Well here is the last part of this story. It has finished after all :P I might write a sequel to this eventually as a S9 AU, but I'm not sure where I want to go with that yet so it might be a while. In the meantime, I hope this offers enough H/C to appease you guys ;) Thanks to everyone who read and followed this story.

a.k.a T. R, thanks for your reviews since you didn't sign in :) I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Part Ten

Castiel huddled in the backseatof the Impala, hurting, shocked, and too many other emotions to count. He had never felt these emotions before, it was—horrifying. How did humans even do this? No wonder Sam and Dean had so many issues all the time. His wounds ached, more than they had when he got them as an angel, and there was no quick healing, it was going to be weeks before they healed properly, and scarred, and they were still bleeding, making his body weaker as they did. The tears had shocked him the most though, and from Dean's expression, they had shocked him as well. All the building emotions he had felt just made them come out and he couldn't stop them. It was terrible and didn't seem to make anything better. He was ashamed that a demon had had to cure his friend because he couldn't; he would probably never forget that. But it looked like he was going to be human for a while now, likely indefinitely, because if Metatron had used his grace in a spell then it was probably gone for good. The thought made more tears slide down his cheeks. He supposed it was all he deserved after everything he had done, had ruined. It was bitterly, tragically, poetic in a way, he supposed wryly. He had rebelled, given everything, for humanity, and it made sense that his ultimate punishment would be that he too would become human.

And not only did he think of his own plight but that of all his brothers and sisters who would be cast into a world most of them knew nothing about, having to fend for themselves with no guidance. His heart ached for them.

He was glad when they got back to the bunker. It was a safe place, and a comforting one. Castiel had never known what 'home' really meant. He loved Heaven, obviously, but he had learned from the Winchesters that home wasn't really a place, it was where your family was. But even then, he had never felt more welcome anywhere than he had in the bunker with the Winchesters, his new family, and now likely his permanent one since he would never go back to heaven again, probably not even when he died now. But he couldn't allow himself to think of those things. It was too much for his newly human soul to bear.

The angels had stopped falling by the time they got back but that didn't make any of them feel any better. Dean parked the Impala and got out along with Sam and then Castiel finally managed to get his body into gear and followed them into the bunker. Dean eyed him for a moment but seemed uncertain what to say so they just went into the bunker and closed the door tight behind them.

Sam went straight to the kitchen and Dean poured him a bowl of cereal to eat first while he grilled some ham and cheese sandwiches on the stove. Castiel sat across from the younger Winchester at the table and slumped. Sam continued to shovel food into his mouth for a few seconds, obviously glad to be able to eat without feeling ill, before he noticed Castiel slumping further and further toward the table and then registered the blood on his trench coat.

"Cas, hey, are you all right?" he asked.

Dean turned around just in time to see Sam reach over the table and grab the front of the former angel's coat before he fell off the chair. Castiel heard Dean's footsteps and felt his arm across his back, holding him steady.

"Damn, Cas, I forgot you were hurt, why didn't you tell me?" he asked in worried exasperation.

"Sorry," Castiel replied, feeling like a terrible burden. After everything, that was all he had ended up being to the Winchesters.

"Don't apologize, we've all got things to get used to," Dean told him. "Sammy, can you manage here? I'm going to go get him patched up."

"Yeah of course," Sam replied, worry and sympathy in his eyes.

"I—I can do it," Castiel protested, though he wasn't even sure if he could stand up let alone bandage his wounds. The thought made him want to cry again—he was beginning to really hate that prickling sensation behind his eyes. He was sure Dean would call him a girl if he knew what was going on with his emotions. They were just so confusing, all this new, heightened feeling roiling inside of him.

"No way," Dean informed him, getting a hand under his good arm and lifting him up. "Come on, buddy."

Castiel stumbled along with his friend toward the bathroom and Dean settled him on the toilet before he rummaged under the sink.

"Okay, let's get your coat and shirt off," Dean said and helped slide the bloodied fabric away, peeling it back to his skin which showed not only the two cuts but countless bruises that he never would have thought of as an angel, but which hurt more than he wanted to admit. Dean piled the bloody clothes in a corner and noticed Castiel looking at his coat with a sad glance.

"Don't worry, we can probably clean it," he said.

"Don't bother," Castiel said, his throat hurting so bad it was hard to talk. He knew he couldn't wear the coat again. It would remind him too much of being an angel. It was ridiculous to be so attached to something like that. So very…human. But he couldn't help it. It had been with him for a very long time and he had grown fond of it.

