Phaedra couldn't say that rang any bells. If he'd said Aramaic, or Hebrew, well, that wouldn't have surprised her. But this was a word she didn't know.
And human vessel. Human vessel. Despite the fact that she was not alive, Phaedra shuddered. She of course knew on a base level that, for an angel to walk around, it had to take possession of a body. They were no different than demons in that respect. And that was the problem. She could vividly remember what it felt like when Saerian pushed her. He wasn't able to outright get inside her and use her as a vessel, because she had a soul--something Dean had a hard time believing, she knew-- but he could nudge her and control her. And he'd used her to scare the smartass right out of Harry Dresden.
He's no longer with us.
Phaedra said nothing. There was nothing to say. Even if she wasn't feeding on people, she was a professional killer. The idea of Castiel's vessel, a human man, no longer being alive because of Cas was actually less upsetting to her than the idea that Cas had to use him to begin with.
She was reading the labels on what was supposed to be O-negative when Cas snapped her out of it.
Can you see it at the sub-atomic level?
Phaedra grunted.
"I'm a vampire, Castiel. Not a microscope."
Still, it was the right color. It appeared to be the right consistency, based on what she could feel by touching the full bags. She needed to smell it. That was going to help her figure it out. Blood smelled differently if a human being was sick, for instance. Or drunk. Or high.
Dead blood had a very distinct smell.
So did animal blood of every variety.
She sighed, taking the pouch of blood in her hand and putting it up to her mouth to puncture it. Once there was a hole, she raised the bag to her nose.
It was not right. She was sure she could drink it, but unsure what it would do to her.
"It's not the same," she said. "The smell is entirely different."