded by now."

Dean made a mental note to never dress in front of the angel ever again. All Dean did was switch out his shirt, but he didn't like how Castiel's eyes practically roamed his naked torso for the brief five seconds of changing. "Uh?"

"What should've faded?" Sam asked from his spot in front of his laptop.

"The handprint," Castiel said to him, gesturing to Dean's shoulder. "From when I gripped him hard-"

"And raised me from perdition," Dean finished lamely for him. "Yeah, we got the cliff notes Cas. What do you mean, it should've faded? I thought this thing was permanent."

"No. It is a burn, but it should've healed by now. It looks as red and raw from the day you came back. It should not look like that."

Dean frowned and lifted the sleeve of his shirt, exposing the handprint. He briefly touched the raised skin with his fingers, though the flesh was too damaged to register any sensation.

"I don't know, Cas," Sam shrugged. "Dean is the first to be raised from Hell. Maybe it's supposed to be a permanent print. Does it really matter?"

Once again, Dean squirmed internally from the look Castiel is giving him, those blue eyes locked onto his arm. He doesn't pull away though when the angel got close and hovered his fingers above the scar.

Castiel's expression became slightly surprised. "I can sense a faint amount of Grace in this scar…" He looked to Dean. "May I?"

Dean played with the idea of saying No. Castiel seriously needed to learn the boundaries of personal space and now would be the perfect time for such a lesson. But the way Castiel had that longing look on his face, and since he didn't really have a great reason to deny him, Dean grunted, "Whatever rocks your boat."

Castiel cocked his head in confusion.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, Cas. You can touch it."

He had expected nothing. After all, the handprint was just scar tissue- practically dead skin. So when Castiel laid his hand upon the scar-

The reaction was slow, hard to describe. Dean remembered closing his eyes, his toes curling, his hand clenching the comforter of the bed-

He heard Sam off in the distance yelling, "Cas, stop!"

Dean gave out a shuddering gasp as soon as Castiel pulled his hand away. "Holy shit!" He said, suddenly getting up from the bed and stalked straight into the bathroom.


A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. "Dean, you okay?"

Dean sighed heavily. "Yeah, Sam. I'm fine."

"Can I come in?"

Dean tossed the towel he was using to wipe his sweat to the side and leaned over to unlock the door. Sam came in, wearing what Dean liked to refer as 'Sam's angsty face.' It's the look of concern and Dean would really rather not have it directed towards him. "So, what happened out there?"

"I don't know," Dean said, and shook his head. "Cas had his hand on me and I…" He shrugged.

"Did it hurt a lot? Do you think you would be able to try it again?"

Dean threw him a look. "Try again? Why would I do that for?"

"I was talking to Cas, and he said that after touching your scar he felt… stronger. Better. He doesn't really understand it, but he thinks if he can touch your scar again, he may be able to regain some of his angelic powers. And if that is the case, that means he might be able to heal Bobby."

Dean's head jerked at him. "So what you're saying is… if Cas touches me long enough, he can become a full angel again?"

"I don't know, that's the theory," Sam looked back at the closed bathroom door. "Cas was pretty upset that he hurt you. He doesn't want to do this if it means causing you pain-"

"It doesn't hurt."

Sam blinked at him. "Uh?"

Dean rubbed his hands together, his head turned away from his brother. Sam could clearly see the blush appearing on Dean's cheeks- a blush he'd contributed to the pain. "When Cas touched me," Dean began, his voice sounding rough. "It didn't hurt. Actually… uh, quite the opposite."

"Opposite… how?"

"The far opposite."

Sam frowned, still not getting the allegory. What was the far opposite of pain? It took him a few seconds to realize what Dean meant, but once he did, his mouth curved up into a childish smile and he almost giggled. "Oh! You mean… when he…! And you…!"

Dean blushed harder. "The angel has magic fingers!" He growled.

Sam was laughing now. "Oh man, wait till I tell Cas-"

"Don't! Do not tell him," Dean pointed threateningly at him. "You do, you die."

