This is written Standalone, but also as a sort of unofficial sequel for "Uneasy Sleep" my other story. On it's own, it's Gen, but If you read that first, this is a Destiel story.

Cas listened for the moment Dean's breathing evened out. They had developed a sort of routine over the last few months. He'd sit at the desk in Dean's room until the hunter fell asleep, and usually he'd stick around until Dean inevitably woke again from his dreams. Tonight however, Dean would be waking up in the room alone. Cas pulled the letter from his pocket, slipping it out and leaving it folded on the desk, knowing Dean would look over to where he normally sat. It was intentionally vague, but it assured Dean he was coming back.

He got up silently and crept over towards the door, looking back over his shoulder one last time before easing it open and slipping through. Once it was silently closed again, Cas could move a little less cautiously as he made his way through the bunker towards the exit. He paused outside the library, listening for any telltale signs Sam was still awake and on his laptop, but after a moment he was relatively sure his exit was unguarded.

The angel slipped behind the wheel of his once-stolen truck, only then allowing himself to hesitate. He opened the small bag he had with him and double checked its contents, making sure he wasn't forgetting anything he might need where he was going. Once satisfied he swallowed, feeling a small tug of uncertainty. It quickly burnt itself out however and Cas started the truck, pulling away from the familiar bunker.

He had spent months agonizing over this decision. He still wasn't sure it was the right one, he just knew it was what he wanted. When Cas finally pulled up to the old farm he had eyed as a nice out of the way place to work, he found himself simply sitting and staring at it, the uncertainty flickering up again for one last round of what-if.

Was it worth risking Dean's life for your own happiness? To risk Sam's?

That was the question. But, he had to remember, that wasn't the right question to ask. Was it worth potentially risking Dean's life for your own happiness? Even more accurate, was it worth potentially being able to simply help Dean less? To help Sam less?

He hadn't made the decision alone. As soon as he finally figured out it could be done, he talked with Sam. He admitted he wanted to let go of his grace, become human once more. He admitted that he feared he was more useful to them as an angel, arguing that it was just safer if he was in possession of his grace. As soon as he made the argument, he had pretty much convinced himself, and he tried to withdraw the question.

Sam was, as usual, persistent they talk it through. They would have several long conversations about it over the next week, more than Cas had talked about any one topic with anyone before. The angel was appreciative of his discretion, and Sam was respectful of his decision not to involve Dean.

He knew the chance to change plans was behind him, and this concern he had now was not going to stop him. He knew how to push through and past fear. He had led an assault on hell when she was at her most guarded. The only person who could talk him out of it was kept out of the loop exactly for this reason.

The soon to be human stepped out of his truck, holding the bag awkwardly as he headed inside the rundown barn. He smiled weakly. Every barn he was in reminded him of meeting Dean face-to-face for the first time. Sure, his angelic form had pulled his soul from the pit, but to stand on the same field, both as men. Or at least, in his case, something resembling men. Fitting that it was also the last place he'd stand as an angel.

He prepared the spell quickly, glad it wasn't overly complex. The ingredients were found in the bunker. Sam had help him build a spell to do what he wanted using books the men of letters had left behind. It wasn't easy. This spell wouldn't simply remove his grace, it would destroy it, every last piece. Sam had worried about the risk to Cas himself, as his body would be effectively human when it was over. He didn't care.

Cas was just finishing the last of the sigil work when his chest clenched. His angelic hearing picked up the familiar rumble of the impala approaching, and he listened with dread when the engine cut. He hoped that by some miracle it was Sam, just making sure all was well, but he knew it wasn't. The barn door opened up and he was faced with the older Winchester. "Hello Dean."

Dean's mouth was set in a line, and Cas found himself having a harder time than usual figuring out what emotions were fighting for space in Dean's head. He was moving slowly, with a deliberate walking pace. "Cas." He said simply, but his tone offered no more clues. He came to stand just a few feet away from the angel.

Castiel found himself frozen, making no move to complete the last of the sigils, no move to put down the brush either. The silence ticked on until he finally chose to break it. "How did you-"

"GPS on your phone." Dean finished. "Got your message, real specific, thank you."

Alright, so there was a touch of the sarcasm Cas had expected. "Oh." He said simply, not knowing how to reply to the statement directly.

"So, do you need me to give you a second to come up with a lie about why you're out here, or do you have one prepared?"

"Dean-"

"Save it Cas." Dean put his hand up, cutting him off. He took a deep breath, and looked at the ground. "I know why you're out here." He glanced up and frowned again. "I overheard you talking to Sam one night, weeks ago at this point."

"You didn't say anything."

"Figured you would have asked me if you wanted my opinion."

Cas opened his mouth to say something, but Dean put up his hand to silence him again.

"Are you sure it's what you want? Forget Sam and I, are you sure that this is what you want."

"Yes."

"Okay."

Cas stared at him for a moment. "Okay?"

"I trust you." Dean said softly, though Cas could tell he was fighting a war with himself to say that. It wasn't a question of trust, though Dean clearly thought this was a bad idea. But with this blessing, Cas' last doubts evaporated. "What can I do to help?"

"There isn't anything. The sigils will help contain the grace. Normally another angel would need to help draw out the grace, but I cannot ask them. I, of course, will be draining it all, so I will be unable to direct it for long. So I needed to artificially-"

"Okay okay." Dean said dismissively putting his hand up to stop the long overly-detailed explanation Cas was giving.

"The first part of the spell gathers the grace behind this sigil." He indicated one in his chest. "I make the cut, and drop the ingredients into the flame. The angel part of me should burn out."

"Alright."

"You will need to close your eyes. The unshielded grace would easily blind you." Like it had Pamela.

"Will it hurt?"

"You shouldn't feel it if you are far enough away."

"Will it hurt you?" Dean clarified.

