1/
He can't think.
She's screaming so loudly, shrill jagged notes of panic that seem to pierce his head and stop him from thinking clearly.
Sammy.
He has to remember Sammy.
But his head feels stuffed with cotton wool, everything feels wrong, as though some noises, sensations, smells, are amplified beyond tolerance and others are muted, almost like the suggestion of that smoke smell a few days after a bonfire.
"Shut up bitch!"
He throws holy water into her face and she shrieks, recoiling from him, pulling at the ropes that bind her to the chair.
"Where's Sam!" He barks, spraying her again. "Where is he!"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" She retched, tears streaming down her face, her eyes wide and so very afraid.
She reminded him of a rabbit he shot when he was small, a messy clip that left the animal trying to struggle away despite it's mangled back. It's eyes had looked like they might pop right out of its head with fear, he'd been afraid to touch it, and it had been Dad who had picked it up brusquely, snapping its neck like it wasn't anything. "Sloppy" He'd slurred at him, before throwing the limp bundle of fur at Dean with contempt.
Damnit.
His head was all over the place.
He'd almost zoned out, the screaming had quietened to a hitching whimper.
"I'm not going to get anything out of you am I?"
She looked back up at him and started to cry again.
"Please. Please. Don't hurt me. I don't know anything. Please."
Her face was a mess of run make up, her dark blond hair was streaked with blood where she'd hit her head earlier as he brought her down.
Dean shook his head and chuckled.
"You demons. You're all the same."
He pulled out the blade and watched the colour drain from her face.
"I'm sending you back to hell bitch. Give my regards to Crowley."
Dean stepped inside the Devils trap and drew his arm back to plunge the blade into her.
She hitched, her voice catching in her throat momentarily, and then she was screaming again.
The cabin door burst open filling the small space with light and noise.
"On the floor! On the floor NOW! Drop the weapon!"
He spun round to find a dozen or more guns trained on him, little red points of light blinding him. Someone outside hit a flood light and now he really couldn't see.
The ground seemed to shift below his feet as he stumbled forwards.
"Wait! Sam! I have to find Sam!"
They were shouting at him, telling him over and over to get on the floor, to drop the knife, but he couldn't, he had to make them understand, there was no time. No time for….
The first bullet hit him in the shoulder, sending him spinning.
The second, just below the knee, knocking his leg from under him.
He fell, landing on his injured shoulder, sending intense star bursts of pain through his body and making him gag.
A foot kicked the blade away from him, but he flailed a hand at it anyway.
Someone flipped him over, wrenched his arms behind his back.
The pain made his vision blur, blackness seeped in around the edges but all he could think about was his brother.
"Sammy."
Darkness.
2/
Dean. Watch out for your brother.
Yes sir.
He woke with a start, as though someone had whispered hotly in his ear. As he tried to sit up though, invisible hands pinned him to the bed.
For a moment he panicked, thrashing about, fighting against it, wildly looking about him for a weapon, anything he might defend himself with.
Then he realised what was happening.
He raised his left arm as high as he could, which was only an inch or so off the bed.
Restraints.
Not breathing, wide eyed in shock, he slowly lifted the other arm, then his legs.
He looked around the room and saw it was white, sparse, a small window to his right let weak daylight flood in, but there were bars on the window.
His senses were assaulted by the smell of over cooked food, disinfectant, the sound of clean soled shoes squeaking on highly polished floors.
"Son of a bitch!"
Lying back, he took half a dozen shuddery breaths, tried to calm down, tried to focus.
Sam.
He had to find Sam.
"Hey….. HEY! Anyone here?"
He could hear talking, footsteps, somewhere something on wheels was being rolled down a corridor.
"HEY! Come on! I'm in here!"
A rattling of keys made him flinch back.
Goddamnit he felt so helpless trussed up like this.
The heavy door swung open and a man dressed in orderlies whites half stepped in.
"Buddy. Word to the wise. You start making a ruckus they'd shoot you full of meds, so keep it down ok?"
"What?" Dean lifted his hands again, forgetting the restraints, he let them drop back down to the bed with a disgusted cry. "Where am I?"
"You don't remember? Ah, they dosed you up puh-retty good right?" He laughed as though this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.
Dean had never wanted to shoot a human so badly in his whole life.
"Where the fuck am I!?"
The orderly stopped laughing.
"Cedarvale maximum security."
"I'm in prison?"
"No. But if you cause trouble you might wish you were. Cedarvale's a maximum security psychiatric hospital."
"What? No…. Sam?"
"Look buddy. Docs on his way. I called him when you woke up, he can tell you more about this than I can. Hang tight, ok?"
Hang tight?
Hang tight? He had a choice?
The door swung shut with a resounding and final sounding click and Dean snapped his wrists against the cuffs in frustration.
This was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
He couldn't remember getting here.
Damnit.
He could hardly remember the last few days, they'd passed in a blur of fractured images, blood and screams and driving, searching, always searching.
Closing his eyes he tried to remember when he'd last seen Sam.
He knew he was trying to find him, that it was urgent. He had that squirming animal of worry in his belly, a gnawing pit there that told him Sam had been taken from him.
Dean. Watch out for your brother.
Yes sir.
Fuck.
He raised his head and let it fall against the thin pillow, wishing it was the hard ground, trying to knock some sense into his foggy brain.
Think, think, think.
He remembered the motel, the red flock wall paper.
He'd gone for food and came back and...
Gone.
Sammy was gone.
His laptop smashed, the room turned over…and blood…
Oh Jesus, there'd been blood.
A soft knock at the door pulled him back.
"Come on in! I'd open the door but I'm a little tied up right now."
He gritted his teeth and hoped his voice hadn't sounded as shaky as it felt.
Damn it, he wasn't going to let on how afraid he was.
