Study: The Darkness- Dean Winchester
Estimation: approx. 120 mL
Expressed Symptoms: Disconnect from reality, Dulled Emotions, Lightheadedness [Note: Possibly from Blood Loss], Short Attention Span, High Pain Tolerance
Castiel stared at the page in John's journal, tapping the pen to his lip in thought. What other word could he use besides 'Jokes'? The fact he wasn't taking things seriously- no, that would have been covered with the "disconnect from reality". What really made the angel's chest ache was how little Dean had seemed to care about Sam's well-being: Dean mentioned him once, maybe twice. It was like he had been talking about a boring movie instead of Sam.
Disregard of Loved Ones,
Cas jotted down next to everything else, and a small twinge squeezed his chest once again. "Oh, Sam." He whispered softly to himself. "Dean will come around."
Jokes.
He finally gave up and wrote the simple word down, ending the sentence with a moody final poke at the paper for the period. He put the pen down with a sigh. Of course, considering the last time he'd seen Dean it had been much, much worse, Castiel knew he still was not himself. Cas shut the book and gently ran his fingers over the worn leather cover. He sighed and put it back on the table, and folded his hands together in his lap for a moment just to think. Dean was used to working very hard to appear normal after the Mark, and he didn't seem to know about the trace amount of Darkness still inside. But if this infected most of the human population-
If it could get Dean to barely care about Sam, it was something very powerful indeed.
"Cas?" Dean darted up in his bed once the angel unlocked the door. "Oh, thank god- I'm so hungry. Can't you bring me something to eat, man? Like, a burger and fries or something?"
"Yes, soon." The angel replied hastily, striding forward and feeling Dean's forehead. Through the skin-to-skin, he was able to get a clearer gauge at just how much of the substance was there.
"I don't have a fever." Dean said, looking up at him in confusion. "I feel fine. I really want to get out of this room, man."
150mL, Cas was able to narrow it down. It's growing.
"-Cas!" Dean snapped. "Didn't you hear me? Just let me go upstairs! I'm fine, and I'd reaally like to rest in my own bed right about now."
"You are not fine, Dean." Cas mumbled back. "You are not yourself, and it's...it's growing."
"Cas, my arm hurts like a bitch, I can't sleep on this bed, and I'm...I'm fine, okay?" Dean moaned in annoyance. "And I'm hungry as hell!"
"If you were fine, then why aren't you worried about Sam?!" Cas finally accused, angrily narrowing his eyes at him and taking a step back, curling his hands into fists. "This Darkness is very dangerous. He could be dead, or-or worse!"
Dean stared back blankly at him. "Of course I'm worried about Sam," He replied, much too hollowly for the angel's liking.
Exasperated, the angel bit down hard and tried not to roll his eyes. He stared down Dean and his jaw rippled just slightly as he clamped down on his teeth. "Dean, I've been observing what this darkness does to you. And many of these symptoms...I believe are in line with Croatoan."
Dean groaned in annoyance and covered his face with his hand. "Cas, Jesus Christ, stop with the dramatics, you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion!" Dean looked up at him, beginning to laugh at how serious Cas looked.
"Come on, I just got my arm torn off, I think I'm allowed to be a little grumpy! Are any of those "symptoms" something like, I don't know, what those painkillers would do?" He nodded toward the multiple orange bottles. "If I'm taking Vicodin, of course I'll be loopy. And I haven't eaten in like...three days!" Cas almost began to doubt himself again. Was he blowing it all out of proportion?
"We bond tonight," Cas said gruffly, turning away before he could doubt himself more. Dean was not himself, that was the one thing the angel was sure of. He needed to burn out the substance before it could grow any more.
"Cas, wait-!" Dean yelped as he almost shut the door. "I have a couple sandwiches in the fridge, Cas, I am begging you to bring them down here for me. And more water. Tons of water. Some snacks."
Cas looked back at him, still clamping down hard on his teeth. Dean looked pitiful- he looked completely off-balance with only his left arm, and the bandages were packed heavy over his missing stump. It was strange- the missing space kept drawing the eye, like if the angel looked away and then looked back it would be there again. Dean's gaze was a bit glassy-eyed, and his skin looked pallid and wan.
"Cas, please." He croaked defeatedly, lying back down on the bed with a loud creak. Without saying anything, Castiel turned away and firmly closed the door. Instead of leaving right away, he found himself reaching up and lightly pressing on the door with the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes, and caught his breath for a moment. When Dean had been a demon, sometimes he had been so painfully like his old self that Cas could forget what was happening. He was very good at fighting things that changed him. This is no different, Castiel.
The world outside would not be doing much better, he reasoned. This Darkness seemed to make humans lose everything that gave them humanity- their kindness and love for one another would be completely obliterated as the substance would be allowed to fester inside of them. The angel bowed his head and sucked in a deep breath. He couldn't do this by himself. He needed Dean by his side, and after he cured him they could begin to try and fix this mess, together.
