“Better than you look,” Sam manages to say, and it comes out a whisper. He’d meant it to be firm… He tries clearing his throat and then begins to sit up, and feels Castiel’s hands on his shoulders, drawing him up. Dean has a perturbed look on his face, as if he’s upset with the idea of anyone else helping Sam. Sam wonders if that isn’t the case.
“You think I look bad? You want me to get you a mirror?” Dean shifts himself back to his feet and looks down at Sam, trying to smile at him. “You hungry?”
Sam considers the question for a moment, and finds that he honestly doesn’t know the answer. “I don’t know.” When in doubt, honesty is the best policy. If only he’d remember that when… He mentally kicks himself. He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It’s the last thing that he needs. It’s the last thing that Dean needs.
“I’m freakin’ starving. I’ll be back. You want a burger, or am I just buyin’ for me and Sammy?” Dean turns his gaze to Castiel, who ticks his head to the side and stares at him in return.
“I have not been possessed by Famine’s spell for some days now, Dean. That was the only time that I ate.”
“Suit yourself. There’s a Runza down the street – lotsa ground beef in those things, Herr Hamburglar,” Dean is up quickly, almost too quickly, and is out the door within minutes. Sam watches the door slam shut behind him, and then turns a confused look to Castiel.
For all his enigmatic and inhuman ways, the angel seems to know exactly what Sam is silently asking, and he answers in kind, “He was worried about you. He’s stopped outside of the door now, not moving. It’ll be some time before he actually leaves.” Sam considers this for a while, and as he does, the throbbing his head intensifies. He raises his fingertips to his temples, surprised at the way that his arms seem to resemble cement blocks.
“You’re in pain.” Sam didn’t realize that he’d closed his eyes as he feels Castiel’s hands lowering him back onto the pillows – all of the pillows, he realizes, from both of the beds. “I can make you sleep.” It’s not an offer, it’s a promise, and Sam feels the whisper of fingertips against his aching forehead before the black void pulls him down again. The lack of dreams is comforting.
FILLED: Nor Will I Imitate A Choo-Choo Train 7/10
“You think I look bad? You want me to get you a mirror?” Dean shifts himself back to his feet and looks down at Sam, trying to smile at him. “You hungry?”
Sam considers the question for a moment, and finds that he honestly doesn’t know the answer. “I don’t know.” When in doubt, honesty is the best policy. If only he’d remember that when… He mentally kicks himself. He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It’s the last thing that he needs. It’s the last thing that Dean needs.
“I’m freakin’ starving. I’ll be back. You want a burger, or am I just buyin’ for me and Sammy?” Dean turns his gaze to Castiel, who ticks his head to the side and stares at him in return.
“I have not been possessed by Famine’s spell for some days now, Dean. That was the only time that I ate.”
“Suit yourself. There’s a Runza down the street – lotsa ground beef in those things, Herr Hamburglar,” Dean is up quickly, almost too quickly, and is out the door within minutes. Sam watches the door slam shut behind him, and then turns a confused look to Castiel.
For all his enigmatic and inhuman ways, the angel seems to know exactly what Sam is silently asking, and he answers in kind, “He was worried about you. He’s stopped outside of the door now, not moving. It’ll be some time before he actually leaves.” Sam considers this for a while, and as he does, the throbbing his head intensifies. He raises his fingertips to his temples, surprised at the way that his arms seem to resemble cement blocks.
“You’re in pain.” Sam didn’t realize that he’d closed his eyes as he feels Castiel’s hands lowering him back onto the pillows – all of the pillows, he realizes, from both of the beds. “I can make you sleep.” It’s not an offer, it’s a promise, and Sam feels the whisper of fingertips against his aching forehead before the black void pulls him down again. The lack of dreams is comforting.