You get an extra length chapter this time, both because I've slowed down and because I ranted last chapter and y'all were really nice about it. But mostly because I accidentally wrote too much and couldn't be arsed to edit it.
I was so (understandably, I feel) pissed about the finale last chapter that I forgot to write that I totes stole the 'dean calls cas sunshine' thing from one of the best fanfics I've ever read from one of the best authors I've ever encountered. Go check out 'Take me home country roads' by saltyfeathers on AO3 and while you're there, read literally everything else they've written. You won't regret it, especially if, like me, you feel that the SPN writers utterly wasted the potential of the Deanmon arc. But hey, that's kinda their thing. Lol I am even saltier than saltyfeather's feathers. Oops.
I know I've compared Cas and Ariel before in fanfics but it's the SAME STORY OK and it amuses me. Please enjoy this chapter, although I can promise you'll enjoy the next one more... ;)

I develop a deep appreciation for Disney movies very quickly. Kevin and I watch two before dinner and then we watch another whilst eating pizza. 'The Lion King' and 'Finding Nemo' are excellent and whilst I enjoy 'The Little Mermaid' too, something about it makes me mildly uncomfortable. Kevin leaves after the third film, saying that he needs to get some more translation done before he goes to bed.

I watch 'The Little Mermaid' again, wondering what it was that was nagging at me the first time. I get up to the reprise of 'Part of Your World' before it hits me. Ariel reminds me of myself. Fascinated by humans but never really considering acting on her private dreams until she rescues a human and becomes enamoured with him, leading to her becoming human too. It's practically identical to my own story. I grimace and turn the film off, not wanting to think about the glaring difference: Ariel and Eric's love was not unrequited. Full of pizza - which is just as delicious as Dean and Sam always claimed - and feeling sleepy, I stretch out on the sofa and gaze at the ceiling, pondering the key differences between angels and merpeople. I'm not even aware that I'm falling asleep before it happens, washing over me just like the ocean...

I dream that I'm Ariel, but also myself. I'm in a drowned version of the bunker, swimming through the underwater rooms, searching for any signs of life. I see Sam and Kevin and Bobby and Meg flitting by, walking as though they're still above the surface, untroubled by the lack of air. Flounder darts ahead of me, a flash of colour in the gloom. Still I search, more and more frantically. Finally, I see him. Dean is not upright and functioning like the others. He floats as though dead, eyes closed, skin white, dressed in Eric's clothes. Swimming faster, I try to call out to him, but only bubbles escape my mouth. As I watch his mouth moves too, and I hear his voice as though he's right next to me.

"Cas."

Straining to reach him, I cry out soundlessly as a hand grabs my shoulder, pulling me back from him, away from him...

"Cas, buddy, wake up!"

I awake with a gasp, scrambling to sit up in the dimly lit room. It takes me a moment to realise that Dean is crouched next to the sofa, peering up at me with sharp, worried eyes. I breathe heavily as I stare at him, blinking confusedly.

"You said you were sleeping better," he reprimands gently, his eyebrows drawing together. His hand has slipped down to my elbow and his thumb rubs circles into my clothed skin, slow and soothing. I blink again, slumping back against the arm of the sofa and not taking my eyes off of him.

"You're back," I murmur. Dean nods.

"Yeah, well, Charlie got lucky and found a place just after lunchtime. Sam and I figured we may as well just head back rather than spend another night away. Why'd you sleep in here?"

I shrug. "I didn't mean to. Kevin and I were watching Disney films."

Dean snorts, dropping his hand from my arm. I wish he'd kept it there. "Kevin likes Disney? Oh, man, I am not gonna let him forget that. Well, Sleeping Beauty, it's one AM so you should probably head to actual bed. So should I, come to think of it."

I stare at him and open my mouth, wanting very badly to suggest that we head to the same bed rather than separate ones. But Dean looks relaxed and soft-eyed and I don't want to cause that awkward, pained look to pass over his face, which it inevitably will if I push him towards anything that he himself hasn't suggested. Nodding tiredly, I watch him stand up and I take the hand he offers me, letting him pull me to my feet. The movement brings us close together and I let my gaze melt into his, not currently able to hide the longing in mine.

