noreferencesplz | Tell them that God's gonna cut you down

It both amuses and worries him that Cas is becoming more 'human'. Feeling things he shouldn't be feeling, like pain, and needing sleep the way he himself does. He turns his head to look over at the angel and pushes himself up into a sitting position.

"You hungry?" Dean asks, because Cas just might be, if he's being human-fied, or falling, as it were - but he doesn't want to think about that. Doesn't want to remember the fallen, human, Cas he had met in the future. Doesn't want to think that Cas might still end up like that.

"I'm not hungry," And Cas hopes that fact will remain true for as long as possible, unlike his urge to sleep. He does sit up after a moment, his eyes landing on Dean after staring absently at the opposite wall for a few seconds.

"I will take a drink though, if you're offering."

Dean nods. Good, that's good. He gets up and rummages for a bottle of water, always keeping a few on him and then a small bottle of jack for himself - or for Cas, if he wanted a drink or two.

He hands the bottle of water over and uncaps the liquor for himself and takes a healthy swig of it.

Castiel takes the bottle, opens it and drains it in a matter of seconds, setting it aside with a refreshed sigh. He starts to pull off his overcoat, and jacket, folding them neatly before setting them aside.

"Do we have any other leads for a case?"

He raises a brow but says nothing as he takes another swig from the bottle, then caps it and sets it on the nightstand between their beds. He rubs at his neck as he thinks.

"Might be a nest up in these parts. Got wind of a coupla kids going missing. Can't say for certain, but it's worth checking into."

"Do Lamia frequent these parts?" Because that is the only tale that comes to his mind about what might be responsible for such kidnappings if they are not the work of a human.

Which was still entirely on the table at this point.

"Lamia? They aren't even American, are they?" Damn, he'd have to look that one up. This is why he always let Sam do the research, too much damn work.

"And uh, I don't think so?"

"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.

"Anything you're having particular trouble with?"

He gives a small nod as Dean speaks because that does indeed give Dean a sort of advantage.

He stares across the room in an attempt to gather his thoughts before responding, "Energy or rather, maintaining my energy."

"Your angel mojo?" He asks in clarification and then frowns. Yeah, definitely not good. Angels need their angel mojo, especially this one.

"Is there any way for you to... to re-energize or re-mojo or somethin'?"

He gave another nod, though this one was of affirmation, "And no, nothing I can think of unless heaven decides I'm worthy of a recharge but..."

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.

"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.

"Sure you don't want any?"

"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.

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