"My car won't start." Cas is outside of Dean's door, his hands splayed at his sides, his eyes wide and manic. "I need to be in downtown Lebanon in an hour."

"Hey, okay, no need to panic about the Cas-mobile. I can take a look," Dean says. Cas doesn't look at all mollified. "Or, better yet, I can just take you."

Cas' whole body relaxes. "Thank you, Dean."

"What's so urgent anyway?" Dean asks as he waves Cas back towards the garage.

Cas hesitates before he sighs and explains, "At Sam's suggestion, I went to see a doctor about the frequent sore throats I've had since becoming human again. It was recommended that I have my tonsils removed. I'm suppose to be at the hospital precisely at 9."

Dean's pretty sure he misheard all or part of that. Because what. "Wait, back up. You're having surgery?"

"Yes, I just said," Cas says in exasperation.

"And you weren't going to tell us about it?" Dean says.

"It's a routine procedure," Cas says, like Dean doesn't know that, "in which there is very little chance of anything going wrong. I didn't believe it was a matter of concern for you or Sam."

"So you were just going to drive yourself back to the bunker while drugged and mime to us about where you disappeared to?" Dean asks.

"Why would I mime?" Cas asks.

Dean scrubs a hand down the side of his face because he doesn't have the patience for this. "You know what? Forget it. Just... let's get you to the hospital. Come on."

They're halfway down the hall when Sam walks past them, with a box of cereal in hand. "Dean? You're dressed already? We have a case or something?"

"Yeah," Dean says, "a case of Cas not sharing with the class."

Sam frowns at them. "Not sharing what?"

"I was unaware I was meant to inform you that I was having surgery," Cas says, glowering at the wall.

"You're having surgery?" Sam asks, his tone tinged with curiosity and concern. "For what?"

"Cindy Brady here is getting her tonsils out," Dean says.

Cas' glower turns into a confused stare. "Why are you referring to me as a character from a 60s sitcom?"

"Because he's an idiot," Sam says, rolling his eyes. "So anyway, Dean's going with you, so you should be good. But I can come too, if you want."

"I believe I will be asleep for most of this," Cas says, looking progressively more baffled. "I do not see the necessity of either of you being present."

"Well, okay," Sam says uncertainly, "guess I'll see you when you get back then. Maybe get you some ice cream?"

"Not ice cream," Dean says, pinching thoughtfully at his temple. "They always say you can have that on TV. But you can't. You're not even suppose to eat it. Not for a couple days. I remember that from when you got yours out... popsicles, though. He can have popsicles."

"Once the two of you have finished planning my diet for me, I will be in the car," Cas says irritably before brusquely continuing down the hall.

Once he's out of sight, Sam asks, "Dean, are you going to be okay down there by yourself?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean says. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well," Sam says cautiously, "you don't exactly have the greatest track record with waiting around in hospitals."

"Because people I know tend to die in 'em," Dean says, then realizes it. "But, come on, Sammy, he's just getting his tonsils out. It's not going to be a big deal."

And, it shouldn't be, Dean thinks. Like Cas said, there's little chance of anything going wrong.

Except there's this little voice in the back of Dean's head telling him that if lightning is going to strike, it's going to strike on them.

He decides that it's best to ignore that voice.

"Okay, well, call me if either of you stubborn asses change your mind," Sam says.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean says and heads for the Impala.

XXX

Dean has been at the hospital for nearly two hours, and he knows three things:

1. Cas has far too many questions, for the hospital staff and Dean's taste, about the importance of counting backwards under anesthesia:

I need to begin with 100? Is that an arbitrary decision? If I don't count backwards, will I not fall unconscious?

Dean works out by the fourth question that Cas is more freaked out about this than either of them had bargained for. He wordlessly takes Cas' hand and smirks at him a little. Cas, damn him, doesn't look at all embarrassed, just grateful and maybe a little relieved.

2. The likelihood that the hospital is not haunted, or something like it, is approximately nil:

Once Cas is completely knocked out, a well-intentioned nurse leads Dean back to the waiting area and points out several magazines that he has little to no interest in reading.

He feigns an interest in People just long enough for the nurse to think he's been helpful before wandering into the adjacent hallway.

Five minutes later, he's trying to knock a Coke out of a stubborn vending machine when he notices that the woman at the neighboring machine is not actually being incredibly indecisive. She isn't moving. Period.

She's standing stock still, her index finger poised to touch a button, her head tilted slightly to the side, her expression startled but stagnant.

Dean waves his hand over her eyes a few times. She doesn't track his movement. She doesn't even blink.

He pokes her shoulder. She's stiff and cold to the touch.

That's odd enough alone.

But then, once he gets his Coke, he finds a doctor with his pen poised over a clipboard standing frozen in the middle of the hallway.

Then a man sitting up on a gurney.

Then a nurse pulling an IV down the hall.

Then a little boy back in the waiting room.

All totally petrified.

3. Per the first two things, he should probably call Sam.

So, he does.

"Dean? I didn't actually think you were going to call," Sam says when he answers. Then, his voice laced with concern, "Everything okay? Is Cas okay?"

"Yeah, Cas is fine. Or, at least, he was twenty minutes ago," Dean says. He tries not to overthink the fact that he doesn't know exactly where Cas is at the moment. "Need to find him though. Because, uh, think we've got a case."