Uncommon

"Well, what the hell do you want me to do, Sam? Bound onto hallowed ground and watch the bastard float around outside the circle of protection? Drink a beer and wave at it? Practice my miming skills?"

"I don't know, Dean, but it's not a good idea, though, you have to realize that!"

"Of course I realize that, Sam, but I don't see an alternative. If you've got any bright ideas, now would be the time to throw them out there."

Castiel stretched his legs out, looking out the window. He was settled in and prepared for a total Winchester argument. He still wasn't sure why exactly this happened. Dean and Sam tended to... what was the expression... argue without really arguing. Butt heads. That was it. He'd heard them argue, for real, he thought, a few times... but he hadn't really wanted to get into the middle of that. Ever.

"I just think that we need to go into this with a little more planning, that's all."

"How much planning do we need?"

"I thought you didn't want us to go running in blindly," Sam retaliated.

"Well, we don't have a whole lot of choice, now do we? Not that what I want seems to matter to you."

"Are you really bringing that up again? I already told you-"

Castiel breathed in and let it out with a silent rush, exhaling through his nose. He leaned back in his seat and watched the empty landscape roll by outside of the Impala. They were moving fast today, on the way to some unidentified supernatural being that was murdering innocents in an Oregon town. The blurring motion of the landscape whizzing by was almost making him feel... strange.

"Well, don't talk our ear off back there. Got any bright ideas?"

It was definitely making his head hurt, at the very least, or maybe that was because the two brothers in the front seat had been arguing ever since they'd stepped out of the motel. Complaining. Whatever they called it. Castiel still wasn't entirely sure how loud noise, or continuous noise, or movement outside the car window could make his head hurt, but it was probably some... human mechanic. A human fault, one that shouldn't bother him in his state, but it was anyway. Or maybe he was just thinking too hard and was creating a potential psychosomatic ailment. There were still countless things that he didn't understand about the human body.

"Hello. Wingman. Yeah, you."

Castiel looked up, meeting Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror. "I didn't realize that you were speaking to me."

"Well, I am," Dean said. "So, what's cooking in that brain of yours?"

Castiel blinked slowly. "Pain," he said truthfully.

Dean made a face. "What are you talking about, dude?"

"My head hurts. I guess what's 'cooking' is pain."

Dean's face in the mirror didn't change, but Sam twisted around in his seat. "You've got a headache?"

"Oh, don't tell me he's going to start with that."

"Maybe it's catching."

Dean huffed, grinning briefly. "Yeah, whatever. What's up, Cas?"

"Don't know." Castiel shrugged. "My head hurts."

"You prone to that? You get weird messages-from-the-Lord type headaches whenever he tried to contact you before?"

"That's not how it works," Castiel said, before raising his voice. "This is the first time I've experienced a, what did you call it, head-ache." Now that he thought about it, it wasn't only his head, but his stomach starting to have aches and pains, runners of jittery something-or-rather wrestling with his stomach. "I believe that I'm hungry," he added, although it wasn't exactly the same feeling, but that's what it must be, right? "Contemplating an attack on an empty stomach isn't doing good for any of us," he continued.

"Now, that's why I like this guy," Dean replied. "That's a good idea. There's a cheeseburger shack up the road here, I think I saw on the map. Double meat patty with cheddar, lettuce, tomato, two baked not toasted buns... maybe we'll find some toasted ones, too," he added, grinning first at Sam and then at Castiel.

Sam rolled his eyes, looking out the window. "Whatever."

"C'mon, Sammy. You know you want a big, greasy, burger and some soggy fries, complete with vinegar and ketchup on the side."

"You wouldn't believe me if I said I didn't, anyway."

"Fine, spoilsport. Cas? Sound good?" Dean asked, meeting his gaze in the mirror again. "Someone has to agree with me here."

"Sounds... good," Castiel replied. He wasn't sure that it did, actually, but his stomach was paining him for one reason or another. Maybe food would make it better, and a burger with fries and a slice of pie was the best remedy. Hopefully.

But then, cheeseburger and fries and pie later, maybe it wouldn't. And it didn't, because his stomach definitely wasn't feeling better. Now, it had an additional churning sort of feeling, something Castiel hadn't felt before and something he really wasn't particularly looking forward to feeling again. He absently pressed his arm against his stomach, only the barest level of Sam and Dean's conversation filtering through his consciousness. He could hear them talking, but he couldn't focus on what they were saying.

Mostly it was because of his stomach feeling strange, but his headache had intensified. There was throbbing behind his eyes that was reminiscent of being too tired, but he had slept last night, seven hours before Dean had grabbed his shoulder and shaken him awake. He felt like sleeping, though, despite having done nothing except sitting in the back seat of the car, and he had a strange desire to lean his head forward and rest it against the cold window.

He did not like the cold, that was another thing. He hadn't ever noticed before, but now Oregon in mid-November and having come from Michigan... this was his first winter as a human, and he hated it, especially now, when he was shivering in a booth at a burger shack. It was too cold, and yet, he still wanted to put his head against the cold window. He had an instinctual urge that it might help, but he didn't know why, or how.

"Castiel!"

Castiel's attention was jerked back to the conversation, his entire body flinching with the exclamation of his name. "What?"

"You're zoning out over there," Dean commented. "And you didn't order seconds, so now I'm seriously re-considering how dangerous this puppy is if you're holding back on lunch."

Castiel blinked tiredly. He felt disconnected with his own body. "I'm not hungry."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Hey," Sam interrupted, "you don't look so hot," he said, frowning as he looked at Cas. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Come on, Sam," Dean said, shoving fries into his mouth. "Cash ish Cash. He's not gonna jus' get shick-"

Castiel couldn't listen to whatever else Dean was saying with his mouth full of fries. His stomach was doing something definitively not right. Roiling and grumbling. He licked his lips, curling his fingers into his jacket. There was excess saliva in his mouth. He swallowed thickly.

