Castiel liked being human, for the most part. He loved the feelings of happiness, joy, and contentment that were all so overwhelming at the beginning when he was just starting to the grasp the concept of what it meant to actually be human. He loved the smile that those emotions brought to his face. He loved the sound of his rough laughter erupting from his chapped lips. He loved the way his stomach hurt and his eyes pored tears- happy tears- when the humor was too much to express in just burst of giggles. And most of all, he loved the one that was always- rain or shine- able to evoke those feelings from him.
He loved breathing in the air, because for the first time in his long, long life, he needed it to survive. He loved the way the cold air tickled the inside of his nose and filled his lungs. But then again, he hated that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that indicated that he needed food. He hated how his muscles cramped after too much strain. He hated having to use the restroom and trying to figure out the correct amount of toilet paper needed so he didn't clog up the toilet again. He hated not being able to heal himself; microscopic bacteria seemed to be drawn to him the way a moth was drawn to light. They got into his system and caused him to have a wide array of symptoms varying from a severely clogged nose to terrible body aches. But he did, however, love the way he was nurtured when he did happen to be under the weather.
Castiel was sick in bed with a thick blanket wrapped around him and a cup of hot tea perched on the nightstand beside him when he finally realized why God made all of his angels love his 'hairless ape' creations. No matter how flawed or corrupt they were, there was a side to them- the side full of smiles that reached their beautiful eyes and their everlasting love that was thrown about in abounds- that always made them worth caring for. And as Castiel drifted off to sleep he decided that he truly loved being human, because the people around him made the painful adjustment into mortal life worth it all.
And painful, it was. Having his grace ripped out hurt, but it was the after effects that caused the pain to wring his heart. The guilt of being the primary cause of the downfall of his own kind- his brothers and sisters- pinpricked pins of regret and dereliction into his soul. Castiel swore he could hear his siblings' voices bouncing around in his skull, yelling out their threats, even though he had turned off his only link to his fellow fallen, angel-radio.
He finally gave himself over to the turmoil of sleep; Castiel grabbed fistfuls of his blanket and pulled them up to his chin, wishing for the deriding voices of the angels to cease.
Castiel woke up a few hours later, his breathing heavy; drool dripped down the side of his shaven face and tears were falling down onto his cheeks. He bolted upright and looked around the dark room. He fell back onto the pillows and closed his eyes, trying to even his shaky breath.
It was just a nightmare, he kept repeating to himself. Just a nightmare.
But, oh, it was so much more than a nightmare. Usually every time that Castiel drifted off into unconsciousness, the vivid images of those lonely few weeks after his fall haunted his mind. Every nightmare was a different snippet: having to sleep on an uncomfortable park bench with only his trench coat as a blanket; firmly grasping the only, well-worn down, dollar to his name until his fingers hurt; people passing him on the streets, their eyes laced with a mix of pity and disgust; the way his body ached in exhaustion from the long walks to try to get back to the bunker- back home- because Castiel didn't know the limits his body had.
It was his body now. Not just a vessel with Jimmy Novak's essence curled up somewhere inside. It was his, completely 100%, human body. Castiel wasn't quite sure what exactly had happened to his host when he had fell and claimed Jimmy's body for his own. He would like to think that Jimmy had obtained his niche in heaven and was patiently wanting for the rest of his family to join him. However, with Metatron in control, Castiel could only hope.
Castiel coughed, his throat raw and his chest filled with mucus. He got back up and fumbled for the light switch on the lamp. When he finally found it and turned it on, he grabbed the mug of tea and pressed it up against his lips, draining it of its contents. It was cold and disgusting but it did the trick in somewhat soothing his scratchy throat. He swallowed hard, mucus and all, before sipping up the last few remaining drops of tea.
The emotions of the nightmare were still latched onto him, loneliness and fear being the two biggest offenders. After Castiel had evened his breathing, he turned off his light and fell back into his cold bed. He tossed and turned, making the sheets form a messy bundle at the base of his bed as he tried to get comfortable. He couldn't get settled, and neither could his brain; every time Castiel had closed his eyes, flashes of his nightmare painted themselves onto his lids.
Castiel was walking alone, the sun glaring down on his backside. Beads of sweat formed on the nape of his neck. He was rubbing away the sweat with the palm of his hand when he heard them.
"How dare you betray us, Castiel."
"Just look at the mess you have made here on Earth."
