And at best, I die trying to fix my own stupid mistake. Or… I don't die - I'm brought back again. I see now. It's a punishment resurrection. It's worse every time.

Castiel hurt. Everywhere. His head ached, his ribs felt like every one was broken, his legs were ready to give way, and he was tired. Emotions came to him in waves, crashing against him roughly and threatening to knock him overboard and drown him. In short, being human sucked. And the worst of it was that him being human, and all the angels that had fallen from Heaven to Earth, losing their grace in the process, everything, it was his fault.

He kept his eyes down, watching the short blades of grass as they swayed back and forth against his shoes with the blowing wind, not a care in the world. Small things seemed to get more and more fascinating the longer he remained human, to the point that he almost didn't notice the heavy thud of boots hitting the hard earth beneath them as Dean made his way towards the fallen angel. Almost.

Dean stopped when he reached his friend, who leaned against the hood of the Impala with the saddest expression the hunter had ever witnessed. The fallen angel looked more like a shattered heap as he hunched over and tried desperately not to look up from his suddenly very interesting shoes.

Putting his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Dean leaned back against the Impala, "Cas?" Castiel didn't respond. This wasn't the first time Dean had attempted to get him to talk, not matter how many times he was rebuffed. "Cas, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known-"

"It was my-it is my fault, Dean!" Castiel snapped, his voice full of anger. Anger at himself. "I trusted Metatron! I killed that Nephilim and cut out her heart, I cut out that Cupid's bow! It was me, Dean. It's always me… I try and every time - every time - I screw it up. And every time it just gets worse. I'm a jinx, a curse."

"You're not, Cas," Dean pulled away from the Impala, stepping in front of the fallen angel. He set his hands on Castiel's shoulders. "Maybe you screw up some times and maybe it seems like nothing you do helps, but it does! I don't even want to try and count how many times you've saved my ass - or Sam's."

"I know, Cas. I know that it hurts and that you feel like everything you try just goes wrong - believe me, I know - but you can't keep beating yourself up over it. Metatron lied, there was no way that you could have known what he was planning. You have to pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and keep going. You can't keep on like… This."

He searched through the teary crystal blue eyes that reflected all the pain and sorrow, all the guilt over every little thing that had happened since he chose to rebel, praying that this time, his pained friend would hear his words. "Cas, we're your family and we can see what's going on, even when you try to hide it."

"What?" Castiel reached up, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve as they started falling. He had taken extra care to keep smiling, to keep all the emotions from bubbling up to the surface. Things were harder than he had expected, but it was heartbreaking to think that he would have to ask even more from Sam and Dean. Ask that they sacrifice even more for him.

"C'mon, man. You're a crap liar," Dean let go of the fallen angel's shoulders, pushing his hands away from his face as he desperately tried to wipe away all the tears. "You're human now, the things that would've been easy for you to hide before are a hell of a lot harder to keep secret." He had noticed the dark circles that had recently begun framing blue eyes, the tired sluggish movements, the wandering thoughts, and the blank stares.

"You're not sleeping much. And when you do, you're tossing and turning. Your eyes are red and bloodshot, you're not eating," Dean shook his head. It was getting harder to keep his own tears at bay, watching his friend deteriorate in front of his eyes. "It's okay, Cas. We're here for you. No matter what happens, you can always lean on us. Always."

Castiel felt his heart wrench. The tears stinging his eyes ran freely, no effort being made to keep them back. "I'm sorry, Dean," His legs finally gave way, his body falling into Dean's arms, while the hunter made every effort to keep them both standing upright. "I'm sorry…" He smelled like leather with hints of whiskey, a scent the fallen angel would never forget.

He could see now, that no matter how long or hard the road ahead was, he could make it. Heaven was rejecting him, but his friends - his human friends - were his family now. They were his salvation.