A/N: Un-beta'd. My beta is studying for their bar exam so they haven't really had a lot of time to do things. Wish them luck!

Beta'd Dec. 13th by K!

Chapter 14: Doctor Doctor Give Me The News

Dean woke up a little groggy to his phone beeping loudly at him. He turned and struggled in his sheets; somehow he'd gotten them tangled around his entire body during the night, and tried to blindly grab for his phone. For a moment it silenced and he almost breathed a sigh of relief before his brain caught up to him. Case. Children at risk. He was at work.

"Fuckin' ay."

It took Dean a small moment to push himself up to his elbows and lazily rub at his eyes. A deep yawn overtook him as he harshly shoved the blankets off of his body. His jaw popped from a second yawn and he winced. Once he'd gotten his legs free he tried to search for his phone. During the night it had somehow landed on the floor. It started loudly beeping at him again as he blindly groped for it.

"Hello?"

There was no answer. Dean frowned and pulled the phone away from his ear. Confusion raced through him when there wasn't an open call on his screen. A small letter shaped icon flashed at him and he sighed. Of course. Until the night before he hadn't even known he could set a text message to repeated alerts but Castiel had told him that he'd send out a message if anything was needed. He felt guilty for feeling a small buzz of excitement course through him when he read the text. They'd approved a small team to drive to Fitchburg. The rest of the team would take the jet back home. Immediately, he responded with an interest to join the group; then headed towards the shower once he'd received a confirmation. It took him until he was stepping out of his boxers to notice a small, sticky, dry patch clinging to the inside of his thigh and to the seam of his boxers.

"What the hell?"

Dean stepped into the shower and tried to figure out what he'd dreamed about. When it finally clicked he couldn't help but let his hand slip lower as he scrubbed his body down, attempting to re-live the dream.

When his phone flashed again a nervous thrum erupted in his stomach at the sight of Castiel's name.

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Castiel flipped his phone shut and let himself sit down for a little. His knees felt weak and not because of the case they were about to consult on. True; sickly children, especially with evidence of foul play, always made him feel the awful. It just wasn't why his knees were shaking, though it helped. He'd gotten the clear from the Unit Chief the night before confirming a consultation.

The call he'd received after had left him feeling off balance. It had been urgent news from Zachariah, though his tone had been aggravatingly leisurely.

Meg Masters had somehow slipped from custody after her few months of captivity.

Frustration started to weave its way into his emotions as Castiel recounted the details in his head. She wasn't dead; they felt confident in that, but when the officers had walked into her cell in the morning, a week ago, she had been missing. Castiel had been furious, almost to the point of talking back to a superior ranking officer, that he hadn't been informed until now. The security cameras had seemed to friz out for a few seconds. They assumed it had been a splice by whoever helped her get out of lock-down. The disquieting part of it was the only way that she could have gotten out of the cell was if she'd had help from someone on the official line.

The biggest pit in his stomach had been the command not to inform Dean of it. He'd argued against it vehemently, the Winchesters deserved to know, but had been shut down on every chain of command. The amount of secrecy he was being forced to undergo made him feel like he was playing undercover. He'd finally been comfortable in the new identity he'd received from Interpol. It was like he was losing it all over again. There was a small part of him also bothered by the fact that he was questioning the orders of his superiors.

But something felt off and he'd long ago learned to trust his instincts.

He rubbed a tired hand at the back of his neck. An unsettling, cold chill ran up his spine. Castiel shivered. He'd read the files at nauseum and understood exactly who Meg Masters was in the big game. And what her escape would mean for Lucifer. Violent images passed through his mind as he dressed himself. Castiel's hands froze as he twisted the cold knob of the sink on. The one time he could recall in his adult life seeing him... that wink, that smugness. He shook his head and turned the knob off. Lucifer was under permanent lock down, in a solitary cell, and under heavy guard. Castiel had been assured that the worst that... his brother was getting up to was rather inappropriate images in his knitting.

A loud knocking at his door roused him out of his thoughts. "One moment!"

