heeeey guys :) yet another destiel, but this one is going to be slow-moving. it's partially written already but i'm not releasing the full thing until i get further into WYM.
please tell me what you think!
Chapter 1: the one where Dean is "On a Bender!"
Dean re-adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder holding all of his worldly belongings. Long gone were the nights when he could tell Bobby and Sam what was wrong. They were dead. He was the only living member of any semblance of family there had ever been. And he was being locked up for the foreseeable future.
The bus had dropped off its only rider at the gate; the driver-slash-guard unlocked his handcuffs from the bar on the back of the seat in front of him and walked Dean in himself. Upon entering he noticed three other people in the main office. Two girls, both overweight and Goth-looking, stood next to the front desk, getting their bags searched and wristbands activated. Dean couldn't peel his eyes from the red blinking lights on the silver cuffs. He didn't know that there was this level of security. His skin crawled, and he shifted uncomfortably in his place by the door. The guy in the room wasn't a new student. He had no blinking bracelet on, and was standing behind the counter getting the new girls into the system. Dean looked back to the floor between his boots and clenched his jaw. He did not deserve to be in here.
The girls left, twisting the bands on their arms, testing their breakability. They looked disgustedly at papers in their hands, and the man called him forward with a halfhearted wave of the hand and a very condescending expression. Upon further inspection, he realized that the man was actually only a few years older than himself, and was a security guard. His nametag read Olson.
"Name?" the guard barked out, pulling a deactivated wristband from the drawer next to him and pressing a button.
"Dean Winchester," he responded automatically, rubbing his wrist with the other hand. The thought of being so confined made him itch.
"Meds?" when Dean didn't answer, the man looked up. "Do you take meds, son?"
"Oh…no." he looked at the door, calculating his possibilities of running before the guy could strap on the tracker.
"Bag check," Olson held out his hands for Dean's bag, and he handed it over reluctantly. Olson pawed through underwear, blankets, a ragged polaroid of Sam, Bobby, and Dean at Bobby's old house, a knife which he set aside, and mismatched clothes. He handed the bag back to Dean.
"Knives are forbidden, along with anything else that can be construed as dangerous to you types. Your schedule for socials and meetings is here, and your uniform is expected to be worn during meetings only. Any other time is free dress. You must take any meds that you are prescribed at any given time, and lights out is eleven PM sharp. Your doors will be locked at that time, and there is no going in or out unless you're dying." Olson gave the speech like he obviously had done it a million times before. Dean looked down at his schedule and saw his room number on the top of the page. He grabbed Dean's wrist and snapped the bracelet into place, pressing another button to turn it on before detaching its wire from the dock.
"This is a tracking device," Olson drawled and twisted the wristband so that the light faced Dean. "If the light is red, you're in- bounds. Green light starts a countdown, thirty seconds to get back in-bounds and the light will go back red. If you stay out-of-bounds for all 30 seconds, you get electrocuted and it won't cut off til we find you and drag your ass back. After the second offense you get a collar like the Hazards. I suggest you don't try it, but first-time patients always do. Also keeps you out of fights." At Dean's curious look he added, "Nurses have a radio signal, they'll shock you if they see any punches thrown." With that, he waved a hand at Dean, dismissing him.
The boy walked out of the office, rubbing the skin under the arm band and looking at his papers. He almost ran headlong into a man standing just outside the door in a set of light blue scrubs.
"You must be Dean?" the man asked. Dean nodded and adjusted the bag on his shoulder again. "Name's Dr. Balthazar, I'm the young adult psychiatrist here. Let me take you to your room so you can meet your roommate, then it's off to lunch and classes for you." He held out a hand for Dean's paper. "Ah, room 241. This way," he waved a hand over his shoulder to Dean, who followed in silence, taking in the scenery. They made several turns, down identical gray hallways lined with numbered dark wooden doors with tiny gold-framed windows inset in them.
"The second floor is non-threatening patients, so you're going to hopefully be good up there. I see you've not had a psych evaluation yet. I'll be the one to do that, probably tomorrow after you've had the chance to settle in and make a friend or two. Word to the wise, keep your back to the wall for the first day or so, but try to act very…normal." Dr Balthazar sneered. "Here we are, Captain Silence. I'll crack you eventually, if the other kids don't do it for me first. But I'm betting that Castiel will." They stopped at a nondescript room, the door dark and wooden like all the others. A gold name plate held their numbers, room 241. The Doctor opened the door after a single knock.
"Castiel, I'd like you to meet Dean, your new roommate." Dean shuffled into the room and over to the empty bed nearest the window. He cast a glance over to the other boy on the bed. He had his nose buried in a book, and was wearing skinny black jeans and a loose fitting grey and white striped crochet cardigan over a tight white undershirt. His black shock of hair stood on-end, as if it had a life of its own
Castiel held up a finger to signal them to wait while he finished a paragraph. "Well, since he's not talking just yet, I'll finish my introductory speech," Dr. Balthazar continued. "Stay away from the people from the fourth floor. They are the Hazards; people who have killed to get in here. They are heavily medicated, and they have shock collars as well as the wrist bands, but we still have accidents from under-cautious twits. Other than that, everyone is fair game. I'll give you your ID band tomorrow when we have our appointment. Castiel, be nice in the conventional way and give Dean here a tour." Before he walked out, the doctor pointed a hard finger at Castiel as if to drive home some silent point, and Castiel just smirked back at him. Dean was very confused on the other bed, noting the orange vinyl band around Castiel's wrist alongside the blinking tracker. He saw script on the sticker on the orange bracelet, but couldn't make it out.
