An hour into the drive, Dean grudgingly let Sam take the wheel, succuming to Sam's arguements that Dean couldn't make it all the way on what little sleep he had, and Sam should drive before he starts to feel the withdrawal. It was sound logic, and Dean really did need to sleep. There was a bit of seat juggling, and Castiel ended up in the front seat with Sam, while Dean stretched out in the back, trying to get some rest.

Castiel was resting as well. The experience of vomiting had thankfully not repeated itself, though he still wouldn't rule it out. It was tiring, the act itself, so violent, muscles and organs involuntarily spasming and contracting. There was also the disgust of re-tasting his food, something that just thinking about made his gut lurch. Castiel breathed out slowly, and leaned his head against the seat. He wished he could abandon his pride and curl up in the seat, like Dean was in the back.

Sam, driving along the road, gave him a side glance.

"How are you doing?" He asked, and Castiel felt a small warmth at the concern even as Sam was dealing with his own problems.

"I am well." Not true, but he was sure that Sam knew that anyway. "I am not planning on vomiting again."
Something about his phrasing made Sam laugh. That often happened around the Winchesters.

"People don't usually plan on it happening, Cas." Sam looked over at him before looking back at the road. "You just look a little restless."

"Riding in a car is tedious." Castiel said.

"You can't just fly away?" Sam said, voice pitching upwards mildly. Castiel swallowed.

"Flying would be a bad idea in my condition."

Sam seemed to get an amusing thought. "You mean, you'd get air sick?"

"Yes," Castiel said, "I thought I made that clear."

Sam smiled wider, and Castiel, though still slightly confused (he must have missed a reference) felt glad for a moment.

"In any case, the sickness will pass, and then I will be able to fly unhindered."

"But for now, you're stuck on the road, like the rest of us."

The words seemed to have a sudden gravity, a double meaning that Sam did not intend and Castiel looked down at his hands in his lap. Jimmy's lap, he used to think. He didn't anymore. Jimmy had been quieting in his mind since Raphael destroyed him. Castiel was brought back, and placed in his vessel, but it seemed the power it took to maintain some kind of connection was too much for him anymore. He'd get vague impressions, emotions that were not his own, but nothing more. Castiel was feeling more and more alone in his body.

Here he was, on the road, the world. In his own body, essentially, and stuck with the rest of humanity in the slow crawl of life. Castiel was cut off from Heaven. Yes, he still had some powers, and flight but how long before those too faded, and he was basically human. He would be mortal, have to eat, sleep and protect himself from injury. Eating sounded terrible right now, but the mere fact that Castiel felt so much discomfort was a sign of his falling state. He'd never heard of a slow slide from grace, but it seemed to be where he was headed.

Castiel sighed, and wrapped one hand around the other. There was no point in dwelling on this right now. Sam and Dean needed him, and so far he'd simply wallowed, and then taken precious travel time up in purging his stomach. No more distractions.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Castiel turned to the other man. Sam made a sharp movement which was almost a flinch.

"Stupid." He muttered.

"It was not your doing. You could not have resisted Famine's power."

Sam nodded, tired. "That's what Dean told me in the motel room."

Castiel looked him over, noting the slump, the downward drawn brow. "You don't believe him."

"No, and neither did he."

Sam swallowed, as Castiel let the silence lengthen. Sam finally broke it.

"Did you know we left the two demon's bodies in the motel room. We couldn't take them anywhere without someone seeing, so we just wiped the place, and paid for another night and got the hell out of there? Someone will find those bodies, and remember us, and it'll another thing the feds might be able to pin on us. At least before I covered my tracks! I drank those two dry, without a thought, Cas! I've been so careful, and all this time, I was just waiting for the chance to go crazy. I can't believe I ever thought I could stop, just wait until we run into another demon, I'll-"

"Sam!"

Castiel had been trying to cut him off for a while, not liking his frantic tone, and red eyes. Finally, shouting had been the only way, and he listened with regret as Dean jolted awake, somehow having stayed asleep through Sam's tirade. Castiel was grateful.

"Sam?" Dean muttered, but the two in the front seat ignored him, Castiel for focusing on Sam, and Sam on the road.

"Sam, listen to me. Famine's power is overwhelming. The mess on the road back there is testament to that, and I'm an angel. You resisted as long as you could, and then you refused the further demons Famine offered you. A junkie longing for his next hit could not have done so. You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Sam didn't answer, but flashed him a look that managed to be grateful and disbelieving at the same time. Dean was silent in the back.

A few hours away from Bobby's, and Sam began shaking, hands trembling against the steering wheel. Sam tried to ignore it, and Dean pretended not to notice until a close call with a semi caused all of their hearts to speed up.

"That's it. Pull over." Dean said roughly from the back seat. He'd been awake for a while now. In fact, Castiel wasn't sure if he'd gotten any sleep at all, after his shout woke him, the air was so tense in the car. Sam immediately slowed, steering the car to the side of the road. Dean got out of the back seat, and Castiel made to open the door, switch back to his usual place, but Sam, unfolding from the driver's seat, waved a hand at him.