Castiel splashed the water that had collected in the sink into his face, pulled the plug, and took a deep breath. He scrubbed his face clean and dry before going to answer the door. Ellen stood on the other side with her own bag slung over her shoulder. "Singer, Barnes, and Bradbury are heading back. Charlie's going to pull up anything we need for this case and they're going to consult from Quantico if they can."

"That sounds fine. Be sure they take some time to take care of any personal business before coming back to the office."

"I don't think they're physically capable of that." Ellen smiled ruefully at Cas. "So," she clapped her hands together as he let her into his hotel room. "What's it look like we're dealing with?"

"Sick, some already dead, children."

"Sick kids?" Ellen frowned. "Isn't this usually something for the CDC?"

"Generally, yes. Center for Disease Control officials on site have yet to discover a rampant virus or bacteria, and they've confirmed that at the very least it's not spreading outside of the city. No similar cases have been reported nor do they have an available record of something happening in the past. At least not in Fitchburg."

"Foul play?"

"It's what they're suspecting, and it was enough of a loop hole for us to be invited in. The locals are distressed."

"I would be too," Ellen muttered, thinking of Jo. "I've got the car out front, I'll give Winchester a call and make sure he's ready to go."
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"So when are you coming home then?"

Sam rummaged around the mostly empty cupboards. He found a box of mac and cheese and their only pot. A small chuckle built up as he thought of all the late night dinners Dean had made for him; after their father had died and Mary hadn't been able to stay home very often. It had been a luxury event the few nights they could afford sausages and Dean minced them in with it.

"Dunno honestly. Cas says we're just consulting and I figure that shouldn't take more than a day."

"All right, okay. That's a little unexpected."

"For you and me both. Really though, should be pretty quick and then we're flying back."

Sam laughed outright, "How's that going for ya? The flying."

"Shut up. I'm gonna go now, Ellen's at the door."

There was a steady loud beep on the dead line and Sam slid his cellphone back into his pocket. He'd been a little worried. Despite how much he teased he knew that the flying was an issue for his brother. The job itself also made him uneasy. He'd never been one to try and baby his older brother, or hold him back from anything, but at least back in Oklahoma City he'd stayed local. If something happened during a case it'd be a short drive to whatever hospital they would stash his brother at. It was easier to deal with.

But, Sam couldn't exactly complain.

He stirred the macaroni in the pot as he mentally set a timer so the noodles wouldn't overcook.

Dean had always been a man of action. The few times he'd been forced to remain even relatively cooped up he'd been a pain. That was easy to ignore. But months of inaction generally left his brother depressed.

Still, neither of those issues were the ones worrying him the most.

The most pressing issue he had was related to himself. He was well aware that the reason he'd been found was that the BAU had been flown in and a joint task force with the CIA had been arranged. These people Dean was working with... they would know things about him, and he didn't want it to reflect on his brother. Although Dean had demanded full disclosure from him after his kidnapping Sam hadn't exactly followed that through. The omissions tasted rotten in his mouth but he'd been forthright in the interviews. Surely Agent Novak or someone had told him of the strange video, even if they'd never called Sam for any follow up questions.

The move had been somewhat helpful. At the very least he wasn't getting dirty looks everywhere like he had been back at the precinct. Of course it had raised suspicions with him being targeted, among the other 'victims' they'd found on the abandoned piece of land. It hadn't helped when it had gotten out that the files that Sam had accessed seemed to be less than legally acquired. He'd even heard Gordon suggest that Sam was guilty of aiding Azazel. Playing victim. That the bombing at the OKC office had been his fault, after all. What were the odds that Jessica had burnt to a crisp and he was alive? They were never too far apart. Sam had been removed from the premise after that. Beating an FBI agent to a pulp was frowned upon.

The worst part was, Sam had been starting to consider it a possibility. Of course he knew he hadn't actively done anything. More than that, he knew about as much about bomb making as he did needlepoint. But he hadn't been able to shake off the words on the video. That he was special. That they'd all been special. They'd been picked. Maybe all those people, maybe Jess, had died because he'd worked there. What if Dean had been among the victims?