As soon as the good doctor was gone, Castiel shut his book and set it on the bedside table, looking at Dean plainly. Winchester rubbed the skin under his arm band again, feeling it get raw already.
"My name is Castiel Novak, as you have heard. I'm 22, I like to read to stay out of trouble, I work in the kitchen sometimes and can get you food any time you want, and I am in here for no actual reason. You?" Dean was startled by his abruptness, but smiled timidly, happy to have someone not particularly off-color to talk to.
"I'm Dean Winchester, I'm 20, and I have no idea why I was brought here." At Castiel's skeptical look, he added, "There was an accident at my house, a fire. Everyone died. Next thing I knew I was being brought here."
"Well, let me tell you, that story isn't going to hold up in here. Everyone has a reason. And you'll never get out." Cas stood and stretched, popping his back. "Let's see your schedule. Normally it's the same as your roommate's, but some cases differ." He looked at the paper quickly, handing it back to the boy on the bed. "Nope, same as me. Let's start walking, I'll introduce you to the people worth knowing, the actually not crazy ones. There aren't many." Cas walked to the door, looking back over his shoulder at Dean. "What?" he asked at Dean's hesitant look.
"Don't we need…uniforms?"
"Oh, Olson got you didn't he?" Dean nodded. "Uniforms are your ID bands, and pants-somempeople have a problem keeping them on in here…. And you haven't gotten a band yet. If you don't wear it, they send you to solitary. But no worries, the nurses will know that you don't have one. Dr Baz there is one of the better people here." He nodded over his shoulder, signaling to the doctor who had walked Dean in. "He treats us pretty normal, knows that most of us are here for more societal issues than actual ones." He didn't stick around for Dean to ask what he meant.
They walked down the hallway, Dean listening to Cas drone on about the people that lived in their hall, the constant "pharmapalooza's" that went on, and how there were really only about five people here worth knowing, aside from himself.
"You don't just want to stay away from the Hazards," Castiel warned, shaking a finger at Dean to make him listen. "The kids on the third floor are bad too, they have behavioral disorders. It's like a hierarchy of crazy here. Basement is solitary, adds to the dungeon illusion. Ground floor is offices and class rooms. Second floor is us boring types with "attitude problems", third is 'medicated behavioral control' people, fourth is Hazards, and fifth is lock-down. It's all catatonics up there. If I was you, I'd keep my nose clean, no fights, even if you don't start them, and take the meds that they do give you. Baz won't prescribe anything unnecessary. He's kept me secretly off meds for years now." Once again he didn't give Dean a chance to ask any questions.
They arrived at a door, and Cas knocked loudly. A second later a boy came to the door and peeked through the window. Seeing Cas, he swung the door open and let them inside.
"This is Gabriel," he gestured to a short blonde man who was eyeing him vicariously, "And this is his roommate-slash-victim-slash-boyfriend Jared," he waved a hand at a huge boy with long brown hair on the other bed. There was no way that the smaller man was in charge in here, but as Jared leaned forward to shake Dean's hand, Gabriel deflected it gently, sitting on the bed in front of Jared to call attention to himself. Dean looked at the younger kid, thinking that he looked freakishly like Sam, but shook his head hard knowing that it was a figment of his imagination.
"Gabe here is in to be cured of his 'immoral sexual condition' right?" Castiel turned from Dean to Gabriel, who gave him an odd look but nodded.
"You see, Dean-o, it's not hip to be in here for no reason, so they always invent a reason to keep you locked in. Cas here is off his meds because Baz has a thing for him, but not me. Nope, I just have to suffer here with my…victim." He added, still eyeballing Castiel who ignored him. Dean's eyes once again shifted to Jared whose hand trailed to rest on top of Gabriel's. It hit Dean like a punch in the stomach. They were here to be cured for being gay? Cas noticed the change in his eyes, and laughed bitterly.
"Ah, he gets it Gabe," he sighed, lowering his head to stare at his black boots.
"Wait, you guy are in here for being homosexual? Isn't that like… dumb?" Dean asked lamely. They all three smiled at him, nodding absently. Castiel raised his eyebrows in surprise at Dean's word choice.
"Of course it is, you can't be cured of such a thing," Cas said, shaking his head. "But, until we show 'signs of improvement,' we are stuck here. Gabe and Jared here will never get out, they won't stop fucking their roommates. That's why the orderlies gave up and just left Jared in here." Jared smiled to himself, looking down at his lap now. Dean had the distinct impression that he had put up a fight to stay in here with Gabriel.
