On Being Human
Title: On Being Human
Author familybizness
Summary: Castiel gets human lessons from four of his favorite humans. It's not easy.
Word Count: 1647
Author's Note: This takes place shortly after I Am Never Without It.
There are still days Sam kicks Castiel out - nicely, with a scratch behind the ear and an apologetic explanation that we need brother time. Dean’s less gentle about it and shoves him right out the door of their bedroom.
Christa works during the day, so Castiel spends these days with Kylie. She’s easy to get along with and seems to appreciate his company, but this is the first time he’s been around a child. It’s an adjustment.
“This is Rainbow Dash.” Kylie hands him a blue toy horse with rainbow hair. “She’s a badass.”
Castiel turns it over and over in his hands. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Play!”
He looks at the horse, back up at Kylie. There doesn’t seem to be anything to do with it. “I don’t understand.”
Kylie looks at him in consternation. “Don’t you know how to play?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
She picks up a blue and orange horse and says “RHEEE! I’m Spitfire! Come on, Rainbow Dash, let’s go visit Twilight Sparkle in the hospital!”
“Um…I’m Rainbow Dash. Yes, let’s do that.”
“Bring medicine.” She points at a container of candies on her bedside table.
“This is medicine?”
“Pre-TEND, Castiel!”
He makes his horse follow hers across the carpet. “Why is Twilight Sparkle in the hospital?”
“She had a heart attack.”
“Like Sam.”
“Uh-huh.” She gallops her horse over to a third one, lying on its side on the carpet. “Give her the medicine.”
“How?”
“Here.” She takes it and puts it on the carpet, and of course the toy doesn’t eat it. It’s a strange game she’s playing. and makes hers butt its head against it. “Do this, Castiel. This is how they say I love you.”
He does, and thinks of Sam’s sleepy head tucked under his chin, Sam’s uneven heart fluttering under his fingers like wings.
***
They don’t go to the grocery store because in the beginning it was too loud and bright and made Sam cry and now he’s too tired to go anywhere and Dean growls about everybody’s fucking hands all over everything, but Christa goes once every couple of weeks, and occasionally they send Castiel.
Lately he’s been going with her, mainly because the last time he was here on his own he came home with the greenest apples because Dean doesn’t like red (Dean really doesn’t like red, Sam can’t even wear his red sweater) and Christa rolled her eyes and said we have got to teach you how to buy fruit, Cas.
The way to buy fruit, it turns out, is by squeezing it to check the firmness and consistency, and she shows him how to clean it carefully before putting it in the refrigerator, because each piece has had a lot of hands on it and they don’t want a reaction. Obviously.
Sam can’t deal with the grocery store, but Castiel sort of likes it. There are things here he’s never tried, never even seen. “What’s that?”
Christa glances at it. “That’s hummus. Allergies.”
He moves down the display a little. “What’s that?”
“That’s fried chicken. Dean won’t want it in the house.”
“What’s this?”
“That’s an onion. Do you want it?”
He does. There’s something familiar and appealing about the smell. “Is it okay?”
“Totally safe.”
He puts it in the cart, and she laughs and shows him how to tie it up in a plastic bag. “Keep it clean.”
“Sam doesn’t like plastic bags.”
She frowns. “He doesn’t? That’s never come up.”
“They make him cagey.”
She doesn’t ask why. Sam’s triggers don’t always make sense. Dean’s are straightforward (carrots snapping remind him of bones) but Sam gets upset by things like inside-out socks and even he doesn’t know why. She takes the onion out of the bag.
“Can we have this?” He doesn’t even know what it is, but oh, it’s weird, sharp angles and strange textures and a pervasive scent that’s sharp and unfamiliar and he wants it.
“That’s crab, Cas.”
“Like on the beach.” He’s seen them, dodging in and out of their holes in the sand, but they’re smaller than this. “Can we have it?”
She gives him a sad little smile. “Honey, Sam’s allergic to seafood. And Dean won’t like getting the meat out.”
“Oh -“ Seafood. He knew that, he knew that, he just forgot. How could he have forgotten?
She hugs him a little, one arm wrapped around his waist. “It’s a lot, huh.”
“Yes.”
“You’re doing fine. Hey. Tell me something Sam likes to eat.”
He swallows. “Pears. They both love pears.”
They pick out five pears - bright green, a color that doesn’t scare anybody - and she lets him squeeze them and gauge their ripeness.
