Chapter 5: Under my skin

Castiel's POV

'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.'

There weren't many books in Bobby's living room/library that were not demon-related, but Castiel had managed to find a few. He had read A tale of two cities by Charles Dickens and that first part of the first sentence was wonderful; he didn't care too much for the rest. It was all rather depressing, but that first sentence perfectly described how he felt the moment he first noticed his grace slipping away.

It had been the middle of the night, after the day that Castiel had decided to become human. Dean's hand had been splayed across his chest and his breathing had been almost imperceptible. Castiel's breathing had been shallow too. The house had been silent. Really silent. The familiar sounds of silence had been gone. There had been no whispering, no humming, not even that high tone as if someone somewhere was tuning some instrument. Finally, Castiel had understood that what humans call silence is an absence of sound. It had been quiet, so quiet, and it had scared him. He had snuggled closer to Dean, but that first night he had lain awake listening to something that hadn't been there.

Every morning when he woke up it seemed that something new was gone. The next day he tried to teleport himself to the kitchen. His goal had been to startle Dean, which he knew was wrong; he wasn't supposed to use his powers for such juvenile purposes. He couldn't. Confused, he had tried again, but no matter how many times he tried, he was still in the same place.

On the morning of the second day, he had briefly thought that everything was fine. Then he nicked himself while shaving and the wound didn't heal instantly. Upset, he had gone downstairs and had kicked a car wreck in the salvage yard. Not only did that hurt his foot, but the wreck hadn't moved an inch. From that moment on, he had tried to behave like an ordinary human being, so he wouldn't notice if more of his powers went missing.

During the third night, the dark had stopped its vague buzzing about possible futures.

The thing that he perhaps missed most was the feeling of being connected to his brothers - the other angels - that disappeared on the fourth day. It was an artificial connection; the way a wife felt connected to her husband of twenty years, until she finds out that he has been having a mistress for the entire duration of their marriage. It was a lie, Castiel knew that, but it had felt terribly valid and now it was no longer there. He didn't understand why it bothered him so.

The angels had never felt like real brothers, not like how Dean and Sam were brothers. The Winchesters would sacrifice everything for each other and at times they had. In addition, the bond Castiel shared with Dean was much stronger than anything ingrained. It had developed into a deep love that nothing could erase. Castiel could not imagine that it could be removed as easily as his grace. As long as he was alive his love for Dean would be right there.

The fifth day he looked into Dean's eyes and didn't hear what Dean was feeling. Strangely, Castiel didn't mind. He could still read Dean's facial expressions and interpret the smallest gestures to deduce what he was thinking. Plus, Dean would tell him if there was something he needed to know.

There were things that he had gained too. Since the sixth day, whenever he thought about Dean very graphic images would pop into his head. They made him blush. When Dean kissed him it felt even better than before. He just felt it... more. His senses seemed heightened and his emotions intensified. Dean only had to smile at him and his heart pounded in his chest and it actually hurt. Everything was brighter and more colourful and an annoyed sigh from Bobby could result in spending ten minutes in the bathroom, trying to tell his reflection in the mirror that it was not meant as a personal affront.

Also, coco puffs: they were exquisite. Castiel had started eating them as a sort of compromise between Sam's dull but healthy cereal and Dean's flavourful but cholesterol raising eggs and bacon. On the seventh day, between one spoon and the next, the food transformed into something heavenly. Before he always thought that to describe something as 'heavenly' or 'divine' was a bit irreverent, but now it was simply the truth.

The chocolaty goodness, the cold and creamy milk, the difference in texture between the smooth milk and the coarse puffs, the crunchy sounds they made in his mouth: now he understood why people were cranky it they were out of coco puffs in the morning. It made perfect sense. Castiel could imagine starting an apocalypse if someone dared to steal his coco puffs.

He ate another spoonful and his grace was gone. Just like that. And he kind of missed it. Dean noticed the change, but he couldn't grasp the full extent of what Castiel had lost. To stay positive, Castiel attempted to focus on what he had gained and not what he had given up.

'I no longer feel I am only in this body temporarily; I am this body,' he said. Dean seemed curiously saddened too as he avoided Castiel's gaze.

'I've lost my grace,' Castiel mumbled. It meant the same essentially. I am this body. I've lost my grace. Before, he had been more than the vessel; he had been beyond the corporeal. Dean put his hand on Castiel's shoulder and the warmth felt comforting.

'No, you haven't. You have lost your angel grace, but you've still got your human one,' Dean protested. Castiel smiled gratefully at Dean, but he felt only a little assured. Bobby had resumed eating his breakfast, but his eyes were fixed on Castiel. It's obvious that I am different, Castiel thought. Then Sam put his bowl on the counter, sat down next to Castiel and pitched in.