Keys in the lock again. The orderly came in, closely followed by, judging by the white coat and clip board, the doctor.
"Ah. Mr Winchester. You're awake."
Deans blood ran cold as the doctor raised his head and smiled down at him.
"Crowley!"
3/
Crowley smiled widely down at Dean.
"You remember me! that's a good start."
"Of course I remember you, you son of a bitch! Now, where's Sam!"
The doctors smile slipped a little and was replaced with a frown of concern.
"Sam? Your brother?" He flicked through the papers on his chart, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Dean was shaking with rage only feet from him.
"Well, I'm afraid I don't know right now, but I'll do my best to find out. Now, to business."
Crowley pulled a plastic chair up towards Dean's bed.
The orderly settled in next to the door, his arms folded in front of him, feet slightly apart, on guard.
"Dean. How do you feel?"
Dean blinked, tensed his jaw and laughed harshly.
"How do I feel? How do you think I feel? I'm tied to a bed like a date gone wrong, my brother's missing and you're sat here!"
"Try and remain calm Dean. I know this is hard. You've been through a lot, I know that more than anyone. You have to understand though that if you can't control yourself and talk to me I may be forced to sedate you again."
Dean pushed up against the restraints and the orderly took a step forwards, only to be waved back by Crowley.
"Dean. For me to help you, you have to trust me, ok?"
"Sure. Right. Trust the king of hell. 'Cause that always turns out super doesn't it!"
Crowley smiled, not unkindly, and started making notes.
"You see me as the "King of Hell"? Why is that?"
He turned his head slightly to look at Crowley.
Something was wrong.
Even now, when he could barely keep a straight thought in his head, he could tell something was out of whack.
"Why haven't you just killed me Crowely? Isn't that what you wanted? Why leave me tied to this bed?"
"Why do you think I want to kill you Dean? I'm only here to help."
Crowley glanced at the orderly who raised his eyebrows back at him in a gesture of who the hell knows?, then turned back to Dean and smiled warmly.
"Tell me. Do you remember much from our previous sessions? Our last one was… Let me see.. Nearly two years ago, before you disappeared."
"Session?"
"Therapy Dean. I've been your doctor for knocking on ten years now. Try and think, see if you can recall anything."
He was hyperventilating. The air in his lungs panted out in short sharp bursts that made him light headed.
"Stop fucking with me Crowley! Stop messing with my head! WHERE'S SAM!"
Dean began to buck against the restraints, snapping his body left and right, trying to find purchase to slip a hand or ankle, anything to give him an advantage.
Crowley was trying to talk to him but he couldn't take it in, couldn't focus on anything except trying to get free and trying to block the panic that swelled in his chest.
Three big guys pinned him to the bed while he screamed in rage, and Crowley deftly injected something into Deans arm.
"What are you doing!? Get off me! GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"
"Dean. Listen to me Dean. You have to calm down, just calm down. I can't help you if you don't calm down."
Crowleys voice was soothing, his accent precise, clipped, but slow and melodic.
The weight of the guys who held him down was quietly lifted from him and he felt him self drifting, felt the world shrink back.
"You calm down." He mumbled, trying hard to keep a grasp on reality and failing.
He slipped under. The last words he heard were from Crowley.
"It's ok Dean. I'll find Sam. Just sleep. Its Ok."
Sammy.
4/
"What have I told you!"
His Dad snatched the shot gun off Dean and reloaded it.
"If one of those things comes at you at a dead run you need to be able to put that son of a bitch down."
"Yes sir."
"..and sloppy shooting like that is just going to get you killed!"
"Yes sir."
"Worse than that, it could get your brother killed."
Dean glanced back at the Impala where Sam was inside, playing with the handful of toy soldiers they owned between them.
For a second Dean felt white hot resentment. He wished he was sat inside the warm dry car and not out here, shivering in the rain, trying to grip a gun, designed for an adult, with his seven year old hands.
But then Sammy glanced up and saw his brother watching him, he smiled and waved and Dean got that glow of love in his chest.
His Dad cuffed him up the side of his head and thrust the gun back to his chest.
"Again."
Dean raised the gun and looked down the sight to the bottles his Dad had set up in the woods.
"Yes sir.
5/
He was dreaming.
In his dream Sam was with him. His face etched with concern, his eye's tired and red rimmed like he'd been awake for days, or crying.
Dream Sam needed a haircut.
Dean chuckled and rasped "Damn your hair's long."
"You're awake!"
Dream Sam clasped hold of Deans hand and squeezed it tight.
Dean frowned and looked down at his hand.
"You can't do that. You're not really here."
"Dean. Listen to me. Look at me! I'm here. It's going to be ok. I'm here."
"Sammy?" Dean whispered, his lower lip trembling slightly, his vision blurring behind the hot tears that threatened to well up. "Oh my God. Sammy. Sammy you're alive!"
Sam smiled down at him and choked back tears of his own.
He rested his forehead against Deans and took a deep shuddery breath.
"I got you. It's ok."
"You gotta get me out of here. Crowleys walking around pretending to be a doctor. The whole things fucked up. Shit! How did you get away?"
Sam sat back, still holding Deans hand tight.
"They told me you were bad but…. I never…. Oh god Dean."
Fear gripped Dean tightly.
"Sammy. How did you get away? Why aren't we leaving? Sammy talk to me!"
His brother looked off to the side, as though afraid to meet Deans gaze. His face clenched and twitched, a single tear escaped and slid down his cheek.
In that moment Dean felt his mind slowly start to unravel.
"Sam.…."
"I didn't have to get away from anything. Dean. I was at home. Dr Crowley called me at home yesterday."
"We're calling him Doctor Crowley now?"
Sam frowned. "What else would I call him?"