"These are pretty deep," Dean told him grimly as he inspected the wounds. He gathered a swatch of gauze and some peroxide. "They'll need stitches. This is gonna sting, so hold on. I'm really sorry you have to deal with this on your first day human. It's gonna suck." He positioned Castiel's arm over the sink.

Castiel braced himself, but he wasn't entirely prepared for how much the peroxide hurt on his open wounds. He screamed and there were his eyes pricking with stupid tears again. Dean didn't stop working, even when Castiel grabbed a fistful of his shirt just for something to hold onto, but the hunter's jaw was tight and his throat bobbed as if it was hurting with emotion too.

The wound in his side wasn't quite as deep but just as painful to wash out. Dean seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when he was finished with that task, but he turned to wash his hands and grab a small kit from the first aid box. Castiel knew it was sutures and he didn't like the thought of it. He had watched Sam and Dean sew each other up countless times, he had even done it himself on occasion, and yes, Dean had sewed up the last wound he'd gotten, but he hadn't been awake for it, nor had he been human.

"Okay, here we go," Dean warned him as he threaded the needle.

Castiel gritted his teeth against the pain and the feeling of the needle being forced through his skin. He tried to watch at first but found himself swallowing bile and instead turned to look up at Dean's face. That only made him sicker, however, seeing the pain and regret on his friend's countenance.

"Dean," he said quietly, his voice a little strangled from the pain. "Don't feel sorry for me."

Dean let out a long breath before he replied, not looking up from his task. "Cas, please. If you think I pity you, that's not it, I'm just…"

"This isn't about pity," Castiel replied a little sharply. "It's not about it being my fault or yours or Metatron's, it's about the fact that I deserve this. It's a punishment that I have to take."

"Cas, no," Dean shook his head tiredly.

"Dean, listen," Castiel pleaded, his throat hurting again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I thought that, maybe, my time in Purgatory was penance enough, but apparently it wasn't, and I see that now. After everything I did, how I deceived you and Sam again, even after I swore I wouldn't, this is my punishment, and I must take it without remorse."

"Cas, that wasn't you," Dean growled. "Naomi forced you to lie to us, you didn't…"

"But I did, Dean, please, can't you ever just listen when I try to apologize?" Castiel cried, finally looking up to meet his friend's eyes. Dean's mouth was pinched with pain, stopping his administration for the moment. Finally he looked down.

"Sorry, Cas, I know I'm bad about that, but, come on, man, you don't need to apologize anymore."

"I wanted to get it off my chest," Castiel told him firmly. "But please…I don't want you to feel sorry for me, that's all. And if you don't want me around I understand."

"Oh, that's it," Dean growled, tying off the last suture more roughly than he needed to and crouched down so he was at eye level with Castiel. "Look at me," he demanded, then, when Castiel wouldn't, he took his face between his hands and turned it to face him. "Look at me, Cas. You have got to stop beating yourself up, man. After everything you did for us do you really think you owe us anything? When are you going to realize that we don't care about your mistakes because, news flash, that's what being human is all about, so I guess you're going to have to get used to it. Dammit, Cas," he shook his head, emotion suddenly taking over, and Castiel saw a tear slip out of Dean's eye as he looked up to the ceiling as if he could find the words he needed there, his hand trembling against Castiel's jaw. "You're my brother, you're family. And I don't give a crap whether you're an angel or a human; nothing is gonna change how Sam and I feel about you. So don't think for a minute that we're going to drop you just because you lost your grace. We stick together because that's what family does."

Castiel's breath shuddered in his chest and more tears spilled from his eyes and slipped between Dean's fingers. One of Dean's hands went to the back of his neck and squeezed comfortingly with a small smile and a nod before he stood back up silently and put some bandages over Castiel's wounds. Then he packed up all the stuff again and put a hand on Castiel's uninjured shoulder.

"Let's get you some clean clothes, I'm sure I have something you can borrow."

"Dean," Cas said quietly. "I—I think I'm cold."

Those words seemed to break Dean for some reason and he turned away quickly, scrubbing at his eyes violently. "I'll get you something Cas," he whispered before he hurried from the room.

A few minutes later Cas was dressed in flannel pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt that was too big so the sleeves slipped over his hands. He sat at the kitchen table with Sam again and ate one of the sandwiches Dean made. Dean watched as the former angel slowly chewed the food as if experiencing it for the first time.

"It tastes…different," he said. "Better, less complicated."

"Well, that's something, I guess," Dean replied.

