"They're Greek in origin," he murmured, his focus falling back on his mind as he searched for the possibilities, "It's not impossible for one to have made it's way over, though it would be uncommon."
It could be a great number of other things, but at this point, Castile wasn't to worried about their future target. "We'll know more when we look into the disappearances."
"Perfect." And just his luck that'd be exactly what it was, too. A fucking Lamia. He didn't even know what that was! Dean sighed and rubbed his hand down his face, then grabbed the phone book.
"You might not need to eat, but I do," he said, then began flipping around for some local take out. Maybe pizza. Or Chinese? Yeah, Chinese sounded good, he could have the left overs for breakfast tomorrow.
"Are you ordering in?" His gaze passed over Dean's face as he slowly worked off the belt next. He was hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep if he could, even if that meant sleeping while Dean was eating.
He glanced around the room for a television, wondering if that too would become a sort of distraction.
"Well I'm certainly not going out this time a night," he replies, rolling his eyes, then sighs as he picks up his cell. "Yes, Cas, I'm ordering in. Chinese."
He watches for a moment as the angel gets comfortable and gets an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach at how tired Cas looks. Grabbing the remote for the tv from the side table, he tosses the thing onto Cas' bed. "Here, see if you can find something decent on."
He watches the remote land on the bed before reaching over to pick it up. He stays quiet as Dean makes his call and places his order, turning the tv on and turning the volume down low as he flips through the channels of various commercials and programs.
He eventually settles on a news program and lays back on the bed.
Once he's finished with the call he tosses his phone down and lays back on the bed, one arm tucked behind his bed on the pillow and the other draped idly across his stomach.
"...You sure you're feelin' okay, Cas?" Dean asks, because it bothers him. Angels aren't supposed to sleep - get tired or sore. They aren't supposed to feel pain yet he'd catch the angel wince every now and then when struck or striking something down with his fist. It's unnerving.
He lets out a sigh at the sound of Dean's voice, coming out more aggravated then intended before he forces himself to sit up and shuffle back to the headboard. He glances over, "No, but I thought it maybe be more preferable to lie in this situation than..."
He gestured loosely forward at nothing in particular, "I'm not sure how you manage to do this."
Really, really not what he wants to hear but okay, he'll deal with it. "What, being human? Kinda born this way, got used to it real quick," he says, but it doesn't sound irritated or snide, just worried.
"It's not fine and you know it." Dean sits up then and moves to sit at the edge of the bed, bracing his arms against his thighs. "We need you on this Cas and we need you all one hundred percent or there abouts, if there's a way to recharge you that isn't from the bastards upstairs, then you need to tell me what it is."
More than anything, Dean hates that there's a problem and he doesn't know how to fix it, how to help.
"Dean," his throat sounds worn even to his own ears, eyes making a slow sweep as he goes to meet Dean's gaze, "I'll adjust."
Because Grace didn't just come from any where and the idea of stealing more somehow, be it from his siblings or some other way seemed preposterous. If he was doomed to become human, that he would suffer through that change, even if it made him weaker and made the dynamic between them change. As much as it upset Castiel, he was okay with it. It was a better alternative than the Apocalypse.
"Cas, don't," and there's a hard edge to his voice when he says it. "You shouldn't have to adjust, you shouldn't.... dammit!" And somehow it feels like this is all his fault, that he dragged Cas into this mess. Angels aren't supposed to get involved like this and yet...
Dean huffs in irritation and runs his hand through his hair. "If there's another way, tell me. It doesn't mean we gotta do it, but I want to know." He has to.
The one thing that Castiel finds hasn't changed is his ability to read Dean, without having to pry into his mind. He gets it, he understands why he's saying those things and Castiel's expression softens and almost becomes more pleading.
"If I uncover anything, you'll be the first to know," But he doesn't want to offer theories. He doesn't want to send them wayward when there are bigger things, far bigger issues to take care of first. He wants to lean over and reassure Dean with a hand on his shoulder or leg, but knows he shouldn't, so he sits still and turns his attention back to the television instead, listening to the quiet voice announcing the weather in the area for the week.
Dean sighs and it's obvious he doesn't like this, not in the least, but nods regardless. "Yeah, sure okay. If you find anything Cas, anything, you tell me."
