Chapter Text
Castiel woke with a gasp.
Grace did not flare, nor did celestial resonance hum—only air filled his lungs. Cold, imperfect, startling, it rushed in too fast and made him cough.
Dean was beside him instantly.
“Cas—hey. Take it slow.”
His voice was soft, shaken, relieved in a way that sounded almost disbelieving.
Castiel blinked wildly, eyes unfocused, chest rising and falling in erratic stutters. The ceiling above him wasn’t Heaven’s light or a battlefield sky—it was the faded paint of Dean’s old apartment.
His fingers curled weakly in the blanket.
He felt… everything.
Too much, all at once.
The weight of his own body.
The tremor in his hands.
The thrum of blood in his ears.
The ache in his ribs.
And breathing—this strange, automatic thing that felt both alien and frightening.
“Dean?” Castiel whispered, voice small.
“Yeah,” Dean said, brushing the hair from his forehead. “I’m right here.”
Castiel swallowed. The motion felt thick, clumsy.
“I can’t… I can’t feel my grace.”
Dean exhaled softly. “You’re human now, Cas. That’s… that’s normal.”
Castiel looked down at his hands—trembling, flushed, alive. He flexed his fingers, startled when they obeyed.
Human.
The word hit him like a comet.
His breath hitched. “Dean… I’m afraid.”
Dean sat on the edge of the couch, hands cupping Castiel’s shoulders gently. “I know. But you’re okay. You’re safe.”
Castiel’s brow furrowed. “Everything is… loud.”
Dean’s mouth twitched. “You mean your heartbeat?”
Castiel focused.
There it was—a steady, fragile rhythm tapping inside his chest.
He pressed a hand over it, eyes widening. “This is mine?”
“Yeah.” Dean’s voice cracked a little. “That’s all you.”
Castiel’s breath shook. He pressed harder, as if he needed proof. “It hurts.”
Dean’s smile softened. “That’s also normal.”
Castiel looked at him helplessly. “I don’t understand how to do this.”
“You don’t have to,” Dean said. “Not today. Just stay with me.”
Castiel nodded, though his body seemed uncertain what to do with itself. He tried to sit up—and the world tilted violently.
Dean caught him before he could fall.
“Easy, tiger.”
“Tiger?” Castiel repeated, baffled.
Dean huffed a laugh. “You’ll learn.”
They paused like that—Castiel leaning against Dean’s chest, Dean supporting him with steady hands—both suspended in the quiet miracle of closeness.
Castiel swallowed again, still getting used to the motion. “Dean… I can feel you.”
Dean went still. “What do you mean?”
“Your warmth,” Castiel whispered. “Your heartbeat. And something else… something like a pulse in the space between us.”
Dean’s hand hesitated before it rose to Castiel’s cheek.
A faint glow stirred beneath Dean’s ribs in response.
The bond.
Still alive. Still there—only different now. Softer. Gentler. Human.
Castiel inhaled sharply. “It’s you. That warmth… it’s you.”
Dean looked down, cheeks flushing. “Yeah, well. I’m trying not to overwhelm you.”
“You are,” Castiel murmured, without accusation. “Just by existing.”
Dean laughed under his breath. “Okay. That’s—yeah, that’s new.”
Then Castiel shivered.
Dean’s smile vanished instantly. “Cold?”
“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted. “My body feels… uneven.”
Dean grabbed a blanket from the armchair and wrapped it around him. Castiel leaned into the warmth instinctively, startled by how quickly it steadied him.
Dean hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re gonna feel things. Everything’s louder. Heavier. Pain, warmth, hunger…”
“Hunger?”
At that exact moment, Castiel’s stomach growled—loudly.
Dean tried—tried so hard—not to laugh.
A snort escaped anyway.
Castiel’s eyes widened in horror. “Dean. Something is wrong with me.”
“That,” Dean said, wiping at his eyes, “was your stomach.”
Castiel looked betrayed. “It made a noise.”
“It does that,” Dean chuckled. “Means you need food.”
Castiel stared at him for a beat.
“Is… this what humans endure every day?”
Dean grinned. “Welcome to the club.”
But something gentler overtook his expression. He touched Castiel’s shoulder again—soft, grounding.
“You’re okay,” Dean said quietly. “Really.”
Castiel leaned closer without realizing it. “I feel… calm with you.”
Dean’s breath caught.
And for a moment—small, fragile, bright—they simply looked at each other.
Castiel’s eyes were new and not new; human and still somehow infinite. Dean saw the angel he loved in the man before him. And Castiel saw the soul he had chosen, looking at him now with awe and care.
Castiel whispered, “Dean… what happens now?”
Dean cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the warmth of living skin. “Now? We take it one step at a time.”
Castiel’s lips parted, soft and trembling. “Will you stay?”
Dean’s answer was barely breath. “Always.”
Castiel let his eyes fall shut, leaning into the touch as the human world settled around him—painful, clumsy, overwhelming… and safe.
Dean whispered, almost reverently:
“Cas… this is your first breath.”
And Castiel—the fallen, the reborn, the chosen—took it.