She physically cringed at his suggestion of turning to Sam and Dean. In all actuality, it was probably a better idea than her trying to take care of him, but she just couldn't bring herself to admit it. Those boys could barely take care of themselves and she'd bet her own soul, if anyone could want such a beaten up, broken thing, that her bedside manner was better than Dean's. When Castiel had needed him most, he'd stood by and watched. Cas had nearly been killed right in front of him and who had been the one to step in? She had. No, she wouldn't throw Castiel on the mercy of the Winchesters. It wouldn't be fair to him and, after everything she'd done for him so far, it felt far too much like giving up.
His frustration with her did not go unnoticed. She sighed and decided truth might just be the best policy.
"Clarence, when are you going to realize that this whole thing we're doing is not normal for me?" she snapped. She didn't want to be rough with him. He was sick and pathetic and needed her kindness. But she couldn't help herself. His needing her made her even more uncomfortable than his wanting her. Wanting her she could couch in her own terms, attribute it to her body, to the basic needs of a male, to who knew what secret motivations. But actually needing her? It made her feel caged. "The closer we get," she said, her tone still hard, but her expression soft as leaned over him, "the more it makes me want to run away. It's what I do. I save myself. But you look at me with those big blue eyes and tell me you need me, you want me, you care about me. For fuck's sake, I'm a demon. What do you really want from me, here?"