"Yes, he is." Sam grabbed his shoulder. "Come on. Don't open your mouth," he advised, pulling him from the booth.

Castiel was about to question why he shouldn't, when his stomach jolted and something burning and acidic stung the back of his throat to fill his mouth. More human instinct clapped his hand against his mouth as Sam pushed him into the bathroom, Dean watching from the booth with his fork hovering above his food.

Castiel spent the next five minutes becoming intimate with the concept of vomiting, as well as the model of toilet used in the burger shack.

"How did you know he was going to hurl?"

"Because I spent enough time in college watching people throw up," Sam muttered. "Or trying not to."

"And failing when they puked down their fronts."

Sam laughed dryly. "In some cases, yeah."

Castiel pulled his head back and sat back. His legs curled into his chest and he wrapped one of his arms around them.

"You think it's the food? Not that I guess it matters. We already ate it." Dean shrugged. "Hey, I feel fine."

"No... Cas, did you feel sick before we ate? Stomach issues, you said you had a headache, umm, body aches, feeling hot or cold, anything?" Sam asked.

Castiel looked up from staring at a scribbled signature on the bathroom stall. "I had just assumed that my stomach didn't feel content because I was hungry, but the cheeseburger didn't help. The headache has intensified. It's unnaturally cold." He looked up at Sam and Dean. "You don't feel the temperature difference?"

Dean shrugged again. "I think it's comfortable, man. Better than that frozen wasteland out there."

Castiel found the energy to frown. Strange; Sam and Dean were as they usually were, but he wasn't even sure if he could manage to stand up from the bathroom floor of his own accord right now. His body felt weak, he could hear his heartbeat in his own head, and his stomach was still doing the rolling motion. He wasn't vomiting at the time being, but he certainly didn't feel any better for it. "What's happening to me?" he rasped.

Sam and Dean shared a look. It didn't lessen Castiel's apprehension to the situation.

"It kind of sounds like the flu," Sam said slowly.

Dean looked at Sam and then down at Castiel. "No." He looked back at Sam. "I mean... No. He's Cas."

"He's human," Sam pointed out.

Dean was frowning when he looked back at Castiel again. "How long you been sick, Cas? Is that why you've been quiet all morning?"

Castiel shrugged listlessly. He still didn't know what 'the flu' was. He didn't think it was a type of demonic possession, at least, not a type that he had heard of. Either way, he was becoming less and less inclined to continue the conversation, mostly because he felt worse and worse by the second.

"Shit."

"We gotta get him to a hotel, Dean. He's going to get worse before he gets better and dragging him out on the hunt isn't going to help."

"Great... Wait! I don't want him in the car if he's praying to the porcelain gods every three minutes." Dean looked down at him. "No offense."

Castiel just blinked up at him, slumping back against the stall. He felt his energy had been drained, like some invisible being was leeching away at the very essence of his life force. His eyes slipped closed of their own accord.

"We're just going to have to get a bin, or a bag, or something," Sam said. "I'll see what I can find around here. Stay with him." The bathroom door squeaked open, grating on Castiel's strangely sensitive eardrums, and footsteps retreated.

"Barf bags in my car..." Dean sighed thinly. "This is payback for the Hell thing, just so you know," he said. "We're so even for this."

Castiel tried to make an effort to look interested, or at least like he cared a tiny amount. He barely managed to pry his eyes open, though, and the look on Dean's face as he looked down at him wasn't one Castiel was used to seeing. Usually he only ever looked at Sam with concern, and very rarely since Castiel had met them, anyway.

"Dude, you look like shit. You've barely been human two months and you're already down with it." Dean glanced at the bathroom door before sidling over, crouching down next to him. "I'm not exactly in best practice when it involves medicine and things, but Sam's practically a tottering old lady when it comes to colds and stuff."

"'Colds and stuff'?" Castiel echoed. "It is most definitely cold."

"You know what you told me before? Sometimes, things do go right?" Dean grinned sardonically. "Now you're beginning to see why I didn't believe you."

Castiel just grunted, a sort of noncommental response, and let his eyes close again. The light was hurting his head.

Something warm brushed against his forehead. Castiel pulled his eyelids open again, quicker this time, to watch Dean press his hand more firmly against his forehead. Dean's hand was warm and, again, instincts took over, causing Castiel to lean over to press into Dean's touch.

"Take it easy there, man. Male-to-male caretaking only goes so far," Dean said, pulling his hand away. "Look too pleased and it starts to look a little pear-shaped to anybody else and, as of yet, I haven't done any batting for the other team. Butch or not," he muttered.

Castiel hadn't a clue what Dean was talking about, but he was acutely aware of the chilled feeling that swept across his body when Dean stepped away. Maybe it was the breeze from the movement, or maybe the frigid feeling that had settled into his bones. Something about the whole situation was unsettling.

He leaned over the toilet again as bile burned the back of his throat.

I actually... don't know a whole lot about Castiel. I've only seen up to 4x1, so I've known him for about five minutes. But I know he falls (I don't know the circumstances, and I'm trying not to spoil it, so please no spoilers!), and becomes human, and so... I'm writing a sickfic set in a season way ahead of where I actually am in the show. Hopefully my characterisation isn't horrible. I'm going off of clips I've seen and some fanfiction I've read from the fandom. xD

PLEASE no spoilers for SPN past 4x1!

I do not own Supernatural. Thanks for reading; stay tuned for chapter two soon!