A/N: Admittedly, one of the shortest oneshots I've ever written.

I hope you enjoy it anyway ^^

It was as normal a day as any when Castiel decided that being human was okay.

His grace had dissolved long ago, leaving him trapped in the body of a long-dead man with no link to Heaven and not a drop of angel to spare, and at first he'd battled the idea of being human. He didn't know how, and it scared him. But as the days went by and Castiel marveled at the peace brought on by the silence in his mind, and the warmth of the sun, and the smell of the sea, he stopped caring as much.

And he soon found that he liked being human; living and breathing with a heart beating in his chest. It was different. And while it scared him at first, he knew he'd be okay, because Sam and Dean were there with him, and they promised to help. So as the months passed they taught him etiquette and what to say and how to act around others. They showed him the exhilaration of emotions like joy and excitement and wonder, and how they could be exhilarating even when it came to the negative ones like fear and anger and jealousy. They introduced him to new foods, showed him TV shows, explained the internet, taught him slang, and in the end, when Castiel understood more how to be human and less how to be angel, they had him memorizing Latin exorcisms and how to shoot a gun.

"You can hunt with us now," Dean said when they'd both finally decided that Cas was ready.

The ex-angel smiled in response. He liked to smile. It was new and unexplored – fresh, like a blossom just emerged from soil rich with winter's melted snow. And Dean smiled back. Sam watched them quietly, rolling his eyes and wondering when they'd finally cut to the chorus, but neither noticed.

Their days continued on like that; peaceful, simple. Hunt after hunt, with fewer in between and further apart. Castiel liked riding in the backseat of the Impala with Dean tapping along to Led Zeppelin in the front and Sam quietly reading as always. He often asked if he could roll the window down, enjoying the feel of the cool air on his face and in the dark, tangled locks of his hair. It had grown since he'd cut it last, and for the moment he liked the way it tickled the back of his neck, so he kept it that way.

His trench coat was a thing of the past now, locked away in the back of the Impala's trunk like a memory waiting to be remembered. Castiel had given it up when he'd gone completely human, not liking the guilt it dug up every time he saw it; the memories of Heaven and grace and the last two thousand years of his life. So when he'd gotten rid of the old thing it had felt liberating somehow, as if now he could finally do something with his life.

He'd forgotten what it was to be an angel, but oddly enough, he didn't care. He liked being human.