This is a translation of Welcome Home (Sanitarium) by Ellen BK.

Author's notes :

Disclaimer : The Supernatural series is not mine, I only take its characters and maul them a little in the universe that I build.

Warnings : Presence of sensitive issues in the dialogues.

Here's a small AU that's completely different from The Shortest Straw. Here, the chapters will be short, reaching only 2000-3000 words maximum. The story is a little lost in space and time. I just wanted to write this idea. The Broughton Hospital doesn't really exist. The relationship between Dean and Castiel will be at the heart of the plot, contrary to my usual writings. I also write the chapters gradually. Altough I have the story in mind, I don't know how many chapters all of this will take. One thing is certain: it won't be long!

Also, I'm not a doctor, I have done no study in this area and the only member of my family related to the health field cares for pregnat women. And I doubt that I'll put a bun in the oven of Dean or Cas. All this to say that there may be mistakes and if this is the case, I apologize. The story is based only on my few researches over its writing.

Welcome Home (Sanitarium) is a Metallica song that I really like (looks like all of my destiel fanfic will be named after one of the band's titles), from the album "Master of Puppets". Its lyrics reflect pretty well the little universe that I've installed here, except for the last verse. I won't go so far, don't panic!

I hope you'll enjoy this universe!This is really an AU, despite all the references to the series. Enjoy your reading!

Special thanks : A big Thank You for the marvellous Dupont et Dupont, for her proofreading and her corrections.

Saturdays

Every Saturday, Castiel Novak followed the same routine. His alarm woke him at dawn while his feet slid out of the quilt, taking him to his bedroom closet. With a precise movement, he grabbed his sports clothes before putting it on with instinctive gestures. Castiel never went out long, just the time to go around the neighborhood in a few strides, crossing from time to time its most early riser neighbors who addressed him hand gestures, smile stuck to their lips. Here, the houses were all alike. The landscape was a succession of buildings whose owners were in debt for years in order to be the proud buyers, with the white fence and lush green lawn, cut perfectly. Castiel wasn't even paying attention anymore, staring straight in front of him on the road. His feet treaded the tarmac perfectly flowed that ran along these homes, without any skinning or cut. The wind whipped his face. Sweating drops beaded along his neck, his hair buckling slightly. His pace was steady. His breath was stable. And all was quiet and peaceful.

When his front door slammed behind him, locking him in his turn in one of these famous soulless houses, Castiel was heading mechanically to the bathroom. His feet were climbing one by one the steps of the stairs without him paying attention to the photographs that were on the walls. Smiles and sparkling eyes followed him along his ascension, real ghosts from happy days of the Milton-Novak family. Once his clothes were carefully slid in the laundry basket, the water finally felled in a burning and steady steam on Castiel before he close his eyes, his head leaning backward.

The snoring coffee machine rocked his careful reading of the daily newspaper, filed earlier on the doorstep. Towel around his waist, Castiel then drank his cup, letting his eyes leave behind the window, peering a fixed point lost in space. Then, like every Saturday, he went to his room and was clothed in his white shirt, his black pants and jacket and his blue tie. Since this was how she desired to see him. Finally, trench coat on his back, Castiel left his house and walked toward the city center - he didn't like to be in his car, too compact to his liking.

If you paid attention enough, you could easily discern the Broughton Hospital in the horizon. Its two towers of anthracite concrete emerged gradually in the landscape as he approached, revealing then the rest of the building that took shape in shades of grey and beige. "Hospitals shouldn't be places this sad." a young autistic had said once. With a smile, Castiel had nodded since, after all, he wasn't wrong. There was already so much misery within its walls, it wasn't necessary to lay it on thick by painting it in the shades of despair. However, in the room of the young man, a multitude of red, orange, blue and yellow flowers were always struggling for some space. Drawings of children littered the walls and it was a long time since a single piece of grey had been seen in this with the colors of life and happiness. Castiel took care of going there, from time to time, after visiting her. It was one of his favorite places in this sinister hospital.