It wasn't an alternative he wanted to think about.

So yeah, the move had been a little helpful. No more dirty looks and venomous whispers, but it hadn't shut his own brain up. As he ate his mac and cheese in silence he wondered if it would've helped if Dean hadn't left immediately. Their new apartment was cozy, a nice area, and the surrounding park had a lot of green. It was downright domestic in a way that their old place had never managed to be. But maybe that was just the change in weather. Either way, it was a nice place, but it seemed empty at the moment, and it had nothing to do with the lack of furniture or decoration.

Deciding he'd done enough brooding, the walls were damn near darkening with his thoughts, he tossed his bowl into the sink. So far he hadn't had a lot of luck on the job front. Sam had even asked the front desk if there was a job he could be doing at the apartment complex. They'd promised to give him a call but that was it. He was just lucky that he'd been able to pick up the rental from the Quantico field office. They'd barely been in town for a week so he hadn't been able to figure out the best way to move around the public transit network. A small sigh escaped him as he grabbed the keys from the counter in the kitchen. Even if there was little chance that anything had changed from yesterday's tour around the town, it was better than staying cooped up in the empty apartment with his thoughts.

At least the weather was nice.

Sam found himself relaxing a little as he drove around. Briefly he considered obnoxiously going to every single professional establishment he saw too. If nothing else he was sure he could do a secretary job. Hell, he'd shuffled papers around for the entire time he'd been doing his internship at the OKC office. The thought stayed in his head no longer than it had taken to think it. It made him wonder what his permanent record would show if they requested for background information. He hadn't been cleared back to the office yet but surely Starbucks would hire him?

A few unsuccessful hours later he found himself back at the apartment and in no better of a mood.
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"Are we really the right people for this?" Dean asked as they walked through the hospital.

"I know how you feel, but the CDC even asked for us," Ellen said as she led Dean through the corridors to where Cas was already talking to the doctors.

"I highly doubt that," Dean muttered. "I get what we do. Really, I understand that what we do is a science. But they're like, real science people. I don't think they'd ask us to come in and work some shrink stuff on comatose kids."

Ellen laughed. "Fair enough. Let's just say the officer in charge is an acquaintance of Cas' and he's got enough swaying power to ask for us to come here."

"Hey, as long as no one side-eyes us while we're trying to help I couldn't care less."

"I think we'll be fine," Ellen said as she flashed her badge at the nurse.

The closer they got to the ICU area the more crowded the hallways became. It didn't take very long for Dean to be dodging elbows as nurses and doctors scurried down the hallways. By the time they'd made it to Cas, Dean was holding his arms tightly to himself and glowering slightly.

"Those the kids?"

Castiel looked up at Dean and Ellen approaching and nodded. He turned his eyes back towards the children behind the glass doors and frowned.

"You two are the other agents, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir. Agent Harvelle and this is Agent Winchester." They shook hands with the doctor.

"Doctor Hydecker, I'm the main attending physician."

"And? What we've got so far," Dean asked as he peered into the room. The children looked pale, sweaty, but mostly like they were asleep. "What's wrong with them?"

"System failure."

"That's rather severe."

"It is," the doctor flipped through a few papers on his clipboard. "We've already lost two children, but we're praying for the rest."

"Prayer doesn't cure sick kids though," Dean muttered to himself. To his misfortune he'd spoken it loud enough for his companions to hear it. Ellen and Cas glared at him.

"True, Agent Winchester." The doctor sighed. "We've ruled out every autoimmune disease and so far no allergens have been found in any of the homes. Whatever... 'it' is strikes relatively quickly and there's a rapid decrease in organ function, followed by coma and then their bodies just... quit."

"Thank you, doctor. We'd like a list of the patient names and families," Castiel interrupted. They had a copy of the medical files and he'd been talking details with the doctor for the past hour.

"What for? We didn't find anything."

"Every little bit is helpful," Castiel said patiently. He held his hand out for the paperwork he knew the doctor had to already have in hand.