Castiel swiftly turned around to see where the threats were coming from. Standing no less than 10 feet away from him where two people, their faces scratched, their eyes red and their legs muddy. Castiel knew what they were immediately: they were fallen angels.
"I said look at the mess you have made," repeated the girl, her eyes narrowing. "You've created such a mess and didn't even bother to help clean it up."
"You're a traitor," hissed the man. "You caused the downfall of heaven. How does that feel, Castiel? How does it feel to know that the entirety of your family wants you dead?"
"I'm sorry," Castiel stated, backing up. He could sense their aura of hostility. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. You have to understand."
"You never mean any harm," the girl fumed. "You just always happen to leave a path of destruction behind you."
"And you shall pay, one way or another," the male angel said. "You are not worthy of being deemed an angel of heaven anymore."
The next thing Castiel knew, he was sprawled onto of the asphalt, the right side of his face burning in pain. Both angels had a sneer on their faces. They pummeled him, until Castiel's body felt as if it was on the brink of breaking and until he lost his will to scream out in agony. He wanted to fight back so badly, to be the one throwing the punches instead of being the one taking the impact of the relentless hits, except he felt like he deserved the pain. He felt that his attackers did have a valid reason to be doing what they were doing.
With a final kick to hid gut, the angels deserted Castiel, leaving him for dead on the side of the road. It was still a four-day's walk to get to the bunker and when he did finally drag himself to his destination, he collapsed into Dean's open arms, bloody face, broken bones and all.
Castiel didn't notice he had fallen back asleep until he woke up, another round of salty tears streaming down his face. He rolled over and screamed into his pillow, the memory of the pain causing his bones to ache. Even though the incident was months in the past and he was fully healed- physically, at least- he could still feel the hopelessness in his heart and feel the pain pulsate through his limbs as if it had just happened a few hours ago.
After unsuccessfully trying to fall back asleep, Castiel's feet had led his body out of his room and to the door of Dean's bedroom. Castiel hesitantly laid his hand on the cool metal of the door handle before turning it and opening the door. He winced when the hinges squeaked.
"Whaa?" Castiel heard a soft grunt come from Dean's bed. The figure that was entangled in the sheets turned to face Castiel while putting a hand over his eyes to block the light that was streaming in from the hallway.
"I couldn't sleep," Castiel admitted, his voice small. He turned off the hallway light and stepped into the darkness of Dean's room.
"C'mere." Dean waved Castiel over and patted the empty spot on his bed. "Nightmares again?" he asked. His voice was groggy.
Castiel nodded, even though Dean couldn't see through the darkness of the room, and walked towards Dean's bed. He had his arms outstretched to make sure he didn't run into something and fall, even though he had been in this room so many times before that the layout of engrained into his brain.
Castiel found the bed and crawled into it, slipping underneath the covers. Dean rolled over onto his side and put a muscular arm around Castiel's shoulders. Castiel leaned into Dean's chest, burrowing his face into Dean's neck. He breathed in deeply, loving the musky yet clean scent that in his mind was specifically tied to Dean. Their breathing was soon in sync.
"Do ya wanna talk about it?" Dean asked, after a few minutes of silence. His words were slightly slurred by sleep.
"No," Castiel responded. "Can I lay with you, though? It relaxes me."
"Of course, Cas." Dean sighed. "Ya know, if you're going to end up in my bed every night, you might as well just go to bed with me instead of waking me in the middle of goddamn night." He chuckled softly.
"I'm sorry, Dean. It's just that the nightmares are terrible. I can never go back to sleep after them. I feel so alone and scared when I wake up from them." Castiel's voice cracked. "Your presence helps me go back to sleep. I never have nightmares when I'm with you," he admitted, cuddling closer to Dean.
"I was just joking, Cas. I don't mind waking up for you." Dean rubbed his hand on the other man's shoulder. "It's easier for me to go back to sleep when I have you by my side too, ya know. "
Dean waited for a response and it was only when he heard of soft snore coming from Castiel's mouth did he realize that his ex-angel had fallen asleep. Dean smiled and closed his eyes but not before planting a kiss on the top of Cas' head.
Dean's snores soon joined Castiel's as the hunter drifted off into sleep, his arm still around the man lying next to him. Come morning, when Sam found his older brother and best friend fast asleep in Dean's bed, he just smiled and closed the bedroom door, leaving the two men alone with their limbs still intertwined underneath the green sheets.