'I have to agree with Dean here. You're still pure of heart and shit,' the younger Winchester said and Dean kicked his brother under the table. Was he pure of heart? His fantasies about Dean said otherwise. His desire to sleep with Dean and to feel every inch of Dean's skin under his fingers told a different story.

(***)

After breakfast they loaded the baggage they had into the trunk of the Impala. It was still full of weapons, but their belongings barely filled two duffle bags and they fitted nicely. Sam and Dean hugged Bobby; Castiel merely awkwardly shook his hand. Dean handed the keys of the car to Sam, told him he could drive and took Castiel's hand.

'So you can make out with your boyfriend?' Sam mocked.

'Shut up,' Dean said, but he smiled at Castiel and gently squeezed his hand. They got in the backseat while Sam got in the driver seat. On purpose, Sam made a big show of adjusting the seat so his tall body would fit, while Dean, who was sitting directly behind him, practically got squashed. A tug of war ensued between the brothers, with Sam insisting that he needed the leg room and Dean complaining loudly. Tired of their shenanigans, Bobby rolled his eyes, told them through the open driver's window to send him their new address and went inside.

'Then I'm going to have to sit in Cas' lap. You don't mind, do you Cas?' Dean said and without waiting for an answer Dean shuffled so close that Castiel found himself pressed against the window. With one eye on Sam, Dean started to kiss Castiel. As always, it was wonderful, but Castiel felt a little uneasy about kissing while Sam was watching. Sure, Bobby had walked in on them kissing a couple of times, but now Dean was kissing him with the specific intention of irritating his brother. This wasn't exactly how Castiel had pictured their dream scenario coming true; Dean's dream scenario.

'You mind not violating the virgin while your brother is watching?' Sam protested feebly and, after kissing Castiel once more for good measure, Dean stopped with a smirk. His hand remained lightly resting on Castiel's thigh and Castiel had to exercise some serious self control not to squirm a little to the right.

'So whereto, man with the plan?' Dean asked. Since Castiel had decided to become human, the older Winchester had left Sam in charge of finding them an apartment. Sam was the one who knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, while Dean and Castiel didn't have any idea yet, so the younger brother had been allowed to decide where they would live.

'Vermillion. I've called about a two bedroom apartment,' Sam said and he put the car into gear.

'What happened to going back to Stanford?' Dean asked, while Sam backed the Impala out of the salvage yard.

'It would be too weird. I'm not that guy anymore. They've got a great law school in Vermillion and it's only an hour's drive, so we can easily visit Bobby or Bobby can visit us. He's the only family we have left; I don't want to move to another state.'

'You've really thought this through,' Dean said with barely disguised awe in his voice. Sam looked into the rear view mirror and shook his head in disapproval. I'm not that guy anymore, he had said, but Sam had not lost his grace. Yes, he had lost people, but somehow Castiel didn't think that was entirely what Sam meant. His experiences had changed him; they had formed a new Sam. Which of those two was more important? Castiel found it difficult to determine whether his past or his grace had made him. If it was his grace then he had lost himself today, but if it was his memories then he was still intact.

'Well, someone had to. It's not like I'll be doing any studying for at least a year or so, but we can get acquainted to the surroundings and get jobs and such,' Sam replied. That was very sensible and what Sam said was certainly true. Dean and Castiel had been too wrapped up in their new relationship to worry about the future, so it was only right that Sam had been so thorough. Dean's hand, still resting on Castiel's thigh, twitched and the former hunter seemed to have an idea, but he did not share it with Castiel. All he did was stare at his brother while he was driving.

After a while, the silence in the car - actual silence again - was starting to unnerve Castiel. He thought of something to say to fill it.

'That was ironic: that I thought I had to threaten to kill you to get you to profess your love unto me,' he finally said and naturally it was the most inappropriate thing to say. Not only was he not sure whether he understood the concept of irony, but he had also referred to the darkest moment in their shared history. Sam calmly stared at the road as if he hadn't heard anything, but it was Dean's reaction that had Castiel worried. He stiffened and rigidly took his hand off Castiel, until he suddenly appeared to change tactics. Moving even closer than before, Dean pressed his body against Castiel's.

'I'd like to be onto you. And into you. And all over you,' he whispered into Castiel's ear. It was just loud enough for Sam to hear and Castiel could hear the younger Winchester shift uncomfortably in his seat. Long after Dean had resumed his seat, Castiel could still feel his hot breath on his ear.

'What?' he squeaked. His voice had gone weird and wobbly and was very high. That might be the result of something happening in his pants.

'I've got to teach you how to talk dirty,' Dean said and he winked at Castiel. From the driver's seat came a strangled moan and Sam begged, 'Oh God, make it stop.'