He drops it after that, can see how tired Cas looks and sounds - and it hurts. There's a knock on the door a moment later that has Dean up and to the window, checking it and then opening the door. The smell of food fills the room when he gets back to the bed as he lays out the food he bought.
"I'm sure," he reassures Dean, eyeing the food Dean has brought over but the smell nor sight seems to entice him. Instead he begins to unbutton his shirt, leaving only the t-shirt he wears underneath and folding up with the rest of his clothes.
His socks follow shortly after and then Cas is crawling under the sheets and putting the remote on the night table.
"Suit yourself," he says with a shrug as he pulls one of the containers out, checks it, and then begins eating. He watches every now and then, from the corner of his eye, the angel on the bed.
It bothers him like nothing else that Cas seems to be getting worse and worse as the days wear on. And when he's lost the last of his angel juice, then what? Will he become human? Go back to heaven? And if that, does it mean he'd never see Cas again?
No, no he definitely doesn't want that. Though he'd never admit it, Cas has become... important to him.
He curls up on his side, the sheet pulled up to his chin and he's aware that he doesn't need it that high or that it really serves little purpose as he doesn't feel differences in temperature all that much (at least not to a point where it affects his own) but it's comforting. His eyes are closed but he can feel Dean's drift to him every once and awhile, aware of how he worries and how much of a strain it inevitably places on him because of how Dean is.
At the same time, it's reassuring because Castiel is reminded that he isn't the only one left with strange emotions that he doesn't fully understand. He wishes he could open his eyes again and watch Dean like he had in the past but his lids feel far too heavy and he can't bring himself to lift them now that they are closed. He struggles to keep his mind conscious but that too slips away soon enough and Castiel finds himself in a realm of absence and soft breathing.
The soft even breath tells him that Cas is asleep and Dean hopes for what it's worth that it's peaceful enough, that it offers some rest to the worn angel. Once Dean's done with his food - or as much as he feels like eating - he puts the rest in the room's tiny fridge and cleans up, trying to be quiet.
Moving to his own bed again, he sits there and for once Dean is the one watching Cas sleep. He sits there for a long while, lips drawn in a thin line. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, because he is. Sorry that Cas got mixed up in their shit, sorry that this is happening to Cas. Just... sorry.
Running a hand down his face, Dean turns and lays down on the bed, facing the door and tries to go to sleep as well. It doesn't come easy.
Cas has yet to sleep where he experiences a dream, at least there are none that he can remember when he enters a state of consciousness in the morning though this time he comes the closest. He seems fleeting and once he opens his eyes, it's gone, left only with the strange sensation that there had been something there. It left him sitting up in his bed grasping at the ripples of it in his mind while light started to stream in from the window.
He glances over to Dean, seeing his shape in the bed next to him before slipping quietly out of his own to make his way into the kitchen. He wondered if they would have coffee here or if it was something Dean would get once they were back on the road. Castiel did his best to stay quiet while he filled the bottle of water with some from the tap.
He isn't even aware that Cas is already awake and up when he bolts awake, sits upright, a gasp on his lips that ebbs with an intake of breath. He shakes his head and rubs at his eyes. He had thought those dreams would have been long gone. It's been more than a year now and even still he dreams of Hell. Of being torn to shreds day after day after day, the smell of his own rotting flesh filling his nose. It doesn't make him sick anymore, the way it used to in the morning or whenever he'd wake.
Without looking, he reaches for his bag and pulls out his flask, takes a few nips from it, the tosses his down. When he lifts his head and looks over to check for Cas, he goes still at the empty bed, then lifts his gaze to where the angel is in the little kitchenette that could be called anything but.
Cas is staring at Dean when he wakes, he had been watching him before but the sudden change in his demeanor which had startled him. He was about to make his way over but stopped himself when Dean sat up.
"Good morning," He responded, voice no longer sounding as dry as it might have moments ago, "Water?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
noreferencesplz) wrote2012-11-08 07:19 pm
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"And uh, I don't think so?"
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It could be a great number of other things, but at this point, Castile wasn't to worried about their future target. "We'll know more when we look into the disappearances."
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"You might not need to eat, but I do," he said, then began flipping around for some local take out. Maybe pizza. Or Chinese? Yeah, Chinese sounded good, he could have the left overs for breakfast tomorrow.
