In that moment, after bearing what of his soul he could to her, Castiel wondered how Meg felt. He wanted to ask, but he also knew she was guarded about most things of that nature. It was all part of that thorny pain of hers, the way she cast one face toward the rest of the world, to hide what was there under the surface. He'd observed it and it was something that he'd said as such about, but he wisely knew not to inquire about it at this moment. Right now, he was tired and wanted to rest, to get well so he could be a bit more useful. He knew he couldn't rely on Meg forever and he didn't want to put her in the position she was currently in for too long that she ended up resenting him for it in the end.
"You're welcome." He didn't know what she was thanking him for, exactly, but he knew to acknowledge it. Otherwise, it would appear rude and he wasn't being rude. He was grateful whenever she lifted the cup to his lips and it didn't take him but a moment to drink the contents of it. It tasted funny, like how the substance she rubbed on his chest smelled funny and it made him give a mild look of disgust toward the taste. He wasn't sure what the flavor was meant to be, but whatever it was, it was not of this Earth. "I do not wish to get sick again, because that was a rather unpleasant taste." But, it coated his throat and was warm, so it eased him in that regard.