Chapter 4
Dean tread lightly through Dr. Lecter's office as he glanced around. It was a grand room with a vaulted ceiling, two bay windows and a library stashed along the outer edge of the second story. All in all, it was impressive for a doctor's office. Dr. Lecter watched his new patient curiously from the door and started walking to his desk on the other side of the room. Dean looked to his new doctor as he started to move and noticed a large and elegant stone fireplace.
"Wowza" Dean muttered under his breath. Hannibal heard him from across the room, smiled to himself and turned around, notebook in hand. He walked toward Dean.
"Over the years I've heard many different terms of approval from my patients, however that one remains new to me." Dr. Lecter spoke with a thick accent that was hard for Dean to place. Dean received his doctor's smile and returned one of his own awkwardly.
"It's hard for me not to recognise it when someone has good taste," Dean replied. "It's hard to come by this day and age."
"In my experience good taste is acquired with age, we can't fault others for being deprived of it," Dr. Lecter motioned Dean to the seat across from his. Dean accepted the offer and sat down abruptly, his legs spread apart rudely and his left elbow violating the glass table sitting next to him. Dr. Lecter hid his judgement and began the session.
"I just want to say, off the bat, that I don't usually do this kind of thing," Dean rambled. Dr. Lecter crossed one leg over the other and held the notebook in his hands unopened.
"It is common for first time counselling patients to be nervous. If they weren't it would mean they'd have no reason to be here. It would be lazy of me to expect that you would pour out your darkest secrets during our first session. Anything you tell me is held in complete confidentiality." Dr. Lecter explained smoothly. Every word he spoke seemed to float off his tongue eloquently. It was then that Dean truly noticed how well put together this man was. His light grey suit was meticulous in its position and his head had nay a stray hair out of place.
"No such thing as confidentiality." Dean started. "The moment I say something too dark would be the moment you'd call the cops."
"Not necessarily true. If, let's say you committed a murder last week and gave me the details today, I'd have no reason to tell anyone anything." Dr. Lecter explained. "However if you planned to murder someone tonight and you told me, I would be obligated to at least make a phone call, like you said."
"Seriously?" Dean scoffed. "Man, I shoulda come to you sooner."
Dean blinked after his slip of the tongue and laughed. "-Only kidding of course."
"Of course," Dr. Lecter responded, smiling. They maintained eye contact for far too long which made Dean unspeakably uncomfortable.
"Let's start with your father," Dr. Lecter began and opened his notebook.
"My father?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Okay Freud, why don't you just tell me I'm sexually frustrated and have an Oedipus Complex."
Dr. Lecter tilted his head at the sudden defense. "Do you have an Oedipus Complex, Mr. Winchester?"
Dean blinked. That response was unexpected and he stuttered. "I-uh- I kinda don't really know what that is. I just hear it all the time."
"All the time?" Lecter confused him. Dean scowled.
"My father was… a hard man to please and we'll just leave it as that." Dean responded and cleared his throat.
"You're defensive behaviour speaks louder than your words," He observed. "I imagine that pleasing your father was hard for everyone in your family."
Dean looked off to the left and rubbed his chin with his hand. "He was fine. He was happy before…" He started to say and Dr. Lecter uncrossed his legs.
"-Before what?" Dr. Lecter prompted.
"Before our mom died," Dean said quickly. "I was four. It was a… fire, and to this day I remember my dad pushing my little brother, who was only a baby at the time, into my arms. He yelled at me to run, and I did. I ran hard and I didn't look back." Dean was surprised at himself.
"But the yelling didn't end after that," Dr. Lecter stated. Dean chuckled darkly and looked at Dr. Lecter.
"No, the yelling got worse." Dean realized he was getting off track of his ultimate purpose. "Do you mind if we take a break and talk about something else for a moment?"
"Not at all, what do you have in mind?" Dr. Lecter asked.
"Well, what about current events? Huh? Lots of stuff going down in America these days, I mean, did you hear about those deaths where some guy flayed people and strung them up like Angels? That's pretty insane, right? As if he knows what Angels look like, huh?" Dean smiled too strongly. Dr. Lecter placed down his notebook.
"Then I see you're a fan of Freddie Lounds' work, Mr. Winchester." Dr. Lecter stated plainly. Dean lost the smile and continued business-like.
"And I see now that so are you," Dean flirted around. Dr. Lecter sighed.
"Ms. Lounds and I have a troubling relationship. She became too involved with the FBI's work and attempted several times to trick me into breaking confidentiality with one of my patients-"
"Will Graham?" Dean interrupted. Dr. Lecter looked at Dean soundly but steadily.
"Yes, Will Graham." Dr. Lecter agreed, unblinking.
"Well, that's funny, because I explicitly remember you stating in one of her articles that you were his friend, not therapist." Dean narrowed his brows.
