This was originally going to be a one shot for my "A Thing or Two About Being Human" series, but it just didn't seem like it fit, so I just left it as a standalone (if you like this though, check out my other story ;) I'm not as happy with it as I thought I would be, but I just wanted Dean and Sam taking care of human Cas, so there :P It's only AU because Cas is safe at the bunker where he SHOULD HAVE BEEN. Anyway, enjoy!
Not a Burden
A Supernatural Fanfic
Being human came with so many difficulties. Castiel wasn't sure he would ever be able to figure them all out; even the simplest things were foreign and complicated to him. Most of the time, he just felt worthless. His human feelings had made him a poor angel and caused him to fall, but now that he was completely human, he seemed, if possible, even worse at that. He began to wonder whether he really belonged anywhere.
It was hard to figure out what to do, especially when life was continually interrupted with having to sleep, find food, and do other human things that had never troubled him as an angel, even a falling one. But the biggest problem was the Winchesters.
No, they weren't the problem in actuality. He was the problem to them. He knew he was a burden being human. He couldn't do anything to help them like he used to be able to, and he wasn't even up to par with their human abilities, unable even to figure out how to run the shower when he discovered the reality of body odor. Of course they had never said anything about his worthlessness, but they didn't have to. He knew he was a burden to them. Helping on hunts, but not knowing quite what to do when his instinct was to use his powers, and unable to help with much in the bunker because he could barely make toast. He did do research, but what good would that really do when the Winchesters needed backup? He was considering leaving, letting Sam and Dean get on with their job without him so he wouldn't cause any more problems; the only thing keeping him from doing so was the fact that he simply didn't know where he would go. In order to survive, he would have to get a job like a normal human, and who would want an incompetent ex-angel who only just knew how a bathroom worked?
He decided one morning to go for a walk in town, maybe try to pick up a few necessities at the store to do something useful. Sam was reading in the library and Dean was taking the opportunity to veg in front of the television so Cas slipped out unnoticed, grabbing his jacket. Dean had even bought him new clothes, another strange thing to have. He had been in the same outfit for so long that changing clothes seemed novel. He was grateful, but didn't want to admit it only made him feel all the more human. He missed his trench coat. He thought that maybe if he could at least have that last memento of his past life, it would give him strength. It was such a silly, human thing to think that it only made him more disgusted with himself.
Whenever he went to town he always felt so self-conscious like people would spot how different he was from them. Of course for the most part they didn't seem to notice him at all; whether they were intent about their work or talking on cellphones. He supposed he shouldn't worry so much; they probably didn't even know or care that he existed.
He was at least able to purchase some groceries without mishap, and went to head back to the bunker.
It was a stupid mistake that should never have happened had he been paying attention. The problem was that with his lessened human senses, he was still getting used to catching everything that he needed to. One reason he had gotten into several scrapes on hunts. He was still figuring out how to use his fully human body.
And that was why he stepped out of the bushes onto the sidewalk without looking and got run over by a bicyclist. Not just one, but two, actually. The first one knocked him down and the second one was too close to stop so it ran him over.
Castiel was dazed, must have hit his head in the fall because it was pounding and sound was coming as if from far away. He was crumpled on his side in pain, trying to figure out where it was coming from but not wanting to move. He was finally aware of several people standing over him and he opened his eyes, clearing his vision and gasping in a painful breath.
"Sir, are you all right?" one asked.
"I'm so sorry!" a young man said, standing beside the other. "I didn't see you."
"Can you get up?" yet another inquired.
Castiel tried to lever himself up, but his right hand was shredded from his fall on the sidewalk, and when he tried to move it, pain shot up in arm from his wrist, causing him to gasp and fold it protectively to his chest. The bicyclist who hit him bent over and tried to help him sit up.
"Are you okay, sir? Do you need a hospital?"
Castiel shook his head. "N-no," he managed, trying to get his feet under him, but seemed unable to do so. One of his knees hurt pretty bad as well, and he thought it might have been what the second bicyclist ran over. Another of the bystanders came to his aid and between him and the young man, they got him off the sidewalk into the grass. Castiel was embarrassed by how many people had turned up to see what had happened. He wished he had the ability to fly away and tend to his wounds himself, or better yet, heal himself like he used to be able to. These scrapes would have meant nothing to him as an angel.
"Do you have someone who can pick you up, a phone?" the young man asked. Cas began to feel sorry for him. He was obviously sorry for what had happened, and it had been an accident not to mention mostly Castiel's fault; he should have been looking where he was going, so he thought it best to assure the man that he was all right and could take care of things. Cas nodded in answer to his questions and fished his phone out of his jacket pocket, thankful it hadn't been damaged in the fall. He awkwardly dialed Dean's number with his left hand, his right still useless in his lap. It rang several times before Dean picked it up.