(***)

They settled in fairly quickly. Sam got a job in construction to save for university and Dean worked in a bar. Castiel was still unsure of what to do and Dean said they had to give him an identity first, so he could not get a job yet. Apparently, existing in the flesh wasn't enough; you needed to exist on paper too. Dean worked only part-time; Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday and after hours he taught Castiel to play pool. On Thursday evenings, they would make the drive over to Bobby or Bobby would drive over to Vermillion and the four of them would sit around drinking beer. Not being an angel anymore meant that Castiel got a lot drunker a lot faster.

It soon became clear that, even though Dean had promised Sam that he wouldn't attempt anything illegal, he was learning Castiel to play pool in order to make money. Castiel was a quick study and he always enjoyed spending time with Dean, so when, after a week of practising, Dean took him to a bar on a Tuesday evening, he didn't suspect anything untoward to occur. Therefore, it was doubly unpleasant when Dean approached a few strangers and bet them that Castiel could beat them at pool. He whispered in Castiel's ear that he should lose the first few rounds. The situation made him feel very uncomfortable and he was not a good liar, but he tried for Dean's sake. Nonetheless, the first night was a complete failure.

The next day they went to a different bar and he begged Dean to be allowed to tell the truth. Grumpily, Dean agreed. That night they made two thousand dollar before getting kicked out of the bar. For some reason when Castiel warned people that they should not bet against him because he always won, they never believed him. They seemed to think he was lying or that he was overestimating his abilities. Dean said that his honesty worked like a charm, but it still felt a bit wrong to take so much money from these people.

'Apparently, you can only lie when you're trying to become God,' Dean joked after another successful night a week later. Castiel tried to laugh, but it didn't come out right. There had been no bitterness in Dean's voice, but still the casual remark hurt Castiel. He wasn't convinced that Dean would ever be able to move past that moment. They were dating and they were happy. Castiel thought that they were happy, but something seemed to be underlying that happiness and he was afraid to ask Dean what it was.

(***)

After three weeks of quietly living in Vermillion and keeping their extracurricular activities from Sam, which Castiel thought might be giving him an ulcer, Bobby was scheduled to come by. It was not evening and it was not Thursday and Sam was at work, but they needed to discuss something. Dean was in the bathroom when the doorbell rang, so Castiel answered the door expecting it was Bobby. A very thin woman was standing on the doorstep. He was unsure of what to do. There was a procedure, a routine that needed to be followed whenever a stranger came to the door, he knew that much, but he wasn't familiar with that procedure.

'Do you accept Jesus Christ as your personal saviour?' the woman asked. He was a bit tired of religion, but it would hardly be polite to say that to the woman. She was holding a Bible, he now saw, so she obviously wasn't tired of it. Explaining that he had been an angel wouldn't help matters either, he suspected.

'I don't know. I have to ask my boyfriend. Dean!' Castiel called out, but when he turned around the woman was already making her way down the stairs. Well, that was a bit rude. She could have at least waited for his answer. Dean came into the living room wearing his fluffy bathrobe. Castiel loved that bathrobe. Sometimes he took a shower simply so that afterwards he could feel the soft fabric against his skin. Sam was always complaining about the water bills, but Sam also took unnecessarily long showers, thus, Castiel didn't feel guilty.

'Bobby?' Dean asked, glancing at the still open door. Castiel quickly shut it and explained about the woman and her question. Dean laughed when Castiel told him what he had said, but then he turned serious.

'You can't answer questions of strangers with personal information,' Dean explained and Castiel wanted to ask why, but Dean's collarbones were beckoning him. He pressed his lips to them, but when he wanted to slip his hands into the bathrobe Dean stopped him.

'Bobby can be here any minute,' Dean said and he vanished into their bedroom. Castiel frowned. If he wasn't mistaken Dean wanted to have sex as much as he did, but for some reason he always held him off. The doorbell rang again, interrupting his thoughts, and this time it was Bobby. Dressed, Dean emerged from the bedroom and they sat down at the kitchen table.

'So, Sam's thirtieth birthday is in a week and I want to throw him a party,' Dean said and Bobby nodded. Humans were very meticulous about celebrating the passing of time, though their measurement of periods was a bit arbitrary. 365 days; what was significant about that?

'It can't be just the four of us. That's not a party, that's a Thursday night,' Dean said and Castiel protested, 'But the second of May...'

'...is a Thursday. Yes, Cas, but it can't be like a regular Thursday. It has to be special. Just us: that would be kind of pathetic. This is the first proper birthday he will have in some time. I've made a list of people to invite, but it's short. Like depressing short,' Dean said and he put a tiny piece of paper on the table. Castiel got up and poured Bobby some coffee. That was a procedure he knew. If guests came over you gave them coffee.

