As you traveled from hotel room to hotel room, you could feel your strength fading. Sam and Dean were busy, taking small jobs here and there while trying to find a way to help you. Each hotel room was warded heavily before they would leave you alone. 

Cas came and went, only staying for short periods of time. Each time he would sit with you, keeping you company while Sam and Dean were gone. It was nice having the company, even if he spent the majority of his time arguing with you.

"Y/N, this is ridiculous. Dean needs to know how big of a problem this is. That if you don't get help soon you are going to die." He pleaded while Sam and Dean were busy taking care of a vengeful spirit. 

"He already is worrying, and if he knows that will send him over the edge. If it is my last days on this Earth, I don't want to spend them with him treating me like I could break at any moment."

Sighing, he reached over, pressing his fingers against my forehead. He did this each and every time he visited, trying to heal me, while also checking to see how much of my own life force had slipped away, taken by the Angel Grace inside me. And each and every time he checked, his face was a mixture of disappointment and sadness.

"Y/N, you need to tell him. It has gotten considerably worse, and I'm afraid..." He started, but you just smiled at him.

"Cas, I'll think about it. But thank you for keeping my secret. It means a lot because I know how close you are with Dean." You thanked him. With another sigh, he vanished from the room. As soon as he was gone, you leaned back against the headboard, more tired than you cared to admit. Each day you wanted to sleep more and more, your body sore and weak. 

It was hard hiding your weakness from Dean, who studied you carefully almost every day, checking to make sure you were okay. Forcing yourself to eat, when you weren't hungry. To get up and take a shower when you wanted to lay in bled and sleep. If he knew anything, he wasn't talking. You knew you were being selfish, not letting him know that things were worse than they appeared. 

Yawning, you closed your eyes, ready to take another nap just as the door handle jingled and a grimy Sam and Dean stepped into the room. As Sam headed straight for the bathroom and a shower, Dean came over to you, staring down. "How are you feeling?" He asked, and you smiled up at him.

"Just a little tired, but otherwise I'm good. Stop worrying about me." You told him, smiling as he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to yours.

"Never. I love you, which means I'll never stop worrying. Especially until we get that Grace out of you, and your back to normal." He told you, brushing the hair back from your face. "Speaking of which, I talked to Cas just a minute ago." He told you.

Trying to keep your cool, you looked up at him. "And? What did he want?"

"He was just wondering how we were doing on finding help for you. He says he might have found help. Just waiting to hear back." Dean told you, standing up and heading to the fridge. Grabbing one, he offered it to you. 

After shaking your head no, you had to ask. "Any idea who he's asking for help?" You asked, just as a wet Sam came out of the bathroom. Heading for the bathroom himself, Dean shook his head. 

"No idea. But I hope he shows up." He said before locking himself in the bathroom.

"Y/N, when are you going to tell him?" Sam asked you softly, sitting on the bed next to yours. "Even I can see that you're not doing well. I don't know how bad it is, but I think you do."

With tears in your eyes, you dipped your head down. "Sam, I can't tell him. It's bad, and I don't want to worry him anymore than he already is. You are working on finding a cure, and I'll just hang on until then. That's it."

Shaking his head, he took a deep breath. "It's your decision, and I'll honor it. But if Dean's time with you is not certain, doesn't he deserve the chance to make each minute count?"

"I know." You whispered, as Sam got up, grabbing his coat.

"Let Dean know I went out for food. Give the two of you time alone." He told you, gently shutting the door behind him.

With both him and Cas on you about telling Dean, you felt horrible for staying silent. You were torn, wanting to tell him. But you wanted things to be somewhat normal for as long as possible. Even if that made him mad in the long run. With shaky legs, you stood up, needing a drink of water. Or air. Anything to clear your mind. With your hand on the wall to support you, you made your way to the small kitchenette in the room, holding tight to the counter as you sipped at the water. Letting the cool water comfort you, you turned back to the bed, your legs giving out underneath you.

"Damn it Y/n!" Dean muttered, catching you as you started to fall. 

Setting you back down on the bed, he sat down next to you. "Y/N, we need to talk. You've gotten nothing but weaker, and I know you're trying to hide it. But please, talk to me."

"I can't." You sobbed. "It's too much."

Standing up, he paced the room. "Y/N, we're in this together. I need to know what's wrong so I can help you the best I can. I've been waiting, hoping you would finally speak up."

Before you could answer, a heavy knock sounded on the door, before he swung open. Walking into the room was a man, shorter than both Sam and Dean. Maybe around your height. He had medium brown hair and a long, oval face. When he spoke, it sounded as if he had a slight lisp. "Miss me bucko?"