Castiel's point of view

Castiel heard voices around him, but there was also another sound, a steady, rhythmic beeping. The angel could faintly sense the presence of two other persons in the room. He slowly opened his eyes and looked into Dean's emerald green ones.

"Hey Cas. You really scared the crap out of us," Dean said with concern. "Where am I? What happened?" Castiel asked, confused as he looked around the room. In the corner, Sam sat in an uncomfortable looking chair, eyes closed. Someone had placed a blanket over him. "You collapsed back at the bunker. We brought you to the hospital. The doctor said your fever was over 105F/41C when you arrived."

The door opened, and a nurse stepped inside. The sudden noise woke Sam. The blanket that had covered him slid to the floor. "Well, Sleeping Beauty wakes," Dean joked. His reaktion was only a sleepy glare. "Hey Cas. Good to see you awake," he said, stifling a yawn, unsuccessfully. "Glad to see you're awake, sir. That's a good sign. I'll go get the doctor. I'm Nurse Miller, by the way," she said, hanging another IV bag before stepping out.

As the door closed behind her, an awkward silence settled over the room. Dean only had one question on his minds. He was about to ask when Castiel suddenly broke the silence. "How long was I unconscious?" he asked weakly. "Almost a day and a half," the older hunter replied. "What's going on with you?" "Yeah, come on, Cas. We know you're hiding something," Sam added. Before Castiel could answer, the door opened and the doctor stepped in.

"Good morning, Mr. Winchester. I'm Dr. Shawn, your attending physician. When you were brought in, your fever was over 105F/41C. We've managed to reduce it to safe level, but the underlying cause is still unclear," he explained calmly. Just then, his pager beeped. He pulled it out, glanced at it, then uneasy checked the clock on on his wrist.v "I'm very sorry, Mr. Winchester. There's been a car accident. I have to go to the ER. I'm sure there will be time later to anwer all your questions."

With that, he left the room. Sam and Dean now turned their full attention back to Castiel. He knew they wouldn't like what he had to say. They already knew he was running on borrowed grace from another angel—but they didn't know that without new grace, he would die. "Cas, just tell us the truth," Dean urged. "I'm fine. Just sick. The stolen grace I used doesn't give me full power," he lied. The lie didn't even make much sense, and he realized it the moment the words left his mouth. "You're a terrible liar, Cas," Sam said, frowning. "And you don't sleep or eat. If you were that weak, you'd have to do both. "Suddenly, the angel felt overwhelmingly tired. He recalled the doctor mentioning a fever. A chill ran through him. His eyelids grew heavy.

He sighed.

"My grace… it's burning out." This time, his voice was even weaker than before. Sam and Dean immediately noticed. "What do you mean, your grace is burning out?" Dean pressed. "Every angel has their own unique grace. When you use stolen grace, like I did, it only lasts for a limited time. Eventually, it fades. And when that happens, the angel dies," Castiel explained. "What can we do to stop it?" Dean asked. "i need to get my original grace back or find new stolen grace." "We could ask Crowley for help. He still owes us for that vampire incident," Dean suggested hopefully.

"No. Let me die. There's no need for another angel to die because of me. It was my fault for trusting Metatron and losing my grace in the first place," the angel interrupted, his voice fading more with each word. "But Cas, you can't—" Sam started, but didn't get to finish.

Castiel's eyes rolled back and his body began to convulse uncontrollably.