Dean feels like he's been in bed for days. He's exhausted, wiped out, almost every ounce of energy drained from his body, et cetera. On the bright side, exhaustion makes for a swell change from the pain that has apparently decided to take a coffee break. For now he can breathe.
There are noises nearby. Footsteps and voices, which eventually fade into the recognizable worried murmurs of Sam and Cas, which either means that Dean's hearing is messed up or they're trying to talk about him without letting him listen in. Dean clears his throat and they stop. After a couple more seconds Sam and Cas finally come into view, hovering above him.
Sam is frowning. "How do you feel?"
"Tired," Dean says hoarsely.
"From a scale of 1 to Hell, how bad?"
"3." Dean's mouth feels weird. Grimy and misshapen somehow, and barely able to hold the words properly as he speaks them.
"Is there anything else?" Cas asks.
"Not much." Dean frowns. "Why're you looking at me like that? Should I be feeling something?"
"It's good you're no longer suffering," Cas says, which isn't as reassuring as he thinks it is. Faint pressure lands on Dean's chest, which he eventually parses as someone touching him. The movement freezes just as Cas' eyes go wide. "Was that there before?" Cas asks.
"Was what where?" Dean's neck refuses to cooperate, keeping him from looking downwards. "What is it, what? Talk to me, dammit!"
"Your body is changing," Cas says.
Dean can't feel his legs. Or his arms. "Did you find the statue?"
"Yes, Kevin's working on..." Sam stops, hand pressed to his mouth as he swallows audibly. "Kevin's translating it now."
"Go help him," Dean says.
Sam immediately takes off. Dean probably shouldn't ask Cas to get a mirror, then.