Broughton Hospital wasn't like all the others, like those we see in the series that pollute television screens. The doctors had nothing glamorous, absolutely nothing happened in the elevators and the patients went out too rarely healed. Here, people didn't take care about bloody and dramatic emergencies, or even incurables diseases with only fictional miracle solutions. Here, the patients had any other kinds of diseases. Those whose stigmas aren't visible at first sight. Those who break the mind and trample consciousness. Those that we don't understand.

On his way, Castiel always stopped at Joshua's shop where he always bought a new orchid. These flowers had the ability to always surprise him. They were never the same, both in form and in size, and always revealed new colors. "This is one of the most diversified families." The florist had explained to him. "Orchids have more than twenty-five thousand species." Once the flower was carefully wrapped by Joshua, Castiel took his walk again, new shades of bright colors in his eyes.

The bay windows of the hospital always opened in the same way in front of Castiel, in a light but unpleasant hissing sound. No sooner entered in the building, a hot and stifling blow enveloped him, in this odor so characteristic of hospitals - a sort of mix between cleaning products and melancholy. Without thinking, Castiel was heading mechanically to her room, his heavy footsteps echoing on the stairs and in the hallways. The nurses now recognized him and offered him a few smirks, sometimes punctuated with a "hello" and "how are you today?". Castiel always answered that everything was okay, without trying to tell more, to tell them that if he could he wouldn't be here in these stinking hallways, that if he could she wouldn't be there either, waiting in a grim room that he couldn't stand anymore. Castiel was well aware that all of this was only politeness and courtesy. They were already well enough busy with their patients who had real problems, them.

The door to her room was always the same, the number 41 nailed to the wood stained of a faded yellow. The bedroom ran along another room which, at least as far as Cas could remember, had always been empty. Through the walls he could hear the sound of the television set. It was constantly on, flooding the room with voices and whispers. It reassured her, she had confided to him one day, because she knew they were real, unlike those who constantly scraped her mind.

Then, like every Saturday, Castiel knocked on the door before entering the room.

Anna was always in the same position, sitting cross-legged on her bed with white sheets, dressed with an even whiter outfit. Eyes fixed on the television screen, her lips moving imperceptibly. When Castiel closed the door behind him and filed the orchid in the vase on her bedside table, she would sometimes, on occasions, realize that he was here. Sometimes, they would have a few conversations, just like before. They may only were cousins, but Castiel still considered Anna as his own sister. She had always took care of him when he was younger. During her lucid moments, Anna would ask if everything was fine, if he still enjoyed his work, if Naomi wasn't too rude with him and even how were his bees. Castiel would answer her, cradling her with his deep voice until her gaze get lost again. Sometimes it wasn't that simple. Anna would panic, cry, scream, and beg for everything to stop. She would tear her red hairs by compact clump, scratch her skin until it bleed. The nurses would always arrive like a whirlwind in the room, helping Castiel to control the young woman. And, sometimes, Anna wouldn't even realize that he was here.

Then he would laid a kiss on her forehead and leave, gently closing the door behind him. Occasionally, Castiel cast a glance at the other rooms from where light whispers escaped. He knew a few of them, now. In the room 39, which was facing Anna's, was a man, Balthazar, who persisted on saying that the work of Celine Dion was a creation of Satan and that the Titanic should have never sink. He had once explained to Castiel that he had developed a plan to save all the victims - a story of traveling in time, something like that. In the room 37 was Garth, a former dentist who only spoke through Mr. Fizzles, an old doll whose body was nothing but a worn sock. Sometimes, Castiel would talk to them and shared a few moments with them. And sometimes, he would simply just go home, head down.

Every week, Castiel Novak followed the same regular and clocked routine. Things were easier this way. He didn't wonder anymore, didn't try to change things anymore. What for? Now, he was there for Anna. And that was all that mattered.

When, on a Saturday like any other, everything changed. The day had yet been usual, beginning on the regular ringing of his alarm clock. He'd been running, going around the block into twenty minutes before showering and drinking his coffee, staring outward. He had been to Joshua's shop and had taken a new orchid - yellow and orange, mottled with purple notes - before going into the Broughton Hospital. Anna had been calm and had even talked to him, completely ignoring the television as soon as he had arrived. But this time, when Castiel left Anna, he briefly saw shadows moving on the linoleum and voices that escaped from the doorway on his left. After getting a little closer, with a discreet step, he had no longer any doubt. Castiel was sure.