Dean sank into the bed, his heart pounding, his throat ragged from the shouting, from swallowing his fear.
"Sammy … You have to help me. I don't know… I don't know what's going on!"
Sam gripped Deans hand in both of his and took a deep breath.
"You know where you are?"
He nodded "Cedarvale, the orderly told me."
"But… But do you know why you're here Dean?"
He shook his head violently. "Damnit it Sam you're not making any sense!"
"Those people. The people you killed Dean."
"What?…. I didn't kill any…. I don't kill people. It's a set up.!"
"No."
"What do you mean no! Its like that shape shifter in St. Louis, or some demon crap!"
"No Dean."
"You're not seriously telling me you think I killed humans." Deans eyes searched his brothers face frantically, but all he could see there was sadness.
"Well, if I did, there must have been a reason right? They were possessed and already dead? Or… something… I don't know Sammy! Give me something here ok!"
A sob escaped from his brother, and somehow, that scared him more than anything else.
"I'm not sure I can do this just now."
"What!"
"Dean. I haven't seen you in months. I knew things were bad, but I had no idea they'd got this bad."
"Months? Sammy, we were together up till a few days ago."
"No. No, I haven't seen you since Jessicas funeral Dean."
Dean gritted his teeth in frustration.
"The fire."
"What? No. An accident. Don't you remember? Jessica was hit by a car. There was no fire. You're confusing it with Moms death."
Without him even noticing it, tears had begun to course there way down Deans cheeks, dampening the pillow under his head.
Sam pulled a tissue from his pocket and hurriedly wiped them away, seemingly more embarrassed by them than he was.
"Its Ok. Look. I'm gonna call someone to see to you. I'm heading back to my hotel to work and then I'll be back in the morning ok?"
"You working a case?"
Sam smiled and patted Deans cheek tenderly.
"Of course I am! I'm working yours. Didn't do all those years at law school for nothing now did I."
That was when Dean noticed.
As his brother stood up.
The well cut suit, the heavy over coat, the highly shined shoes.
This wasn't a phony FED suit, the battered, off the rack one he used to wear when flashing fake ID at slow country cops, no, this suit was expensive.
Someone had measured Sam for this suit and cut it to perfection.
"Sam…."
"Get some rest Dean. I'll be back in the morning ok?"
6/
The sharp frosty air felt like breathing in cold water.
It made his eyes sting and his head ache.
He sniffled into his sleeve and watched the warmed air from his mouth steam in front of him.
Dad would be back soon.
For once he wasn't stuck in some flea bitten motel room with a bored younger brother.
Sammy had chicken pox and three days ago they'd left him at Uncle Bobby's house while he got better.
"Time the boy learned how the world really is anyways." Dad had said, dropping his large hand onto Deans slight shoulder.
He remembered how Bobby had scowled, but said nothing, only scooped up Sam and slung his bag over his shoulder before taking him inside out the cold.
And now here he was.
Hunkered down on his haunches in a clump of bushes, clutching a sawn off shotgun to his chest.
Twigs snapped up the trail, Dean gasped and struggled the gun up, ready.
Warily he stood up.
A shape was running towards him, stumbling and crashing through the low under growth.
"Daddy?"
The thing shrieked at him, put in a final spurt and lunged at the boy.
With a cry of alarm, Dean pulled the trigger and the shrieking stopped abruptly with a gurgle and the sound of meat hitting the floor.
"Dean! Dean!"
His Dad sprinted towards him, slowing only when he saw that he'd already brought it down.
"Son. It's ok. Come on, come over here."
He couldn't move. His feet felt rooted to the spot, his fingers gripped the gun so tight that he had ceased to be able to feel them.
"Dean! Mind me boy. Come here."
He swallowed hard and forced himself to move.
His dad placed a hand on the back of Deans neck.
"You need to finish the job son."
He looked down and saw that he had hit it in the gut, but it was still alive, barely.
It was dirty and smelly, covered in rags, it's teeth like jutting tombstones, hair matted and wild.
His Dad handed him his pistol.
"Go on now. Finish up."
Dean took the safety off and raised the gun shakily.
"Please….." The thing said, it's hand reaching towards him. "…..please…"
7/
The sound of the door's latch being thrown back woke Dean up.
He lay for a moment, unsure of what had changed.
Then he realised that the restraints were gone.
Tentatively, he sat up, rubbing at his wrists and flexing his hands.
"We gonna have a problem?"
Dean looked round to see the orderly standing inside the door. Behind him were two other guys, both heavy built, blocking the exit.
"Nope. No problem here."
"Good. Glad to be out the cuffs then? You have your brother to thank for that. Raised hell he did, spouting off about human rights and such. Don't get cocky though. Any more outbursts and we have permission to shoot you so full of drugs it'd kill a racehorse, you catch my drift amigo?"
"Yes sir." He mock saluted the orderly and went back to rubbing his wrists.
"Ok buddy. You gonna eat?"
Dean looked up at the tray in the orderlys hands.
"I gotta stay here while you do, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't take all day about it. I got other things to do as well as baby sit you."
Dean grunted and set to, spooning tepid oatmeal into his mouth.
So much for thinking he might be able to use cutlery to escape.
But then, the plastic spoon was pretty limiting so far as lock picking was concerned.
He finished quickly and placed the tray where the orderly specified, then sat on the far side of the bed while he picked it up and left, under the watchful eyes of the other two.
They're terrified of me.
Dean limped over to the far wall and the window. It was just low enough that he could see out of it on to the rain soaked grounds below.
The glass was heavy and reinforced with wire, there was wire mesh both sides of the windows and thick bars on the outside.
No one was getting in or out though this baby.
"Dean."
He turned to see Sam standing just inside the door.
His heart swelled with relief and he moved towards his brother.