"Is there anything we can do, Cas?" Sam asked gently, those sympathetic eyes hard at work. Dean could tell his brother was feeling just as helpless as he was. What could they possibly do? Cas had lost everything, because of them, and then went so far as to say it was justified as a punishment for his wrongdoings. That made Dean sick. He knew he self-flagellated, but he had a brother willing to kill himself so he could be 'pure' and telling him that he had only ever let him down, and an angel (ex-angel, he reminded himself) feeling it was only fair that he had had everything he cared about torn from him. Dean wondered if he would ever figure out why everyone around him suffered so much; why it seemed like he was poison to everyone he touched. With that parting though, they made an awesome trio, he thought wryly.

Sam finally seemed to slow his eating down and started to look like he was about ready to fall asleep. Dean pushed his dark thoughts aside and turned to his newly healed brother.

"Why don't you run off to take a shower, Sammy," he said. "Then it's bed time. For all of us." Like he could sleep.

"Yeah, I need one," Sam said, too tired to argue. Crowley's mojo had cleaned him up so he didn't have any wounds or injuries to speak of but he was still wearing filthy clothing that needed to be washed or burned. Dean watched as he left the room, finding it hard to let his little brother leave his sight, but he was fine now, he reminded himself. He was fine. He turned back to Cas instead, watching him stare at his empty plate.

"Do you want anything else?" he asked.

Cas shook his head. "No, I think…I think I'm tired."

"I bet," Dean said and stood up as Cas tried to get out of the chair, but ended up leaning against the table mostly, wincing as his wounds hurt.

"It really hurts," he commented ruefully. "I feel like I've had a whole mountain dropped on me."

"How about some Tylenol," Dean suggested and went to grab the bottle, shaking out a couple pills and handing them to Cas. "Don't chew them."

Cas swallowed the pills and Dean took his unwounded arm and helped him to his room, realizing he would have to use it every night now, not just when he was injured and needed a place to crash as he healed. Dean looked around at the mostly bare room and swallowed hard.

"We'll um, we'll get you some clothes and toiletries and stuff," he said, realizing how big a job it would be showing Cas the ways of being human.

"I suppose it will be necessary now," Cas replied dejectedly. He frowned as he sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. "I feel a bit funny."

Dean watched as he gestured to the area of his bladder and chuckled despite himself. "I think you have to pee, Cas. I hope you know how to handle that?"

"I suppose I can manage," Cas replied and got up to head to the bathroom.

"Wash your hands," Dean called after him. "You're not immune to germs anymore." I'm a freaking nursemaid, he thought ruefully. For some reason having Cas in this state just reverted him back to when he took care of Sammy as a kid. He supposed in many ways Cas was like a child now and would need looking after until he got the hang of things.

He took the time while Cas was gone to grab several more blankets from a supply closet and when he got back to the room, he watched Cas trying to pull down the quilt, but having trouble with only one uninjured arm.

"Let me do that," Dean told him, stepping forward.

"Dean, please, I can do it, I don't want you to have to do everything for me."

"Just…let me and Sam help you until you get used to this—at least until your wounds heal, okay?" Dean almost pleaded as he set the extra blankets at the foot of the bed and pulled down the quilt and sheets. "Get in," he nodded.

Cas carefully slid between the sheets, wincing as he tried to find a comfortable position and finally settled on his uninjured side, clutching a pillow under his cheek. Dean pulled the covers over him and gestured to the lamp.

"You want it off?" he asked.

Cas hesitated, but finally nodded.

"Just let me know if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Dean told him, feeling slightly awkward but hoping Cas would come to him if he needed help because the last thing he wanted was for his friend to get hurt again and he was just as stubborn as the Winchester brothers.

"I'll be fine, Dean, you should go look after Sam. I think I would just like to be alone for a while."

"Okay," Dean nodded, though he really didn't want to leave him alone right now, he did really want to see Sam and knew Cas would have a lot to think about and probably needed some time alone to do so. He sighed and flicked the light off as he left the room. "Goodnight, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

Dean left his door cracked and then went down the hall a little bit to Sam's room. The door was open slightly and he knocked as he entered. Sam was pulling on a clean t-shirt after his shower, looking much refreshed. He looked up as his brother came in and gave a small smile. "Hey Dean."

"Hey," Dean replied.

"How's Cas?"

Dean sighed and strode forward to slump down on the edge of the bed. "I don't know. He says he's oaky with it, like it's some sort of punishment that he deserves for everything he's done—all that penance crap he tried to convince me of back in Purgatory—but he's not okay, Sam, I can tell."