The next room wasn't empty anymore.

Despite himself, Castiel couldn't help but being intrigued, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was only because of a morbid curiosity or if this sudden interest was only the result of the disruption of his weekly scheme, so regular and orderly. After all, there was never much of a change in Broughton Hospital. The new patients were mostly sent to the hospital in the next town over, much more deemed than this one. But, when the room's door was open Castiel let out his gaze and watched, sometimes only contenting himself with a piece of face or an arm's length.

The young man was dressed like every other patient of the hospital, a milky pants and a washed-out shirt. Like Anna, his gaze was lost in the room, his green eyes staring into space, as if he was trying to understand something, his lips moving silently. Most of the time, he remained motionless. However, he was never in the same place. Sometimes he was lying on his bed, sometimes he was crouched against the wall. It was unpredictable. There was no logic, no coherence. Sometimes when Castiel walked past his room, he even hear him talk. His voice was hoarse but tinged with a despair that he had never heard before. The words "purgatory" and "Benny" came and came back in his mouth again and again. He repeated them, like a slow prayer, like a cruel litany. Castiel listened to him talking about demons, vampires, leviathans and others unspeakable things. Sometimes he even heard him lose his temper, shouting that he had to find a solution, that he had to go out of here, that he had to return to a certain Sammy. Then the silence reasserted itself and Castiel could see him in the half-opened door, his gaze lost into space again. This kind of completely furious and rambling speech, Castiel had already heard it - heard too much. He had vowed to never mix with those kind of persons again, those with a broken past and a nebulous future. And yet. When the young man's room was empty, he stood there, standing in front of his door, besotted with a shameful fascination.

A few weeks after the arrival of the new patient, his room was suddenly animated as never before. When he came to visit his cousin, Castiel could see that there was almost always people. A tall man with mid-long and brown hairs was now there every Saturday, without exception, often accompanied by a young blond woman, almost as tall as him. They seemed to be a couple - Castiel had seen them in the front of the hospital in each other's arms. A bearded and a bit gruff old man was also there quite regularly, as this woman with long brown hair who often reprimanded the young woman - Joanna - who came with her. The next room hadn't seen so many faces in many months, many years.

Yet despite the laughter, despite the smiles on the faces, despite the vitality that inspired the many guests in the room of the stranger, Castiel couldn't help thinking that something was missing. There may be bustle and animation. There may be warmth and words. There may be a family. But when they were leaving, there was nothing left. There wasn't any liveliness anymore. When Castiel was leaving, passing in front of his room, there was only silence. Only white walls and a man with green eyes lost in the void.

Then the horizon engulfed the Broughton Hospital until it's a shadow on the landscape. Castiel repassed in front of Joshua's shop that was closing before returning to his neighborhood where the houses were all the same and where the neighbors always had beautiful smiles on the corner of their lips. He showered again, rubbing his body vigorously, getting rid of the stench that had seeped through his pores. The sound of the TV then weakly echoed in the living room while his jaw painfully chewed the leftovers of the day before. Castiel wore himself out as he could, trying to forget the day he had lived and the fact that in just seven days, everything would be exactly the same way again.

Since he didn't know yet that everything would change.

Everything happened a few days later. Castiel didn't really know when he took this decision, when he decided to change his habits very slightly. Maybe was it during one of these face to face dinners with the television, or during one of his footings. Maybe he hadn't even really decided before stepping into Joshua's shop. Perhaps he had made this decision when the florist had asked him if he wanted a new orchid, as usual. The fact remains that, this time, he didn't nodded, and he didn't answer yes. Since this time, Castiel slowly opened his mouth and asked.

"Would it be possible to have two of them, from now on?"

Original Author's notes: That's it for the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed this little moment of reading. See you soon for the next. Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed, don't hesitate to leave a review!

Ellen.