"Hey, hey, hey.. That's close enough buddy." The Orderly moved in to stand between them.
Sam placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You can leave us."
"But I.."
"I signed all the releases, you're videoing us, there's someone right outside the door. My brother is not a danger to me. He's also my client and has the right to talk to me confidentially, so please leave us."
The orderly huffed and left, locking the door behind him.
Sam put down the file of papers, he's brought with him, on the chair and moved towards his brother to embrace him.
Dean buried his head in Sams shoulder and breathed hard.
It was ok.
Sam was here.
He was going to explain everything to him.
"So." Sam said finally, gently pushing Dean back so they could talk. "I did some homework and I think we have a plan."
"To get me out?"
Sam avoided his gaze and sorted through the papers.
"Dean. Whatever way we look at this, you're going to be held for a long time. I think though, we can get you down to years rather than decades."
"Years? Years…. Sammy, what you saying? I didn't DO anything man! I was just hunting!"
"There's no way they can charge you for murder like they want to. They're going to have to go with diminished responsibility. With your history and Dr Crowleys testimony, you won't have to do time in prison. When all this is over I can get you moved to a proper hospital."
"Hospital? Oh.. You mean loony bin, right?"
He slumped down on the bed and hid his face in his hands, trying to focus on what Sam was saying.
Sam went to touch his shoulder and he flinched away, the wound there still raw.
"Dean. You need help. After the trial I can get you transferred to a private hospital."
"Why do you think I'm crazy Sammy? I don't get it? One minute we're working a case, the next you're gone, I'm going nuts trying to find you, I got through two demons and was on a third when the cops showed up."
"People."
"What?"
"They were people Dean. Not Demons. There's no such thing as demons."
Deans mouth was open in surprise.
"Come on. Sam. What about, what about all the demons we wasted together?"
Sam sighed and pulled the chair forwards to sit in front of Dean.
Taking both his hands in his he held him tight.
"We never did any of the things you've talked to Dr Crowley about Dean. He told me what you were experiencing, your delusions about spirits and vampires and demons. We were going to have you hospitalized Dean, for your own protection. Your illness, your lack of ability to differentiate between reality and fantasy…. And then you disappeared and I was so worried! God I was so worried. I had no idea where you were. The police weren't interested as you weren't a minor. Man, I hired a PI to try and track you down, but nothing. You just…. Vanished."
"Sammy no…." Deans voiced cracked, his eyes darted all over the room, looking at anywhere but in the concerned and pitying face of his brother.
"Its not your fault. You know that don't you. He did this to you Dean. He fucked you up so badly."
Dean shook his head. "No, no, no….."
"John did this to you. But I'm gonna fix this big brother. I'm gonna fix this and one day, you'll be well and you'll come out the other side and we'll take a trip. A long road trip. Hire some muscle car and spend our time sight seeing and drinking beer and eating crappy roadside food and it'll all be ok. You hear me Dean? I'm gonna make this ok."
8/
Sam was at school.
Dean hadn't been enrolled this time. Dad said there wasn't much point, they'd only be here a few days.
Sam had insisted , he clutched his books tightly and stamped his foot when his Dad had said no.
It always amazed Dean how Dad would let Sam get away with behaviour like that. If Dean so much as hinted at a reluctance to obey an order, let alone an out and out no, he'd find himself on the other side of the room with a bloody nose.
But Sam was so brave and sometimes it seemed Dad couldn't ever bring himself to be so harsh with him as he was with Dean.
Since they passed through Sioux Fall, Dad had dropped them with uncle Bobby, with instructions to put Sam to school and then spend time teaching Dean how to better handle the double barrel.
Dean remembered how the two men had argued out on the porch, the boys spying on them from behind a curtain.
"Uncle Bobby's mad." Sam said quietly.
"Well. Dad say's he drinks too much and it makes him cranky."
Sam propped his chin on his forearms and sighed.
"I don't think uncle Bobby drinks as much as Daddy."
Dean said nothing, just watched Dad stomp down the porch steps and throw open the door of the impala, before speeding off down the dirt road in a cloud of dust.
Bobby came back in and the boys sprang to attention in front of him.
Dean thought he saw something in the gruff mans eyes, a tiny shimmer of sadness, but then it was gone, replaced by anger as he took Deans chin in his hand and turned his head to the light, looking carefully at the fading bruise above his eye.
With a sigh he let Dean go, then pulled his cap low down on his brow.
"Alright, you boys know the house rules. No running about, no touching anything that isn't in your room, the bathroom or the kitchen. No guns unless I'm with you, don't answer the phone or the door and don't make a goddamn noise while I work. Understood?"
"Yes sir." They chimed.
He sighed again.
"Goddamnit boys, don't call me sir. Bobby's fine. Idjits. Go on. Git."
They sprinted from the house and out into the yard.
The rows of dead cars proving a fruitful playground for two boys who spent most of their lives cooped up in a single room.
"I want the Mustang!" Yelled Sam, throwing open the door of a red car and bouncing up and down in the drivers seat, turning the wheel this way and that, making car noises through his cheeks.
Dean looked back at the house and saw Bobby watching them.
Warily he waited, half expecting him to bellow at them and make them come back inside, but instead, he raised his hand and waved once.
Dean waved back, then turned to Sammy.
"your car's a heap of crap boy!"
"Bitch!"
"Jerk!" He whooped and hollered over to the next line of cars where he found his favourite.
The Impala.
"Dad said I had to practice with the double barrel"
Dean trotted after Bobby across the damp grass in the park a few blocks away from the school they'd just dropped Sam off at.
"Well, what your Dad don't know won't hurt him none, will it. Today, you get to play catch like a regular snot nosed kid."