"Of course he's not," Sam replied, sitting next to his brother. "I mean, being human sucks, Dean. And it all happened so fast that he didn't have any time to adjust. Sure, he was kind of human before, during the apocalypse but it wasn't anything like this. We're just going to have to help him as well as we can to learn how to be human."

"I just don't see this going well," Dean said, slumping forward. "I mean, come on, Sam, what did we really accomplish with this whole damn thing? You almost died, Cas is human, Hell is still open for business and, oh yeah, the angels all took synchronized backflips out the pearly gates."

"I know it's bad, Dean, but we've dealt with worse and survived before, we can do it again. And…look, man," he sighed before he continued. "I'm sorry for putting you through that. I didn't really want to die, you know, I just…I don't know, Dean. All my life it just seems like I've been the odd one out, the rebel of the family."

"Oh you rebel you, going off to collage to be a lawyer," Dean couldn't help but say, a half-hearted smirk playing over his lips as Sam shot him a bitchface.

"You know what I mean. And then there was the demon blood and letting Lucifer out, and I thought this was a way to rid myself of those things and do something good for once. I didn't think it would go so far, and I didn't ever mean for you to go through what you did. I'm sorry."

"You and Cas," Dean replied tiredly, shaking his head. "I just don't understand why you never seemed to realize that you're my brother, forever, whether you like it or not, and no matter what you do, I could never stop loving you; even though you made mistakes and broke the world, you're still my little brother and I can't help but see that snot-nosed kid I used to cook for and tuck in at night." He smiled ruefully. "I guess it's kind of been like that recently, huh?"

Sam snorted with a smile and looked down at his hands in his lap. "I know, and Dean, I just want to thank you. I mean, normal people would have dropped me like a hot rock by now, but you always forgave me, and I'm sorry if sometimes I had trouble doing the same."

"Alright," Dean told him, shaking his head and clearing his throat. "That's enough of that, it's starting to get a little uncomfortable in here." He smiled as he listened to Sam's snorting laugh. He clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder and then to the side of his neck as he went to stand up. "Get some sleep. We're going to need to go into town tomorrow and get some stuff for Cas, and I want you to stop by the clinic and get a scan done."

"Oh, come on, Dean, I'm fine!" Sam protested.

"No arguments," Dean told him firmly. "Just want to make sure. Who knows what that stuff was actually doing to you. Besides you had Crowley's mojo up in you, it might have left some demonic residue behind."

"Oh, gross, dude, now I want to take another shower," Sam said in distaste, scrunching his nose. "Fine, but only because I know you won't let me alone until I do."

"Good."

"But Dean, seriously, thanks for talking me down in there. I don't know if I could have stopped if you hadn't been there."

"That's my job," Dean replied fondly and pushed Sam's shoulder until he huffed and lay down. "Now bed." He patted his knee and left the room as Sam settled with a deep sigh on the bed and was out almost instantly. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat, but one of relief this time. It had been too long since his little brother had gotten a good night of sleep.

He went to take a shower himself but as he slid his jacket off, something thudded against the floor and he bent down, remembering he had tucked Cas' angel blade into it. He took out the shiny short sword and settled it gently on the sink before he turned back to his shower. When he was clean, he took up the angel blade and went back to Cas' room, hesitating at the door but deciding to go in anyway.

He found Cas asleep, curled up under several blankets and snoring slightly. He wanted to laugh, but he also felt like his heart was being torn out because Cas looked so human—was human—and nothing was going to change that now. But he also knew that even human, Cas was not worthless and Dean and Sam were going to do everything in their power to make sure he knew that.

Dean stepped over to the side of the bed and settled the angel blade on the nightstand. This was a start.

He took a deep breath, and left the room, about to go back to his own, but knew he wasn't going to sleep that night. Instead, he went back to Sam's room and grabbed his chair from the desk, sitting on it and propping his feet up on the bed. He just sat there for a long time and listened to Sam's even breathing, not interrupted by coughs, his movements not sporadic from fever, and his face smooth and relaxed, not creased by lines of pain. That was all Dean needed to know for the moment.

Sam stirred and rolled over onto his side, his eyes blinking open in the dark, startling slightly as he saw the figure sitting by his bed. "Dean?"

"Go back to sleep, Sammy," Dean replied quietly.

Sam sat up and grabbed a blanket off the foot of his bed and Dean allowed him to put it over him, then the younger Winchester curled up closer to his brother and rested a hand on his knee. "Goodnight, Dean," he said.

Dean smiled in the darkness and after long last closed his eyes. The world might be falling down but as long as he and Sam and Cas had each other, he knew they would always find a way to get through. That was what family was for, wasn't it?