Chapter Text
Wandering into the kitchen of the old Men Of Letters bunker, Dean let out a low whistle.
"You just gonna sit there all night, buddy?"
Cas flinched, he hadn't noticed Dean entering the room. He stared up at him with wide eyes, circled darkly and bloodshot somewhat.
"What else would I do?" he asked blankly. Dean swayed slightly, replying with raised eyebrows, "Hell, I don't know, Cas, sleep maybe? You are human now, yknow that. You gotta act like one. "
Castiel forced a smirk, "That's funny. Because the only humans I know don't exactly set a shining example of a healthy sleep schedule"
Dean chuckled, shaking his head, and left the room. "Just try and get your four hours, kay? Don't want you being a moody bitch in the morning"
Watching him leave, Cas knew that this was just Dean's way of getting him to take care of himself but Dean didn't get it. Castiel didn't deserve to sleep. He wrapped his trenchcoat around himself, retreating into its warmth and familiarity.
What good was the "angel friend" if he wasn't even an angel anymore? Dean had said it himself, Cas without powers was just a "baby in a trenchcoat". He was weak now, tethered to fatigue and sickness, tiredness, hunger, and mortality.
Memories of the countless occasions when the Winchesters had needed him to teleport or heal or fight or just be an angel played and replayed in Castiel's head.
None of that would ever happen again.
Allowing himself to imagine a warm bed, sheets, pillows, and sleep, would be an indulgence he wasn't worthy of. Where would he even sleep? An image flashed for a split second in Cas's mind of himself and Dean intertwined in Dean's bed, peaceful, comfortable.
Cas dug his fingernails into his palm, shame creeping over him. How dare he want to be comforted, when he could offer no comfort to anyone who needed him, he could offer them nothing. Never had he felt so powerless.
He leaned his head back on the chair and closed his eyes, gripping his arms so tight it hurt to stop himself from sleeping, from retreating into the luxury that proved the fragility of his new nature as a human.
A single word echoed through his mind, " useless, useless, useless.... "
»»——⍟——««
Then it was morning. So suddenly, like a fish hook to the chest, yanking Castiel out of the dark ocean of unconsciousness. It was the sound of Sam clattering around the kitchen, waking Cas up with a start.
Guilt spread through his whole body, had he been sleeping? He didn't even have the self-control to stay awake?
Sam was putting slices of bread into the toaster but turned when he saw that Castiel was awake.
"Morning, Cas, did you sleep okay?"
Cas didn't have the energy to make a remark about how since it was the first time he'd ever slept, he didn't have much past experience to compare it to.
"I- yes. Good morning, Sam"
A weird feeling was beginning to grow in Castiel's stomach. Could this be hunger?
Leaning on the counter, Sam suppressed a wince.
Mind leaping back to the events of the evening before, Cas remembered Sam being struck hard by a spell from a witch in the coven that had cursed Cas with humanity. Sam had been flung back against a wall, his head hitting it with a sickening crack.
"Are you alright? You were hurt by the witches last night." Cas asked, a lump rising in his throat.
Sam blinked as if he was trying to remember what happened, "It's just a bit sore, that's all. It's fine, I'm fine. Is Dean up yet?", he changed the subject, as if he didn't know that Dean never rose before 10 am at least.
A cold feeling spread from Castiel's spine. He would have been able to heal Sam. He should have been able to. But no, another example of all the ways in which he lacked control. Lacked purpose. Cas was quiet, remembering the times he had been able to heal the Winchesters, running through each memory, editing them into scenarios in which he was human and powerless to help.
Sam was watching him from the corner of his eye, thinking that Cas wouldn't notice.
At that moment, the toast sprang up from the toaster, and Sam, grateful for the way the sound cut through the tension of the awkward pause, tossed a slice onto a plate and placed it in front of Castiel. "Ever tried food before? it's pretty good."
Cas picked up the toast and stared at it for a long time, thinking. Would an angel eat that? No. Angels didn't sully their divine bodies with things as trivial as food. Cas remembered the times he'd been offered food before, "No thank you, I don't eat", he'd said. What he wouldn't give to be able to say that to Sam right now. To comfort him with the knowledge that Cas was still a pure, angelic being, still powerful, still purposeful, still in control. Eating in front of someone he loved felt like sin, to remind them of the futility of Castiel's existence. No, Cas wouldn't take their food, it was the least he could do.
"Thank you, Sam. But I'm not hungry."