Dean stood still while Bobby walked a few feet away and then turned to throw the ball lightly at him.
He caught it in the tattered, creaking mitt, inspected it for a moment and then tossed it back to Bobby.
"When was the last time you threw a ball around kid?"
Dean shrugged.
He Didn't want to tell Bobby that he'd never thrown one, not since they'd been on the road anyway.
"Bobby?"
"Yup."
"You won't tell my Dad about this will you? I mean, me not practicing and stuff."
Bobby caught the ball and held it a moment, watching the boy carefully and feeling old hurts rise to the fore.
"I won't tell your Daddy nothing. So you just relax ok? Hey. you wanna burger?"
Dean grinned and Bobby found himself grinning back.
The diner across the street from the park was the usual small town get up.
Red checked, plastic table cloths, milk shakes and fries, juke box in the corner.
Dean tucked into his burger like an animal.
Bobby watched him over the rim of his coffee cup.
"For a kid so skinny you sure eat a lot huh?"
Dean lowered his eyes and deliberately slowed down, colour rising in his cheeks.
"It wasn't a criticism son. You keep stuffing it down and I'll keep the tab clear."
The kid sure took pleasure in his food, he thought.
"Dean. I wanna ask you something, but I want you to know, you don't have to answer anything you don't want to. Understand?"
He swallowed the mouthful he was chewing and nodded slowly.
"Yes sir."
"Bobby."
"Yes Bobby."
"Your Daddy feeding you kids? I mean, is there enough food for you both when he leaves you alone?"
Dean squirmed in his seat.
"Most of the time."
"Most of the time?"
"Yeah. I mean, he leaves food and money enough for a few days. It's not often he's gone longer."
"Dean. How long does your Daddy leave you and Sam alone?"
"Only a few days!"
Dear god.
"Ok. Can you tell me this. What was the longest your Daddy's been away?"
Dean thought hard.
"Last year sir. He had a job over in Missouri and he said he'd be back in three days, but it was nearly two weeks."
"Two weeks!"
Dean nodded and pushed his burger away from him, all thoughts of enjoying it gone.
"When it got to the end of the week I bought groceries and rationed them out. And when I ran out of money I….I stole some food from a car parked out the back of the motel."
He looked up at Bobby's incredulous face and suddenly blurted out, "Sammy never went hungry Bobby! I swear it! He didn't even know we had no food or money. I just told him I wasn't hungry or I'd already eaten. I only had to go without food for a couple of days, but never Sammy. Never!"
He cuffed away the hot angry tears that had sprung to his eyes and took a savage bite of his burger.
Bobby handed him a napkin and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"It's Ok son. It's ok. You did good. You know, Sammy's so lucky to have such a great older brother. You're strong and smart and you got a heart big enough to give that boy all the love he'll ever need."
He motioned the waitress over for more coffee.
"I could go for some pie, how about you Dean?"
9/
"Yo Dean."
The orderly poked his head around the door.
In the three weeks he'd been there the rules had relaxed slightly. He was still on lock down, and would be till his trial, but at least now they weren't treating him like a bomb with a dodgy timer anymore.
"You have company!"
"Sam?"
The Orderly shook his head and stepped back to let the visitor in.
He walked in shaking out his overcoat, his black hair still covered in water droplets from the down pour that was still battering against the tiny window.
"Well. Aren't you going to say hello or anything?"
"Cass." Dean whispered. "Oh my god! Cass!"
He moved forwards quickly and they embraced fiercely.
"I'll leave you two to it then." coughed the orderly. "Thirty minutes ok."
As the door closed behind him Dean grasped Cass by the arms and shook him.
"What the hell Cass! Where have you been?"
"I was up state. I didn't know where you were. It's been weeks Dean."
"I prayed to you every night and you didn't answer."
"Prayed to me?"
"Yeah! Come on, what is this? Some alternate reality? Some fucked up universe where there's no demons or anything?"
Cass pulled away from Dean and took half a step back.
"Sam told me to prepare for the worst."
Deans eye's widened. "What?"
"He said you were still having delusional periods. Worse than ever. It's not really surprising, given how you were mixing your meds with alcohol and ..other drugs…but he also said you were having moments of clarity, moments when you remembered what was really happening."
"No Cass, no, no… Not you." Dean slumped on the floor and buried his head in his arms. "No, no, no, no, no….."
His shoulders shook with the weight of it all, and when he felt Cass slip his arm across his back, he couldn't help but turn to him, clutch at his lapels and sob into his shoulder.
Cass sat down on the floor with him and held him close, rocking him, crooning to him, "it's ok, it's ok."
"But it's not, is it… " He wept. "I mean, that's what everyone says, that it'll be Ok, but it's not… It's not."
Cass kissed his forehead and ran his hands through his hair soothingly.
Dean was too tired to wonder at this. To think about what he was to Cass, to this Cass.
"What did you think I was?" He said, kissing him again. This time on the side of the mouth.
Dean looked straight ahead, his eyes glassy, his mouth trembling.
"I thought you were an angel." He whispered.
Cass chuckled softly and held him tight.
"That's funny. You used to call me that. "Angel", like a pet name. I'd almost forgotten."
Dean couldn't speak, didn't even react until Cass pulled him up so they were sat on the bed, and kissed him tenderly."
It felt right.
This Cass, this kiss, and he kissed him back, trying not to cry.
Cass pulled away as they heard the key in the door.
Smiling, he gripped the back of deans neck and pulled him close so that their foreheads touched. "We'll get through this. God, I missed you Dean. I was so worried. We all were."
"Cass… Cass, I killed people."
He nodded and closed his eyes thoughtfully.
"I know, I know… but it wasn't you, it was this… illness. I'm going to be there for you, and Sam. We'll help you Dean. I promise."
