A/N: Thank you all for the lovely reviews!
FYI, this fic has practically turned into an AU after all the 7x17 spoilers that have been released lately.
I'll explain in more detail my Lucifer-Sam theory later, but it's nearly midnight and I'm tired and I have to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow so I'll do it later. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
'Sam and Dean Hetfield?'
They'd arrived at Pine Falls Hospital nearly three quarters of an hour ago and been told to sit on the two beaten-up old sofas that squatted in the corner of the small reception area by the lady behind the desk with the fake fingernails (the lady, that is, not the desk). Pine Falls Hospital was one of those small places that looks like it's only just staying afloat by making drastic cuts that included anything that wasn't strictly necessary, like a new paint job. But hey, it was serviceable, and Sam and Dean certainly weren't used to staying in places that could be described as 'classy'.
Now, Dean looked up to see a nurse in a loose white coat standing over them, long dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and a clipboard under her arm. He stood quickly and nodded, accepting the hand she offered.
'I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam.'
'Dr Gillian Keyes,' the nurse- or rather, doctor said. 'I'll be looking after you while you're in this facility. I can't promise that it's gonna be fun, but I'll do all I can to help you get through this. I understand that this must be a tough time for both of you, and everyone gets through this kind of thing in their own way and their own time. That's okay. But it's my job to be helpful, so I'm here, okay?' She spoke professionally, her words short and to the point, and Dean had to be grateful that she wasn't the bleeding-heart, touchy-feely, 'let's all talk about your emotions and hold hands' type. The last thing he needed was anyone's pity.
'Do you want to come and settle into your room, Sam?' She spoke carefully, testing the water, seeing just how crazy Dean's little brother really was, but she was also sensitive, kind; no-nonsense but with a good bedside manner, and Dean had to admit that she was good at this.
Sam stood now and smiled tiredly at Dr Keyes. It was an obligatory movement of muscles, part of his normal ritual when meeting people, a force of habit – not a sign of happiness or contentment – and Dean clenched his jaw when he saw that the smile didn't even reach his little brother's eyes. 'I guess.'
'Great. In that case, if you'll follow me?' She turned and led them away from the reception area and down a corridor with slightly off-white, almost yellowish walls with cracks and flaking paint, and linoleum flooring. Dean watched his brother carefully, seeing how he took it all in, but when he saw the defeated, almost uncaring look in Sammy's eyes, Dean had to look away, and his gaze fell on Dr Keyes. She walked very upright, with a straight back and long, determined, confident strides. She certainly seemed trustworthy. After all these years, Dean liked to think that he was a pretty good judge of character. And hey, it'd gotten him this far, so evidently it wasn't all bull.
'It's not the Savoy, but you should be pretty comfortable,' Dr Keyes said, opening the door to Sam's room and showing them in. The room was small and square, with a little, slightly rickety-looking hospital bed, a bedside table and a chair. That was pretty much it.
Dean swallowed as he looked around – it was pretty grim. Fuck that, it was… He'd never thought he'd see the day when Sammy ended up in a place like this.
No. He couldn't think like that. Sam would get better, they'd get through this. Like they always did. They bounced back. Bounced back all the way from Heaven and Hell, a couple of times. This was like a cakewalk compared to busting Sam out of Hell. They could do this. They would do this. They had to.
It was just so fucking unfair. Why did all the shit land on them? Hadn't they done enough, given enough? They'd saved the entire damn world, did that count for nothing?
If there was a God up there, Dean would throttle Him.
'Visiting hours are 11-4, Mr Hetfield,' Dr Keyes said, bringing Dean back to reality with a bump. 'I'll show you around some more now, if you like – although if you prefer you can just get used to the room and we'll have a tour later on.'
Dean glanced over to Sam, who didn't seem to even be listening, much less care. 'Sure, why not?' he said, turning back to Dr Keyes. He couldn't face any more time alone with Sam. At least with Dr Keyes around he could avoid any more Lucifer-orientated conversations in which both brothers attempted not to speak about anything important – like their emotions, or shit like that.