"I'm glad you're home," I almost whisper. Dean releases my hand after a pause but his eyes flicker between mine for several seconds before dropping to my mouth. He looks like he wants to kiss me, although I have no way of knowing for sure. There's one obvious way of finding out, and I've never wanted to try it so much. I lean forward, sleepiness making me weak.

"Hey, Dean, d'you find him?"

Sam's voice comes quietly but clearly from the hallway, moving up towards us. I close my eyes and shut my parted lips, frowning. Dean inhales sharply before stepping back from me and I open my eyes to see him moving towards the door.

"Yeah, in here, he fell asleep on the sofa."

"Aww." Sam appears in the doorway, grinning good-naturedly, and I muster up a smile of greeting.

"Hello, Sam. How was your trip?"

Sam yawns hugely before replying, leaning against the doorframe. "Yeah, good. Just want to go to sleep now, though. It's a long drive."

Dean nods in agreement, not looking at me, and I sigh. "Yes. Well, goodnight."

I move past them and I'm almost in the hallway before Dean says my name, very quietly. I turn back with raised eyebrows and he gazes at me for a moment, biting his lip invitingly. I try not to scowl at the sight. It's not fair.

"Goodnight," he mumbles eventually, holding my gaze. I nod, a little impatient, and give a vague wave before I stumble towards my bedroom, too tired to brush my teeth. I pull off my jeans and plaid shirt, laying them on my chair, and slide between the sheets with a sigh. It doesn't take long for me to fall asleep again, and my dreams are muddled and colourful. I don't really remember them when I wake up.

Dean and Sam are eating cereal in the kitchen when I walk in and I smile brightly at them both, feeling rested and alert. Dean frowns grumpily at me and Sam gives a tired chuckle.

"I can see which one of us didn't go on a seven hour drive yesterday," he says teasingly between mouthfuls of granola. I laugh and pour myself a coffee before sitting down at the table with it. I look between the two brothers and my thoughts from while they were away, about becoming a hunter with them, clamour insistently in my mind. I take a deep breath.

"Dean, Sam, I'd like to give hunting another try now that I'm human."

They both pause, glancing at each other meaningfully. Dean gestures at his brother with his spoon before he scoops up some more sugar-dusted cornflakes and shoves them in his mouth, eyes trained on the table. Sam sighs before speaking, his voice soothing.

"That's great, Cas. And we're sure you could get really good at it. But maybe it's too risky right now. Too dangerous."

I narrow my eyes at him before staring suspiciously at Dean, who doesn't meet my gaze.

"Dean?" I ask quietly. "Do you agree?"

Dean glances at me and nods, eyes darting back down to his cornflakes.

"I see," I say flatly. Sam is eyeing me nervously. "So an ex-angel with prior experience and eons of combat training is at too much risk in this otherwise risk-free career path?"

"Cas, you've been human for less than a week," snaps Dean, finally holding my gaze. "You said it yourself the other day. You feel weak and vulnerable. That's not what a hunter needs to be. And besides, every angel out there is probably on red alert looking for you."

"I really doubt it," I argue, carefully not looking at Sam because I just know that Ezekiel is listening to this conversation and feeling extremely vindicated right now. "And I only feel that way relative to how I used to feel. I'm sure I have strength and skill enough to make a reliable hunter."

Dean frowns at me for several seconds before sighing and shaking his head. "Maybe. We'll see. Just not quite yet, OK? Stay safe for a bit longer before you throw yourself into danger. Please?"

I glare at him but the genuine concern in his eyes wins me over. Nodding resentfully, I slump back in my seat and take a gulp of coffee, staring irritably at the table. Sam and Dean quietly eat their cereal for several minutes whilst I think about how I can convince them to let me join them as a hunter. An idea occurs to me but I hesitate, unsure whether I ought to push Dean on this. It can't hurt to try. Clearing my throat as Sam gets up from the table, I speak, making Dean pause in pushing his own chair back.

"Dean, what if you trained me?"

He eyes me suspiciously. "What?"

"You did say before that you want to help me settle into being human, however you can. Well, I'd be very grateful if you'd train me in your profession. Humans have professions, and I'd like mine to be hunting. You could test out my combat skills and occult knowledge and then teach me anything else I need to know. Train me, like Kevin suggested."

