Day 53: Intercom, Evening

[damned_intercom]

The commotion just after the intercom's jingle displayed the same kind of erratic energy that the Head Doctor had been exuding all day.

"Come on, get those papers out of the way - no, I don't...! Ah! Good evening, everyone, and I hope you all enjoyed the activities we had to

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[poorexample]

As the door opened, Castiel half-turned in his seat to watch the young man enter. Stefan's greeting was polite enough, but what stood out more was the way that he immediately moved into some sort of exercise regimen.

It wasn't the oddest thing Castiel had witnessed, however. Dean and Sam had sometimes done the same thing. Both had explained, when questioned, that it loosened up their muscles and got them ready for an upcoming fight, but Castiel had started to realize that there was a pattern: they usually resorted to it when there was something particularly nerve-wracking on the line.

While there was a good chance that Stefan was different from the Winchesters, Castiel still tried to read the boy's body language. Was there a tension there that hadn't been present before?

In the end there was truly only one way to be certain, and so as Castiel continued to cut up the bird, he posed the question: "How are you feeling?" He was used to being lied to by humans, but there was no harm in making the attempt when they had nothing more significant to talk about.

[broodings]

It was hard to say what effect exercise had (or didn't have) on his body. He was technically dead, having been killed by a gunshot wound in 1864, but it wouldn't be correct either to say that his body was essentially unchanged from what it was the night he first transitioned into a vampire. On one hand, his hair still grew and he digested food, but then on the other, he still looked seventeen, and only blood offered him any nutritional value.

He probably didn't need to exercise (Stefan knew of vampires who hadn't worked out a day in their unlives and still looked as lean as ever) but certain routines helped regulate his hunger. Maybe it was all in the mind: food and alcohol made him feel like he was alleviating his hunger, and doing pull-ups made him feel like he was working off his aggression - even if, deep down, Stefan knew that the only dragging a person to the ground and drinking them dry would sate either need.

And that wasn't going to happen, and so he didn't stop his push-ups even when Castiel addressed him. "I'm fine," Stefan grunted, well aware that his behaviour suggested anything but. Hopefully Castiel would maintain his habit of keeping to himself. Stefan might have controlled his urges when Claire had touched his hand, and when a nurse had come too close, but it had been just barely. If his roommate decided to pry for once...

"On second thought, not fine," Stefan corrected. "You should stay away from me." He grimaced at how that sounded - so much for not encouraging prying - and sat back up. "Sorry, I... It's, um, not good." Once again, words were not his ally. He looked helplessly at Castiel. "Please just trust me."

[poorexample]

When Stefan replied that he was fine, Castiel immediately recognized the tone. It was one that Dean used, and whenever he did Sam would usually glance over at him with an unimpressed look on his face. It wasn't fooling anyone, including Castiel now that he had learned by example.

It seemed that Stefan had already realized how unconvincing that had sounded, however, as he was quick to correct himself. What he said only put him under more suspicion, though. He was implying that he was dangerous, and that this small room might not be enough to contain him. Castiel eyed him closely. Even though he'd already tried it, once more he concentrated, doing his best to search for something more than human in his roommate.

There was nothing.

Granted, there were plenty of humanoid creatures that weren't angel or demon, and right now that was all Castiel could be sure he was able to sense. What, then? Werewolf? Vampire? Shapeshifter? The last option would be particularly interesting after last night, and yet he couldn't think of where Stefan would have been shedding.

"I'd like to," he said after a pause, "but it would be more helpful to both of us if you'd tell me what's going on." He left his food alone for now. Part of him realized that he needed it, and yet Stefan's situation was far more important to him at the moment. "I might be able to help," he added.

Granted, if his roommate truly was some sort of monster, then there really only a few ways that he could deal with him. Calling on the Winchesters probably wouldn't be wise at this point either.

[broodings]

Stefan could read the intent in that silent stare. He'd known, even before Castiel spoke, that all he'd done with his warnings was ensure his roommate's interest, and that said roommate wasn't the type to not care, no matter how he seemed on the surface. It would be easier if that odd tendency to speak in monotone really did signal apathy, but Castiel had warned him before about keeping himself safe. He wouldn't be able to let this go - and without being entirely aware of what he was doing, Stefan scooted along the floor until his back hit the dresser, as far away as he could get without huddling on his bed.

When Castiel proved him right, Stefan laughed, more pain than humour in the sound. "You can't." Nobody could help him except himself, and the only way that was going to happen was if he got out of here and tracked down an animal to eat... or if he grabbed Castiel and buried his fangs into the warmest part of the man's neck... "You can't help," Stefan repeated, raking both hands through his hair in frustration.