"Cas, hey, where did you get off to?" he asked over the phone.
"I went to town," Cas told him, his voice shaking slightly. He cleared his throat. "Dean, I had an accident. I—I need you to come get me."
"Hey, you all right?" Dean asked, that sudden concern in his voice that Castiel had been all too familiar with of late. He could hear the jingle of keys and Sam's inquiry in the background.
"I'll be okay, it's not too bad," Castiel told him with a sigh.
"Okay, Cas, I'll be there in a minute, where are you?"
Castiel told him his location and then hung up the phone. Someone had found him a bottle of water and some tissues and he looked at them with a frown before the woman explained that his head was bleeding. Castiel touched the right side of his temple where it stung and he winced, pulling his fingers away and finding them coated red. He realized then that it had trickled down to his chin, and thanked the woman, starting to clean himself up. He didn't need to look like he had lost a fight with a hoard of demons when Dean got there.
It wasn't long before the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine was heard and Castiel felt a shameful relief as the black car pulled up to the curb and Dean got out, a worried set to his shoulders until he saw Cas and then offered a smile.
"What's this, Cas? Running into bicyclists now?"
Cas gave him a long-suffering look. "I didn't ask for it, Dean."
"Well, you're a mess, let's get you back home," Dean told him and bent over to help Cas to his feet, gripping his forearms tightly and drawing him up. Castiel's body sang with pain, and his hurt knee gave out suddenly as he put his full weight on it. Dean quickly grabbed him around the waist, keeping him upright.
"Whoa, buddy, easy there," he said gently, and settled one of Castiel's arms over his shoulders. Cas didn't have any choice but to lean his full weight against Dean's steady frame, a sorry but apt representation of his life at the moment. He couldn't do anything without Sam and Dean anymore it seemed. A few more foolish mishaps like this, and they would kick him out of the bunker on principle. Or at least they should if they were smart. Who needed a broken angel who was nothing but a big child to take care of? Dean already had one younger brother to look after, he didn't need another even more accident prone child in his life.
They reached the Impala and Dean opened the passenger door and eased Castiel inside, helping him shift his hurt knee with minimal movement. "You good?" he asked.
Castiel nodded and Dean closed the door and crossed to the driver's side. They were off for the bunker in another minute. Castiel was silent. He was embarrassed by the whole thing and slumped in the seat, leaning against the door. Dean glanced over at him several times, but chose not to say anything until they got back to the bunker and he helped Cas out of the car again. Sam was waiting for them, and when he saw Cas leaning against Dean he ran to help, getting on the ex-angel's other side.
"Hey, what happened, Cas?" he asked with a frown, noticing the blood and the limping.
"I was run over by a bicycle," Castiel replied blandly, resisting the urge to whimper as he was settled into a chair and Dean started helping him out of his jacket.
"Sam go get the first aid kit," he told his younger brother, noticing when Cas' breath hitched as his right wrist was jostled. As soon as the jacket was off, Dean was inspecting the wrist, pulling Cas' sleeve up carefully. It looked a bit swollen and it hurt when Dean pressed it
"Well, it's not broken, that's some good news," the hunter said with a smile. "Just a bad sprain. It will feel better when we get it on ice."
Castiel didn't say anything, simply mortified by the need for first aid after having to call Dean to come pick him up from the site of the accident. He suffered Dean to turn his head to one side and inspect the wound on his temple.
"This looks nasty, but I don't think it's too bad. You didn't black out, did you?"
"No," Cas replied blandly.
Dean waved his hand in front of the other man's face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"This isn't funny, Dean," Castiel grunted as Sam brought back the first aid kit.
"Hey, just trying to make sure you're all right," Dean told him defensively, opening the kit and pulling out gauze and a bottle of peroxide. "Get me some water and a bowl or something, Sam." He poured the peroxide onto a swatch of gauze and began to press it to the wound on Castiel's head. Cas winced, pulling away instinctively and grabbed Dean's wrist with his good hand.
"I can do it myself," he ground out.
"Hey, man, it's no problem, just relax, I know it stings, but you'll just have to get used to having a lower pain threshold now, that's all."
"Dean, please, you've done enough already."
"Cas, it's okay, let me do this."
Cas shoved his hand away angrily, his temper overcoming him. "No, stop! Let me do it myself. I just need a mirror." He tried to get up, pushing himself out of the chair with his good hand and managed to take one step this time before his knee collapsed. He would have fallen on his face, only adding insult to injury, but Dean's arm snagged him across the chest.
