Author Note: I've been writing Fanfics for quite a few years. Got around to putting my first Supernatural story up tonight. I haven't caught up to season 8 yet, but I have watched bits of all the seasons...what can I say, I'm not methodical. So consider this a AU season 9 story. Hope you enjoy.
The bitter breeze seemed to cut through his trench coat straight into his bones. It was as if the Earth was attempting to make the Angel's first night trapped on the ground as miserable as possible. He did not expect it to be so very miserable to no longer be able to regulate the heat around him. He wrapped his arms around his chest, and something shuddered within him, less than a seizure, completely involuntary. He found his teeth clenching as it happened again. Shivering. It's alright, it's normal. The voice that calmed the little spike of fear that had pierced his heart. What does this mean? I don't understand…it is unpleasant. There were many things that were unpleasant. The ache of his back, the pain of his toes rubbing raw against his shoes, the scabs that had dried on his knuckles, and the wounds that had caused the blood on pants to dry to his knees.
You-we're cold. We need to get somewhere warm, or else it's gonna get worse. The man stumbled a little, and saw the sign he'd been walking to find. 'Ellendridge Psychiatric Hospital' The building would not be too far off then. Who are we doing here?
Be silent. The man walked up the drive way, and he wondered at the vague sense of welcome. He had spent quite some time in a place very similar to this not too long ago. Barely a moment ago when compared to the span of eternity. Why are we here? But, of course, he would no longer have his crass nurse to keep an eye on him.
Be silent! Dragging his exhausted body up the stairs, he supported himself on the doors for a few moments. He looked through the glass window, there were nurses, and pristine white walls, tile floors. Everything he had expected to see.
Gripping the door handle, he pulled it open and stumbled in. His head lifted wearily, he saw a woman of about fifty with at least double that in unneeded fat come shuffling swiftly towards him. He reached out a shaking arm for her, and when she got close enough, he gripped the sleeve of her scrub tightly. "You must…"
The woman looked around in concern, glancing quickly behind him, and then around the room for a threat. When she didn't seem to see one, she wrapped her arm under his, and helped keep him upright. "Come on, boy. Sit down." She held his arm tight, and led him to a chair, he fell back into it. The sensation of taking his weight off his feet made him almost laugh in joy. His legs tingled and burned, his toes felt raw and blistered.
"What happened?" The woman asked in a gentle tone, all while signaling other figures in similar clothing to come assist her.
She's scared we're violent. Tell her we are not going to harm her.
The man rubbed his hands over his face, then around the back of his neck and closed his eyes. "I-I was lost on my way here." He sputtered out. It wasn't the truth, but the truth would be so much harder to explain. "I think we-I ended up in the woods for a few hours." He looked down at his bruised knuckles, and held them up for inspection. "I fell. Obviously."
"I'll get the Doc-" The large woman began to move away, and the man grabbed her arm with speed that surprised himself.
"I need to be committed here-what is your name?" The man's locked eyes with her to emphasize how serious he was, and she looked a little frightened.
"Eliza." She said sharply, and frowned at him. "Now you let go boy, or I will-"
He released his Rottweiler-like hold on her arm and clutched his fists on his lap, agitated. "Eliza, I need to be locked up. Please." Sitting tersely in the chair, he looked up intently at the over-weight woman. "I will take all the tests, anything required."
I hate you.
Eliza crouched down a little, and looked the man in the eyes. "What's your name, boy?"
The man's fists slid back a little, and he tilted his head. "That depends on which one of us you ask."
At that, Eliza gave him a sad smile, and rose to her full height. All five-foot-three and waddled off to get a wheelchair from a short distance down the hall. "Why don't you sit down, and I'll help get you where you need to go."
Humiliating. Well done. Now neither of us have what we want. "That was the plan." Castiel growled in a breath, and allowed himself to be helped to his feet and settled into the chair. He repressed a flinch at the renewed stabbing pain in his feet, and closed his eyes again, fists still tight against his legs.
Author's Note: Yes, it starts out a little short and slow, but it does start building soon...