Welcome to an all new story! This one is particularly close to my heart, and I hope you love it as much as I do. I plan on it being a long fic, so I hope you join the train with me!

Taken over from likeghostsinthesn0w

BIG thanks to my beta BlueEyes444! I can not thank you enough :)

Reviews and Comments are more than appreciated, and with that; enjoy.

(Rating will be changed to M in later chapters)

Day Infinity In Hell

I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you 'cause I find it hard to take

When people run in circles it's a very very

Mad World

They'd come to him every day and every night, the demons in his head; dance in front of him and show their blackened eyes, twisted limbs, and their pale sickly skin. They'd laugh, the noise piercing his delicate ear drums. They'd often tease and taunt the poor man, the same way they'd done since he was just a boy, since the...that night. They often called him names, told him to do evil and terrible things.

He tried to ignore them. He'd been trying for years. Some days they wouldn't bother him at all, but those days were few and far between. And now as Castiel sat on the edge of his bed, with the voice of the girl he'd dubbed 'Meg' muttering obscenities at him; he started to think he should just end it all. Slit his wrists like the demons told him, or hang himself. He could overdose, or just step out into traffic. Maybe jump off a building. He'd always wanted to fly, and they said falling was the same as flying, except with a more permanent destination. At least then it would end.

The woman laughed at him.

"Going to off yourself, Cassie?" she sniggered. "I knew you couldn't wait to start eternity with me!"

A chorus of voices joined in with her; men, women, even the evil bastard children. Their faces loomed at the windows of his room, threatening to burst in at any moment. Castiel sprung up from the bed, and went over to the wall. After a stare off with the face of a new, particularly harsh featured man, he gripped the windowsill, and as the voices got louder and teeth gnawed at bleeding lips, he hit his head into the bare brick wall of his apartment repeatedly, until blood trickled down his face, blurring his vision. It was a pain he was used to, sometimes it was the only thing that would make them stop. He would rather this than take his medication. They faded and their shrieks along with them, peace settling over Cas.

After cleaning up the nasty wound on his head, he changed out of his wreaking nightwear, and bundled them into a brown paper bag. He pulled on his jeans, white tee and green hooded sweatshirt and rushed out the door. On his way to the laundrette he kept his eyes to the floor, and his hood pulled up to conceal the mark from wandering, judgmental eyes. His hands were trembling around the bag- he hated being in public. But trips to the launderette were necessary, and as he opened the door he braced himself for the ring of the bell above it. It was a shrill, cruel noise, and he despised it. Cas dashed over to his usual machine, number 12, and hurried to load it. He fumbled around in his pocket for a coin to get the wash going, but he found his pocket was empty. Puzzled, he checked the other pocket. But that was empty too. Castiel continuously patted his pockets, convinced that something would turn up if he patted hard enough. The man next to him looked down, wanting to offer his quarters for the machine, but the frantic expression on Castiel's face scared him.

Castiel was worried, he never forgot his money- not ever. He earned it himself, he had a job at home making spreadsheets and doing data analysis for Google. It meant he didn't have to leave home, he didn't have to talk to anyone, and he could protect the world from the monsters. From himself. But none of that mattered if he didn't remember to bring his money with him when he was out.

The man looked at him again, concern rocking his features. His eyebrows pinned together, and he reached into his back pocket for some change. Castiel noticed him and shuddered. The man towered over him, and he held an intimidating stance, far to confident for liking.

"Here, take this." He said, holding out the coins in his hand for Castiel to take.

Cas shook his head minutely and continued to search his pockets. The man sighed, and leaned across to Castiel's machine, his biceps rippling underneath his khaki tee shirt. Well that just intimidated Cas even more.

"Take it. Please."

Castiel considered it for a moment, his eyes roaming over the way the man palmed the change in a roughly calloused hand. He debated whether clean pyjamas were worth the torment he'd get later on for talking to this man, and a sharp inhale of his clothes' scent told him all he needed to know, so he gingerly accepted the money, albeit reluctantly.

"Th-tha-nk y-you." Was all Castiel could manage. His throat was hoarse and croaky, he didn't often speak out loud. The man smiled, completely oblivious to the stutter, before turning and soon turned back to his own laundry. Cas found himself distracted by the man though, he kept looking over from under the safety of his hood, peeking at the 6ft Adonis with a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He seemed a nice enough guy, but then again… he'd seemed like a nice man to. Besides if he knew anything about Castiel, he'd run for the proverbial hills taking his gorgeous green eyes with him. The detergent sat on the shelf below the washer, so Castiel leant down to pick it up, inadvertently causing his hood to slip down and away from his face. The sharp cold air hit Castiel's exposed ears and the nape of his neck, sending shivers wracking through his body. Cas's fingers scrambled to pull his hood back up, but it was too late, the man saw the massive cut on his head, still shiny with oozing blood.

"Shit man, are you okay?! What happened?"

