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[heraldingangel]

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Prayer: Cas can hear prayers from anywhere. Feel free to call on him anytime and he'll show up.

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[heraldingangel]

I'm aware that people aren't equipped to handle the cold. I witnessed the first Neanderthals skin the animals they killed for their meat and fur.

[ He didn't have the same acquaintance with the harsh winds and frigid temperatures as he does now, but the concept isn't lost on him. He's aware of the dangers that now face him, but it seems, it's not exactly what Dean means to say, and it takes him a moment to process the offer before he slowly nods, acknowledging it. ]

Thank you, Dean.

I'm watching over the bees right now. I suspect they might need to be moved before the month is over. If that happens, I'll need to find shelter for both of us.

[ But by then, he'll have found the bunker and wouldn't need to burden him. ]

[ruined]

[ For a second, Dean's half-wondering if Cas means he's going to skin some deer. The messy squint he sends in Cas' direction is all of that with the addition of feeling like he might be about to hack up a lung. Face turning away again, he raises a fist and coughs, the wheezing unmistakable as his eyes take on a glassy, barely suppressed stinging.

It takes almost a full minute for him to pull himself back together, a hand scrubbed over a decidedly tired face. He just wants to sleep without the nightmares. ]

You still got them under that tree?

[ He hasn't been to see those bees since August, but he remembers where they are. Had swung by and checked in on them while Cas wasn't exactly... himself. ]

[heraldingangel]

[ The cough raises his concern and he steps forward, stops. Indecision creeps into the groove of his temple and his mouth flattens into a thin line ignoring the awkward press of dry lips. ]

Dean. [ A worried look. ] You should go inside. You're sick.

[ The follow-up question distracts him and he stops searching for signs of a fever and looks back at him instead. ]

It's their home. I won't move them unless the hive is in danger.

[ He wasn't supposed to interfere at all. Every creature had its time. He knows this, yet something is different now. He doesn't understand it, but it drives him to act. To put disrupt the natural order for creatures so much smaller than what he is, what he truly is. He can no more turn his back on them than he can on the man struggling to simply hold a conversation. ]

Dean. [ Sliding a hand into his coat pocket, he pulls out a small rectangular box. Inside is a packet of gel-like pills meant to reduce fevers. Castiel offers them to Dean. ] Take these. They helped me feel better when I was sick.