As a rule, Stefan didn't normally allow himself to be near people when he was hungry - "hungry" being a relative term, considering that absolutely everything he thought or felt was underscored with the craving for blood. But he tried nonetheless to do what it took to minimize the temptation, and if he somehow found himself exposed to a girl with a gushing wound, he would flee. Sudden disappearances, strange shadows on his face, injuries that seemed to vanish from one minute to the next... all these things people could excuse or justify away. The human capacity for denial was a powerful thing, and Stefan relied on it to pass as human.

How long could he hide it from Castiel, if they were locked together like this every evening? How long would they be stuck here? Some part of him thought it would be easier to confess - at least that would make it clear exactly how dangerous Stefan was - but he'd lived too long and too carefully to think that the truth would go over well. He was a monster, no different from the creature which had tried to kill Castiel the other night.

No. "I don't want to hurt anyone," Stefan whispered, just loud enough to be heard in their little room. He looked at Castiel again, silently pleading with him to understand.

[poorexample]

With the way that Stefan ended up wedging himself against the dresser, Castiel couldn't help thinking that he looked like a cornered animal. He could only make guesses about what was wrong with his roommate, but he didn't have enough information to really know with any certainty. Was it a mental problem? Physical? Or something else entirely? Whether Stefan was even completely human was up in the air right now, so Castiel had no idea where to start.

It didn't help that the young man was insisting that he was beyond help. Castiel watched him closely, still leaving his food untouched. Seeing how Stefan had more or less implied that he posed some sort of danger, it was difficult for him to lower his guard now. He'd thought that the two of them had been handling their shared room situation rather well, but now...

Frowning as he watched Stefan drag his hands through his hair (a gesture that Castiel knew the meaning of by now), he remained sitting dead straight in his seat. He wasn't scared, but more concerned that Stefan wasn't acting rationally.

"Will you be able to handle yourself on your own? If you don't want to hurt anyone, the best thing to do would be to take care of whatever is behind your problem. I have some... experience with situations like these, if it is what I think it is." In actuality, it could be any number of things, but Stefan didn't necessarily know that. If he could just get through to him, maybe he would come clean.

Castiel would figure out what he could do after that point.

[broodings]

Stefan let his gaze fall again when Castiel seemed to at least accept his words, if not accept the fact that he should leave well enough alone. He couldn't really hold it against the man, however - were their situations reversed, it would probably take a lot more than a few vague warnings to dissuade him from wanting to help his roommate. But then, Stefan knew his strengths and limits. The average human couldn't do much to hurt him, and even a human with a wooden stake would have to be able to contend with Stefan's reflexes. The only real threat to him were other vampires, and he was aware of his self-inflicted disadvantages in that arena - but he could hold his own when at full strength, and he healed fast if given the chance. If Castiel had been suffering from an unknown condition which made him dangerous, Stefan didn't doubt that he could defend himself enough to help him.

But maybe he was assuming too much about his roommate. Stefan's head tilted curiously at Castiel's last comment, but he kept his eyes focused on the floor in front of him, knowing it would be easier to control himself if he didn't look at what tempted him. What could he mean? Castiel wasn't a vampire - true, there was no way to tell from just looking at him, but Stefan had never seen him have any adverse reaction to the food. What did Castiel think it was?

There were definite perks, he mused, to being able to read minds like Edward could. "I can handle myself," Stefan answered, and paused. He didn't mean to make the words sound so brusque, not when he could see that Castiel's heart was in the right place. He tried again: "Don't worry; after tonight, I'll be fine. I just need to eat-" Too much. Stefan sighed at himself.

[poorexample]

As much as Castiel attempted to judge from the young man's body language and behavior, he couldn't say for certain what he was. He was no diagnostician, at least not when the patient wasn't cooperating and wanted to keep his troubles to himself. Though he couldn't entirely blame Stefan for it, seeing how some secrets could lead to a large deal of trouble if they were revealed.

Even if Stefan's tone was on the rough side, Castiel didn't take any offense at it. Stefan clearly wasn't in the right state to be having a conversation, and so he was considering just focusing on his food now that it was clear that the subject had to be dropped.

He got a few bites of the food down, and while the poultry wasn't as good as the red meat that his vessel preferred, it was definitely edible. Now it was just a matter of having a decent amount before it got cold.

Speaking of food, it seemed that some of Stefan's problem had to do with consumption. If he needed to eat, then why wasn't he simply sampling the food that was waiting for him? "The turkey isn't adequate?" he asked after a pause, though he already had the feeling that there would be no point in pushing it.

Not that it mattered, since in the next second the intercom came on, essentially ending their conversation.