My voice is confident. I feel like I remember everything about balance, positioning and defensive maneuvres from my fighting experience as an angel, but my reflexes and strength have changed drastically. So yes, some training would probably be prudent. And although it's only just occurred to me as an afterthought, the idea of spending extended time alone with Dean is just too appealing to pass by. Dean is looking reluctant and I stare pleadingly at him, remembering that it seemed to have some sort of persuasive affect on him during my first night here. He scowls but nods shortly, getting up from the table.

"Fine, fine. I guess we can see what's changed and what you need to work on. I don't know when... maybe before dinner. Meet me in the gym at four, OK? Don't wear your new stuff. I'll chuck some sweats in your room."

I nod eagerly, smiling widely. Dean shakes his head and mutters as he washes his bowl and spoon before leaving the room. I finish my coffee quickly and head into the library, sitting with Sam and trying to stay focused as he explains how to use the system Charlie helped him set up for monitoring possible fallen angel activity. It takes until one in the afternoon to get through everything Sam has to say on the matter and my head is spinning with the magnitude of the problem by the time we gather in the kitchen to finish off the last of the stir fry. I'm more determined than ever to take up hunting; surely it's the best way to ensure that I'll be equipped to deal with any issues I come across concerning my kin. Or at least, my ex-kin.

Dean has been quiet all morning, moving sporadically in and out of the library. After lunch he settles across the table from me and since I'm just reading an old wartime novel, it's easy for my gaze to wander to him, more and more as the afternoon wears on. He looks so damn good, as always, but it never fails to strike me. His bottle-glass eyes flit across the document he's scanning, those sensuous pink lips pursing and then parting as he reads the words silently. The familiar freckles are a barely visible constellation across his nose and cheekbones, the coppery colour a match for his brown hair. I sigh quietly and he instantly looks up, meeting my eyes. I blanch, horrified at being caught, and look back down at my book. I can feel my face heating up. Crap.

He shifts in my peripheral vision and I swallow, trying to keep my expression neutral. I hear him clear his throat quietly and it's as if my skin just won't cool down. I stare blankly at the page I'm on, struggling to make the words form meaning in my head, but I feel on edge. Eventually, I give up.

"I'm going to my room," I mutter as I get up from the table. Sam and Kevin barely spare me a glance each but Dean watches me closely, looking concerned. Again.

"You OK?" he asks gruffly but seriously. I nod, summoning a smile.

"Of course. I'll see you later in the gym."

It's barely three o'clock, and Dean and I haven't scheduled our 'testing' session until four. Still, as soon as I get to my bedroom I start willing the time to go faster, impatient to be moving and active. I eye the clothes Dean threw onto my bed for a solid five minutes, drumming my fingers restlessly against my thigh. Finally, I snap.

Rolling my eyes, I go and brush my teeth, all too aware that close proximity to Dean is guaranteed in combat training. I apply more deodorant too and try to finger-comb my hair into order before giving up on that venture. It's stupid, but that niggling suspicion that Dean harbours an attraction to me is always in the back of my mind and it makes me far more aware of how I might appear to him at any given moment. Stripping off my clothes, I put on the allocated gym outfit. The grey sweatpants are very comfortable, as is the thin white v-neck t shirt. Feeling slightly chilly in the single layer but knowing that I'll soon be warming up, I make my way quickly to the gym.

There are a few large floor mats padding the linoleum in front of the floor-length mirrors on one side of the room. I step onto them, trying to recapture and recreate my old angelic mindset. Inhaling deeply, I fall into a familiar fighting pose, an imaginary angel blade gripped in my right fist. Working partly on instinct and partly from old memories of training exercises, I begin to whirl through various stabbing, crouching, rolling and swiping movements, my motions sharp and aggressive.

It's not the same, yet it's better in some ways. I can feel how slow and weak I am compared to before I lost my grace. However, I can also feel the exertion on my body and how I can push through it. I can feel sweat dampening the nape of my neck and under my arms, heat radiating from my core. I can feel the savage satisfaction that comes with my violent movements, as opposed to the almost apathetic attitude I had whilst fighting as an angel. I can feel the strain and the burn and the ache and what I can only assume is adrenaline, which I never needed before I was human. It feels good. It's a different kind of pleasure, unlike appetising food or pleasant smells or soft material against my skin or sexual gratification. I defeat my tenth imaginary enemy and spin to a halt, chest heaving and perspiration cooling on my temples.

