Castiel watched the demon move, dully, and Abaddon snorted and rolled off the couch. The angel frowned in displeasure as Crowley began to examine him, feeling pinned in, but he controlled it for the moment as it was obvious Crowley was just trying to figure out what was going on.

Neither of them should be sick. This would be a curiosity to him too if Castiel didn't feel like he was going to pass out, and so he held still to allow Crowley to check out his symptoms. He was pale, cold except for a massive fever, eyes dark and hazy. His breathing was shallow and raspy, and every so often he shuddered with chills. This sucked, really bad.