Bring Up the Deep by beenghosting
The marks on his back shine red against his sickly pale skin. They look dark and angry, deeper than Dean thought possible with blunt fingernails. The whole cottage smells of fish, and it’s not until Dean’s coming to stand next to Cas that he realizes his hands and arms are streaked with blood, his feet and legs covered in sand. “What the hell did you do?” he asks. Cas blinks at him, slow. “I—” he tries, his voice shaking. “I don’t know.” As a native of Nova Scotia, the ocean //