Hello, dear readers :)
This fic will be one of those slow burn sexual and romantic tension type ones and I know it's really slow moving and detailed but I just felt like writing it that way. It's mostly canon-compliant up until the angels falling, I've just erased the whole Hael and April thing and imagined that Cas had very little drama getting to the bunker after becoming human. The Gadreel storyline is still present but not quite the same, just because I always thought certain aspects of that were kinda odd anyway.
I really hope you enjoy this! If you do, please leave me a review, it doesn't have to be a long one but they do mean a lot to me. Feel free to leave constructive criticism if you DON'T enjoy it too! All feedback is eagerly welcomed.

The nightmares start on the first night I'm in the bunker. It's not the first time I've slept as a human, but the other time was almost forty eight hours after the angels fell, when I finally succumbed to physical exhaustion in a random bus shelter. So that time was less falling asleep, more passing out.

Dean is apologetic when he finally comes to get me, late in the evening of my third day after becoming human. He only does so once I get within a few hours' drive of the bunker. He explains why, outlining the situation with Ezekiel and Sam, warning me that it has to be a secret for now. I'm wary and confused and shamefully, a little jealous that another angel has entered the lives of my human family and helped them where I no longer can. But Sam will die otherwise. Dean and I can definitely agree on that not being an option.

Kevin isn't there when we arrive at the bunker. Dean explains that he's away on a trip because he was feeling claustrophobic, and that he should be back in a few days. I can see the worry in his eyes when he talks about the troubled young prophet, but there was never much I could do for Kevin even when I was still in full power. After taking a much needed shower, very clumsily, and recounting my hitchhiking adventure to Dean and Sam (and apparently Ezekiel), I find that my eyelids are drooping. Dean squeezes my shoulder gently and smiles his fondest smile; it always gives me an odd, softening sort of feeling, which is only more intense as a human.

"Sleepy?" he asks teasingly. I nod and then frown.

"How does one go to sleep properly? Is there a night time ritual before going to bed? I'm sure there is."

Dean chuckles, green eyes amused. "I guess brushing teeth and changing clothes is the main stuff?"

Sam pipes up from across the table. "You do know how to brush your teeth, right Cas?"

I shake my head slowly and the brothers look at each other, grinning. "Aw, bless."

They take me to the bathroom, find me a spare toothbrush and show me how to squeeze out the right amount of toothpaste, use the correct angles and pressure on my teeth, and how to spit and rinse. Wiping my mouth and marveling at the tingling freshness inside it, I thank them with a smile. Dean hesitantly reaches out and wipes a smear of stray toothpaste away from my chin with a rough thumb. I feel my head growing oddly light as his eyes hold mine; that's new. I can sense that I'm blushing, which I was always able to stop at will when I had my grace. That's new. Sam sniggers at us. That's not new.

Dean seems in a hurry to leave after that, so after I've performed the unpleasant task of using the toilet, Sam shows me to a spare bedroom. I'm wearing the boxers, old jeans and thin t-shirt that one of the brothers left for me in the bathroom after my shower. The shirt must be Dean's because it has a rock band logo on it. I gaze at Sam the whole time he's speaking, trying to discern any sign of my old ally Ezekiel, but the angel inside the flesh is well hidden. I hope he's doing a good job of healing Sam.

I pull the jeans off in the stark, box-like spare room that Sam's left me in, yawning uncontrollably as I crawl underneath the sheets and switch off the bedside lamp. A dark, heavy feeling is rolling over me as I close my aching eyes. It scares me a little, but I try to relax.

The next thing I'm fully aware of is sitting upright in the bed, sweating and shaking and gasping. The fear and horror pulsing through me is overwhelming. The images still swimming through my mind are memories, my worst memories, of all the times I've killed my own brethren, all the pain I've caused. But mixed in are visions which I know aren't real. The most vivid one of these is Dean, mangled and dead in my arms, his soul swallowed up again by Hell with me powerless to go and save it.

I scramble out of bed, not sure what I'm doing but feeling what must be panic. My body is weak and trembling and I'm cold, yet sweaty. This can't be how sleep is for all humans, a parade of nightmarish images and emotions...

I freeze. Of course, a nightmare. A bad dream. I've heard of them, but I never realised how torturous they were. How do humans sleep if they get nightmares? All the dark, crippling things in my mind have just attacked me at once and as I'm rapidly realising, being human comes with a much looser grip on my reactions. I feel tears choking me, blinding me as I stumble towards the door, barely able to drag in a breath before I yank it open and stagger up the hallway. Logically, I know that the bedroom is not the source of the terror, but logic doesn't seem to reach me as well now that my grace is gone. I come to halt after turning the corner and I slump against a door, hitting it more heavily than I meant to.

Leaning against the solid surface, I take deep breaths and unsteadily wipe the tears away from my face, swallowing. I'm just starting to feel like I'm definitely calming down when the door opens abruptly and I yell with shock as I fall through it, flailing wildly.

Strong arms catch me and I'm left hanging limply from them, eyes squeezed shut and heart hammering loudly in my ears. I never allowed it to beat this fast as an angel and it feels like it might stop at any moment. I'm suddenly hit with how fragile and breakable and vulnerable I am and I gasp out a sob, fresh tears stinging my eyes. What is happening? Is this the normal human experience? It's ridiculous.