Dr. Hydecker scowled a little before handing over the papers, then sighing. "Just go easy on them. They're already going through a lot. As long as it helps, I guess."

"I assure you that we are trained to do our job well."

"Well he's just a damn ball of sunshine, isn't he?" Dean mumbled as they watched the doctor waltz back into the room.

"It is a rather troubling case," Cas defended absentmindedly as he ruffled through the papers. "We should begin."

The rest of the day was spent interviewing the families. For the most part the most common answers they received were the doctor given ones. They'd probably left a window open. A harsh cold. Pneumonia. Except the parents could swear that when the second child in the family became ill that they'd taken precautions. They left the speculation on disease to the doctors and focused on the families. Due to the amount of time it had taken them to drive to the city they'd only had a chance to do consultation with the doctors and families. They still needed to investigate the homes and get permission to do so. However, with it nearing the late evening it didn't seem wise or appropriate to do.

"So I guess we're staying another day?" Ellen asked as they packed up their bags at the police department.

"If we can't find anything conclusive in the morning we will be flying back to Quantico. While what's happening here is tragic, we do have other cases waiting for us."

"Sounds like fun," Dean griped sarcastically before getting up and stretching. "I guess hit me up tomorrow then."

Castiel frowned, puzzled as Dean started to walk out of the precinct. "Where are you going?"

"To get some shut eye."

"You don't even know where they've put us up yet," Ellen commented as they hurried to catch up with him.

"I'll make my own arrangements. Seriously it's no big deal. Hotels just make me itchy." Dean shrugged and left the explanation at that.

"You are extremely stubborn," Castiel complained but there was a small smirk tugging at the edge of his lip. "At the very least we can drop you off somewhere."

"You two have fun with that." Ellen waved over one of the officers who'd offered to chauffeur them earlier. "I'm tired and gonna get some shut eye. I'll see ya'll in the morning."

Dean and Castiel waved goodbye to her and then climbed into the SUV. Most of the drive was spent with Dean messing around on Castiel's cellphone to find a suitable motel. After awhile Dean felt the need to make conversation. "So? Doing a favor for an old friend huh?"

Castiel's head barely twitched. His eyes glanced towards him briefly before returning to driving. "Yes."

"Who is it?"

"No one particularly important."

"Come on, Cas. You pulled half the team in for this."

"I did no such thing. We don't go anywhere without approval."

"Point still stands. This really isn't something up our alley, is it?" An irrational part of him wanted to know who this person in Cas' life was. It seemed like someone important and for whatever reason he felt the burning need to know this detail. It was trivial and small and so not any of his business. It didn't stop him from feeling irritated at not knowing who, and how important this 'officer' was to him. So far they hadn't even been introduced at the department.

"An old military friend," Castiel finally admitted, voice soft.

"Oh. Well, that's respectable," Dean replied feeling a little silly. "What branch? Army or?" He tried to imagine Cas in any of the uniforms. All of the thoughts sent pleased pulses of heat from his chest, down to his stomach, before settling around waist and vibrating.

"Royal Marines."

Dean blinked. "What?"

Castiel smiled a little as he turned down the street towards the motel that Dean had picked out. "I'm not originally an American."

"Bull shit, you don't even have an accent."

"Some people are more efficient with dialect than others, Dean."

"Dialect, right."

Silence passed between them for a moment. "Does that bother you? You didn't strike me as someone who would feel particularly phobic of-"

"Oh no no! Not at all. Just, huh. You're full of surprises. I like that." Dean wasn't about to go admitting that for the past few minutes he'd been imagining an accent and being a little too enthusiastically thrilled by it.

Castiel hesitated for a second as they pulled up to the small motel lot; the sign flashed a little with the dying bulb light. It wasn't something he normally shared and generally kept under wraps, but he wanted Dean to get to know him. He wanted to feel close to him. For the first time, in a long time, he was actually a little upset about having to keep his identity under wraps. The strict protective measures taken had never seemed so restrictive before. Maybe it had been the phone call. The new secrecy. But if he couldn't share everything he could at least pepper some information in. "I speak Russian as well."