"No, it's fine. I'll take the back." He murmured, opening the door. Dean got in the front, and started the car again. Castiel estimated they were about three hours from Bobby's, and felt again that restlessness. He could get them there in the blink of an eye, were it not for his weakness in succuuming to Famine's powers, and the resulting illness that still plagued him. Yes, it was hypocritical of him to admonish Sam for blaming himself and then be angry that he could not be stronger, but he couldn't help it. He was an angel, or he used to be. He wasn't sure what he was now.

Castiel wished he could at least drive, spare Dean, let him rest. It would give him something to do besides sit here. With a swallow, he thought again that if the degrade in his powers went any further, he may have to learn...learn how to be a human fully. He'd be a fallen angel without the benefit of a rebirth. He'd be caught halfway between Heaven and earth. He'd be useless, hapless, hopeless...it was more sickening than the raw meat he'd consumed.

Castiel grabbed for the door handle, and leaped out before Dean had begun to pull away, feeling his stomach lurch again. He'd thought he was feeling better, or at least he'd gotten past the vomiting part. Apparently not.

He bent in the gravel, and threw up some more mostly digested animal product, while Dean made sounds of disgust from the open car door.

"Dean, leave him be." Sam muttered behind him, and Castiel spared him a feeling of gratitude.

"Sorry, it's just you're already shaking, and Cas is still sick. That Famine character was a son of a bitch."

Castiel spat one last time, hoping that that was the end of it. His stomach muscles ached and his middle felt empty and hollow (a better feeling than that over stuffed cramping of before, but still strange as he didn't actually need to eat). He slowly sat back in the car, rubbing his stomach. Dean passed him his mostly full water bottle, and Cas used a little to rinse before taking a sip. The water sloshed strangely in his belly.

"You good?" Dean asked, glancing over. Castiel cleared his throat.

"I'm good."

They drove off, and set their sights on Bobby's. The sun set at some point, the light shining in their eyes, making Dean finally dig out an old pair of sunglasses, until the sky darkened enough that he could see without squinting. The light seemed to hurt Sam's head, who buried his face in the back of the seat, and didn't move, save for twitching muscles. Castiel spent his time between glancing back at Sam, keeping an eye on Dean, and watching the scenery.

Castiel wasn't accustomed to distances, not in the mortal sense. The world his Father had created was at once massive and sprawling, full to the brim with people and noise, and small and confined. Anywhere was moments away to an angel. He could spread his wings, and be on the other side of the globe in the blink of an eye.

Then Castiel began spending more and more time with the Winchesters. Humans who had not the luxury of flying, nor the inclination. Castiel couldn't understand why they would prefer the long trips, following winding roads and taking what wasn't even close to the shortest route to a destination, even if one stayed on the ground. This trip stretched out in silence full of thoughts and emotions, and Castiel was anxious and tense.

"Dude, would you stop that?" Dean said suddenly, and Castiel looked up, startled. In the immediate stillness, he realized that he'd been bouncing his knee rhythmically.

"Apologies. I'm simply...ready to be there." Castiel said, frowning at his body for giving him away, yet again tonight. How many other human habits had he picked up and not realized? Dean huffed and turned fully back to the road, maneuvering around a large truck.

"Ain't we all?" He muttered, sounding a great deal like Bobby Singer.

Castiel let out a breath, and shifted. Sam, behind him, echoed his movements. It was the same uneasy shifting he'd been doing for a few hours now. The shakes were growing stronger. He had yet to turn from the back of the seat where he lay, but Castiel could see the sweat glistening on the back of his neck in the lights from the other headlights. He muttered and groaned every now and again, and Dean had stopped asking if he was alright. It was obvious that he wasn't.

A half hour later Sam muttered something.

"Sam? You need something?" Dean looked in the rearview mirror, then swore. Castiel twisted around in his seat, to see

Sam had turned away from the back of the seat. He had curled his impossibly long limbs into a ball, and was hugging his knees. His face was pale, and his eyes were open, with tears flowing from them, but worst was the muttering that could now be heard. Moans, and pleas and denials. Listening now, Castiel heard both Dean's name, Ruby's and his own. Sam was hallucinating.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, his eyes on the brother laid low with withdrawal. Dean shook his head.

"We just need to keep going." Dean said, voice rough. "The sooner we get there the better." Dean glanced at Castiel's water bottle, the one Sam had given to him. "Could you try to give him some water?"

Castiel swallowed, and took the bottle, opening it and reaching over the seat to where Sam lay. Gently, he reached out for the side of Sam's head, but Sam flinched violently.

"Sam?" Castiel said softly. "I just want to give you some water."

He got his mouth open, and Sam swallowed a gulp, before turning away and spilling some on the seat. Castiel moved back, frowning.

"He drank some." Castiel said, not knowing if it was enough. Dean, though, nodded.

"Good."

Castiel settled in his own seat again, and watched Dean drive. His hands were tight against the wheel, and his face pale.

"No...Mom, no..." Sam murmured from the back, and Dean's face spasmed.

"Dammit," He whispered.

"What can we do?" Castiel asked. Dean shook his head.

"Nothing."