“Good job,” she says, and tells him to pick something from the gift section as a treat. He gets a stuffed parrot. For Sam.
***
It’s dark and the world is upside-down and that awful scream is reverberating inside his head. He’s flying (falling) and the world is rushing towards him, and there’s human in his arms but all the rhythms are wrong and things are breaking and falling apart and dying dying dying no. There’s a screaming feeling in his chest, in his throat, but when he opens his mouth it’s only a choke.
He can’t breathe in, he’s gagging so hard.
“Cas!” There’s the squash of something that doesn’t belong to this feeling in his hands, and Michael never called him Cas -
A gentle kiss on his temple, a husky breath in his ear. So human. “Sam.”
“What happened?” Sam’s rubbing his back, kissing the top of his head, warm arms, warm chest. Castiel rests against him (doesn’t lean on him) and listens to his heart. It’s slow, but not scary-slow. He matches his breathing to the beats. In-two-three. Out-two-three. Sam loves threes. Sam’s fine.
“I don’t know.” Looking up is too much. It’s safer here, tucked into Sam’s chest. That doesn’t make sense. He can’t protect Sam’s heart by shielding it because the attack isn’t coming from outside. He can’t get between Sam and danger.
Out-two-three.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Sam pulls back a little, but Castiel follows him. “Angel.”
“I don’t know. It was…confusing. I saw things. I…remembered things. But they were out of order…”
“Nightmare,” Sam diagnoses. “You need kisses.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Sometimes.”
“To you?”
Sam chuckles darkly. “Yeah.”
“Do I have to go back to sleep?” He doesn’t need to sleep, not really, but Sam and Dean and Christa love to pester him when he doesn’t, and having tried it, he does find it restful. Aside from which, it’s a perfect excuse to hold Sam for hours. Sam is safer in his arms. It doesn’t matter where the danger is. Sam is safer with Castiel.
Sam tilts his chin up with a finger and kisses him gently. It’s always gentle between them these days. “No, Cas. You don’t have to sleep anymore tonight.”
Sam teaches him Cat’s Cradle with a shoelace and they play until the sun is up.
***
Sam’s nightmares are like all Sam’s dreams (Castiel eavesdrops, he can’t help it) - all color and sound, nothing well defined. Nightmares are hard to identify. Sometimes he can tell by the colors - blues and browns, sometimes reds. Sometimes he can tell by the sounds, harsh and shrieky and sometimes noises that don’t exist in the world at all but will always live in Sam’s mind now (that awful scream).
One night it doesn’t seem like a nightmare at all, but Sam wakes up crying slow, heavy tears that are different from his usual crying and pushes Castiel away when he tries to hold him.
He needs brother time, maybe, so Castiel gets Dean and Dean sits on the bed and is different from his usual self. He doesn’t wrap his body around Sam’s, doesn’t make the quiet, frantic noises he thinks are soothing. He just rests a hand on Sam’s wrist until Sam eventually stops crying, dries his eyes on his sleeves, curls up on his side with his knees pulled close to his chest.
“What did he dream about?” Castiel follows Dean (probably too closely, but it’s important) into the kitchen once Sam’s asleep. “What was all that yellow?”
And Dean looks up at him so sadly and says, “that was about Jess.”
Castiel knows Sam is still in love with Jess. Why is Dean so sad? He’s going to see her again.
He says it all the time.
If they don’t get a heart, he’ll be with Jess.
He wants to be with Jess. It’s a good thing. It’s a consolation.
Why does it make him cry?
They’re soulmates, Sam and Jess, and he’s seen her in heaven before so he knows for sure, and he knows Dean will be there with him because Dean was there too. It’ll be the three of them. Together.
The three of them.
Sam and Dean and Jess.
And Castiel - he can visit them all the time, probably. Probably. It’s a matter of finding their heaven, but he’ll be able to find Sam, won’t he? He’ll always be able to find his Sam. There’s no point in thinking about thousands and thousands of years of - of -
Dean pushes a cup of tea into his hands. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice all rough and strange, and he rests a hand on Castiel’s wrist.
This is what dying is, for most of them. This aching fear of losing someone forever. This is why Kylie cries in her treehouse, why Christa’s quiet in the mornings now, why Dean won’t let anyone else so much as touch the heart transplant beeper.
This is why Sam cries for Jess.
Probably isn’t good enough. Someday isn’t good enough.
He finishes his tea and goes back to bed, wraps his arms around Sam, and counts the beats of his heart.