"I'm fine,' he croaked. Please leave me.

The man shook his head, "Shit. What happened? Come on, I'll drive you to the ER, it isn't far away..."

Castiel could not hear what the man said next, could not feel a pair of large hands on his slender shoulders, all he knew was that his head felt like it would explode, his blood rushed through his body and he began to twitch. Not just any twitch, but those kinds of twitches that appeared to the ordinary passerby as someone who belonged in a mental house. It was violent and unnerving to watch. Excruciating for Cas to bear. If you've ever seen video clips of WW1 soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress ticks, well, that was what Castiel got...just before the whoreson demons emerged. He knew that this guy would be freaking out, and so would the other people in the launderette. He braced himself for the eerie feeling that was about the settle over him, the calm before the storm. Castiel knew he had to leave, he didn't want to put this people in danger, but his new 'friend' was stopping him. He met the man's eyes and tried desperately to get out of his vice like grip.

"I need to leave, you don't understand. These people are in danger if I stay."

The man was confused as all hell, and his face showed it. "I don't know what the hell is going on man, you need to calm down."

He lacked conviction, and Castiel saw his chance. He wriggled frantically and shoved the carts of laundry out of his way, catapulting himself through the open door. The voices came first. They always came first. They began to taunt and tease him for not being strong enough to deal with such a simple task, their disgusting faces adopted the folk on the street. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, till he was back at his apartment building.

The stupid bitch who called herself Meg was sporting a hangman's noose dangling from the top floor banister where her eyes were pinned on Castiel as he climbed the stairs, stupid elevator was out of order. Again.

"Go away Meg." he muttered as he reached his door.

"Why on earth would I do that sweetie? It's me and you time now..." Her voice drifted through the air from her spot on the staircase. She then stood next to him, rubbing against him, her hand on his midriff. She fingered the fabric of his hoodie before pulling enticingly at the drawstrings. She made his skin crawl. He shoved her away, repulsed to the core at her forward actions.

'She's not real, she's not real, she's not real,' he repeated over and over again, hoping that if he said it enough she would disappear.

Castiel often chanted this in his head, but found out that the other's voices were drowning him out. Strangely, they were quiet today. Just him and Meg. That was probably why his body had reacted the way it had, to the man seeing his head. Meg had noticed.

"Leave me alone. You're not real, you can't hurt me."

She burst into hysterical laughter.

"Oh Castiel, I think you'll find...that I most definitely can." She ran at him full force before bursting right as she touched him.

Castiel held his breath and counted until he got back under control. He knew she would be in there waiting for him. He gently rested his forehead on the door; trying with everything inside him to keep it together, but the more days that went by, the harder it was to continue to cope. He couldn't keep doing this, he was breaking. He'd been able to deal with it until the recent escalation. They'd appear once a week on any random day. Any random day except Thursday. Some weeks, though, would be more frequent, and likewise some weeks he was completely alone. Now it was as many times as they wanted a day. Even on his cherished Thursdays. The sinking feeling in his shriveled heart was unbearable.

Castiel knew that he was going to have to see Dr. Singer, and that made him feel absolutely sick. For one, that meant getting help, which was one thing they never let him do. Going to see him always made it worse. But Singer would also find out he hadn't taken his medication in a year, and he would be in the doghouse. But it had to be done. He was tired of it all. Tired of being alive, and definitely tired of fighting, if he was to be honest with himself. His body was 23, but in reality, and in the way he ached to his very core, he was 50 years older than than that. Pulling out his phone, he speed dialed Singer. The feeling of his body growing heavier made Castiel want to buckle to the floor, but he stood tall. It was all he could do to keep what's left of his sanity. He knew Dr Singer would chew his head off; it was inevitable. But that was better than anything Meg could throw at him. He hoped. She'd actually thrown a dead ferret at him once and the blood had stained his skin for days.

'Breathe Cas, breathe.' He thought. 'Don't think about her.'

The secretary answered on the second ring. "Dr. Singer's office, how can I help you?"

"Hi Joanna, it's Castiel Novak. I doubt you remember me… Is it possible for me to get an appointment Doctor Singer today?"

He heard the ruffling of paper.

"Sure thing sweetie, it's you're lucky day, there's a slot open right now."

"Thank you Jo."

Jo could hear him smile through the phone, and then there was the telltale sounds of a disconnection. It broke her heart. She did remember Castiel; he was such a good man. She knew he didn't deserve the illness that was inflicted upon him from what she gathered hearing his and Dr Singer's conversations. She placed the phone back on its holster, and then sent Singer a page. She scanned her Filofax with today's appointments. After penciling in Castiel, Singer only had one other patient by the name of "Winchester D." She pondered what the 'D' stood for, but not for very long, and went to get herself a nice mug of coffee.

And that is Chapter 1! The next chapter will be up shortly, but as I haven't 100% finished it, if you guys have any plot bunny suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Review!

~ Magnolia