Sam looked out the window as the rain continued to fall. He wasn't sure where Dean was being kept today. They moved him around to many times from room to room. Making up the accusations about how monsters and demons were real. It was starting to become an old annoying habit after hearing it day by day. The anti-depression drugs did help with the occasional breakdown. The rain didn't help with lifting anyone's mood. It actually felt that the rain was making everyone's mood worse with each passing minute. The asylum never helped any of the patients.
Sam moved from the window going back to his bed and laid down staring at the ceiling. He woke up to Dean's yelling and using his blood to write some strange symbols on the wall. It wasn't the first time he had done this, but it was the first time he actually did it in his room. He was getting desperate. Sam may not have understood what the writing meant but he did understand his brother.
He tried to be understanding and help anyway he could. It was getting tiresome. Sam closed his eyes to try and get some rest, the sound of the door kept that from happening.
"Hello Sam, how are we doing today?"
Sam looked towards the door to find an older gentleman with a scruffy beard, short hair, and an English accent. He wore a white coat like most of the doctors. Sam knew it wasn't about intimidation but only to show his authority at the ward. His buttoned shirt was black, including his pants, and he wore a blood red tie.
"Good morning Dr. Crowley," said Sam. "I'm doing pretty well, though the rain's not helping."
"It never really helps," said Dr. Crowley, "but you either live with it or let it get to you. Anyway, we're going to have to move you to another room while they clean this one. I figured while they take the time to do the moving process we might use this chance to have our meeting a little early."
Sam gave a week smile and nodded. Sam led the way taking a right at the door and heading down the corridor to the stairs. Dr. Crowley followed behind staying three feet behind. They reached the stairs heading down three flights and entered the second level corridor. Sam entered the door on his right and took the seat directly in front of him. Dr. Crowley followed in from behind closing the door as he entered.
"So," said the doctor as he sat behind the desk, "where would you like to start?"
Sam just stared at the window behind the doctor. He ignored the bookshelves on either side as he already knew that the first shelf on either side was full of research of past cases and psychiatrists who had their own theories. The second shelves were standard reading books for what Sam could only consider for young readers. Books used for some of the younger members in the building. The third row held a popular series and a few of the comics based on it as well. The fourth row Sam never really paid attention to very much, he always seemed to stop at the third row.
"How about the nightmares," Dr. Crowley said shuffling through the papers. "Which one would you like to talk about? How about the secret room with Lucifer, maybe the one where the lady's on the ceiling, no, that's not your most recent one. Brother dying every day, starting the apocalypse, leaving Hell, or what about-"
"Where's my brother?" Sam looked straight at the doctor. "I know from last night I'm not allowed to see him but I just want to make sure he's alright."
Dr. Crowley looked at Sam giving it some thought of whether he should even speak about the situation. He stacked the papers and set them aside as he cleared his throat.
"Your brother used a needle stolen from the nurse's office and used it to draw blood and make the symbols on his wall." Dr. Crowley scratched his chin. "Under those circumstances we had to assume that the needle was a weapon and had to confiscate everything in the room and confide him to a padding room."
"So he's alright?"
"Other than the multiple punctures he made from the needle and his mental state of believing that monsters exist, he is alive. So yes, he's alright."
"Can you help him?"
"They're bringing in a psychiatrist from up north."
Sam gave a puzzled look.
"Canada," said Dr. Crowley, "not my first choice but I hear he's very good. From what I hear he's a little emotionless but he's very good at helping others when called upon."
"Who is he?"
Dr. Crowley reached for a set of papers to his right and looked at the first sheet on top. "His name is Steve, Steve Castiel. It must be a family name. Oh, it seems he's already arrived."
"Can I speak with him? I just want to make sure he's doing everything he can to help Dean."
Dr. Crowley lowered the papers and took a small breather. "Normally we wouldn't allow a patient to have information about our processes." Sam looked down feeling uneasy. "However you've come very far in recovery that we'll be talking about an early release, and seeing as you're the only living relative you will be informed at some point. Before we go anywhere I would like to at least see how you're doing now. Will that be alright?"
Sam gave a smile hearing the good news. "Of course, ready when you are."
Three hours passed as they talked about how Sam and Dean came to the asylum. Conversations they have had so many times it was starting to become repetitive. After their appointment they left the office heading down the stairs to the basement level. This floor held over three dozen padded rooms each one having been updated since last year. One thing Sam did appreciate about this place was how it was up to code and always seemed to have everything completely new. Reaching the end of the corridor they made a right to the next row of rooms to find a man standing in front of a door hallway down.
The man standing in front of the door seemed average height with brown hair. He had a look that showed almost no expression even as they entered in his line of sight.
Dr. Castiel looked to them and stood up straight. "Hello, my name is Dr. Castiel, or you can just call me Castiel. Yes it's a family name, and no I don't go by my first name for personnel reasons."
Sam heard the tone in his voice. He was serious but at the same time he gave no real emotion.
Castiel reached out his hand shaking both the doctor and Sam's and looked at the file in his hands.
"You must be Sam," said the doctor. "I've heard your progress has been going well and read the reports since you first arrived. It does seem your brother is having more issues with facing reality, a discussion for another time. Your timing couldn't have been more perfect though. Your brother has been calling for you. I think you should speak with him."
"I don't think that's a good idea," said Dr. Crowley. "The patient is too unstable and to bring his brother in there may cause more problems and maybe even-"
"I would usually agree," said Castiel, "but sadly it seems that his brother is the only thing keeping him from going further from reality. If it makes you feel any better I would like to see how the two react with one another before I make any decisions of what I should do."
Dr. Crowley took a deep breath and contemplated what action he should take. He raised a hand in defeat. "Very well, but I believe it's still a bad idea."
Castiel gave a small smile and opened the door. Sam entered to find his brother standing against the wall humming a tune.
"What's up pussy," said Dean.
Sam shook his head. "You seem to be doing better."
"Yeah, being in a straightjacket and locked in a padded cell is so much fun right now."
"You were doing so well. Then suddenly you decide to go ahead and still a needle just so you can use your blood to write some markings on a wall. I'm just happy they didn't consider you suicidal."
"Yeah well if I'm right about this we don't have much time," said Dean.
"What are you talking about-"
Dean slammed his forehead right into Sam's nose knocking him down. He quickly rushed to the door shoving both of the doctors back hitting the ground. Walking back to Sam he looked at his brother holding his nose. He kicked him in the rib and once again in the face.
"Remember," Dean yelled, "this isn't real."
Sam looked up as Dean's foot slammed against his face. He continued to slam his foot on Sam's face not giving up for a second. The only thing that seemed to be going through Sam's mind as pain shot through every inch of his face was only one question. What? The last thing Sam could see even before his eyes became to swollen was his brother's jacket untied and Dean's fist slamming against his face.
A lady stood over Sam as she whispered. The language was unfamiliar but for some reason it seemed as if he understood what she was saying. The only problem was his vision was blurry almost too where he couldn't make out the figures around him. His head pounding he wanted to vomit to stop the pain. A cold hand touched his forehead. He screamed.