"You're lying," Dean said as he let the door hang open, his go-bag slung over his shoulder, one foot out of the door already.

"Spokoynaya nochi, Agent Winchester."

"Well that's hot." As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth Dean froze. His ears warmed up at the edges as he struggled to find a way to take the words back. "So I'm just. That's cool, I'll see you in the morning." Dean slipped out of the car and stumbled a little in his haste to get away.

That had been humiliating.

Of course, Castiel didn't think so. He leaned against the steering wheel a little, making sure that Dean made it to the front desk all right at least. Once the man had disappeared out of sight he whispered, "Priyatnykh snov."

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Dean marched into the motel room after having a short and dazed conversation with the owner; including a brief back and forth with her son. He'd chuckled to himself a little as he'd watched the older son, Michael, make the younger brother dinner in the back. Back in the day he'd spent many of his evenings doing just the same for Sammy. The amusement had only lasted for a moment. As Castiel had pulled out of the parking lot Dean had turned back around. They'd shared a short wave and Dean's heart was hammering again.

Cas.

Something he needed to nip in the bud right now.

Unless...Unless he could be sneaky about it, he told himself when he stepped into the shower. As long as it stayed in his head he hadn't violated any protocols or rules. No illegal office romances. The water felt like warm, kneading fingers down his back. He imagined Castiel spread out beneath him; flushed and red cheeked, cursing in Russian as Dean bit at his neck. The car windows would be rolled up to prevent sound. They'd be in the basement level of the Quantico parking building...

"God damn it," Dean groaned as he came in spurts onto the shower wall. His breath stuttered out in shorts pants and he had to swallow the spit that had gathered into his mouth to calm down. "I'm screwed."

Sleep didn't come easy that night. He spent most of it working on the case. Briefly, Dean had stepped out to grab himself some coffee and had promptly dumped it into the bin when he thought he saw one of the doctor's from the hospital creeping to a car. Obviously he needed sleep if he was hallucinating. He fell asleep around 2am with his cheek pressed against the documents.

The morning didn't bring any relief either.

Dean didn't bother to do anything but change into a new shirt and shrug a jacket on. He glanced at the clock, the numbers flashing eight, and groaned. He still had a little while before official wake up call and they were back to trying to figure this thing out with jack shit to go on. At the very least he could go grab some breakfast in the motel lobby. He hadn't expected to find the motel owners son sitting, looking quite dejected, on a bench. Confused and feeling a moment of some misguided 'parental' affection for the young kid; he approached.

"Something wrong?"

The boy barely looked up. "Asher's sick."

"Who?"

"My little brother," the boy bit his lip and tried to hide the sniffle wanting to escape him. "Pneumonia or something. He's in the hospital. It's my fault."

"Hey, come on. Pneumonia's nature's fault."

"I should've made sure the window was closed."

Their conversation was paused by the mother hurrying out of the motel. "Come on," she smiled apologetically at Dean. "Sorry about this. Stop bothering the nice man, Michael. Let's go."

The boy gave him a small forlorn look before being pulled into the car by his mother. An ugly feeling started twisting in his gut. Breakfast was of course out of the option now as she'd closed the office but that wasn't it. He fished his cellphone out of his pocket and speed dialed Cas. He'd be awake already.

"Yes?"

"That's no way to answer a phone," Dean joked, unable to help it. "But seriously, where are you guys right now?"

"On our way to you. I'm waiting for Agent Harvelle to come down."

"Okay good. Listen, the motel I'm staying at? One of the kids got sick. The owner lady's. They're heading to the hospital now, the kid's already there I think. You should roll by there before you come pick me up."

"Another child?"

"Yeah I know. It's families getting sick right?"

"It appears to be so. Ellen and I discovered a pattern last night as well. It seems to exclusive be affecting families with siblings."

"So I guess you couldn't sleep either."

Dean could hear a fond smile in Cas' voice. "If you wouldn't be so stubborn you would've been able to join us."

"A little too late to worry about that. Just make sure that the brother gets checked out too before you guys head over here."

The phone line went dead without a goodbye.

