Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did, but I don't.
Summary: That handprint on Dean's shoulder isn't the only way Castiel has affected him, and now Dean has to deal with wanting something for himself.
Notes: Title from Joni Mitchell's gorgeous "A Case of You." (Also, there was NOT a new episode in Canada last Friday night. Colour me devastated.)

The thing that Sam keeps forgetting, the thing that Dean can't ever forget, is that Castiel touched his soul.

That handprint on his shoulder, the one that's been burned into him and will never, ever go away, isn't simply some new scar to take the place of the old ones that have miraculously—truly miraculously—been erased. It isn't a brand, some mere marking of his physical body like all the others, proof of a life lived and risks taken. It's the sign of something, of someone, touching his soul, the very essence of Dean, and having such a profound and irrefutable impact that it has been etched on his body from the inside out.

Forget all that Hallmark bullshit about soulmates and one true loves; this, right here, his own personal angel with wings and everything, is the real deal, the genuine article. They have seen into each other's souls, literally touched each other's souls, and is it any wonder being around Cas makes Dean all shy and unsure of himself? No one has seen him as naked as Castiel has, and Dean finds it indescribably difficult to look him in the eyes, aware of how exposed he has been and how intimately he and Castiel have come to know each other, and all of it combines to make him feel like some stupid blushing virgin teenager again.

Castiel makes him feel young again, and innocent, which is something he didn't feel even when he was of an age to be called young. Cas makes Dean feel new and raw, no toughened skin or shell to protect his squishy insides.

Even more unsettling than that is how very well Castiel knows him. No one knows Dean, not really. Sam knew him better than anyone, but that didn't say much considering how rarely the kid bothered really to look at him. Sometimes, as much as he knows Sam loves him, Dean thinks he frustrates Sam more than anything else.

Castiel doesn't just look, though; he sees. He knows. He understands. He accepts and he cares and he doesn't look away.

And he doesn't walk away, either.

The not walking away part is new for Dean. Everyone he loves, everyone he knows, walks away, or runs, or simply gets taken away without as much as a goodbye. No one actually stays. No one. Not ever.

Some of them, like Sam, leave over and over again, and part of Dean, the one from the last ten years in hell, wants to laugh, because now Sam is doing it every night. Every time Dean falls asleep, Sam leaves him. It's like Sam has been practicing all this time, all these years, just to learn how to walk out on Dean.

Sam was always a good student, and all Dean can think every time he wakes to find Sam gone is that practice has made pretty fucking perfect.

A+, Sammy. Great job. Let's put that one up on the fridge.

Yet just as often as he wakes to find Sam gone, Dean wakes to find Castiel there. It's the opposite of all this shit going down with Sam, and it surprises Dean every single time to open his eyes and find bright blue ones gazing into his own. It's a far from unwelcome sight, no matter what Dean tries to pretend, and after an embarrassingly brief amount of time, all things considered, he commits the cardinal sin of beginning to wonder if Castiel might always be there. Forever.

Not that an angel's forever is anything like as limited as a human's, and Dean is still a little fuzzy on the details of his salvation and resurrection with regard to where exactly his soul will go the next time he dies.

But then, maybe Cas will grip him tight and raise him from the pit again. Or maybe he won't, but these are the kinds of dangerous thoughts beginning to permeate Dean's mind, which is more than usually terrifying. There are some days when Dean wonders if Castiel didn't merely re-hymenate him, but actually gave him back his innocence somehow, because he doesn't remember the last time he felt this wide-eyed and ludicrously optimistic, even as he drowns in self-loathing and a clear and certain awareness of the imminent apocalypse. He knows better than to hope, especially for something he wants for himself, and yet Castiel makes Dean think things might turn out okay, which is disconcerting precisely because of how reassuring it is.

Because wishing sure as hell never made it so—aside from that one town, and look what happened there, with giant teddy bears coming to life just so they could commit suicide. (And wasn't that just the bedtime story every little kid wanted to hear just before the lights went out?)

No, Dean knows he's pretty much screwed, whatever way you look at things, and that this crazy hope he's got that revolves around Castiel is just going to burn him in the end, but he can't help it. As a matter of fact, he kind of likes it, and he hopes like hell the crash is a long time in coming, because this, right here – Cas – Dean wants this for himself, and he hasn't wanted something just for himself in so long he doesn't even remember when the last time was. (Aside from the deal that got him into all this in the first place, that is. Aside from that selfish little wish.) Even if he doesn't get it, doesn't get to have Cas, at least he'll have known he wanted it, wanted him, and that's something new after all those years of taking his own wants out of the equation.

So, it's really not surprising that Dean's whole life has become something different and new these days. Castiel touched his soul, man, and that shit has to have some pretty lasting effects.

An angel on his shoulder or in his bed is a hell of a lot to ask for, but then again, Dean's been through hell and back again, and maybe if he's good and does whatever it is the angels want him to do, then maybe, in the end, he'll get to keep one of them. Just one.

Just Cas.

Like a prize for good behaviour, or a trophy for coming in first place. Like an answered prayer you were never quite brave enough to offer up to God or the forces of Heaven or whatever.

Most likely his hand is going to be slapped away like the first time he ever tried to steal a cookie from the cooling pan at Missouri's, but as painful as it all might turn out to be, it's the one dream Dean has that's just as persistent as the godawful nightmares that have him screaming through the night. He needs, he wants, and maybe he's actually entitled to be a selfish bastard, just like he was when Sam died and Dean refused to accept it. Maybe even sorry sons of bitches like him get angels of their very own.

He's always thought nobody ever actually gets what they deserve, good or bad. These days, Dean's kind of got all his chips riding on that cheerful little thought and what it might mean for a determinedly unrepentant sinner fresh out of hell.

Dean Winchester, touched by a goddamned angel.

It's enough to make mountains crumble and the heavens weep.

And it just might be enough to make miracles happen.