"Oh." Cas said softly. "Yes." The appeal of this spell was the totality. There was no way to undo this spell. No other angel's grace could be given, his own grace could never be returned. The pay off for it's permanence was brutality. The grace wasn't simply being cut out, it was being ripped out, and burned. In many ways he was dying to be reborn.

Dean finally frowned, arms crossing as he looked over the sigil work and spell ingredients. He didn't comment for a moment, his mind seeming to process everything so far. For a moment, Castiel thought he was going to abandon his support and try to convince Cas to stop. But he simply gave a curt nod. "Where should I stand?"

"Near the door should be far enough." Cas said, finishing the last strokes of the white paint on the old weathered wood. He knelt in the circle, candle burning, and a smaller satchel of ingredients within reach. He tightened his grip over the angel blade in his hand, and gave a nod to Dean.

The hunter turned his back, and Cas could see his shoulders tense.

Cas recited the first part of the spell, easily sounding out the difficult enochian incantation. The second the last syllable passed his lips, the atmosphere in the barn shifted. The room felt as if it had become electrified. Dean could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He turned and looked out of the corner of his eye, ready to close them in an instant if needed, but Cas was not yet ready to progress. The sight of the shadow of his broken wings surprised Dean. He had caught glimpses before, fleeting, but they showed no sign of fading now as they were clearly reacting to the blatant attack.

With the electricity, Cas could feel his grace begin to move. The power contained within every cell of his vessel came alive at once, and with it came the pain. Castiel had felt pain before. When his wings were scorched with hellfire. When Raphael brought the wrath of heaven down on him. When the leviathan ripped through his body. This was white hot fire being drawn through his very essence, and as much as he thought he was prepared, the pain took him entirely off guard.

Cas set his jaw, trying to turn the knife, trying to redirect it towards his chest, trying to fight through the pain. He fumbled, and the blade clattered to the ground. He reached down, trying to pick it up again. His fingers brushed over the knife, trying desperately to get his hands to obey him and close around the hilt. He felt the hand close over his and he reacted violently, trying to pull away. "No Dean." He hissed through clenched teeth. "You're going to get hurt…"

"You need help." Dean said firmly.

"My grace… my wings… they're going to burn right through-" Cas couldn't get the words out, but he knew Dean understood. He was horrified when the grip only tightened over his hand, slipping the blade out of his hold.

"I know." Was the only response he got.

Cas weakly tried one last time to pull the knife from Dean, to push him away, but his body was weakening under the strain of the grace threatening to tear through his chest. He felt one strong hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. He looked up in time to see those green eyes close as Dean pushed the knife forward just a little.

The energy released from the tiny cut knocked both men back from each other. Dean went flying across the room and Cas rolled, almost falling out of the set of runes and sigils. The light streamed from him, gathering and pooling around him. Cas couldn't help but scream as the liquid fire flooded through his body and out into the world around him. He tried to force himself to move past the pain, scrambling for grip to pull himself up towards the candle, towards the ingredients for the last part of the spell…

Strong arms grabbed him again, coming from behind him. He looked up with fear, but Dean had his eyes shielded against the light. He reached blindly past Cas, grabbing the satchel. He propped the angel up in his arms, prepared to drop the contents into the small flame. Cas knew it was pointless to fight him, and he was too weak to reasonably try. So instead he mumbled the enochian spell, and let his head fall back against Dean when he was done. Dean tossed the spell ingredients into the flame.

The grace grew with intensity and surrounded Cas. He felt the moment his wings caught alight, and he could feel more than hear Dean cry out in pain behind him. The noise built until it was louder than a train, and Cas too had to close his eyes against the blinding light.

Then as quickly as it had built, it was over. The room was unnaturally quiet and dark. The candle was long extinguished, as well as the lantern Cas had brought, leaving only the moon glinting into the barn to light it's walls.

Cas still lay panting in Dean's arms, unable to even lift his head. Dean slid down to lay next to him, still holding an arm around the angel, keeping him grounded as tears ran down his face. It was done. He was human. Or at least as human as he was ever going to be.

They didn't talk or move for close to an hour. At some point Cas had drifted off, completely spent from the physical toll the spell took. When he woke there was sunlight streaming through the barn, and he could hear the deeper breathing of the unconscious hunter behind him.

He rolled, extracting himself from the heavy dead weight of Dean's arm. He heard the hunter wake, and met green eyes when he finally managed to look.

Cas winced as he saw the scene around him. The barn looked as if a small bomb had gone off, a clear blast ring around them. The hay and debris that had littered the floor was pushed back to the far corners, propelled by the force of the spell. Right where Cas had been propped up, scorched into the wood was an almost perfect imprint of his angel wings. The only part not visible on the floor was the burnt outline of the feathers that was clearly across the hunter's torso.

Cas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He had wanted to do it alone, wanted Dean away and safe. Dean had come to help only to immediately get hurt from his recklessness. He could have ditched the phone, could have gone further from the bunker, could have done any number of things…

"It's okay." came the gruff voice, and Cas opened his eyes again to look into Dean's. "I'm okay."

Cas slid a tentative and shaking hand across the floor, coming to rest gently on Dean's collar bone, withdrawing immediately when the hunter winced.

"It will heal." Dean insisted.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

Pain reflected across the former angel's eyes. Dean would bear these scars forever. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

"I didn't want you to do this alone."

Cas finally let his body relax, letting the floor hold him up completely. He was entirely physically and emotionally spent. He didn't protest when Dean finally got the strength to stand and help him up. He didn't argue when Dean led him to the passenger side of the impala. He didn't say anything as they drove away from his truck. He simply allowed it to happen.

Because this was what he wanted. And he was now absolutely sure it had been the right choice.

A/N: Let me know what you think, and take a look at my other supernatural stories!