He let the motel door bang shut with carelessness as he stripped off his jacket and went back to looking through the papers. Dean pulled out a map of the area and re-marked the houses of the other victims, adding the motel to the list. Grabbing a red pen he circled all the dots and felt an uncomfortable chill down his spine. Every single afflicted family surrounded the Dane County Memorial Hospital. That couldn't be a coincidence. From what he remembered from his training they called it a comfort zone and it was eerie that it would center around a hospital. Well, the hospital seeing as none of the sick children had been sent anywhere else.

Dean was still shuffling through the papers when he heard the knock at his door. Pen in his mouth, and not taking his eyes off the map, he fumbled with the door until it opened.

"Getting a head start, are we?" Ellen waltzed in, Cas in tow.

"I think I got something," Dean mumbled around the pen before pulling it out and leading them to the small motel room table. He spread the map out on the table and turned it towards them, tapping the pen at the circle he'd drawn. "Every single one of the cases."

"With the addition of the newest case I don't think its speculation anymore," Castiel mumbled as he took a seat, brow furrowed.

One of the first things they'd looked at had been proximity, if not simply for spread of disease reasons. The newest case made it painfully obvious. Dean had done well for coming to the conclusion on his own.

"This means we have to dig through all the employee records, don't we?"

Castiel looked up at Dean. "Sort of. We'll call Charlie and have her narrow down the parameters and fax them to the Department. As nice as it would be to believe that hospitals wouldn't hire people with disturbances in their background..." he sighed, "we'll have to include nurses as well. Anyone with any brief medical background."

"Or it could be an evil janitor?" Dean suggested. Ellen rolled her eyes while Cas stared at him blankly. "Come on, Scooby Doo?" When Castiel continued to stare Dean sighed and shrugged his jacket back on. "You need to get a better sense of humor."

"My sense of humor is just fine, Agent Winchester," Castiel retorted gathering up a few of the papers they didn't have copies of at the station. "I just find yours to be off-the mark."

"Come on, it was a little bit funny," Dean argued, turning to Ellen.

He knew he'd won when she couldn't contain her small smile.

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A few hours into going through background files they were no further along. The sun was starting to set and they were running out of their allotted time for consultation. While it would've been nice to have all the time in the world it wasn't an official case. Fitchburg's crime rate wasn't very high either, so most of the officers had returned home. Well, those that weren't out on patrol. The only sound other than the shuffling of paper and tired yawns was a creaky ceiling fan, whirring a little lopsided.

"Are you sure this is all of them?" Castiel spoke out loud into the speaker.

"Yes sir. I even went to some of their schooling files looking for infractions. Anything that's been flagged you've got."

Ellen cursed and Dean leaned back in his chair. Grumbling something about coffee he stood and up and wandered towards the break room. With a sigh he turned the pot on. He rubbed his hand across his face while listening to the drip of the coffee pot. Even if it wasn't an official case it didn't sit right with him that he was about to fail his second mission out with the BAU. Hell, even if it weren't for the job, Dean Winchester never left unfinished business. Or at least did his best not to. While working at the gang unit they'd worked in a concentrated area. If something didn't get solved that night he could go back to it weeks later. That wasn't a luxury he had here.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and his eyes blinked open in surprise. It was damn good. Dean walked out of the small break room and approached the first officer he saw. "Felt like I had to take a moment's break to give credit where credit's due. Damn good office coffee."

The officer laughed at him and shook his head. "I'd take that back. That's not something we usually have around here. Officer Siege is pregnant and according to her she's 'not about to put that crap' into her body and poison her baby. As long as she keeps bringing it herself, we don't care."

Dean chuckled and shook his head. It reminded him a little of when she'd been pregnant with Ben. "I thought it was suspiciously good for cop coffee."

His mind froze for a little before whirring into action. Nearly spilling his coffee he marched back into the conference room they were using. Castiel and Ellen looked up bewildered at his entrance as he moved over and pushed the call button to Charlie.

"At your service as always. What's up?"

