ofthursday | [IC Contact

What you are going to do is rationalize your idiotic mistakes, realize everyone makes them, and stop being such a self-deprecating whore.

If anyone has reason to hate you for what you've done, it's me. And here I am, speaking to you, when I should rip out your wings and feed them to my dog for existing.

Stop being such a little bitch.

Are you a fucking angel or not?

i'm not having this conversation with you in text

[He's done a lot worse and he will do even more; he'll essentially destroy the world. He can't just rationalize that to himself, and that he can rationalize other things--killing his own siblings, starting a war--just makes him feel worse.]

Fine.

[It's said quietly as Crowley abruptly sinks into a chair near Castiel's couch, pale and shivering from the illness, blanket already in place. Teleporting was a stupid decision, but he certainly isn't going to walk the hallway necessary to this room. Walking sounds painful.]

Stop being such a little bitch.

Better?

No.

[Castiel's voice is a whisper, and he's stopped coughing; he just wheezes unpleasantly when he breathes. But drawing Crowley out had the intended affect of letting him check on the demon, who at least had the strength to still teleport, which is encouraging.]

How do you know?

[That it's guilt causing this.]

Ruby was fine before she went to see Lucifer and then became sick as a dog after he made her feel guilty for seeing sense and reason.

[Crowley rolls his eyes to the ceiling.]

We're also ill.

That doesn't make it guilt.

[He frowns slightly; while it would fit, and explain the varying severity, it could be anything.]

It could easily be related to our powers, or the Core, or proximity even to an angel.

[Not all that likely, but it would also fit the pattern Crowley notices, so he's pointing it out.]

Mortals with no powers whatsoever are being affected the same as all of us. If the Core is at work, then it is truly random at how it is targeting and affecting, which makes little sense in how disease actually works. And I was sick before you were and you're the only angel that I cuddle with at night.

[It's said with the air that Crowley has considered all of this. Also, he's in a bad mood, and shut up.]

We all have powers here, Crowley. Perhaps it's something latent that the illness triggers.

[He's basically just helping bounce ideas. Crowley's current theory is as good as any.]

Such as?

[Crowley sinks slightly into his seat, letting out a rattled breath.]

I don't know.

[A pause, eyes falling shut, though he's still awake.]

But if it truly is guilt...

[He really is screwed.]

You can't die from feeling guilty, kitten, it's physically impossible.

[Guilt is just what makes you susceptible to this illness. That doesn't make Castiel's (or Crowley's) position any better, but there is a difference. Disease has a cure. Guilt --

Well, he's working on that.]

Perhaps the solution is to not feel guilty.

[There's a slight wheezing laugh as he leans his head against the back of the couch.

They were screwed.]

Try it and find out.

[Said in the most flat of tones, made only more so by how messed up his voice is from being sick. If he were the laughing type he might've done so along with the demon at the very idea of just 'not feeling guilty'.]

Shut up.

[It's a half-hearted retort.]

If I am going to die because of a series of bad decisions, I am going to die without a headache from your whining.

You already have a headache.

[He still doesn't move or open his eyes, voice faint but the response easy.]

You are making it worse.

[IC Contact | Siren's Pull]

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