The morning of Castiel's first night in Sam's old bedroom, Dean was in the kitchen cooking breakfast and whistling some forgotten tune. He flipped fried eggs with his spatula and then set the utensil aside.

"Cas! Get up, will ya?" he called, opening the cupboard next to him and taking out two plates. He popped two pieces of bread into the toaster. He abandoned the food after making sure the eggs weren't burning to stand by the foot of the stairs. "We've got a long day ahead of us!" He hurried back to the stove and flopped the eggs onto their respective plates.

Castiel stumbled into the kitchen just as Dean had finished with their toast.

Dean smiled at him. "Took you long enough," he said, plate in each hand.

The ex-angel rolled his eyes.

Dean raised his eyebrows, then squeezed past the late riser in the tiny kitchen to get to

the dining table. He set their plates across from each other and went back into the kitchen to pour them their drinks.

"Dean," Castiel started, voice rough with sleep. "I've come to the conclusion that seven

a.m. is too early to wake up."

Dean snorted, arriving back at their table with a cup of orange juice and a mug full of coffee. He put the orange juice in front of Castiel's food. "You're such a freaking teenager, Cas. People get up this early all the time. Most people have to get up earlier even." He bit into his breakfast.

Frowning, Castiel followed Dean's lead and started to eat. He winced, choked it down, and then asked; "Why?"

"To get to work." Dean picked up his mug and sipped the bitter substance. "Some people have to open stores, and depending on the store, have to get there before six."

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. "Is that why you always leave so early?"

"Biggerson's is open 24/7," Dean stated.

Eyebrows still furrowed, frown still in place, Castiel slowly nodded. He looked away from Dean and stared at the orange liquid in his glass. He carefully picked it up and hesitated a moment before actually drinking it.

Castiel jerked the glass away from him and scrunched up his nose.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You, uh... You good?"

Castiel shook his head, setting the glass down. "It feels acidic on my tongue."

Dean grinned, setting his fork onto the plate. He reached over and grabbed Castiel's cup. "Not an orange juice fan, huh?" He took it over to the sink and dumped it out, rinsing the cup until all of the juice was gone. This time, he filled the glass with water. "Here, we'll stick with the basics."

Castiel took the water from him. "Dean, what is it that we're doing today? I already have all the clothes I need."

Dean got comfortable in his seat again. "We," he said, pointing his fork at Castiel, "are going to socialize." He started eating again.

"Socialize?"

"Yeah, man. Humans are very sociable creatures," Dean explained. "We go crazy if we're isolated too long. It's why solitary confinement is so psychologically devastating."

Castiel still looked unsure. "I don't think this is very wise. My 'people skills' are rusty," he said, actually using air quotes.

Dean smiled at him. "That's exactly why we're doing this."

Frowning, Castiel looked down at his food. The two continued to eat in silence after that.

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

The sun enveloped them in heat the second they stepped out of the car. They stood in front of a person's house, their driveway full of various items and people wandering around. Castiel waited for Dean to get around the car and approach him before walking onto this stranger's property.

"Why are we invading someone else's privacy?" Castiel asked.

"Because they invited us," Dean stated. "We're at a yard sale. People host these things on the weekends to get rid of any shit they don't want."

Castiel frowned.

"Hey, sometimes there are some pretty cool stuff at these things," said Dean. He surveyed the tables until his eyes landed on a pile of movies. "Like that!" He walked over to them and grinned, looking through the titles. He snatched up a few movies, showing their covers to Castiel.

The ex-angel stared at them. 'In The Line of Fire,' 'Space Cowboys,' 'The Beguiled,' 'Tightrope,' and 'Two Mules For Sister Sara' had been shoved in his face. Slowly, he reached up and took the movies from Dean.

The next thing that was handed to him was Dean's wallet. "Here," Dean said, "go pay for these over there." He nodded his head in the direction of a man sitting under the shade of a tarp.

"You're not coming with me?"

"Nope."

Castiel's frown deepened.

"C'mon, Cas. We're taking baby steps here. All you gotta do is say 'I'd like these' and hand him the cash. It's easy."

Looking between the movies and the man, Castiel didn't show any signs of excitement. Even so, he nodded and said, "Okay."

Dean grinned. "Atta boy." He gave Castiel an encouraging pat on the back. "You get 'em, tiger."

Eyebrows drawn inward, head tilted, and eyes narrowed, Castiel stared at Dean for a moment. Then, straightening his posture, he turned and walked over to the man.

Dean followed from a distance, pretending to look interested in a lamp that was for sale. It was long, skinny, and silver. There was a sticky note attached to it, clearly written by a young child, that labeled the lamp as a 'light stick.'

"I'd, I'd like these." He displayed the movies to him and then held out the wallet. "Please."

The guy raised his eyebrows. An easy smile slid across his face. "Clint Eastwood fan?" He asked.

"Who?"

Laughing, the man on the chair shook his head. "Nothing, man, that'll be fifteen."

"I only have one wallet."

"Uh... Fifteen dollars."

Castiel looked to Dean for help, who was now rummaging through a box of cassette tapes. He glanced up and they made eye contact. Dean rolled his eyes and set the tapes back down.

