Hey guys, just wanna say thanks for the feedback I've got so far, you're the best! Yes, I will continue to update pretty frequently, don't worry! We get a big old Dean and Cas one-to-one chat in this chapter, and we learn some of what is causing Dean's pain. (I have a feelsy twist planned for later mwhahaha) Hope you enjoy...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Dean's eyes fluttered open, the light of that morning had faded to night, and the room shone with a kind of ethereal glow from the moon, occasionally punctuated by the headlights of cars sliding across the walls of the motel room. Castiel was standing in the corner of the room, his back turned, and speaking in a hushed voice on the phone.

"Well perhaps you should try again tomorrow, Sam," he sighed, obviously exasperated, "I know, I know- it was never going to be a simple cure. Yes, we'll speak later. No, nothing's changed."

Dean tried to speak, but his voice came out cracked, broken. "Cas? Was that Sam?"

Cas turned to him, his hair more unkempt than earlier, and his eyes holding a new weariness. He locked eyes with Dean, testing him, diagnosing his condition, before he spoke.

"Yes. He's managed to obtain some of the ingredients, though some still… evade him. He should be able to get them all tomorrow, and be back the day after. He just wanted to check in." He sat in the chair again, pulling it a little closer.

It was then Dean noticed the paper bag on the bedside table. "Oh man. Is that what I think it is?" He reached across to it despite the pain that seared up his side, trying to ignore Cas's flinch. He'd figure that one out later.

The pie was cold, but Dean appreciated it nevertheless. He hadn't realised that Cas had remembered his preference for pie- especially cherry, which he now devoured unashamedly. The pain spread through him again, but slowly this time, sluggishly, as though dulled by some unseen force.

He glanced up at Cas, unsurprised to find him staring intently at him. He'd got used to it by now- the invasion of personal space, the too-long pauses in their conversations, and the way Cas seemed to look right into him. At first it had made him feel vulnerable and he had pushed him away, trying to regain some control. But that had passed now, and he felt accustomed to (if not completely comfortable with) these interactions.

"Sorry about earlier, Cas. I needed to get out of bed at least for a minute. Can't stand sitting still." He smiled weakly at Cas, but his expression changed as he noticed the sober expression on Castiel's face. "Cas. I think now's probably a good time for you to give me some answers about this, okay?"

Castiel shifted in his seat and sighed, looking down at his hands, twisting them around each other. "I had anticipated this conversation. Your condition is unusual, and of course I'll explain as best I can."
He met Dean's eyes again, and Dean gave him the tiniest of nods, his brow furrowed slightly.

"I'm still unsure as to what it was you were hunting back there-"

Dean huffed. "Sure as hell wasn't a shifter."

"No. All I know is what it did to you. It poisoned you, but the poison is unlike anything I've seen for a few millennia. The effects-" He frowned shook his head slightly, "they're complex."

"Yeah, I'll say. How is it even possible to hurt everywhere? I thought I'd had it rough before now…" Dean chuckled, wincing with the pain.

"It's not your body that's feeling the pain- that is, your body is in pain, but the cause of it is your soul itself."

At this, Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck pricking, and he swallowed. This was serious. He felt a little sick, and swallowed, frowning up at Cas. "How bad is it? And damnit, Cas, don't sugar-coat it. Just tell me. Please."

Cas heaved in a breath, and exhaled, almost breathing out his words in a low growl. "Your soul is rejecting your body. It is literally trying to rip itself away, but your body is holding on. That's what the pain is."

Dean blinked, taking it in. "Son of a bitch. But peoples' souls leave their body when they die, don't they? When those bastard hellhounds got me I didn't feel this. I thought it was always supposed to be peaceful, your soul moving on and all that crap?"

Castiel frowned again, and his hands twisted in his lap, fingers pulling at each other and wrists locked in place, tense. "That's how it normally goes, yes. That's how it's supposed to go. But the poison doesn't just kill you, it literally tears your soul from your body before it's ready to go. Souls are delicate things, Dean. They are stronger than you can imagine, and this poison- it's wreaking havoc on yours."

Dean laid his head back into the pillow, exhausted. He spoke to the grimy, textured ceiling of the motel, knowing Cas's bright blue eyes would be fixed on him. "Never thought I'd say this, but you should feel lucky you're missing out on this soul stuff. More trouble than it's worth."

There was silence.

Obviously touched a nerve.

"Cas?" Dean pulled himself up and pain shot through him, tugging at his very bones. He blinked as the room swam before him, but as he tried to focus he felt Castiel's arms hoisting him up, leaning him back against the bed. His breathing hitched in his throat. "Try not to move, Dean. Please." His face swam in and out of focus in front of Dean's eyes, and he fought to remain conscious.

Not gonna let my juiced up soul get the better of me this time.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again the pain had subsided to a low, dull throb. Castiel was inches away from him, sitting on the bed with this hand clenched around the corner of the bedside table. His eyes were dark, and his mouth trembled. When he looked up at Dean, he had tried to clear his face of emotion, tried to wipe away the look in his eyes. But Dean had seen it, and as he sank into sleep later, the image of Castiel's agonised face glowed against his shut eyelids, imprinted as though he had stared at the sun for too long. He slept restlessly.

So there we have it- more to come soon, so keep leaving me feedback with how you think this is going!- Amy xoxox