It's a few seconds before I look closely enough at the mirror before me to see that I'm not alone.

I turn abruptly, feeling my skin flush as I stare at Dean. He's stood in the doorway dressed very similarly to me, a bottle of water dangling from one hand. His eyes are wide and he gulps as I meet them, the colour rising in his own face even higher than mine.

"How long have you been there?" I ask uncomfortably, my voice still breathless. It's hypocritical of me to be bothered by Dean watching me without my knowledge. I've done it to him enough times over the years. He drops his gaze to the floor, licking his lips nervously, and I copy the action before I'm aware of doing it.

"Not long," he says after a pause. Green eyes raise slowly back up to mine and he gives a small smile. "Gotta say, Cas, it doesn't look much like you need my help with training."

I frown, knowing that he's right. I might not be as formidable an opponent as I once was, but I could still best most creatures in a fight. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and nod, eyes drifting to the wall.

"I suppose not. I appear to have retained my superior combat skills, so I guess there's no reason for you to be here..."

Dean snorts. "Hey, did I say I was leaving? And don't act too cocky. You might still be a badass, but I doubt you could take me or Sammy down."

I tilt my head at him, a smile creeping onto my own face at his teasing tone. "You really think so?"

"Oh, I know so."

I'm smirking now. I step towards him, eyebrows raised, and beckon him with one finger. "Let's find out."

Dean's smile freezes and he appears to be holding his breath. He stares at me for a long, silent moment before his eyes narrow and he drops the water bottle onto the floor, striding forward onto the mat. "Fine, but no crying when you lose."

"I promise. Is the winner the first one to keep the other subdued for more than a few seconds?"

Dean nods, stretching his arms out behind him and then upwards. He says something at this point but I'm far too distracted by the way his shirt pulls up, exposing his stomach and hipbones. The sweatpants pull taut across his crotch for a moment, leaving very little to the imagination. I shut my eyes, suddenly feeling like this is a potentially disastrous idea, but it's too late to back out now.

"Ready?"

I open my eyes and Dean has assumed a defensive crouch, both arms raised in front, clearly ready for combat. I try to clear my mind, imagining that I'm an angel again, looking anywhere but into Dean's eyes so that I can picture him as someone or something I'd be willing to attack. I take a deep breath and nod firmly, standing upright with my hands loose at my sides. Dean smirks and lunges forward.

It's fairly easy to evade him the first few times. I adopt a purely defensive strategy, partly because laying a violent hand on Dean is anathema to me - especially after Naomi's torture - and partly because I don't really need to do anything but wait for an opportunity. Dean is quick and strong and fast-thinking, but not overly subtle. He always either misses me entirely or lacks the skill to keep hold of me when he does manage to grip my arm or a handful of shirt. I dodge and twist and duck, almost dancing around him, keeping just behind him or out of his reach. It's fun. I find myself laughing slightly as he makes a triumphant sound when twisting my arm up behind my back and dragging me to him, only to swear as I yank him down and use the momentary release to twirl away again.

He pauses for a moment, panting a little, and I make the mistake of meeting his eyes with a grin on my face. The answering smirk he gives me is nothing short of wicked, and it's my undoing. He darts forward and literally tackles me to the ground, catching me around the waist before I have the presence of mind to react. Dean is a heavy man but it's mostly hitting the floor that winds me, knocking the breath from my lungs with painful force. I'm gasping, eyes closed on impact, as he scrambles up beside me and grabs my wrists, clearly intending to restrain me.

Some kind of fighting instinct finally kicks in and for a moment, I forget it's Dean. Twisting my body up off of the floor, I wrench one hand free and use it to grip Dean's shoulder, dragging him above and across me. He grunts as I slam my knee into his side and use the momentum to roll on top of him, straddling him easily.

I have his wrists pinned above his head in one hand and the other fist raised to strike before I come to my senses, blinking down at the helpless man beneath me.