"In the records, I want you to change what you're looking for. Pull up all the files that have never had anything wrong. I mean not one malpractice, not one lawsuit, accident, and hell if they list it, not a single complaint."

"Uh, sure. I can do that."

"Any particular reason for this?"

Dean shrugged and enjoyed a sip of his coffee. "Well, I figure, this.. coma disease thing is pretty damn subtle. It's probably why they can't find documents with similar cases 'cause it's such a freak anomaly, right?"

"I guess." Ellen leaned her chin on her hand, watching Dean intently.

"So, you'd have to be pretty damn good right? To cover your tracks and make sure you didn't get connected just in case anyone even accidentally found a similar case. Make sure you were squeaky clean so that they wouldn't even think to pull you into the suspect pool."

Castiel smiled, "Impressive theory."

They waited half an hour as they canvassed their original documents again before the speaker crackled. "Someone tell Agent Winchester what he's won."

"Twins and a beach vacation?" Dean ventured out feeling uplifted. The sun had gone down and it was nearing the evening but if they could make significant progress in the last stretch they might be able to help still.

"So, I've got a couple of guys. Nothing too big actually. But, I figured I'd go a step further and look into the hospitals and junk they'd worked in before and yadi-yadi. They check out pretty well but there's one guy that's kind of raising the type of flags I think you guys are looking for. Sending the info- now."

"Thank you Miss Bradbury," Castiel said as he walked over to the loudly whirring printer.

Dean hurriedly flipped through the pages looking at the cases that Charlie had flagged for them at the hospitals. "It's not exactly the same but similar enough."

"Maybe he worked up to it? Perfected the illness. Ya know?" Ellen muttered.

"That's a scary thought, sounds more like a terrorist thing. Biological warfare," Dean answered, flipping to the personal information page of the person who'd worked at every hospital incident.

"I think it's a little more of convenience and simple trial and error," Castiel murmured as he shook his head. "We need to get to the hospital."

They left the files on the table, with the ID picture of Dr. Hydecker staring up at the ceiling.

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They caught him trying to sneak in through the window at the motel. They'd gotten a warrant for arrest from a rather sleepy judge before driving to the hospital. They'd arrived to find him gone. One of the nurses informed them that he'd left early that day. The next priority had been to secure the latest victim's family. The nurse had told them that because the mother wouldn't be able to help out much and the older son running himself ragged at the hospital; the mother had chosen to take them both home for the night.

Not wanting to draw too much attention, they didn't want to spook the doctor, they'd left their lights off and parked a street down before moving in. Castiel had been the first to reach him, pointing a gun to Hydecker's lower back as he tried to crawl out of the children's bedroom.

While the cases hadn't been identical, they'd found that at the hospitals he'd worked at previously had suffered small break outs of diseases where all the children had perished. The numbers had started small but once the 'outbreak' had passed, no such incident had occurred again. Hydecker had probably started out with an actually ill child and developed an obsession. Being the main physician and doctor in charge of the cases meant he could keep the children sick. It also meant that he could edit the information on the files and purposely misdiagnose. Having one sibling already in the hospital gave him easy access to the homes.

Depressingly clever.

Dean sighed as he sipped on his coffee. Leave it to fate for them to have wrapped up the case by the time even selling beer was illegal. He gave the waitress, who re-refreshed his cup of coffee, a tired smile.

Despite having solved the case he didn't find himself feeling as satisfied as he should've.

"Of course you'd be awake."

Dean's head snapped up as Castiel sat down across from him. He hadn't even heard the bell at the top of the door ring. He frowned and sipped on his coffee. "How'd you find me?"

"Well, seeing as all the bars are closed and this was the only open establishment..." Cas smiled and shrugged, waving the waitress over for his own cup of coffee.

"You think you know me so well."

"I am a profiler, Dean."

"And here I thought it was just 'cause you liked me special," Dean grunted into his coffee. It tasted bitter.

"I like you plenty, Dean Winchester," Castiel murmured with a soft expression in his eyes. "You're troubled."

Dean snorted and turned to stubbornly stare out of the window. His gaze remained locked as he gripped his cup tightly. "Aren't you?"