"Cas. Cas, hey, calm down," Dean soothed as he maneuvered the ex-angel back into the chair. Castiel slumped, the pain making his eyes smart in a very human way. "You're hurt, buddy, just sit."
"I suppose that just proves how worthless I am, I can't do anything but sit," Castiel said, disgusted.
"Worthless?" Dean demanded, reaching up to grip Cas by the chin and force him to look at him. "What are you talking about? You aren't worthless, Cas, you're anything but."
"But I'm no good at anything now; all I ever do is mess up or get into trouble and you and Sam have to come save me. I can barely feed myself, Dean, in the natural order of things I should be the one killed and eaten."
"This isn't the nature channel, Cas," Dean said, starting to get angry as he shook his friend slightly. "So you suck at being human, so what? It's not that great. Look at the mess I made of my life."
"At least you don't get run over by bicycles."
Dean sighed and grabbed Cas' injured hand palm up in a firm, yet gentle grip and began to clean the bloody scrapes of dirt and gravel and whatever else had stuck in there in the course of his fall. It hurt so badly that Castiel tried to pull the hand away, but Dean kept a hold of it, just working more gently, long years of practice having a little brother with skinned hands and knees working to his advantage. Cas' fingers curled slightly in defense, but he forced himself to endure it. He wouldn't let the stinging in his eyes create tears over just a little scrape. He wasn't an infant.
"Cas," Dean finally spoke as he worked, painstakingly cleaning the wound and rinsing it in the bowl that Sam had just brought. "You know Sam and I don't care about you any less now that you're human. If anything, we want to help you more, so you don't have to do this alone."
"I don't understand how that can be the case, Dean," Castiel told him. "It can't have escaped your notice that I haven't done anything right since I lost my grace."
"It doesn't matter, Cas. Human or angel, you're still Cas. You're family. You're like a brother to us. Did I give up on Sam when he didn't have a soul or was drinking demon blood? I might have wanted to smack him for the last one, but I still loved him because he's my little brother, and that was the one thing that never changed. Or when he had Lucifer in his head and he was all kinds of messed up, did I just throw him away because he was broken?"
"No," Castiel replied quietly.
"Then why should we treat you any differently?" Dean asked him, pulling Cas' hand out of the bowl and dabbing the raw skin with a towel. He then turned to cleaning the wound on his temple before patching that with a bandage and then binding his hand and wrist appropriately. Castiel watched him work in a manner that told of how many wounds he had fixed in his years as an older brother. Sam brought him some pain medicine and a glass of water. He glared disdainfully at the pills, but he didn't refuse them no matter how much he wanted to.
"It will get easier, Cas," the younger Winchester told him with a smile. "I can't imagine how hard it would be to learn about all the every day things as an adult."
"It's gotta suck," Dean commented.
"It does suck very much," Castiel said blandly.
Dean crouched in front of him and started to roll up his pant leg. "Let's check out this knee."
Cas winced as Dean forced his pants over the knee that he could now tell was swollen and starting to bruise already. Dean shook his head. "Looks sprained; nothing a little ice and some rest won't fix. You might want to keep it in a brace for a couple days."
"That means you get full use of the couch," Sam told him with a grin. "I'll go get an ice pack and a pillow for you to prop your leg up on."
Cas started to push himself up with his good hand, as Dean began to put the first aid things away. His breath caught in pain, revealing his activity, and forcing Dean to spin around angrily.
"Damn it, Cas," he growled, grabbing his friend and hauling him the rest of the way up, nearly off of his feet, and wrapping the ex-angel's arm around his shoulders. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Moving to the couch," Castiel replied dejectedly, slumping against the hunter, unable to do much more.
"Not without my help, you aren't. You won't be going anywhere without me or Sam for a couple days with that knee."
"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas told him as Dean practically carried him into the study where there was a couch. "I didn't want to be a bother."
Dean grinned at him. "Hey, you ain't heavy, you're my brother."
Castiel gazed at him blandly. "I feel I'm missing a reference again."
Sam chuckled as he came back with the pillow and ice pack. "Don't mind Dean, just relax, you can watch whatever you want too."
Castiel watched the brothers carefully as they settled him on the couch and did more than they really needed to, and finally, he did start to relax. Their care and friendship and even brotherly concern, was so genuine, he realized that he had been stupid to think the Winchesters would ever think less of him for what had happened. He knew he had a lot more to learn, but at least he had two good men, his family, to teach him how things were done.
After all, at the end of the day, it was family that counted the most.