Dean had been staring at the same piece of circuitry for at least fifteen minutes.

It was frustrating, to say the least; Dean was fully convinced that whoever planned out the electromechanical engineering major pathway to include a mandatory capstone project should have been indicted for creating such a cruel and unusual punishment. Dean was usually at least halfway decent at circuitry, but staring at the so-close-and-yet-so-far carcass of a handmade electromagnet that just wouldn't work was driving him insane.

Which was why, when Cas shouted from the other room - an oddly panicked "Uh… Dean?" from about the doorway to what used to be Dean's bedroom - he was all too willing to forget about the damn circuit and swivel his chair around until he could make out Cas leaning awkwardly over the baby gate and peering in at the cow.

Dean was still chewing aimlessly on the pencil he'd been fiddling with as he worked, but his "Yeah?" was clear enough for govern- er, engineering work.

Cas turned his head briefly, just long enough for Dean to make out actual concern in his eyes before he looked back. "I believe Samantha to be having some issues, Dean."

He contemplated wheeling over to look for himself, but there was a table in the way and Cas was blocking the door anyway. "What's up?"

Dean couldn't see Cas' face, but he still knew from the set of his shoulders that he was frowning. "There's brown solid scattered across the floor. Do you think she's ill?"

He knew he'd probably regret asking - especially given Cas' tendency to over-detail - but he'd take that risk. (Dean was not worried about the cow, thanks. Just the floor.) "Describe it?"

Cas frowned again, his shoulders rising and falling just this side of a huff. "Brown."

"Yeah, Cas, I got that, thanks." (Dean was not smiling and shaking his head affectionately. It didn't happen.) "What else?"

"It's… clumpy."

Dean blinked. "That's probably shit, Cas."

Cas looked over, expression telling Dean in no uncertain terms that he was an idiot. "I just told you there was 'shit' on the floor, Dean-" (and no, Dean did not have to bite back a laugh at the air quotes) "-but what is it?"

"No, Cas, she probably went to the bathroom."

"Oh." He tilted his head, still looking into the room. "Oh. That kind of shit."

Dean shook his head (for the first time, of course). "Yeah, Cas, that kind of shit." He swivelled back around, looking back at the circuit and finally, finally finding that one wire that was causing the short circui- He turned back around again, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. (Dean Winchester didn't have germaphobic tendencies.) "Wait, hold up. Define everywhere."

The first warning sign was how long it took Cas to answer. The second was that Cas stuttered. (Stuttered.) "I-Its… It's nowhere, Dean."

Dean quite calmly - not at all panicking - changed his question. "Define 'nowhere'."

"Uh… Ask the Google."

"No, Cas, t-" He almost asked again before realizing that no way in hell was he going to get a straight answer. "Dammit, Cas, fine… clearly, I have to look for myself." He stood, crossing the room at a normal pace - not at all almost running and practically slamming face-first into a wall - and tried to nudge Cas out of the way. "Scootch."

Cas actually shut the door, then, and blocked it with as much of his body as he could manage. "No. It's fine. You'll be fine. Everything is fine in there. Because there's nothing in there."

"Yeah, Cas, that ain't sounding like my definition of 'nowhere'."

Cas frowned, glancing back at the wood of the door. Then, he looked back and, in as serious a voice as ever, asked, "Password?"

"Open…" Dean was weighing with himself whether he actually wanted to know what was on the other side, but he'd come this far. …the damn door."

Cas shook his head. "That is not the password. Try again?"

"Cas-" Okay, nope, not trying to deal with guessing the damn passcode. "Forget it." He reached past, seized the door handle, and forced open the door.

He blinked.

The pencil fell from his mouth.

"C-Cas…" (Dean was not freaking out.)

"Dean."

"C-Cas-" (Dean was not mid-hyperventilating.)

"Dean."

"She… Sh-" (Dean was not totally dying inside.) "But-"

"See? It's not everywhere."

Dean nodded. (Dean was not gawking a his- what used to be his room.) "It's not everywh-" (Dean's voice did not give out.)

"Dean? Are you okay?" (Dean did have a voice to answer Cas; he just chose not to use it.) "Sam, you-" He looked past Dean and gl- was he glaring at the cow? "Y-you just made Dean… I think he's having a heart attack. What do I do?" Was he asking the cow for medical advice? "Heimlich, right?" Yes, he was.

Okay, that pulled Dean out of his (totally not panic-numbed) thoughts. "Cas, Cas, I'm fine, calm down." (Dean was not freaking out.)

"Dean… What is she doing?"

Dean didn't actually look into the room - he was not about to cry - but he had a guess. "S-she's doing it again, isn't she." It wasn't a question, but he still dreaded the answer.

It came. "Dean, we have to put her on the toilet."

Dean refocused. "Wha- Why?"

"She can't just do-" He gestured at the room. Dean didn't look. "-this every time she has to use the bathroom." He paused. "We can ask the Google!"

"No, just…" (Dean Winchester didn't gulp.) "...just leave it."

"But the Google would know how to potty train a cow."

"It's not 'the Goog- Never mind." He risked another glance into the room, then slammed his eyes shut. "We'll just… clean it." Another glance. "If that's possible."

"She'll do it again."

Dean shrugged. (He did not shudder.) "We'll put down newspaper or some shit."

Cas frowned. "I guess. If it doesn't work, though… toilet cow."

"No." (Dean did not roll his eyes affectionately.)

Cas looked back at the room. Then, he smiled and took a step back, nudging Dean with his shoulder. "Bullshit, Dean." The smile took on light shadings of pride. "Get it?" Another nudge.

Dean couldn't help smiling at that one (not because of the way Cas was looking at him, of course, just because of the pun). "Yeah, I get it." Then, he sighed and looked - actually looked - at the room again, eyes probably reflecting every ounce of traumatized horror he was feeling. "Go distract the cow. I'll get stuff to clean. And newspaper."

Cas nodded and climbed into the room, walking over to the cow and petting her lightly. (Dean did not have to bite back a laugh as his brain unhelpfully supplied: cowpats.) Then, he turned and walked away.

As he did, Dean swore he heard Cas moo at Samantha. (He didn't laugh. Not at all.)