Word count: 254
Notes: Mildest of spoilers through "In the Beginning..." For the lovely zelda_zee, who also beta'd. :)
The angel's handprint -- stark and red against pale skin -- still burns on Dean's shoulder where Castiel gripped him tight and raised him up. He brushes his own hand over the angel's mark, feeling how the blood throbs differently there.
Castiel does not lay a hand on him casually, not when a mere touch can pull Dean from the pit of hell or bend time, sending Dean back before he even existed.
The angel says little to Dean, only hints at why he bothered to save him, what he wants with him. But in Dean's dreams, the angel shows him things, whispers everything he needs to know, wants to know
Dean wakes with flashes of red behind his eyes, the impression of wings beating rapidly around him. There is only one real difference between Castiel by his side and Castiel in his head, only one real way to know if he is dreaming or awake.
In his dreams, Castiel can touch him.
The angel places his outspread palm on Dean's bare skin and there is a blinding flash of light, the raised imprint of his hand lingering long after he and Dean pull apart. His lips leave marks like a sunburn up and down Dean's back, each one causing something that's not quite pain, but deeper than pleasure.
When Dean wakes, the marks have disappeared, and so has Castiel. He's only dreamed that the angel was here. But when Dean runs his hands over every place the angel touched him, he shivers, remembering.