"Are you trying to interrogate me, Mr. Winchester?" Dr. Lecter asked, seemingly unimpressed with Dean's advances. Dean blinked and sat back in his chair.
"No, I mean, I was just curious to hear your side, that's all." Dean played it off coolly. He straightened his green jacket and the room fell silent.
"Tell me about your little brother," Dr. Lecter moved the conversation along as to straighten out the dead air between them. Dean sighed.
"Well, uh, his name is Sam, and he's quite the, uh, hell-raiser," Dean gave himself a mental high-five for his inside joke.
"You mean as a boy, he was a hell-raiser?" Dr. Lecter tried to clarify.
Dean shook his head. "No, no, I mean every second of his life. But I mean, come on, he still seems like a kid to me. Gotta just forgive and let go, right?"
Dr. Lecter raised his eyebrows. "You took care of him all those years?"
"Yeah, basically since I carried him out of the house in my arms." Dean reminisced.
"Did you consider yourself your brother's guardian as you grew up together?" Dr. Lecter asked.
"Yeah, I guess. And I still do," Dean answered. Dr. Lecter nodded slightly.
"And would you consider yourself successful when raising him?" Dr. Lecter noticed Dean's offended face.
"I wasn't like his mom, alright?" He defended.
"You were also a surrogate father for him too," Dr. Lecter ignored Dean's remark. "You had an intense feeling of responsibility for him. And by your disapproving scowl, I understand that you still feel responsible for him and his decisions."
"He trusted a lot of the wrong people. Well, I guess, so did I. Neither of us were at fault for what happened. It was meant to be." Dean said.
"What happened?" Dr. Lecter asked.
"Trust me, Doc, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." Dean raised his hand in protest to the doctor.
"Why not try me?" Dr. Lecter encouraged and leaned forward.
Dean sighed, stared back at the doctor. Unbeknownst to him, the recall of the last 9 nine years sparked an emotional reaction. Dr. Lecter stared in the pool of darkness that was Dean's eyes.
"The Apocalypse," Dean blinked and the black eyes disappeared. Dr. Lecter reacted softly to the news and leaned back again. He chuckled lightheartedly. Perhaps this new patient was worth the annoyance after all.
Sam Winchester looked across a grey cobblestone road becoming littered with snow. He placed his hands in the pockets of his beige jacket to keep them warm. Sam Winchester never liked the cold. It had taken Sam and Castiel a few hours to find someone who would be able to direct them to a boarding school in Paris, France. Sam was concerned over Castiel's use of 'zapping' them from place to place, but Castiel would have none of it. The would-be angel remained stubborn and anxious to get his grace back. Sam kept an ear on Castiel who was receiving directions from a concierge who was placed at a podium outside a luxurious hotel.
"C'est tout ce que j'avais besoin de savoir. Merci pour votre temps." Castiel turned away from the concierge and back to the side-walk.
"You sound pretty good for a French guy," Sam joked. Castiel stared back at him condescendingly.
"Not everyone speaks English is this world, you know. There are other languages besides yours," Castiel unfurrowed his brow. "Come on, there's only two boarding schools in the city and only one of them was built before the book was published."
Sam stiffened away from Castiel's hand as he tried to zap them away again.
"Cas, wait. We need to evaluate your situation first." Sam started seriously.
"Sam please, let's just go," Castiel talked back and Sam put on the face he'd show when Dean was being stubborn as an ox.
"No! … Cas, look, we need to save your energy. We don't know how long this game of Metatron's will last and we can't have you down for the count when we need you the most. So, until we need you zap us some place, would you mind laying off the angel powers?" Sam reasoned. Castiel sighed and considered his position. Admitting to his mistaken logic, Castiel shuffled his feet and kept his arms at his sides.
"Taxi then?" Castiel suggested and shrugged. Sam nodded his head and turned his body to the street they were on. Seeing a cab on its way down the road he whistled shrilly and waved it over.
The two exited the taxi and met up with a large, rusted iron gate. Sam leaned through the window to pay the cab driver who scoffed when he was presented with American cash and drove off without another word.
Castiel was staring through the iron bars. The school looked to be deserted and no longer in use. Snow overtook the cracked concrete pathway and the grey stone walls of the school blended in with the sky. Sam joined his friend at the gate and the two of them pushed as hard as they could to open one of the iron gates. The metal scraped painfully against the concrete ground and left a thick black streak against the ground. The two started walking up the path to the large wooden double doors.
"So, Cas, what exactly are we expecting to find here?" Sam asked. Castiel kept staring ahead of himself, not enjoying the answer that popped into his head when Sam asked the question.
"I don't know. I'm hoping something will just stand out to me." Castiel said. The sun had started to end its reign for the day and set behind the forested area of the school grounds. Sam reached into his back pocket and found a small LED flashlight and gave it to Castiel.
"Here," Sam said. Castiel accepted the gift from him and walked up the stairs. They tried the doors. They were locked.