Author familybizness
Summary: Castiel gets human lessons from four of his favorite humans. It's not easy.
Word Count: 1647
Author's Note: This takes place shortly after I Am Never Without It.
There are still days Sam kicks Castiel out - nicely, with a scratch behind the ear and an apologetic explanation that we need brother time. Dean’s less gentle about it and shoves him right out the door of their bedroom.
Christa works during the day, so Castiel spends these days with Kylie. She’s easy to get along with and seems to appreciate his company, but this is the first time he’s been around a child. It’s an adjustment.
“This is Rainbow Dash.” Kylie hands him a blue toy horse with rainbow hair. “She’s a badass.”
Castiel turns it over and over in his hands. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Play!”
He looks at the horse, back up at Kylie. There doesn’t seem to be anything to do with it. “I don’t understand.”
Kylie looks at him in consternation. “Don’t you know how to play?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
She picks up a blue and orange horse and says “RHEEE! I’m Spitfire! Come on, Rainbow Dash, let’s go visit Twilight Sparkle in the hospital!”
“Um…I’m Rainbow Dash. Yes, let’s do that.”
“Bring medicine.” She points at a container of candies on her bedside table.
“This is medicine?”
“Pre-TEND, Castiel!”
He makes his horse follow hers across the carpet. “Why is Twilight Sparkle in the hospital?”
“She had a heart attack.”
“Like Sam.”
“Uh-huh.” She gallops her horse over to a third one, lying on its side on the carpet. “Give her the medicine.”
“How?”
“Here.” She takes it and puts it on the carpet, and of course the toy doesn’t eat it. It’s a strange game she’s playing. and makes hers butt its head against it. “Do this, Castiel. This is how they say I love you.”
He does, and thinks of Sam’s sleepy head tucked under his chin, Sam’s uneven heart fluttering under his fingers like wings.
***
They don’t go to the grocery store because in the beginning it was too loud and bright and made Sam cry and now he’s too tired to go anywhere and Dean growls about everybody’s fucking hands all over everything, but Christa goes once every couple of weeks, and occasionally they send Castiel.
Lately he’s been going with her, mainly because the last time he was here on his own he came home with the greenest apples because Dean doesn’t like red (Dean really doesn’t like red, Sam can’t even wear his red sweater) and Christa rolled her eyes and said we have got to teach you how to buy fruit, Cas.
The way to buy fruit, it turns out, is by squeezing it to check the firmness and consistency, and she shows him how to clean it carefully before putting it in the refrigerator, because each piece has had a lot of hands on it and they don’t want a reaction. Obviously.
Sam can’t deal with the grocery store, but Castiel sort of likes it. There are things here he’s never tried, never even seen. “What’s that?”
Christa glances at it. “That’s hummus. Allergies.”
He moves down the display a little. “What’s that?”
“That’s fried chicken. Dean won’t want it in the house.”
“What’s this?”
“That’s an onion. Do you want it?”
He does. There’s something familiar and appealing about the smell. “Is it okay?”
“Totally safe.”
He puts it in the cart, and she laughs and shows him how to tie it up in a plastic bag. “Keep it clean.”
“Sam doesn’t like plastic bags.”
She frowns. “He doesn’t? That’s never come up.”
“They make him cagey.”
She doesn’t ask why. Sam’s triggers don’t always make sense. Dean’s are straightforward (carrots snapping remind him of bones) but Sam gets upset by things like inside-out socks and even he doesn’t know why. She takes the onion out of the bag.
“Can we have this?” He doesn’t even know what it is, but oh, it’s weird, sharp angles and strange textures and a pervasive scent that’s sharp and unfamiliar and he wants it.
“That’s crab, Cas.”
“Like on the beach.” He’s seen them, dodging in and out of their holes in the sand, but they’re smaller than this. “Can we have it?”
She gives him a sad little smile. “Honey, Sam’s allergic to seafood. And Dean won’t like getting the meat out.”
“Oh -“ Seafood. He knew that, he knew that, he just forgot. How could he have forgotten?
She hugs him a little, one arm wrapped around his waist. “It’s a lot, huh.”
“Yes.”
“You’re doing fine. Hey. Tell me something Sam likes to eat.”
He swallows. “Pears. They both love pears.”
They pick out five pears - bright green, a color that doesn’t scare anybody - and she lets him squeeze them and gauge their ripeness.
