CHAPTER 1

"For the last time, dammit, I'm fine."

Dean Winchester had had enough of medical attention for one day. He hated hospitals to begin with, and having a bunch of white coats swarm all over his mangled arm, touching it, prodding it, jostling it around, wasn't exactly improving that disinclination. Overall, the hunt had been successful, but had ended with Dean in the middle of the road sporting a chewed up forearm. Needless to say, several good Samaritans later, Dean found himself in an ambulance and now in a claustrophobic, badly lit room on a gurney. Every second he was in there was a second too long. He just hoped that Sam was almost there, with Castiel in tow. He had sent his brother a text as soon as the ambulance arrived, so it shouldn't have been much longer.

The doctor, a tall lanky guy with a large nose, turned Dean's arm over for the hundredth time. The hunter jerked his appendage away.

"Christ, enough already" he snarled.

"The wounds are deep, so you might need surgery to repair muscle damage" the doctor droned.

Or an angel of the Lord with healing powers, if his ass ever gets here Dean thought, rolling his eyes. Cas couldn't 'teleport' anymore, but he could still heal, so hopefully he was riding shotgun with Sam at this very moment. One touch and boom, no more Dr. Nosejob.

"Your painkillers are on the way" the doc said on his way out of the door. "We'll get you hooked up to an IV and feeling better in no time."

"I said I'm good" Dean shouted after him. "I live for the pain!"

Actually, the pain sucked and Dean was anxious for some relief, but there was no point in having an IV and all that if the wound would soon be nonexistent. The plan was to have Cas heal his arm and then split before anyone knew what had happened.

A nurse entered the room and Dean was about to protest again until he noticed her pretty auburn hair and hazel eyes. He smiled coolly at her. "Well, it's about to time. My heroine, come to save me from the crippling pain."

Sam jumped in the spare car as soon as he got the text from Dean. He told his idiot brother not to take on the case alone, but Dean insisted he needed 'some me time' so he let him go, against his better judgement. Werewolves weren't anything they couldn't handle, but no matter how many times they had faced a certain enemy, something could always go wrong unexpectedly. Dean ending up in a hospital 45 miles away certainly fell under that category.

Castiel was with him, of course, sitting quietly in the passenger seat. Sam's relationship with the fallen angel wasn't nearly as awkward as it used to be, but it definitely wasn't at a 'Dean and Cas' level of comfort, nor would it ever be. At this point, Sam and Castiel were close friends, but Dean and Cas were best friends, without a doubt. Sam was slightly envious, only because he did not have that close of a connection with anyone outside of blood relations, but he was glad his brother had someone like that in his life. Dean needed it more than he did.

"Dean will be fine."

Sam looked over at Cas in confusion. "Huh?

Castiel did not return the glance. "I can feel how tense you are. I know you're worried about Dean, so I'm saying, he will be fine. To comfort you."

Sam nodded slowly. "Uh…right. Thanks Cas. I'm sure he will be too."

Thankfully, they arrived at the hospital at that moment. Sam took the lead, with Cas following close behind, as they made their way past the front desk, lying all the way up to the floor where Dean's room was. But as they went along, Sam kept noticing an unusual amount of police activity. They were questioning people, mostly staff, and talking quietly. He nudged Castiel's shoulder and veered off to the side near where one officer was having a discussion with a rather flustered nurse outside of a patient's room. He caught enough words to get the gist of it: "complained of headaches", "acting strange", "not considered suicidal". He also managed to catch a glimpse of the patient in the room before he was covered up. His head was completing bashed in. Based on what Sam had heard, he had done it to himself…or had he? And from what he could see, that man wasn't the only one. He also heard someone mention something about odd music….

Sam could only think of one thing they had encountered before that might be responsible: a banshee. He couldn't be sure of it without investigating further, but he needed to talk to Dean first. He looked over at the angel beside him.

"Say Cas, you're not picking up on any…weird presences, are you? Something non-human?"

Cas glanced back. "Actually, I was going to mention that something does seem a little off. There's blood in the air, but it's not being spilled by human hands."

"Great, so we might have a problem. C'mon, Dean's room is right up here."

Dean was lying on the bed with a heavily bandaged arm, watching some cartoon eating apple sauce when Sam walked in.

"You're late" Dean said without looking at him, his mouth full. "And you juf miffed Bethanie, my 'nurse'. She's somfin else, dude."

Sam grimaced. "Gross, man."

When Cas walked in, Dean finally flicked the TV off. "Well, it's about time. My hero." Wait, didn't I just say that? Dean thought to himself.

Castiel started towards the side of the bed, but Sam stopped him. "Hold up a sec. Dean, I think we might have a case here."

Dean lifted one eyebrow. "A case? Seriously?"

"Yes. The moment we got here, I noticed a lot of cops swarming around. Apparently, they've just had a number of suicides among patients, namely people suddenly bashing their own heads in. People who were not even on suicide watch. And they were complaining about headaches and acting oddly."

"They also mentioned something about hearing strange music" Cas added.

"Exactly. Sounds familiar, right? And since we're already here, I thought we oughta look into it."

Dean looked between the other two. "Okaaaay, but why did you have to stop Cas from doing his mojo magic on me to say that?"

Sam sighed. "Because, if we're to stick around and check this out, then you-"

"-have to keep playing the patient role" Dean finished. "Yeah, okay. I get it now." He slumped back against the pillow with a groan. "Great. Now I gotta put up with this stupid arm until we find the freaking banshee."

"And whose fault is that?" Sam inquired, crossing his arms in disapproval. "I told you not to take on that other case alone, but as usual, you didn't listen to me. So you brought this on yourself."

"As usual?" Dean shot back. "Like I'm the one who never listens."