"No surprise there," Sam said. He reached into an inner coat pocket to find his lock picking kit. As he unraveled its cloth, the doors opened from the inside. Castiel stood there waiting for him to notice.
"Cas, what did we just agree to?" Sam started protesting, but Castiel ignored it.
"Come on, Sam, let's get this over with." Castiel walked inside to be welcomed by a large foyer complete with a split staircase that ascended 5 stories. The last of what little remained of the sun light filtered through neighbouring windows one room over and the angel and the human were left in complete darkness. Castiel's light switched on first, and shortly after, Sam found his main flashlight and shone it to the marble floor in front of him. It was hard to see much. The cold air crystalized Sam's warm breath to make everything in front of him foggier than it should be.
"Maybe we should have waited until morning to do this, Cas," Sam suggested. He waited for a reply but there was none. "Cas? … Cas!?"
Sam darted from room to room, not paying much attention to the chairs and tables he often neglected to avoid. Finally, he found Castiel squatting down in front of an old ashy fireplace.
"Cas! What the hell, I was calling you," Sam erupted. "What did you find?"
"A body." Castiel stated plainly. "It's at least twenty years old."
Sam was taken aback. "You found a body in a fireplace?"
"Yes," Castiel sighed. "It looks like she died of a broken neck."
Sam squatted down next to Castiel and examined the remains. It was a large body; not that of a child's and the bones were charred.
"Someone burned the body," Sam said. Castiel nodded and then stood up. Soon, Sam heard the smash of a lamp hitting the floor. He stood up and looked to see Castiel ransack the large room. With his right hand Castiel threw a vase through one of the windows. Sam, being accustomed to spouts of physical aggression during times of stress, allowed Castiel his time to fume.
"What does Metatron want from me!?" Castiel's hands pressed against each side of his head as though trying to contain an explosion. Both hands unable to take the strain of the anger curled themselves into fists and slammed down hard on the round, wooden table in front of him. The table broke into a thousand pieces at the angel's feet. Castiel squatted down low once again and buried his face in one of his hands. "I don't understand, Sam. I just…" He mumbled.
"Cas," Sam approached him warily. "We'll figure it out, but we need to focus. All hands on deck here, okay?" Sam received no answer. "Where's the book Metatron gave you?"
Castiel pointed over to the broken lamp in the corner of the room. The book was lying there, open to a page that Sam noticed a few words from that interested him.
"Cas, get up! It's here; we're in the right place." Sam walked back to the fireplace. Castiel followed him back as Sam started to explain.
"The story in this book, it's a murder mystery. In it, a body was stashed in the chimney of a house and was greatly mangled. I mean, body, chimney, this has got to be it, Cas." Sam explained.
"And who murdered her in the story?" Castiel asked. Sam flipped through the pages, his flashlight held in by his teeth.
"Uh…", Sam started and lacked a follow up.
"'Uh…' what?" Castiel mimicked rudely.
"An Orangutan" Sam said. Castiel turned around and started walking back out the front door. Sam ran up to follow him. "Cas, wait-"
"Does this not seem like an utter waste of time to you, Sam?" Castiel questioned. "I'd much rather be figuring out a way to help Dean become human again, than run a wild goose chase for the sake of Metatron's entertainment."
"Cas, I'm going to tell you something and I'm only going to say it once. Dean can take care of himself… and to be completely honest, I should have seen that he was changing into a demon. I should have seen it miles off. But the fact remains that he abandoned us. He did. Now, I want nothing more for him to be my brother again, but I don't know how much of my brother is left in that demon. I'm scared to hell that when I get back I'll find that Dean isn't Dean anymore, and if that happens, I need you with me." Sam finished his speech and Castiel nodded. "You come first this time, not him, and I'm going to stand by your side until you're a hundred percent again. Got it?"
Castiel sighed in frustration. "I got it. Thank you, Sam."
"You're welcome Cas, don't mention it." Sam said. "Hey, actually, do you mind using a little angel juice now?"
Castiel and Sam stood in front of the fireplace and watched as Castiel's hand fired a blue light to illuminate an Enochian symbol planted into the wall above the hearth.
"What does that mean?" Sam asked.
"It's the equivalent to your exclamation mark." Castiel said. "Let's knock it down."
The wall was broken by brute force. Sam refused to allow Castiel to use his powers when he could use an old metal chair leg instead. Sam was thankful it was only drywall. The dust eventually cleared, revealing one more book to their mystery series.
"Homer's The Odyssey?" Castiel read aloud. "I know that one."
"I should hope you do," Sam chuckled. "Pop culture savvy, my ass."
"Shut up." Castiel said and opened the book to reveal another note.
Dearest H,
Continue on the path God has chosen for you,
Do not dwell on the past,
M.
The two read the writing and looked at each other as they knew now, that there really was a purpose for these books.