He was like a newborn baby. Everything was strange and new and he had to relearn how to use his body.

The first challenge had been to get out of the bed in the infirmary and get dressed. Only then did he notice the bandage around his torso, covering the wound. Once he saw that it started to itch and it didn't stop.

The first day was a total sensory overload for him. Everything felt sharper and there was always something that itched and he couldn't stop it. He had never really thought about the fact that his clothes actually touched his body but now he could feel it everywhere and it drove him mad.

Additional to that he felt trapped. He could feel his body, every part, but nothing beyond it. His body was a prison to him and the key to unlock it was still busy fighting off the bullet.

A new experience for him was the bathroom. Sure he theoretically knew how to use it but doing so with his own very human body? A totally different thing.

He knew that Castiel had some kind of, well, practice before he became the human he was now. Arathiel knew that he fell before, if only for a short time, but he still couldn't understand how he fell into that role so easily. How he operated his body like it was never different and how he couldn't miss all the things he was able to notice as an angel. Souls, aging, feelings.

It was hard for Arathiel to decipher the emotions of the people around him because usually he could read everything in the souls. But that was no longer possible.

And then the pain. He didn't know a wound could hurt like that. Dean assured him that it was bad, yes, but not endangering his life, not anymore, and that it would heal just fine. He had just nodded to that. He had never been a big talker but now it seemed just pointless to strain himself just to get his vocal cords moving. So he didn't, most of the time.

And it was exhausting. Just being alive was exhausting to him. He felt tired all the time and whenever he moved or got up he had to lie back down because it strained him.

So Arathiel had spent the first few days in his new room, lying on his bed, but he couldn't bear the silence that spoke of everything he had lost.

On the third day he decided to move into the living-room. He managed to get himself out of bed and he made it until the door but then he felt his knees tremble. He hated feeling so weak and vulnerable but there was nothing he could do about it. He hated to ask for help and so he debated a few more seconds with himself, who to call but luckily Dean came out of his room opposite to Arathiel's.

He stopped when he saw Arathiel. "You wanna go somewhere?"

"Living-room", Arathiel said.

Dean came over. "You really shouldn't move. Your wound could open again."

Arathiel feared that he would insist that he lay back down but instead Dean threw his arm over his shoulder. "All right then, living-room it is", he said with a strange voice and Arathiel suspected that everything had been clear on his face, he wasn't able to control it yet, and he hated it. Hated feeling so weak, relying on someone, being as easy to read as an open book. It made him feel inferior.

Before Dean could start to move him he stopped him. "Please", Arathiel said and gestured towards the vial with his grace. He hadn't let it out of his sight since this whole thing happened, fearing that it would lose if he stopped paying attention to it, and he sure as hell wasn't willing to do so now. Dean seemed to understand what he meant because he instantly snatched it from the bedside cabinet.

He didn't try to give it to Arathiel and Arathiel wasn't even sure if he could hold it. Maybe he would just drop it. And then it would be over. His grace would go back into his body, weakened by that, and then it would finally lose. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, Arathiel thought wearily and stared at it a few seconds longer, weighing his options.

"Don't worry", Dean interrupted his thoughts. "It will win."

Arathiel didn't comment on that and Dean helped him into the living-room.

After a few hours of mindless shows Castiel came over to him. He had offered to help Arathiel with the transition days ago but Arathiel had sent him away.

He didn't think that he could ever cope with being human, certainly not like Castiel did and he saw no point in learning to be one. He only waited for his grace to win and if that didn't happen, well, he probably wouldn't be around much longer after that.

Castiel cleared his throat and Arathiel realized that he had totally been lost in his thoughts.

"How is the wound?", Castiel asked and Arathiel suspected that it wasn't the first time.

"I don't know. Dean says it could still open but it's not a threat to my life anymore."

"That is good."

Arathiel's gaze fell on the vial again. "Did you contact Naomi?" Because if he could just get another angel to give his grace a bit of strength then it would win in no time.

Cas nodded.

"And?"

"She is not going to help you, Arathiel. I'm sorry."

"Why not?"

"She says since you're human now you're no longer her responsibility. And since no one ever heard of a grace doing this…" Cas shrugged.

Arathiel clenched a fist. "She's not going to risk an angel's life for that." There was spite in his voice but he also felt utterly defeated. His grace wouldn't win this. He knew that.

"We tried to reach some other angels but we couldn't find one."

Arathiel let out a bitter laugh. "Of course not. Naomi is keeping them away from you."

Castiel casted his eyes down. "I'm sorry, Arathiel. I know that this isn't what you wanted."

Arathiel watched him very closely but he couldn't decipher what he really meant. "Why wouldn't I want this? It's giving me a chance to survive."

Castiel looked back at him. "But you don't want to be human."

"It's not like I have a choice on that matter."

"But you do. And all I'm asking is that you don't make any rash decisions. Wait and see what happens with your grace. And if it loses give the human life a chance, okay?"

Arathiel looked down at his hands. So Castiel knew that he thought about killing himself. This would probably not make things easier.

"Just give them a chance, okay?", he lowly said before Sam entered the living-room.

It was the first time he saw him because he had refused to see anyone before. He couldn't have helped that Dean barged in with soup and nutritious and easily digestible food or that he barged in to check on his wound and Castiel had discarded his wishes to offer his help and to check on him but Sam had respected his wish and now he seemed really surprised to see him out of his room.

"Shouldn't you be resting or something?"

Arathiel sighed. "I am resting, technically. My grace is doing the hard work. And I couldn't stand my room anymore."

Sam nodded and sat down on the couch next to him. "What are we watching?"

"I don't know. I just had it running so that there was some…" he trailed off, not wanting to admit how the silence unnerved him.

Sam nodded. "Okay. Mind if we watch a docu?"

Arathiel shook his head and Sam snatched the remote to change the channel. It was something about lore and monsters in medieval times and even though it was mostly correct the could still provide Sam with some more details just like Castiel.

In the end Sam got a paper and pen and tried to write everything down.

It went on like this. Arathiel would flee the silence of his room, whenever deemed appropriate and sometimes also in the middle of the night. He would walk into the living-room and watch a random show. After roughly half an hour Sam usually came by and switched the program to an also very randomly chosen documentary. After a few minutes he would start to ask questions about the credibility of what was told and Arathiel could always tell him something new.

Sometimes Arathiel would start to talk of his own accord because it was just hideous what they told on TV.

Sam pretended to take notes but after a few times he stopped and just listened to what Arathiel had to say. Arathiel knew that he was just trying to distract him so he wouldn't stare at his grace without pause and he had to admit that it helped. He sometimes even forgot the vial in his room.