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He glanced around the room for a television, wondering if that too would become a sort of distraction.
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He watches for a moment as the angel gets comfortable and gets an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach at how tired Cas looks. Grabbing the remote for the tv from the side table, he tosses the thing onto Cas' bed. "Here, see if you can find something decent on."
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He eventually settles on a news program and lays back on the bed.
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"...You sure you're feelin' okay, Cas?" Dean asks, because it bothers him. Angels aren't supposed to sleep - get tired or sore. They aren't supposed to feel pain yet he'd catch the angel wince every now and then when struck or striking something down with his fist. It's unnerving.
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He gestured loosely forward at nothing in particular, "I'm not sure how you manage to do this."
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"Anything you're having particular trouble with?"
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He stares across the room in an attempt to gather his thoughts before responding, "Energy or rather, maintaining my energy."
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"Is there any way for you to... to re-energize or re-mojo or somethin'?"
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He shook his head, feeling more and more cut off with each passing day.
"It's fine though, I'll adjust," because Dean had enough to worry about already.
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More than anything, Dean hates that there's a problem and he doesn't know how to fix it, how to help.
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Because Grace didn't just come from any where and the idea of stealing more somehow, be it from his siblings or some other way seemed preposterous. If he was doomed to become human, that he would suffer through that change, even if it made him weaker and made the dynamic between them change. As much as it upset Castiel, he was okay with it. It was a better alternative than the Apocalypse.
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Dean huffs in irritation and runs his hand through his hair. "If there's another way, tell me. It doesn't mean we gotta do it, but I want to know." He has to.
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"If I uncover anything, you'll be the first to know," But he doesn't want to offer theories. He doesn't want to send them wayward when there are bigger things, far bigger issues to take care of first. He wants to lean over and reassure Dean with a hand on his shoulder or leg, but knows he shouldn't, so he sits still and turns his attention back to the television instead, listening to the quiet voice announcing the weather in the area for the week.
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He drops it after that, can see how tired Cas looks and sounds - and it hurts. There's a knock on the door a moment later that has Dean up and to the window, checking it and then opening the door. The smell of food fills the room when he gets back to the bed as he lays out the food he bought.
"Sure you don't want any?"
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His socks follow shortly after and then Cas is crawling under the sheets and putting the remote on the night table.
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It bothers him like nothing else that Cas seems to be getting worse and worse as the days wear on. And when he's lost the last of his angel juice, then what? Will he become human? Go back to heaven? And if that, does it mean he'd never see Cas again?
No, no he definitely doesn't want that. Though he'd never admit it, Cas has become... important to him.
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At the same time, it's reassuring because Castiel is reminded that he isn't the only one left with strange emotions that he doesn't fully understand. He wishes he could open his eyes again and watch Dean like he had in the past but his lids feel far too heavy and he can't bring himself to lift them now that they are closed. He struggles to keep his mind conscious but that too slips away soon enough and Castiel finds himself in a realm of absence and soft breathing.
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Moving to his own bed again, he sits there and for once Dean is the one watching Cas sleep. He sits there for a long while, lips drawn in a thin line. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, because he is. Sorry that Cas got mixed up in their shit, sorry that this is happening to Cas. Just... sorry.
Running a hand down his face, Dean turns and lays down on the bed, facing the door and tries to go to sleep as well. It doesn't come easy.
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He glances over to Dean, seeing his shape in the bed next to him before slipping quietly out of his own to make his way into the kitchen. He wondered if they would have coffee here or if it was something Dean would get once they were back on the road. Castiel did his best to stay quiet while he filled the bottle of water with some from the tap.
And now, I'mma sleeps~ ♥♥♥
Without looking, he reaches for his bag and pulls out his flask, takes a few nips from it, the tosses his down. When he lifts his head and looks over to check for Cas, he goes still at the empty bed, then lifts his gaze to where the angel is in the little kitchenette that could be called anything but.
".. Mornin',"
Rest well!
"Good morning," He responded, voice no longer sounding as dry as it might have moments ago, "Water?"
Morning! :D
There was a glass, upside down, that he picked up and rinsed out before filling it with water and gulping it down. "How you feelin' today? Better?"
Good morning! c:
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