'I tried to call this gallery chick that Sam once liked, but she'd gotten married. Other than that I've got Lisa and Ben, Balthazar. That's it,' Dean summed up and he looked kind of defeated as he stared at the three names. Bobby opened his mouth, but without taking his eyes off the list, Dean pointed at Bobby.

'Don't look at me like that.'

'But these are not Sam's friends,' Castiel said, confused.

'Constructive criticism, Cas,' Dean admonished him and he sounded tired.

'That's basically one of your exes and her kid and a resurrected angel,' Bobby chimed in. He tried to sound amused, but it didn't quite work. Dean sighed out of frustration.

'I know, but we can't afford to be picky. I don't know if you've noticed, but most of our friends have died. Hell, the three of us have died too. Maybe I can invite some of the guys Sam works with or some nice girls who study at the University of South Dakota?' Dean offered. Parties should be fun, Castiel thought. That was what he knew about them. He had mistakenly thought that planning a party would be fun too. Eventually, they decided to stick to the four of them and go to a proper restaurant for a change.

(***)

May 2, 2013.

'This is nice. Thanks for taking me here, you guys,' Sam said and he did sound happy. They were seated by the window. The restaurant was indeed much nicer than the usual places they went too, Castiel thought, but he wondered whether they sold cheeseburgers here. Bobby handed Sam an envelope. Castiel could practically feel Sam trying to keep his expectations low, so he could display the proper degree of gratitude. However, when he saw what was inside the envelope, he jumped up and hugged Bobby.

'Look Dean; a Mustang. My own car,' Sam yelled and a couple of the other guests glanced in their direction. Dean showed Castiel the photo that Bobby had taken of a car wreck. Underneath all the rust and dents was indeed something that resembled a car. Bobby gruffly muttered something about maybe working on it together until it was restored and Sam hugged him again. Awkwardly, Bobby cleared his throat.

'Now Dean, what have you got for your brother?' Bobby asked and he was blushing a bit.

'This is from Cas and me,' Dean said and he handed Sam another envelope. This one was a lot thicker than Bobby's had been and Castiel felt proud. It was an emotion with negative connotations, but after what Castiel had gone through, he felt he deserved to be proud. Eagerly, he waited until Sam had opened the envelope. The younger Winchester's eyes widened and he quickly looked around the restaurant to see if anyone had noticed what he was holding. He leaned closer to his brother.

'Dean, how much money is in here?' he hissed. Dean calmly answered that it was about thirty-five thousand dollars; enough to get Sam through at least the first year of law school. Castiel watched Dean fiddle with his cutlery, while he explained that he had looked at the USD website and seen how much tuition and other expenses cost.

'Now you can start in September,' Dean mumbled. Sam stared at him with his mouth open. For a second, it appeared he was going to ask how they had gotten the money, which would certainly have spoiled the mood, but then he just got up. There were tears in his eyes when he hugged Dean and then Castiel.

'Pussy,' Dean whispered, also trying to blink away tears and Sam smiled. The rest of the night was a roaring success, though there were no cheeseburgers on the menu and Castiel committed another offense against public decency. When the waitress brought their desserts and put the banana split in front of him, something popped into Castiel's mind and he spoke before thinking.

'Do you think of me when you masturbate?'

The waitress let out a little shriek, while Dean flushed bright red and Sam and Bobby dissolved into laughter.

'Cas!' Dean breathed. This was one of those things that you couldn't say, apparently, even though Castiel had really wanted to know. After the meal, they walked home, since the restaurant was not far from their apartment and Sam attempted to explain with a straight face why it was unacceptable to discuss such personal things in public. Castiel nodded, but when Dean and Bobby had wandered away from them he tried to tell Sam that it was difficult. Now that his powers were gone he could no longer just tap into Dean's mind and there had always been a blind spot. When it came to how Dean felt about him, Castiel could rarely get an accurate impression; his feelings for Dean usually got in the way.

They quickly overtook the other two and Dean took his hand. This feeling he had when he was holding Dean's hand was so intimate that he hardly thought having sex with Dean could improve their closeness. Whenever Dean touched him, Castiel knew with absolute certainty that losing his grace meant absolutely nothing. He had changed more in the six years since he had met Dean than in that one week when his grace slipped away. Those changes that Dean had wrought in him mattered more.

He was the sum of his experiences and not the sum of his angelic powers. That night when he lay next to Dean, he listened to nothing. Castiel had gotten used to the silence and with Dean's warm body against his he was convinced he had done the right thing in becoming human. Dean deserved to be happy and Castiel could make him happy. That night he slept like a baby.

'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.'

(***)

Both quotations are from A tale of two cities by Charles Dickens; respectively the first and last sentence of the novel.