"Okay, okay," Sam snickered. "But since it doesn't… hurt, will you come back out and allow Cas to touch the scar again?"

"I don't know, man," Dean shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, I wanna help Cas, but… it's Cas, you know?"

"It's not about Cas, Dean," Sam said, sounding a bit more serious though a grin still played on his face. "It's also about Bobby. If this can help him get his legs back, don't you think it's worth the, uh, pain of being touched?"

"Stop enjoying this too much."

"Look, how 'bout this? Castiel only held onto you for about a minute and already he said he felt stronger. Do you think you can handle five or ten minutes? Just until he regains enough power to help Bobby."

Dean groaned into his hands. He admitted, that sounded reasonable. Hell, and it was for Bobby. Surely he could handle Cas' hand on him for a few minutes to help the man he considered to be like a father to him?

"Okay," Dean said. "Okay, let's do this. Just one thing: Don't tell Cas how it affects me. I don't want him getting any ideas."


"Dean, are you sure you're alright with this?"

"I'm fine, Cas," Dean said irritably. His eyes kept darting around the room, everywhere except on Castiel. His gaze landed on a pillow and thinking, reached over and grabbed one and placed it over his lap. From the side, Sam snickered. "If it becomes too much, I'll tell you when to stop."

Sam got up to leave. Castiel looked over to him and asked, "Where are you going?"

"Oh, uh, Dean doesn't like it when I see him in pain. He rather do this alone."

Castiel frowned. "It's probably best if you stayed. If it becomes too much for Dean and if I cannot hold myself back-"

Castiel didn't understand why Sam suddenly started laughing right then and there. Dean threw him a heated glare, followed with a, "Shut up and leave, Sam!"

"I'm going, I'm going," the hunter grinned. "Oh, and Dean? I have protection in my bag if you need it-"


"Damn, son of a bitch," Dean muttered, shaking his head. He glanced over to Castiel. "Well, c'mon, I don't have all day."

"Dean, if this is hurting you, we don't-"

"Yes, we do. If this can help Bobby, I can handle it. Trust me, I've had worse," he winced at the choice of words.

"Are you sure-"

"Yes! Now stop stalling and let's get this over with!"

Castiel was still unsure. He slowly moved closer to Dean. Dean closed his eyes and bowed his head. The hand clutching the pillow on his lap clenched.

Castiel moved Dean's sleeved further up, exposing the scar. Dean stiffened.

The angel hovered his hand over the scar for a brief second, waiting for any last protests. When none came, he pressed his hand against it.

Dean took in a sharp breath of air and Castiel immediately drew his hand back. "Cas," Dean growled, sounding a bit flustered. "Until I say stop, you keep your damn hand on."

"Yes, of course. Don't push yourself." He replaced his hand.

Dean didn't say stop, but that didn't mean Castiel couldn't tell how this was affecting him. Dean's breaths came out in short, shallow gasps. His body heat rose, his heart beat increased, and there was an obvious flush on his cheeks.

As much as Castiel was upset by Dean's distress, the way his Grace flowed through the scar was like a drink of water after years of dehydration. It made him feel whole again and he hadn't realized how much he missed it. Unconsciously, he pressed his hand down harder.

Dean suddenly arched his back, a strangled cry erupting from his lips. It was at this, Castiel decided, that it was enough and drew back.

Dean fell back onto the bed, gasping and breathing hard. "Are you alright?" Castiel asked him.

"I'm fine," Dean groaned. "I'm… oh man… did…" he licked his lips. "Did you get enough juice to help Bobby?"

Castiel thought about this. He could feel the new Grace swirling inside of him, new rivers of power. It was more than he expected to gain from today, but it wasn't enough. "No. We might need to do this three or four more times until my power is sufficient."

"Ughgh…" Dean moaned, turning away from him.


A/N: I might continue this, but until inspiration strikes me, this is complete. R/R, peeps!