Dean notices that Cas eats with them. That is the first sign.

Dean watches Castiel devour things with unrelenting ferocity, like a starving lion on top of a gazelle, burgers, sandwiches, ribs, fries, salads, anything put in front of him, down the hatch it goes.

And Dean listens to him throw it up soon after, in the bathroom, behind a locked door. Dean has taken to sitting outside the bathroom on the grubby carpets of their motels whenever Castiel goes in, listening for retching and choking. He closes his eyes and listens to the angel… ex-angel, cough and sputter, breathing hard.

And whenever Castiel comes out, vomit on his breath, Dean asks if he is OK.

He never says anything but yes.

xXx

Castiel begins riding in the Impala without asking.

No one tells him he needs to find his own wheels. They invite him in, let them into their mobile home of a classic car. He sits in the backseat, hands folded on his lap contently, looking blankly out the window. Sometimes he closes his eyes, and Sam swears the angel… ex-angel Sam reminds himself, is imagining that the wind from the open window is wind Castiel is flying through.

'How are you doing back there Cas?' Sam says one day, twisting in the seat to look at their blue-eyed passenger.

He sees Castiel fast asleep, a flicker of drool seeping onto the seat, hair flapping in dangerous spears on the wind. Dean looks at him, Sam looks back, eyes wide, mouth a thin and sinister line.

'He's falling.' Dean says, and Sam hears the thickness in his voice, the hitch in his brother's throat.

For Dean, the words are glass.

For Sam, the words are painful

For Castiel? He can't hear them. He is dreaming of a garden, with blooming yellow daisies and flourishing red roses, snapdragons and deep lilacs. There are bees, and dragonflies and sunshine. Castiel is warm, and happy.

This is the first dream he ever has.

xXx

'Dean what are we gonna do?' Sam asks, rubbing his hands over his eyes, groaning. He has a headache.

Inside the motel, Castiel is asleep on a bed, tightly nestled underneath the covers, snuggling a pillow. They had to carry him in, like a parent might carry a sleeping child to bed.

'What we have to.' Dean says, downing his… 5th?... beer, his head not yet heavy enough to buy him a one way ticket to Dreamsville. The parking lot is empty, the only noise if the shiny cars whispering bouncing lights to each other.

'Yeah, but Dean what does that mean?' Sam is getting angry, his fists are clenching. He is angry at Castiel for falling in such a way, angry at Dean for absently and mindlessly watching.

'That means we take him to Bobby's. Figure things out there.'

'And what? Stop hunting? Take care of him while he changes to human? Hold his hair back while he spews everything he eats into the toilet? He isn't a child Dean!'

Behind them, the door to the motel room opens and a tired looking Castiel blinks up at them sleepily. He looks small and childish and exhausted.

'Hey Cas.' Dean says, taking a few steps closer. He's using his 'child-voice', the one he uses on kids in distress. 'What are you doing up?'

Castiel looks at him blearily. 'I heard talking. It woke me up.' He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffing.

'Go back to bed. Sleep some more, we'll try to keep it down.'

Castiel's head bobs up and down and he stumbles back to the bed, flopping down like the hard mattress is Heaven. Dean closes the door with a soft click.

'Bobby's place in the morning. I'll call ahead to see if it's OK if we crash there for a little while. But, please, Sammy, help me out with this one. I think something bigger is wrong with him. I think he's falling too hard.'

Sam nods stiffly, eyes peeking through the open blinds to see Castiel shift in his sleep.

Sam wonders if Dean will share the bed with the angel… Sam sighs… ex-angel…

xXx

AN: What do you guys think? Should I keep going? Let me know!