Sam. Claire. Castiel rested his forehead in the crook of his arm, pressed to the cold steel of the door as he leaned against it defeatedly. They are still there, in the outside world- ol esiasch od pasbs, my brother, my daughter...
He felt a strange pinch in his throat. He'd only felt this emotion a few times since he'd occupied a vessel, which he'd come to know as the moment before warm saline leaked from ducts in his eyes. It was not a very pleasurable sensation and he hoped he could avoid it this time. He finally leaned off of the door and rubbed his hands down his cheeks, the uncomfortable pinching in his throat beginning to go away. He turned around to bring Dean as much food as he could from the kitchen.
They way Dean ate made him sick. He devoured the three sandwiches he'd had, barely even taking the time to chew properly, even though he struggled to eat with just one hand that did not slow him down. After he'd consumed the three sandwiches at a rapid rate, and went on to pour the bag of chips into his mouth, polish off the entire rest of the jar of pickles and then, when everything else was gone, he shoved whole pieces of bread into his mouth by their middles, folding them over and swallowing them after only a couple bites.
Subject's Hyperphagia is alarming. Appears ravenous with no regard to how much food was consumed (approx. 4,000cal.)
Water and other liquid consumption is dangerously high.
Castiel had written that last part after having to leave the room, his vessel had started to react unpleasantly to seeing Dean finishing his liter of water and then go on to tip back the green-tinted liquid from the pickle jar.
"Dean," He called into the cracked door, leaning onto the wall for support as his vessel was still feeling slightly nauseated. "...Are you finished yet?"
"...Yeah." He heard him call back, and he creaked open the door to peek inside once again.
Dean was sitting on the floor, surrounded by empty containers and wrappers. He wiped a bit of mustard from his mouth with the back of his hand and his eyes met Cas's, and for the first time the angel detected a bit of fear in his gaze.
"Shit, man." Dean looked up at him from where he sat, cross-legged, his green eyes widened at all the empty wrappers and jars. "This is, uh, not good."
Finally, Castiel thought to himself. At least he still has some reason, though it comes and goes.
"What do we have to, you know, do for this, uh, bonding thing?" Dean began nervously, this time looking away.
"It doesn't require much." Castiel replied. "All I need is a spellbowl, and a bit of your blood."
"Do you have the spellbowl?"
Cas could almost feel his desperation. "I do, yes." He replied softly. "Dean-" His tone insinuated I know where this is going, and I don't like it.
"We should do it now." Dean said anyway. He gulped. "Cas, I...I can feel it."
"Oh," The word fell quietly from his lips.
"I can tell it's in there now. Right before I turned, when I was a demon, I was always holding it off...and it's building back up again. I thought it was all gone, but...you were right." Dean admitted, training his eyes on the floor. "Cas- I can't live like this anymore. I can't fight it this time."
"The Darkness has been growing since I first found you." The angel admitted to him as he came closer cautiously. "It's now at one hundred and fifty milliliters-"
"So, in real people terms...?"
"Just over a half of a fluid cup." Castiel replied. "The substance, within a body, takes on a liquid form."
Dean screwed up his face. "Gross. And where is it, exactly?"
"Mainly within your chest region, remaining in or around most of your core and vital organs."
"...And you can, what, burn this stuff out of me?" Dean looked down at disgust at his own bare torso, going on to place a tentative hand over his stomach.
"In crude terms, yes." Cas replied softly.
"Get that bowl, Cas." Dean's voice was strained, and he turned away from him once again, hiding his amputated side from view as he leaned defeatedly against the bedpost. "I'm so tired of fighting this."
Cas curled his hand over Dean's shoulder, lightly squeezing to try and comfort him. "Okay," He hummed softly. "I'm sorry, Dean. This will all be over soon."
The angel was extremely unprepared to have a fist impact right in his face, and he stumbled and fell backwards. His hand pressed to his lip, which had split and began to seep an unpleasant iron taste into his mouth. Dean was making a fast break for the door, and the broken chain pentagram above would do nothing to stop him.
"Dean-!" Cas yelped, throwing an arm out and making the door slam shut telekinetically before he could reach it and escape.
Dean struggled with the door, jerking it hard backward, then throwing his body weight on it. "Let me out of here! So hungry, Cas, goddammit, you son of a-"
The angel pressed two fingers to his forehead quickly after flying the five feet or so in half a second. Dean slumped against the heavy iron door, his stomach letting out a hungry gurgle and groan. "Oh, Dean." The angel huffed, kneeling down to snake his arms up under Dean's armpits and drag him back to the bed.
There was no doubt now, he knew. The Darkness made humans so incredibly ravenous that they'd begin to crave human flesh very, very soon. And Croatoan would rear its ugly head, as prophesied.
He just hoped the ritual would still work if one of them were handcuffed.