"Cas?" Dean's familiar voice makes my eyes snap open and I scramble upright, grabbing handfuls of his shirt as I twist to face him. His eyes glow with the faintest green imaginable in the dim lighting from his bedside lamp and he's staring at me with shock and suspicion. I yank him closer until we're almost nose to nose. I'm not sure why; I'm just intensely glad to see him and I'm not currently able to control the old, deep-seated need to be physically near him. Dean is everything that's good in my life, and he knows how to be human. He'll help me.

His eyes are wide open and I hear his breath catch. His hands are still on my elbows, fingers digging in. He swallows, gaze fixed on mine, and leans back a few inches.

"What's going on?" he asks urgently. I sniff and slowly release one hand from his shirt, knowing that I've left the thin cotton damp with sweat. It's not even a warm night. Why would I be sweating? Nothing about my reaction to my nightmare is making much sense to me. Smearing my tears across my cheekbone with the heel of my palm, I take a deep breath, staring down at Dean's broad chest.

"I had a nightmare," I mumble, my voice thick and shaky. I glance back up at Dean and uncurl my other fist from his shirt, wiping it hastily on my own and then repeating my attempt to dash away my tears. He's staring at me with his mouth slightly open, his expression torn between disbelief and concern. Finally, his shoulders relax and he looks me up and down.

"You had a nightmare?" he repeats. I nod miserably. I'm starting to think more clearly and I can see that I've overreacted. Nightmares must be a fairly typical part of sleeping. I mutter an apology, feeling humiliated, and I try to step back but Dean's grip on my upper arms stops me. He speaks sadly, eyes full of sympathy.

"No, Cas, it's OK. Nightmares suck. If you've never had one before... Well, with the shit you've been through, it must have been bad."

The worst image hits me again, Dean lost and suffering beyond my reach, and I feel myself crumple, unable to hold back the damnable tears. How do the Winchesters keep such tight reins on their emotions? I feel like I have no control whatsoever. I choke in surprise as Dean abruptly pulls me into a hug, one arm tight around my upper back and the other hand warm on the back of my head. He whispers my name into my hair and rocks me gently and I screw up my face into his shoulder, throwing my arms around his waist, feeling his torso firm and reassuring against mine. We stand like that for what feels like a long time, but when he pulls away it's too soon.

"You're a mess," Dean informs me with a little smile, but I actually feel much better. I don't know what my facial expression is as I stare at him, but he clears his throat and looks away, dropping his hands from my elbows.

"Thank you," I murmur, only realising after I say it that it sounds like I'm thanking him for calling me a mess; I meant to thank him for the comfort. I take a shuddering breath and wrap my arms around myself, blinking away the stray tears left on my eyelashes. My mouth tastes of salt, my eyes feel sticky and achy and the cold air is making me shiver without Dean's arms around me. He's gazing at me with clear concern and I stare back, waiting for him to dismiss me as always. The thought upsets me more than usual but I can't seem to remember how to mask the sadness in my eyes. It used to be so easy.

"I've never seen you like this, man," he finally says, rubbing nervous hands on his boxer-clad thighs. "Not even close. Never even seen you cry. Being human is pretty rough for you, huh?"

I shrug wearily. "I'm just having control issues. I used to be able to keep it all locked up. Now that I'm human, it's like I'm ruled by everything I feel. I'm sorry, Dean, you're right... I'm a mess."

My voice is hoarse and to my deep annoyance, I feel even more tears gather. I dash them away angrily, sighing loudly, then run a hand through my hair. The tugging on my scalp feels good and clears my mind a little, so I do it again with both hands, shutting my eyes and drawing in a steady breath through my mouth. When I drop my hands and open my eyes I feel a little calmer, but Dean is staring at me with a blank, distracted look on his face. I tilt my head at him, concerned.

"Dean, are you alright?"

He blinks and clears his throat again. "Yeah. Yeah. So, you OK to go back to bed now?"

The fear creeps up again before I can brace myself and I twist my fingers together as I glance back up the hallway towards my bedroom. I don't want to go back. I want to stay here. Dean makes me feel better than anything else. I look back up at him, eyes pleading, and he begins to shake his head, stepping back.

"Oh, no, Cas..."

"Please," I interrupt him, unable to stop myself. It's shameful that I'm begging but Dean has been reducing me to this since we met, it's just never been so obvious before. He frowns at me, looking pained, then sighs and nods shortly, turning on his heel and stalking towards his bed. Sagging with relief, I close the door behind me and almost jog to the other side of the bed, sliding under the covers just as he does. I feel much more selfish as a human, probably because I'm much more vulnerable, so I break one of Dean's sacred rules without a second thought.

Screw personal space.

As soon as he lies back against the pillow, I scoot over until my entire side is pressed against his and I'm bathed in his warmth and his familiar-yet-new scent. He tenses and mutters a protest but I ignore him. It's not like we're cuddling, I have enough control to stop myself from being that needy. Folding my hands across my stomach, I close my eyes and relax my tired muscles, breathing deeply and evenly. After several minutes, the body next to me does the same.

I smile freely in the dark, my wayward emotions swinging dizzily from fear and panic into utter contentment. This is where I want to be.