"Is everyone on this hall gay?" Dean asked warily, not sure if being on a hall with everyone watching his ass was better than being placed in one of the higher-up halls. Cas laughed easily now that his secret was out and his roommate wasn't a homophobe.
"No, just a few of us. Most of the people on this hall are some kind of sexual deviant though. That's why we are here, because society put us here, but we aren't enough of a threat to be placed in the more dangerous halls with the heavily medicated folks. They think if they keep us all together and sterilize the women that we will just keep our problems to ourselves. You can't medicate horniness out of people." Dean realized too late that Gabriel was sitting in his enormous boyfriend's lap and they were making out pretty thoroughly, so Cas led him out of the room to continue the tour. "Take the next person for instance. She's in for being a 'sex addict' meaning that someone in her life got worried that she was fucking too many people, and put her in here for the rest of her life. What kind of friend does that?" he asked rhetorically. They turned a corner and stopped at yet another nondescript door, but Dean could make out a record playing behind the wood.
"Lily, are you in there sweetheart? I've got a present for you." He called through the door, winking at Dean when he looked startled. "She'll check you out but don't be scared, she's not on meds or anything, totally normal." Cas whispered to Dean as a girl called form the other side.
"Just a second Cas, let me get decent for your gay little eyes!" Eyes which Cas rolled dramatically, muttering as if I've never been subject to you naked under his breath. The door swung open to reveal a slender beauty with masses of white-blonde and vibrant magenta hair that fell to her waist in dread-locks and bright blue eyes that rivaled only Castiel's. Dean felt his eyes widen in shock; he was anticipating something-
"Let me guess, you thought I'd either look like a prostitute or a loony?" she asked, cocking a hip defiantly and stepping aside to let them into her room. She definitely gave Dean's ass a squeeze as he walked by, noting to Cas the he should try to bite it. Dean flushed scarlet, and Cas covered his eyes with his hand, laughing.
"Please, Lil, I have to live with this kid for the foreseeable future. I beg you; don't make it more awkward than it has to be." The girl laughed easily, the sound reverberating off the cinder block walls. She was wearing a simple cerulean blue shift dress, but it somehow made her look appealing. Like only she could pull it off. She sat absently on the only bed in the room, having made a sitting space on the window ledge for her visitors. Dean was left to stare at the girl, taking in all her…features.
She was absolutely covered in tattoos. A full sleeve covered each arm, even the backs of her hands and a couple of fingers. Her chest was clean, but a family crest of some kind was in the center if her throat with vines and flowers off to each side, making her look like she had a high collar on. Tiny stars peppered the side of her left eye, disappearing artfully into her hairline from her cheekbone up her forehead. That was all he could see aside from the tops of a set of wings stretching across her back covering a few deep-looking scars there.
"Why are you in here alone?" Dean asked when he found his voice. The other two seemed content to sit in silence.
Lily laughed again, a bit more bitterly. "Sweetheart, once you get a label like I have, you don't get roommates. I'm lucky to have Cas here looking out for me, so that I didn't wind up in either solitary or being lobotomized so that they could control me." she ended staring straight into his eyes, which unsettled Dean. There was no mirth left in there. "Cas," she looked to his roommate and stretched out a hand and making a grabby motion for him to join her on the bed. "You're getting scruffy. I'll come down for a haircut and shave later in the week, shall I?" she asked. Castiel passed a hand over his chin roughly, feeling the overgrown whiskers.
"I guess I am due. Every two weeks, like a clock." He rolled his eyes to Dean. "Let's go meet some more folks and get lunch, shall we?" he gestured for the door after passing an affectionate hand over Lily's cheek. Dean went out, grateful to be away from someone who was obviously an old friend with his only acquaintance here. There were too many inside conversations between them and Dean felt like an intruder.
"Let's go Chuck next. He's not a sexual type, but he does think that he's a prophet of some kind. He's got probably a thousand spiral notepads all filled in with stories in his room. His roommate is in solitary for a very good reason right now." Cas went silent after that, not elaborating. Dean got the impression that he was just going to have to weasel the stories out of the people himself. Which was hard considering that he didn't have his own story to share.
Castiel stopped and knocked briefly on a door. It swung open after a second, a tiny thin man with a beard and wiry dark hair greeted them in a bath robe. He stared at Dean with huge eyes before letting them in. Cas wasn't joking, this guy had notebooks stacked everywhere, but they were obviously in piles and were sorted somehow. Broken pencils littered the floor and the other bed, which was stripped naked. The guy was shaky, like he was running off too much adrenaline for a guy who sat in a room and wrote all day.
"I've seen yo-" he began, getting cut off by a sharp look from Castiel.
"Chuck, I'm trying to teach him that not everyone here is actually crazy. Please don't fit the stereotype." Cas leaned against a wall almost sexily, like he was trying to look like he was not trying to look good. Dean shook his head, feeling weird for noticing.
They absently visited with Chuck for a bit, before he started humming and writing in a new notebook, flashing weird looks at Dean. As they exited, Dean memorized the fourth bedroom number for the day. Chuck belonged to room 265. He would remember. They walked down to the canteen and got ham sandwiches and water, deciding to take it back to their room to get Dean moved in.