"There you are!" he said, putting a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Jeez, you were taking way too long." He looked over at the guy and smiled. "How much did you say these were?"

"Fifteen dollars," the guy said again.

Dean nodded and took his wallet back, taking out a ten and a five and handing it over. He forced a smile. "Have a good one, man."

"Uh, yeah, you too."

Slinging an arm around Castiel, Dean forcibly guided him back to the car.

Once they were inside the safety of Baby, Castiel turned to Dean. "I don't understand," he said. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Well, for starters, the guy wanted fifteen dollars, not fifteen wallets."

"Oh."

"Yard sales aren't the best places for conversations anyway." Dean drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. "I don't think I can really afford to go out anywhere else," he mumbled, more to himself than to Castiel. "I was thinking f going to a strip club or a bar again, but I already spent so much yesterday, too."

"Dean, do not ever feel like you need to spend money on my behalf."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Cas, come on, you're family. In a really weird, kind of creepy sort of way. And family spoils each other." At least, Dean's vision of what a real family looked like did.

Castiel didn't respond. Instead, he turned to stare out the window with a very small smile on his face.

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

The boys got through three Clint Eastwood movies and four bags of popcorn when they fnally decided it was time to turn in for the night. Dean was fast asleep, but Castiel had laid in Sam's old bed staring at the ceiling for about two hours before realizing he wasn't going to sleep.

The clock told him it was two in the morning. He was as wide awake as he would have been at two in the afternoon. He didn't seem to be bothered by this transformation, not when he was distracted by Dean. Dean's earthy eyes. Dean's barely there freckles. Dean's perfect hair. Turning human was okay, because he had Dean.

In the dark hours of the night, though, when he had nothing much else to think about except for this new feeling or mortality, those moments were when it really got to him.

Slowly, he set up from the bed and stared down at his lap. It was too dark to see much other than an outline of his legs and his hands folded on top of them. Eventually he pushed the covers away and stood. Suddenly much more energized, he walked at a fast pace across the hall to Dean's room.

Pushing the door open, he called Dean's name and the man awoke instantly.

"Dean," Castiel said. "I, I'm really turning human."

Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not fully registering what Castiel had said to him. "What?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "Dude, it's a little bit late to be having this humanity crisis, don't you think? You've been turning human for a while now."

"This 'humanity crisis' has been the subject of my thoughts every night, and as far as I'm aware, humans tend to bottle up their emotions until they finally overflow and everything is forced out. I'm... 'overflowing.'"

Dean stared at him. "Now you just sound weird."

"Dean. We need to grant your wish. If not now, then soon."

"Cas, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't have a wish."

Castiel dragged his hands down his face, something he'd seen Dean do in the past. "If i don't grant your wish, I've failed my duty as a guardian angel. If I fail this job, I lose my rights as an angel," he told him. "I'll become human. I'll lose my Grace. I'll fall. There's no coming back from a fall."

Dean scowled. "So this is all just a job to you. Damn it, Cas, I thought you actually cared about me!" He shoved the covers away and got out of bed. "I thought we were family."

Taking a deep breath, Castiel tried to calm himself down. "Dean," he said through clenched teeth. "We are family and I do care about you. But have you ever stopped to think about what I've been going through? All of these new experiences, you don't just get over something like this."

"You think I don't feel like shit? For what I've done to you? What I've put Sam through? I've put him through years of crap-"

"This isn't about Sam!" Castiel shouted. "Sam's getting his life back together. Sam knows you're not the reason for what's happened in his life and he certainly doesn't resent you for it. What you're doing right now is making up excuses for you to hate yourself."

"Yeah, well, you hate me too, don't you?" Dean retorted. He turned around and opened the drawer by his bedside table. Reaching in, he retrieved the angel blade Castiel had given him. "Take this thing back," he said, handing it over. "If you're so upset about me not having a wish, just get it over with."

Castiel stared at it. Then, hesitantly, he walked closer to Dean and took it from his hands, careful to not brush their fingers together. He shook his head. "I don't get it," he said. "How can one person be so selfless and selfish at the same time?" His hold on the angel blade tightened and then lifted his gaze to look at Dean. "I'm not going to kill you. You might think you're worthless, but I know you aren't." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I've been an angel for millenia. I am begging you to search for something you desperately need. Anything as desirable as the safety of Sam."

"You know, you keep telling me the same thing over and over. Look for something I want. And I don't know how you don't understand this simple statement, but I can't think of anything as important as my baby brother. Not a goddamn thing." He narrowed his eyes. "So don't you go blaming me for the fact that you can't do your goddamn job."

"My job requires your cooperation."

"Damn, Cas!" He turned around and smacked the lamp off of his desk. It flew across the room and crashed into the wall. "I wasn't the one who was ten years late! You think I'm not just as pissed off as you are?" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You think I want you to lose everything you've ever lived for?"

Silence.

When Dean turned back around, Castiel was nowhere in sight. The room was quiet, save for the blood rushing in Dean's ears. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. You wanna mojo your way out of this one, be my guest."