The last thing Cas expected to see when he walked into the Bunker's kitchen is Dean in there at the stove, cooking some bacon. His hair is damp, he's got just a towel wrapped around his waist, and he's singing loudly off-key while he pokes sizzling bacon with a spatula.
Cas stands frozen to the spot, staring at Dean's back.
When Dean turns around to plate up his breakfast he nearly drops the pan. "Jesus, Cas!" He seems twitchy and fidgety and places the pan down so he can make sure the towel is secure. "You uh, said you weren't coming back until tomorrow."
Cas stalks forwards and Dean moves with him, keeping his back facing away.
But Cas knows what he saw, and when he grabs Dean's shoulder and spins him around he gets a close view of the six lines of red scars on Dean's back. Six long scarred gashes.
Although Dean tries to shrug it off, Cas recognizes those lines and their placements.
Dean shrugs him off. "That archangel douchebag thought he'd leave me with a permanent parting gift, I guess. No matter how many times you've healed me since, they won't go."
Cas takes a long breath through his nose and out through his mouth. Even though he doesn't technically need to breathe the action is grounding. The fury fizzing under his skin eases slightly.
Cas places his palm flat against Dean's back and his eyes glow as he uses his grace, attempting to remove the scars. A high pitched wailing starts and Dean twitches violently as Cas ramps up the power.
"Hey hey hey, knock it off."
The glow fades, the sound stops. The scars remain.
"He had no right," Cas says, seething. "He had no right to mark you like that."
"Yeah, well, he did anyway, and I have to live with it, so can we just pretend you never saw anything and move on." Dean goes to walk away. He's lost his appetite for breakfast and now he just wants to cover up.
Cas reaches out and gently places his hand over the old handprint scar, faded but still there. Dean freezes.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Cas asks quietly.
"They're on my back, man, I forget about them half the time," Dean snaps, the lie clear in his voice.
Cas frowns in concern and sympathy, and ghosts the fingertips of his other hand over the edges of the lines on Dean's skin. "Do they hurt?"
Dean deflates a little, the tension in his shoulders releasing. "Nah. Hurt like a bitch at the time, but nothing now. They're itchy as hell sometimes though."
"I can't heal them," Cas says with regret. He pauses and adds, almost hesitantly, "but I can... override them."
"If I possessed you - I could manifest my own wings and reopen the wounds... Then the scars would be... mine instead."
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