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...
"I don't need a wheelchair," Castiel told the doctors who came to fetch him.
"It's just a precaution," said the female one. Doctor Hadley.
"Why do they call you 'Thirteen'? Are you considered unlucky?"
"Cas, don't," Jimmy whispered.
It was too late. Doctor Hadley's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"
"I'm sure he overheard someone calling you that," the man, Doctor Foreman, suggested.
"That...must have been it," Castiel said, as if the words were causing him pain. He climbed out of bed, pointedly avoiding the wheelchair. "If I am to cooperate, I demand pants. And a timetable for when you will release myself and Jimmy."
"You're having some very unusual symptoms, Mr. Novak, and we need to sort out what's going on -" Doctor Hadley began.
Castiel's icy blue eyes bore into her soul. "Pants. Now."
...
When Doctor House returned, Jimmy waved in Castiel's obstinate direction. "Your staff will have a handful with him."
"Just as well. They've been annoying me lately." House gave Jimmy an excellent interrogator's stare. "Now I want you to tell me the truth. I separated Castiel from you cause you seem to be scared of him."
"I think his heart's in the right place, but he's very cold, and he doesn't always think about his effect on people," Jimmy said.
"Because he's an 'assassin'?"
"Okay, he's not an assassin."
"Thought so. You're a terrible liar, you know."
Jimmy shifted, uncomfortable. "Castiel is worse. But you're not going to believe the truth. You're going to lock us up."
"We only have the power to send someone to the mental hospital against their will if we can prove they are a danger to themselves or others. If your level of crazy is considered benign, we can't do more than mock you incessantly. And it might be essential to figuring out what's wrong with him."
"Nothing's wrong with him that you can fix. And I'll be fine once I get some food in me and figure out what to do with myself. You really should just send us on our way. We have some friends we can stay with until we're back on our feet."
"I promise I'm not going to dissect you. Much."
With a deep sigh, Jimmy said, "I'm not worried about what you might or might not do to me. At least now that I know you can't legally institutionalize me. I'm worried about everyone in this hospital being in mortal danger."
House merely raised an eyebrow.
Jimmy clenched and unclenched his fists. "I know it sounds ridiculous and paranoid, but Castiel has some scary enemies, and they're not going to care about collateral damage. We've been on the run for -" Then he clutched at his chest and cried out.
Given his damaged leg, House's leap to assist his patient was impressive. Jimmy was spurting blood from a wound that seemed entirely, impossibly, spontaneous. As House put pressure on the jagged hole and called for help, he thought - though it must have been the shock - that he saw a clump of what looked like rock salt spill out as well.
...
This particular test was with a Doctor Taub, who was conferring with the others in whispers they didn't think he could hear. "Now, Castiel, we're going to put you in the MRI to look at your brain functioning as you answer simple questions. Bit of a holy terror, like House said he was?"
"That doesn't even begin to describe it. It's like he's from the Planet Belligerent or something," Doctor Foreman whispered back.
The doctor her coworkers and lover called Thirteen said, "He seems perfectly healthy. Almost absurdly healthy. But the machines think he's having a huge seizure."
"Could there be something wrong with the machines?"
"That's what we thought, but either something's wrong with every single one we have, or something strange is going on with the guy."
Castiel grew annoyed at their chatter, even as the diagnostic device carried him into its tunnel. "I don't see the point of this," he called out.
"Name?"
"Castiel."
"Occupation?"
"You wouldn't believe me."
"Try me. Answering honestly will help us be accurate."
"I am an angel of the Lord."
"I said honestly."
"I am being honest."
"Okay...um, career skills?"
"I am the angel of Thursdays and lost travelers. Any jokes about that you can think of have probably already been made. I have also fought against demons, wicked humans, Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and other angels gone rogue."
Nervous laughter. "That must keep you busy."
"Don't patronize me. I have Fallen. I have Risen. I have died and lived again. I have bled and doubted and sorrowed, lost brothers and sisters, learned terrible lessons and paid torturous prices. Also your machine makes a high-pitched whine that hurts my ears."
"I can see why his brother's scared of him," Foreman muttered.
"I'm not his brother. I assumed his form in order to interact with mortals and walk the Earth without destroying the feeble shadows you call reality."
"If you're an angel, where are your wings?"
Castiel had enough of this. He showed them, and the machine, as much as he could of his wings without burning out their eyes and completely obliterating the hospital. A thunderstorm began outside. The MRI shot sparks, smoked, and irrevocably broke. Castiel punched a hole in the side of it and climbed out. "Any more questions?"