It's overcast today, the afternoon summer storms having rolled in. The rain's been incessant in its fall; it's seeming to try to drown us out of the bunker. I know that's not possible, what with how strongly it was built. The concrete has been laid to withstand more than a strong thunderstorm. It is only midafternoon, but I'm already prepared for night's encompassing safety. Today's already been too long a day.

You administered the cure to Sam, sitting him up and help him to drink it. He immediately retched it back up, shaking and sweating. You tried again an hour later to the same effect; his body is rejecting the angel blood. I've long since retreated back to my room, Sam's reaction having made me feel sick to my stomach, which is truly an odd sensation that I should examine closer at a better time. Regardless, I've no more business with the two of you for now. I would just get in the way, so it's best for me to stay away until I'm needed.

We just discussed the possibility of injecting the serum into Sam. You looked terrible, fidgeting and unsure. It's a riskier method of administration as it would be directly forced into the bloodstream. Should Sam's body reject it then, it's very possible it could resemble a staph infection. His body could react as if the foreign blood is an infection. In that case, a complete shutdown of his major organ systems is possible. He could suffer a dangerously high fever, that of which we could only ease with the usage of antibiotics. The positive being the bunker's well stocked in such items. You're calling me down again, needing help tending to your brother. I can only have faith in him that he is strong enough to overcome this.

Sam's resting now, with you faithfully watching over him. I waited at his bedside alongside you for around thirty minutes, waiting for what I thought would be the inevitable rejection of the angel blood, but none came. He closed his eyes and now sleeps, lips slightly parted, face in complete relaxation, not twisted in agony as I had presumed. You inserted an IV needle into his arm, fearing he was dehydrated from his previous bought of illness. Whereas, I was unable to do anything. Were I still an angel, I could've at least alleviated his symptoms, if not cured him altogether. I'm so very useless at most things human. Come to think of it, I wasn't the ideal example of an angel either. I am so sorry, Dean.

I know you won't leave his side for a moment; and since I am unable to help with Sam's recovery directly, I will take it upon myself to help you with anything I can. Until I am called upon, I will try my hardest not to fall asleep. I should deny myself the luxuries you are unable to partake in; I know that it really doesn't make a difference, and that it's just to assuage my guilt. It is most certainly a daunting task, though. Hearing the rain patter upon the ground overhead is making it considerably difficult for me to keep my eyes open. I will persevere for you though, Dean.