"Don't leave me Cass." He whispered as the Orderly came in.
"I'll be back soon. I promise. When I'm not allowed to visit I'll send word with Sam."
Dean gripped Cass's sleeves.
The one person he had thought would get him out, his last grip on what he thought was real.
"Dean. Dean. It's ok. I won't leave you. I have to go now, but I won't leave you. I promise. Come on. If you don't let me go they'll think you're in need of medicating, I don't want them to do that to you."
He nodded and reluctantly let go of Cass, allowing him to leave the room.
"Angel." He whispered, and Cass smiled at him as the door closed between them.
Later in bed he tried to think about Cass, about what they had.
It was difficult to focus.
The world seemed so soft around the edges now, his mind would drift off on unrelated tangents….
Cass.
He had to remember Cass.
And it was true, he could remember him.
He remembered the grip he took on his shoulder, the time he beat the crap out of him in that alley, how they scrapped and fought side by side.
He remembered his kiss as well, remembered running his hands through his hair, calling him angel, but there was more.
Whenever they had been together, there had been a subtle movement of air around them, the feeling of something soft and fleeting across his skin.
Like wings.
10/
"I need to know."
Sam looked up at him and raised his eyebrows.
"Oh?"
"I need to know what happened. With Dad….. There's something you're not telling me is there."
"Look Dean. I don't know if we should…"
"Bull shit Sammy. You're the one that keeps going on about how I need to face up to things, to reality. So here I am… Asking for it."
Sam sighed and put down the papers he'd been working on.
He looked tired and Dean felt a pang of guilt over what his brother was having to do for him. Working day and night to pull a tight case together and keep him out of jail.
"Ok. Look. Talk to Crowley if you must, get his advice. But sooner or later I'm gonna need to know."
"Dean. I can't do this alone. I mean, we could be breaking down all sorts of walls here, opening up cans of worms you didn't even know where there to open in the first place!"
"I gotta take that chance."
"Let me consult with Dr Crowley. I'd feel happier if we went through this together."
Dean nodded.
It wasn't like he had a choice.
"Dean. You need to remember something. John…. Dad.. Dad wasn't a good guy. He was hard on us, on you most of all, I'm lucky, he never really hit me like he hit you, but it's not about the physical stuff. You understand? He twisted your mind for years and… Well, yeah… I'll talk to Crowley."
11/
"Dean?"
A small hand shook his shoulder urgently.
"Whaah?" He mumbled, turning away from his brother and trying to regain sleep.
"Deeean! Wake up!"
"For god sake, what Sam? Is Dad back?"
"No, but Dean, I need to pee."
"So!"
"It's dark!"
"Are you serious? The bathrooms right there you jerk."
"Dean please!"
With much muttering under his breath, Dean pulled himself out of bed and strode across the small room to the bathroom beyond.
He flicked on the light and looked pointedly at Sam.
"Ok?"
He nodded. "Hey Dean?"
"What now?"
"Wait for me?"
"Oh for crying out loud…. Ok, hurry up though."
When he was done, Dean turned out the light and threw himself back into bed with a grunt.
For a moment there was silence, then a quiet voice came though the dark.
"Can I get in bed with you?"
"What? What for?"
"Daddy told me about bloody Mary last night and I… I said her name in the mirror three times and now… I'm…."
Dean threw back the covers. "Get in."
Sam jumped in quickly and snuggled up against his brother who put an arm protectively around him.
"You don't think she'll get me do you?"
"Bloody Mary? Nahh. She only comes after people who did something wrong, not assbutts like you."
"Yeah. I guess you're right. I suppose you'd have to do something really bad, like kill a person, for her to come after you. Right?"
"Go to sleep Sammy."
Dean lay wide awake, listening to his brothers breathing become deeper and more regular as he slipped into a deep sleep.
He didn't though.
All night, Dean lay awake, wondering if she would come for him. Afraid that if he closed his eyes, he might open them to find her staring down at him with her empty, bloody sockets, and she'd punish him for all the things he'd done.
12/
"Ok. We're going to tape all this Dean, for your defence case. Before we begin are we all comfortable?"
Dean glanced around the room.
Chairs had been brought in, on one side were Sam and Crowley, next to him sat Cass, who held his hand, squeezing it every so often to remind him he was here, he was real.
By the door stood the orderly, looking slightly bored.
Crowley leaned back in his chair.
He looked for all the world like someone getting ready to relax with a good book and a glass of Whiskey.
"Dean. I want you to start at the beginning. Tell me what life was like before Sam was born."
"What? I don't know! I was, like, four when he came along. It was fine. Normal."
"Your parents were happy?
"Well yeah, I…"
In the kitchen. His mother stood at the sink washing up, tears rolling silently down her face.
He walked over to her and slipped his hands around her thighs, god she'd seemed so big to him., She looked down at him and he said "Don't worry Mommy. Daddy will come home soon."
"…She was crying…."
"Go on.."
"Is this really relevant?"
"Everything's relevant Dean. Ok, lets go on to the night of the fire. What do you remember?"
"Hardly anything. Dad just pushed Sam at me and yelled at me to run out of the house."
"What did he tell you had happened?"
"He said…" Dean glanced at Sam who nodded for him to continue. "He said, the yellow eyed demon killed her. The Demon killed my mom."
Crowley glanced across at Sam who closed his eyes and nodded.
"Why don't you tell us about what happened at the road house?"
13/
How many hours had they been driving?
Too many to count, and it would be at least another day and night until they reached Nebraska..
Sammy had finally fallen asleep some time after 3 am, but Dean was still wide awake, looking out of the window into the darkness beyond.
His Dad was silent and didn't encourage chat, but he had the radio on and Dean liked that. He liked the calm of the music played by the late night shows on the rock stations his Dad preferred, he liked the easy feel of the road rolling away under the wheels of the Impala.
