It was a familiar dream with a new and terrible twist. Dean Winchester was no stranger to finding himself back on the rack during his sleeping hours. The Allistair in his mind had no shortage of torture to bring back and put to use. This time however, his demon mentor was nowhere to be found. In the role of torturer stood his brother, a crooked grin shining in the light, dripping with fresh demon blood. The pain that usually dug through him was magnified tenfold by this new layer of emotional torture.
Dean woke, jumping out of his bed in one desperate move, breathing heavily and shaking as he oriented himself to his surroundings. He was drenched in sweat, and his heart felt like it was ready to break free of his ribcage. Blearily he looked at the clock, and squinting he made out that it was just past midnight. He was only asleep for maybe an hour.
Before he could continue that thought, he felt the world shift around him, and flushing, he knew what that sensation crashing down on him was. He barely made it in time to kneel beside his trash can before he was sick, nausea overtaking him unexpectedly. He was forced to remain in that position for what felt like an eternity before he finally was done, his breath heaving from the effort as he sank back against the bed in exhaustion.
Shakily, Dean pushed himself up, stumbling over to the sink and bending down, cupping his hands under the tap and letting the water wash the bitter taste from his mouth. He lowered his shaking hands to steady himself on the porcelain, taking a few more deep breaths to try to ground himself. He looked up at himself in the mirror, and froze. Peering back, clear as day, were his once-green eyes, now completely demonic black. He squeezed them shut leaning down and clenching his fists around the sink's edge. He let out another shaky breath before tentatively looking up again. Normal. He didn't have time to dwell on this development though as another wave of nausea hit harder than the first, and he was forced to retch in the sink.
A hesitant knock on the door was followed by a sliver of new light as it was pushed open. Dean spit in the sink one last time, blearily looking towards the intruder, his gaze landing on Castiel.
"Dean? Are you-" The angel did not finish his question, seeing the evidence quite clearly. "You aren't alright."
"No shit." Dean grunted, pushing himself back from the sink, swaying in place a bit. He frowned when Cas steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, but he let it happen for a moment before ducking out of his touch and heading back to sit on his bed. He leaned his head back, feeling again incredibly warm.
Cas stepped forward, sitting on the edge of the hunter's bed, and raising his hand to touch Dean's forehead. "You are very warm." He confirmed. "I can't detect any obvious injury."
Dean weakly pushed the angel's hand off of him. "I think you were wrong… it feels just like it did when the angels nuked Amara." He muttered.
"Smiting sickness?"
"I'm telling you man, it feels exactly like that." Dean took a deep shaky breath. "Go check on Sam. He hasn't done this before… he has to be freaking out." Even when feeling like death, Dean was thinking of his brother first. If Sam felt half as bad as he did, he would rather Cas spend his effort helping him.
Cas stood, casting one last hesitant glance at Dean before leaving, repeating his knock and entrance on Sam's door. The light behind him illuminated the younger hunter in his bed, and Sam stirred. He cracked one eye and looked at Cas silhouetted in the doorway. "Cas?"
Castiel walked in, becoming more visible as Sam switched on his bedside lamp and pulled himself upright.
"Cas, what is it?"
"Are you feeling alright Sam?" Cas ventured.
Sam rubbed his face, trying to wake up a little. He scrunched his brows together. "What? Uh, yeah- I mean… why?" He tried to get his thoughts to start working as fast as he needed them to.
"Dean appears to be suffering heavily from smiting sickness."
Sam stared at him for a moment. "I feel fine…"
"I am unsure as to what could be the cause then."
"You sure it's smiting sickness?" Sam asked.
Cas paused. "His symptoms are consistent with the diagnosis. And he himself has claimed it feels exactly the same. He was uncooperative to my examination until I checked in on your wellbeing."
Sam stayed still a moment further, trying to judge if there were any delayed symptoms he hadn't noticed in his tired state, but he felt fine. "I don't know why he would be getting sick from it and I wouldn't." He stood, starting towards the door, intending on looking in on his brother himself.
"Perhaps his prior exposure? Or perhaps your recent brush with an angel's grace is keeping it at bay in your system."
Sam nodded. "That is the one thing we don't share." He admitted softly. "It does kind of make sense." He walked into Dean's room, grimacing at the appearance of the older Winchester.
Dean was laying against his headboard with his eyes closed, but when he heard two sets of footsteps returning, he looked up immediately. "Sam!" He breathed. "Are you-"
"I'm okay." Sam interrupted, putting his hands up as he came to sit next to Dean. Cas stayed behind near the door.
"You're…" Dean trailed off, looking him over. He certainly did look alright. "What the hell-"
"Cas thinks I'm being spared due to my possession by Gadreel." He explained. "You've never been possessed, so your body is reacting like normal."
"Great." Dean grumbled. "Lucky you." He was bluffing of course. As his head continued to feel like a new knife was shoved in with each beat of his racing heart, he found relief in the knowledge that Sam didn't have to suffer this. "So Cas, what do I win?"
Cas frowned, tilting his head to one side almost like a dog might. "I don't know what you-"
"What happens if I don't get away from ground zero. Last time I left and I got better. What happens when I can't leave?"
"Oh, of course." Cas apologised. "The fallout is fading even as we speak. The peak should have been hours ago, so likely your symptoms will simply improve as time goes on."
"If it peaked hours ago, how come everything feels so much worse now?"
Cas shook his head, at a loss for an explanation to satisfy that question.
"Maybe it just sort of built up in your system?" Sam suggested, looking to Cas, but unable to read any confirmation from him. He turned his gaze back to his brother. "I mean radiation doesn't do anything right away, it has to build up before it starts doing damage."
Dean put both of his palms flat over his face, trying to block out some of the unbearable light. "Great." He whined.
"Do you want anything?" Sam asked.
"No. I'm going to try to get some rest. Please close the door when you leave." Dean dismissed.
Sam hesitated, wanting to help more, but knowing his brother wasn't going to allow him. He stood. "Call us if you need anything." He threw one last concerned glance at his ailing brother before following Cas into the hallway and closing the door. He sighed. "Will you-?"
"I'll stay nearby in case he needs anything." Cas assured him, walking towards the room next door to Dean. Sam's room was down the hallway, giving them some degree of separation for those times they really needed a break from each other. The brothers had set up a guest room next door to Dean's for Cas, though it was rarely needed by the angel. Still, tonight he would amuse himself there under the pretense of resting so he could keep an ear out for Dean's distress.
Sam nodded in appreciation. "Thanks Cas. I'm going to try to get some rest too. Hopefully he'll be better by the morning."