"You did a good thing today Dean. We can chalk this up to a victory."

"Yeah well." The door chimed in the background. "It just bothers me."

Companionable silence passed between them for a few minutes before Castiel spoke. "It's the children, isn't it?"

"First we've got the killer clown using kids and then we've got a damn doctor playing around with them."

"Munchausen by proxy is actually fairly rare, Dean."

"He's a damn doctor. He's supposed to be taking care of these kids." Dean ran an agitated hand through his hair. "It's like dirty cops or fuckin' parents that fuck around with their kids. You're supposed to be able to trust these guys with 'em." Castiel opened his mouth to speak before Dean barreled forward. "I've put away some sick puppies but man. It's... kids, I just didn't think it happened this often." He bit his lip and swallowed thickly. The boys at the motel had reminded him a little more of himself and Sammy than he cared to admit. It terrified him that as a child that could've been something to have happened. That the few times Sam had gotten sick and Mary had been working late night hours he could've lost him to a guy like Hydecker.

"The doctors assure me that the remaining children will make a full recovery."

Dean huffed. "You sure none of them have Munchhausen?"

Castiel smiled and reached a tentative hand across the table. He placed it on Dean's forearm in an attempt to offer comfort. "I admit it's rather unusual for us two get two cases involving children back to back like this, but Dean... our job at the BAU is to find these people, these specific-," Castiel hesitated. He didn't like assigning morality to a science, "-evils. It gets easier."

"I'm not worried about that," Dean mumbled, feeling his heart speed up a little as he stared at Castiel's hand warmly settled on his arm. He swallowed and fought back the urge to pull his hand back a little so that their palms could slide together.

"Then hopefully next time I won't have to search for the closest late night establishment to find you."

Dean looked up and fought to show any type of emotion. The expression on Cas' face was soft and not for the first time did Dean realize just how different 'boss' Castiel and well... Cas were. A part of him wanted to make an active attempt to make sure that he finished out every case at a bar. He liked Cas taking the time to seek him out. Although he'd had so few of them he thrived on these moments. These little after thoughts and to some extent pep talks. But he also knew having a drinking habit like that would end up reflecting poorly on his work performance. Besides, Cas had already seen him wasted enough times, he didn't want the other man to think he was some washed out alcoholic. Still, he warmed himself with the thought that Castiel had come looking for him. He fought to make himself seem cocky. "Well, you know you don't have to keep coming to look for me," he hurried on before he could make it sound like a rejection of Cas' attention. "Maybe if we didn't keep staying up until late in the evening you could find me at a diner with some pie instead."

Castiel's eyes were guarded, and for a moment Dean felt like he'd messed it up, even if he didn't quite understand what he was worried about messing up. But then Castiel smiled a little and shook his head. He waved his arm towards the waitress again and asked her if they had any pie.

Turned out they did.

Shocked, Dean watched as Cas' eyes crinkled a little at the edges. He should've noticed immediately that they had pie. Maybe he'd been more out of his head than he'd originally assumed. His mouth gaped a little and he could've sworn Cas almost laughed. There was a spark of teasing mirth in his eyes as the pie arrived and he handed Dean a fork.

The pie tasted sweet in his mouth as they ate in silence.

… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . .

A woman with long blond hair stood outside of a rather modest apartment building. From what she could see from the ground the place was still sparsely furnished. For the past few days that she'd watched it she'd only noticed one man walking around, sometimes leaving the apartment to go (as she found out) job hunting. The woman knew there were supposed to be two people living there but so far she hadn't seen the other brother. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that Dean Winchester was still on a case for the BAU despite some of his teammates having returned to Virginia. A small smile curled onto her lips as she watched the other man look out through the balcony doors before flicking the light off.

"Poor Sam," the woman muttered as she slipped away into the shadows.

A/N: The russian says Good night and then sweet dreams. I found a few different phoentic spellings for it and picked the ones I saw pop up most often. There are also a ton of ways to say good night in Russian with different 'meanings' behind them (level of formality for one).