'Okay,' agreed Dr Keyes. 'Actually, there's another patient here who I was hoping could give you a hand settling in, Sam.'
Under normal circumstances, Dean and Sam could convey almost anything through a simple shared look – it was an art form they'd perfected almost unconsciously, dating back to when Dean could warn Sam off a particular subject if it was likely to piss their father off, and it came in very handy on hunts. Under normal circumstances, this might be a moment when they would exchange one of their looks, commenting on Dr Keyes' statement, reading each other's thoughts on the subject in an instant.
Of course, under normal circumstances, they wouldn't be here in the first place.
'Great,' Dean found himself saying, but his heart wasn't in it and his mouth was dry, so it came out rasping and emotionless.
Dr Keyes chuckled slightly, misreading the thoughts behind his words. 'Don't worry, he's not like some of the more colorful characters we've got around here. He's pretty quiet, keeps to himself. I guess I'm just trying to get him to come out a bit, y'know?' She sighed a little. 'It could do him some good. You too, Sam. It pays to have someone on the inside who knows the ropes. It'll make your short stay here that bit easier.'
Dean had to admit that it made sense. Just as long as they weren't tethered with some nutjob. All he wanted was to get Sam better and get out of here, chalk this one up to experience, move on. He wasn't exactly good at dwelling on things he found difficult or uncomfortable. Generally, his tactic was to tell himself he was fine until he was so numb it was actually true.
But this? This he just wanted to forget as soon as possible. He wanted his brother to be the way he once had been, before all this had landed on his doorstep.
'Okay.'
'Thank you,' Dr Keyes said earnestly. 'I'll introduce you to him, then. His name's Dean.'
-/-
The file said that Dean, the mystery amnesiac with no last name, suffered from 'amnesia and religious psychosis', but Gillian just saw him as the silent man with the sad eyes who couldn't even remember his own name and who had only ever uttered one word 'Dean'. All the other doctors in the facility seemed to have given up on his ever speaking properly again – he had been here for over six months, after all, and he seemed to show few signs of improvement.
When he first came here, he had been terrified, and no one – including himself – had known why. He would have nightmares, he would suddenly start crying or screaming for no reason, he saw things that weren't there. So, yes, he'd improved since then, but it had been months and still there were no words.
The other doctors had written him off. Gillian, however, was less easily deterred.
Apart from the amnesia and silence, she couldn't tell what was wrong with him; she for one had certainly never seen any evidence of the religious psychosis. Sometimes Dean would draw, and when he did, his drawings inevitably took on a sinister tone, showing dark scenes with barely discernable figures lurking in the shadows. Some of these figures had wings, so perhaps that's what the file was referring to when it mentioned religious psychosis. But it didn't seem anything too terrible. Sure, the pictures were freaky, and they showed that Dean had certainly been through something horrible, or was at least having unpleasant nightmares (which she knew anyway, and which was part of the reason most of his sleep was drug-induced), but they didn't necessarily point to insanity.
Dean was… confusing.
She was glad, though, that the Hetfield brothers had agreed to be introduced to him. It would do him good to meet some people properly, and perhaps it might encourage him out of his shell a little. There was always the possibility that even semi-normal human interaction would help in cases such as his. She certainly hoped so, anyway. There was just something about him that made her want to help, something about the bruised look in his eyes, the mixture of trust and tragedy…
She shook off these uncomfortable thoughts as she led the brothers to the courtyard where she knew they'd find Dean. It wasn't good to dwell on such thoughts and anyway, she had work to do.
'Here,' she said, turning to look back at the Hetfield brothers before pushing open the door to the courtyard. 'He's here.'
Thanks for reading! Castiel returns tonight and I can barely hold in all my excitement and feels. I may be updating this story from beyond the grave, depending on whether I drown in tears or not... ! Anyway, thanks y'all, and remember - reviews are love!