He took his moments of calm where he could.
No Sammy bugging him, no Dad yelling at him, no uncle Bobby asking questions, no school teachers calling him dumb because he couldn't remember how to do some stupid maths equation.
Right now, he just was.
He was Dean Winchester, and that's all he had to be.
It was after midnight, the next day, when they finally pulled up at the Roadhouse.
He couldn't remember the last time they'd been , but it must have been years, rather than months.
He was sure Jo had been a toddler last time, hiding shyly behind her mothers legs and falling asleep under the pool table clutching a teddy, and now she was nearly seven.
Even though it way past most little girls bedtimes, she was sat on a stool at the bar, drawing while her mom washed glasses.
Her legs didn't reach the foot rest so she swung them absentmindedly in time to whatever tune she was humming under her breath.
"We're closed, sorry." Ellen turned and stopped, surprised. "John Winchester! Long time no see. And the boys! My, look how tall you're getting!" Ellen smiled down at them and ruffled Sams hair.
"How you doin' John" She fixed him with a warm smile.
"Not bad, not bad. Where's Bill?"
"Working a job." She turned away abruptly, but not before Dean saw her shoot a look at Dad. It was clearly meant to say "and that's all I'm saying about that."
His Dad didn't press it, only ordered a beer and, as an afterthought, sodas for the boys.
"Could really do with someplace to crash for the night." He said after a while. "Boys have been on the road for a few days now, but I can't risk a motel. You got any vacancies?"
Ellen looked at him for a while, and Dean felt like she was trying to size up the situation, finally though she said "Sure John. I can put you up tonight. Jo, take the boys upstairs and show them where they can sleep"
"Does your Daddy shoot a gun? My Daddy does. He say's when I'm older he'll teach me how. Do you get to shoot a gun yet? My Daddy says you gotta be at least eleven before you can shoot a gun, he says it could be dangerous if you're too little."
Dean regarded Jo with irritation.
"Your Daddy says a lot don't he."
"My Daddy's smart that's why." She looked at Dean with infuriating superiority and for once, he was glad he had a brother and not a sister to take care of.
Sam caught the look on his face and grinned, rolling his eyes theatrically.
"You wanna see my room?"
Dean shrugged and followed, she hadn't waited for an answer.
He didn't know what he had expected.
Pink maybe? Dolls? His experience of girls bedrooms was pretty much nil, but he hadn't expected this.
There were posters of things like horses, sure, but there were also maps, police profile pictures, childish drawings of guns, people holding guns, people shooting guns.
And books.
More books than he had ever seen.
"You read all these?"
She shrugged. "Some of them. Some are in other languages so I can't."
Sam stepped forwards, his face shining with excitement.
"Can I see?"
"Sure!" Jo took down a large leather bound book and lay it on her bed. The pages were brittle and yellowed, covered in curling writing and symbols.
Dean watched them for a while until a creeping embarrassment stole over him.
These kids were seven and nine and they could both read a book like this, while he was thirteen and would have struggled with the first page.
He hated feeling dumb.
When he did go to school he bluffed it out, pretended he didn't care, was loud, made jokes, and no one noticed that he sometimes struggled over simple words or maths problems.
But here it was, staring him in the face.
Sometimes he really did feel as stupid as Dad said he was.
"I'm hungry. Anyone want anything?"
Sam half nodded and Jo shrugged.
"If you ask Mom she'll make sandwiches." She suggested, but neither of them looked up as he left the room.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets angrily and slunk down the stairs to see if Ellen and his Dad were still talking.
If they were, then he'd just help himself in the kitchen.
He'd rather apologise to Ellen later than risk making his Dad angry by interrupting them, especially as he was already half drunk by the time they'd got here.
The light was still on in the bar and hushed voices slipped through the gap in the door.
Dean snuck up to the door and peered through.
Ellen was putting stools up on the tables and wiping them down with a cloth.
"I'm sorry. I'm not telling you anything about Bills job. It's just not happening hun."
"Come on Ellen. I could help out, you know it."
"I said no."
She put the last stool up with a firm smack and Dean saw his Dad narrow his eyes. It was his mean look, the one he got when he was thinking carefully about being angry and not just lashing out.
"Ok….. Ok!" He held up his hands and smiled, then stood up and followed Ellen over to the bar.
As she lent over to toss the cloth onto the counter, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"John!" She turned around to find her self pinned between him and the bar. "Let me go."
He shook his head.
"You didn't think I came all the way out here for a bed to sleep in did you?" He smiled down at her wolfishly.
Dean thought it would probably be a good time for him to leave, but he didn't, something made him stay.
Ellen put her hands on Johns chest to push him away.
"That's enough. You're drunk,. Move out of my way."
"Or what?"
Hers eyes widened. "Are you threatening me? Seriously?"
John pushed against her so that all the space between them was gone and it was only her hands that separated them.
"No honey. I'm not threatening you. You weren't threatened last time we got this close, huh?"
Ellens eyes flashed with anger.
"That was once John and it was a long time ago."
"Makes no difference."
"It was a mistake!"
Dean held his breath as he saw his Dads jaw tighten.
"A mistake? I'm no ones mistake darlin'" He closed the gap between them and moved in to kiss her.
Ellen pushed hard against him, catching him off guard, and managed to swing her fist back hard enough to slug him in the jaw.
"Get your fucking hands off me!"
He held his hand to his jaw and turned back to Ellen.
She must have seen the look on his face because Dean watched all the colour drain from hers.
"John. Stop. Don't you come near me."
"What you gonna do El? Huh? Scream? Who's gonna save you? Not Bill! He's not here! You want your daughter to hear you and come see what's going on? You want Jo to see this?"