Sam scoffed incredulously. "What's that supposed to mean? I listen to you all the time! Name one time I didn't."

Dean held up the hand of his good arm. "I can name five, genius."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Cas had been standing off to the side for the entire conversation, but it was getting harder and harder to listen to. A third wheel may have added more stability, but it certainly didn't aide much in a bickering duel between two brothers.

"Um, I think I'll have a look around the hospital" Castiel announced awkwardly. "See if I can spot any sign of where the banshee might be hiding."

Sam and Dean cut off their arguing abruptly and stared at him. The younger Winchester cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, good idea Cas. Let us know what you find. I'll start asking around the other patients and staff soon."

"After you're done lecturing me, you mean?" Dean chimed in.

"Shut up."

Cas grimaced at the two. "Okay, I'll be back."

Dean snorted. "You forgot the accent, Cas."

"What accent?"

"Never mind…."

Castiel left his human companions to their squabbling and started wandering the halls. He wasn't especially good at looking inconspicuous, but he tried his best. He made sure to stay out of the way of staff and appear like he knew where he was going. Despite his efforts, several people kept asking if needed directions or help finding someone. He brushed them off as politely as possible and kept moving, keeping an eye out for anything unusual…from a human's perspective anyway.

At some point, Cas found himself on the floor where something called the "Hospice Unit" was. He noticed this area was quieter than most, and all the people he passed seemed especially sad and distressed. The wave of negative emotion emanating from the area was almost overwhelming. His curiosity behind what was causing this got the better of him, and he stopped by a room where an especially dense wave of sorrow was coming from. He heard quiet sobbing and peered around the door frame, trying to keep out of sight.

Inside the room was a small bed with a child laying on it, covered in sheets and hooked up to several machines. It looked like she was asleep, but not exactly peaceful. There were two adults in the room as well; one was leaned over the bed, her face buried in her hands and her frame trembling, and the other, a man, stood behind her with his arms around her shoulders. Cas ducked back a bit when a third person stepped into view, another doctor, quietly speaking. He was explaining something about an illness, how there wasn't much more they could do, and that he was very sorry.

Castiel stepped back and leaned casually against the wall as the doctor left the room, then peered back through the doorway. So…the child was dying. And the parents were devastated, unable to do anything to stop it. Cas stared at the ground, feeling rather depressed himself all of a sudden. Human lives were so fragile, and although death was a given for each and every one of them at some point, it seemed wrong that child should die so young, at no fault of their own.

He perked up again when the father started talking softly, suggesting that they go out for some air. The mother protested at first, but eventually agreed. Cas made sure he was completely out of sight when the two exited and made their way slowly down the hall. He should have followed suit, continued his search for the banshee, but….

Checking that the coast was (mostly) clear, Castiel very slowly entered the room. He moved as quietly as possible, not sure if the child was able to wake up, but not wanting to take the chance. The room was very colorful compared to the rest of the hospital, vibrant balloons, cards and stuffed animals decorating every inch. But the colors did nothing to cut through the thick cloud of sadness that hung in the air. To Cas, it was like a crushing weight on his soul, heavy and unrelenting. He stepped around to the side of the bed, staring down at the child's small, pale face. So fragile.

It wasn't right. This child did not deserve to die like this. Castiel could do something about it…so shouldn't he?

He made up his mind and leaned down, laying his fingertips lightly against the child's forehead. His grace flared inside him, working hard to undo such a rampant illness and put everything back as it should be. In an instant, the color returned to her face and she began to stir. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes, a soft shade of brown, and looked up at him. He withdrew his hand and smiled softly at her.

"You're gonna be fine now."

He sensed that the parents were on their way back, so he took his leave, but stood nearby until they returned. He watched everything unfold from a distance: the parents' reaction when they realized their child was awake, the doctors rushing in, dumfounded, and the overwhelming sense of relief that suddenly washed over the sorrow and evaporated it. The relief was incredible, and Cas felt it right away. He felt…good. Like he had actually done something right. They couldn't thank him, because they didn't know. But he didn't need that anyway. It was enough to see their faces, tracked with tears of joy, and see them embrace their child lovingly. He smiled again. He hadn't felt this good in a long time.

Finally, Castiel tore himself away from the touching scene and made his way down the hall again…but it wasn't long before he felt that overpowering sorrow yet again. He stopped dead and peered into another room. Another broken, devastated family stood around another dying soul, a fairly young man somewhere in his mid-thirties, still too young to die. This time, Castiel saw a child sitting on the bed with the man, calling him 'Daddy'.

A young man. A father. Another soul who did not deserve this wretched fate. Cas grimaced. How could he walk away from this?

So he waited, until the family dispersed a little and some doctors came to wheel the man's gurney out of the room, apparently taking him for some tests. As they passed, Castiel discreetly reached out and touched the man. His grace flared once again and he staggered a little at the intensity. It certainly wasn't what it used to be, and he hadn't used it quite this much in a long time, but it worked. The man suddenly started coughing, scratching at the tube going down his throat. The doctor's frantically but carefully removed it, and were baffled to find that the man was suddenly 100% different. Completely healthy. They wheeled him back into the room and the family crowded around, exclaiming in happiness and hugging each other. Castiel leaned against a wall, slightly dizzy, but the relief had returned. Once again, he had done something good, an act that had made a difference for the better.

At that moment, something did occur to Cas. Two rooms side by side, and the fate of the patient had been the same for both: imminent death. That's when he realized…he was in an area of the hospital for those were on the verge of death. He could feel it now. These clouds of sadness and grief were everywhere. Castiel looked at his surroundings, counted the doorways, the rooms, sensed the sorrow radiating from almost every one of them. He clinched his fists. It was wrong. None of these people deserved to die…and he had the power to put a stop to it.

To be continued….