“Good job,” she says, and tells him to pick something from the gift section as a treat. He gets a stuffed parrot. For Sam.
***
It’s dark and the world is upside-down and that awful scream is reverberating inside his head. He’s flying (falling) and the world is rushing towards him, and there’s human in his arms but all the rhythms are wrong and things are breaking and falling apart and dying dying dying no. There’s a screaming feeling in his chest, in his throat, but when he opens his mouth it’s only a choke.
He can’t breathe in, he’s gagging so hard.
“Cas!” There’s the squash of something that doesn’t belong to this feeling in his hands, and Michael never called him Cas -
A gentle kiss on his temple, a husky breath in his ear. So human. “Sam.”
“What happened?” Sam’s rubbing his back, kissing the top of his head, warm arms, warm chest. Castiel rests against him (doesn’t lean on him) and listens to his heart. It’s slow, but not scary-slow. He matches his breathing to the beats. In-two-three. Out-two-three. Sam loves threes. Sam’s fine.
“I don’t know.” Looking up is too much. It’s safer here, tucked into Sam’s chest. That doesn’t make sense. He can’t protect Sam’s heart by shielding it because the attack isn’t coming from outside. He can’t get between Sam and danger.
Out-two-three.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Sam pulls back a little, but Castiel follows him. “Angel.”
“I don’t know. It was…confusing. I saw things. I…remembered things. But they were out of order…”
“Nightmare,” Sam diagnoses. “You need kisses.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Sometimes.”
“To you?”
Sam chuckles darkly. “Yeah.”
“Do I have to go back to sleep?” He doesn’t need to sleep, not really, but Sam and Dean and Christa love to pester him when he doesn’t, and having tried it, he does find it restful. Aside from which, it’s a perfect excuse to hold Sam for hours. Sam is safer in his arms. It doesn’t matter where the danger is. Sam is safer with Castiel.
Sam tilts his chin up with a finger and kisses him gently. It’s always gentle between them these days. “No, Cas. You don’t have to sleep anymore tonight.”
Sam teaches him Cat’s Cradle with a shoelace and they play until the sun is up.
***
Sam’s nightmares are like all Sam’s dreams (Castiel eavesdrops, he can’t help it) - all color and sound, nothing well defined. Nightmares are hard to identify. Sometimes he can tell by the colors - blues and browns, sometimes reds. Sometimes he can tell by the sounds, harsh and shrieky and sometimes noises that don’t exist in the world at all but will always live in Sam’s mind now (that awful scream).
One night it doesn’t seem like a nightmare at all, but Sam wakes up crying slow, heavy tears that are different from his usual crying and pushes Castiel away when he tries to hold him.
He needs brother time, maybe, so Castiel gets Dean and Dean sits on the bed and is different from his usual self. He doesn’t wrap his body around Sam’s, doesn’t make the quiet, frantic noises he thinks are soothing. He just rests a hand on Sam’s wrist until Sam eventually stops crying, dries his eyes on his sleeves, curls up on his side with his knees pulled close to his chest.
“What did he dream about?” Castiel follows Dean (probably too closely, but it’s important) into the kitchen once Sam’s asleep. “What was all that yellow?”
And Dean looks up at him so sadly and says, “that was about Jess.”
Castiel knows Sam is still in love with Jess. Why is Dean so sad? He’s going to see her again.
He says it all the time.
If they don’t get a heart, he’ll be with Jess.
He wants to be with Jess. It’s a good thing. It’s a consolation.
Why does it make him cry?
They’re soulmates, Sam and Jess, and he’s seen her in heaven before so he knows for sure, and he knows Dean will be there with him because Dean was there too. It’ll be the three of them. Together.
The three of them.
Sam and Dean and Jess.
And Castiel - he can visit them all the time, probably. Probably. It’s a matter of finding their heaven, but he’ll be able to find Sam, won’t he? He’ll always be able to find his Sam. There’s no point in thinking about thousands and thousands of years of - of -
Dean pushes a cup of tea into his hands. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice all rough and strange, and he rests a hand on Castiel’s wrist.
This is what dying is, for most of them. This aching fear of losing someone forever. This is why Kylie cries in her treehouse, why Christa’s quiet in the mornings now, why Dean won’t let anyone else so much as touch the heart transplant beeper.
This is why Sam cries for Jess.
Probably isn’t good enough. Someday isn’t good enough.
He finishes his tea and goes back to bed, wraps his arms around Sam, and counts the beats of his heart.