"John please. Just go." She was trying to back around the bar, to put it between them and no doubt try and grab whatever weapon she kept behind there.
He was too quick though and before she could sprint for the safety of the bar, he had grabbed her and in one swift movement, he spun her around and bent her over, cracking her head against the bar.
Dean gasped and automatically went through the door.
John was unbuckling his belt while Ellen had bleed from her nose and a deep gash over her eye, her gaze found Dean and fixed on him, her mouth opened and closed, but only gasps and spittle's of blood came out.
"Dean, you get out of here, this has nothing to do with you." John kicked at her feet, spread them, and all she could do was flex her fingers in protest, all the fight knocked out of her, her eyes clouded and far off.
"Dad…"
"I SAID GET OUT OF HERE!" He roared.
Dean flinched and took a step back, but he couldn't leave.
With a cry of rage he ran over to them, grabbing one of the stools off a table as he did so, he swung it round with as much force as he could muster and hit his Dad square in the back with it.
He staggered sideways at the blow and Ellen slid down to the floor, coughing and retching.
Everything stopped.
There was a pounding in his ears that seemed to swell and surge as his fear and horror at what he'd done, fully hit him.
His Dad turn towards him.
"You hit me? ME? You little piece of crap…"
"Sir, I'm sorry, sir…Daddy…." Dean backed away as his Dad advanced and as the first blow of a fist hit him, he was already curling up, protecting his head from the kicks that would surely follow.
Far away he could hear Ellen rasping, trying to yell, telling his Dad to stop …"Stop John! You'll kill him!"
As a kick broke Deans arm with an audible crack, he heard a shrill scream and crying, and then Sam shouting at Dad.
"Get off him! Get off my brother!"
And then…. Nothing.
"I don't remember what happened after that." .
14/
"I can carry on from there." Sam said, reaching forwards and squeezing Dean on the knee
He smiled weakly, rubbing at the small lump half way up his fore arm. He'd forgotten about it.
"After you passed out, Dad stopped hitting you. Ellen had called couple of regulars who were close and dad knew it would only be a matter of time before he was faced with two or three pissed off rednecks instead of Ellen and two small kids.
He just high tailed it out of there, leaving you and me at the roadhouse.
Well, Ellens friends drove us all to hospital and you actually got to stay there for the best part of three weeks while your arm and ribs healed.
You also had a fractured skull."
Dean touched the side of his head, as though he might find a flaw there.
"I went to Bobby's then…. And that's when Dad showed up."
Sam looked down at his hands and shook his head.
"I've never seen Bobby so angry.
He stood on the porch with me hiding behind him, the shotgun trained on Dad.
He said if he didn't leave now then he'd fill him full of shot and bury him out back.
I remember what Dad said… He said, he'd come for his boy…. For me.
And Bobby, Bobby just shook with rage and said, really quietly, So you can fuck this one up too?
I remember that bit most of all."
He took Deans hand in his, the one Cass wasn't holding, and he held it painfully tight for a moment.
"There was no yellow eyed Demon Dean. It was Dad. He fought with Mom and he hit her.. too hard…. Then he set light to the nursery to cover his tracks. It was him the whole time. He made up this elaborate story of demons and monsters to justify it to himself. He had you out with him as a kid, ganking homeless people and calling them vampires or shapeshifters."
"Oh God." Dean moaned.
"Dean. Dean you protected me from him. If it wasn't for you I would have been in your situation right now. Do you have any idea how much I owe you big brother?"
"Sammy….. What have I done?"
"After all he put you through, it's no wonder you went off the rails, took drugs…. On top of the psychiatric problems…. It doesn't matter. We can help you now. Ok? We can give you medicine and therapy and you'll come out the other side of this a whole person."
Dean was sobbing into his hands by now. "I don't understand! I don't understand!"
Crowley stood up and patted Dean on the shoulder.
"Lets give you a little something eh? Just to calm your nerves and let you sleep. It's a lot to take in."
"He's right." Cass pulled him into a hug. "You need to rest. You still have so much work to do."
Dean nodded and swiped his sleeve over his face.
Compliantly he sat on the bed and swallowed the pills he was given.
As he lay down with his back to the door, they filed out, locking up behind them.
They walked silently for a few strides until Cass spoke.
"Do you think this will work?"
"Of course." Crowley answered, slipping off his white coat and tossing it over his shoulder.
"I'm still not sure this is the best way to…."
"Will you relax Cass!" the Orderly sighed, patting him on the back.
Cass glared at him. "Gabriel, I don't think you understand just how much.."
"How much he means to you?" He raised an eyebrow and ginned lopsidedly.
"Brothers…. Please." Sam stopped and held his hands out to them, then turned to Crowley "….present company excepted…"
Crowley bowed slightly.
"Of course sir."
"Lucifer, I think we're playing a dangerous game here."
Sam placed his hands on Cass's shoulders and smiled at him.
"Look at us. Three brothers, reunited to stand against the tyranny of heaven. What is a little game playing at a time like this. I could have just killed him." He squeezed Cass's shoulders tighter. "….I still could."
Crowley stuck his hands in his pockets and stared up at the ceiling, sucking air between his teeth and trying to be inconspicuous.
Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes.
"So much Drama!" He slung his arms around Cass and Lucifer's shoulders and grinned at them. "I could really go for some ice cream right now."
Lucifer smiled with Sams mouth and nodded.
"Ok little brother. But you know, Detroit is boring me. I feel we should move on soon, don't you?"
"What about Dean?" Said Cass.
"He can come too. Don't worry, Dean lives… you get to keep your pet and I get to keep my vessel. Isn't that right Sammy boy!"
From deep inside his head Sam screamed.
No one but Lucifer heard him.
A scream was all so much music to his ears.