CHAPTER FOUR
"EVERYONE HERE IS FUCKING CRAZY"
I was sitting on a couch in the TV room writing in my journal. The last entry read "Two kids and one Bathroom". I was smoking a cigarette and keeping an eye on the TV, watching birthday dates being drafted for the war. Or as Balthazar had named it earlier, "the fucking death lottery". Meg was sitting in a chair reading a magazine. Samandriel and Benny were on the couch in front of the TV, Samandriel's legs on Benny's lap, both paying attention to the TV. An old catatonic man was beside me, staring at a wall.
"September 14." The man on the TV stated, to witch Benny replied:
"Bingo."
"December 30."
I turned my head to the TV, horrified, as Benny went on, repeating Bingo.
"Oh my God." I whispered to no one. "A guy I know was just drafted."
"What's his name?" Samandriel asked.
"Ash."
"He's dead now." He professed, getting up from the couch and walking away.
I looked at him in pure awe. I had been there for a week or so, and was still trying to figure things out, but something was clear to me: People in a mental institution have little to no respect when it came to societal norms. They wouldn't be nice to you because someone told them that doing otherwise was rude, they wouldn't spare your feelings or say that everything was ok when you knew that it wasn't. And that was refreshing. Not having to smile all the time, to shine your teeth until it doesn't mean anything anymore. Those crazy people locked away knew more about freedom than any sane one that I had ever met.
I heard a loud stump and looked around. Dean had just kicked Balthazar's door open. It was the first time I had seen him outside seclusion since his outburst on my first day. He was wearing combat boots, jeans and a plaid shirt over a yellow t-shirt.
"GET OUT DEAN" Balthazar screamed from inside his room.
"I'm not in your room Balthy, I'm right fucking here. I was gonna offer you some of my candy." Dean said, leaning against the door frame.
"GET OUT." The other man replied, slamming the door shut. Dean put his caramel on his pocket, walking down the hall towards the TV room.
"Looking better, Dean." Meg said, on a kind tone.
"Well thanks, Meg." Dean said, heading for the couch. Benny looked to Dean with pure joy in his face while the other man laid down on the couch against him, his back against Benny's chest and his legs over the couch's arm. Dean laced his right hand fingers with Benny's, still looking to Meg. "How's the engagement going?"
"Oh, you know…" The brunette replied. I couldn't stop looking to Dean. His intimacy with Benny looked completely effortless, the older man playing with his hair like they had done that a million times before. I felt oddly uncomfortable with that.
"No, I don't. I've been away."
Meg smiled. "Well he wants me to… before the wedding."
"Fuck his brains out. Use a rubber." Dean said, biting Benny's fingers affectionately as the other man giggled. After a little giggle from the other boys and a stunt kick at Corbertt, a patient that seemed to get along with everybody, Dean walked over and took a seat right in front of me, starring shamelessly at me.
"French cigarettes, huh?" He raised an eyebrow to the cigarette I was holding.
"Do you want one?" I tried, afraid of his reaction. He did shove me against a wall during our first interaction.
"No, thanks. I don't believe in things that numb you down. If I wanted that, I would just take my meds. It's pathetic how people fill their hearts with smoke so they can hide the emptiness that is there."
"So you're saying that yours isn't?"
"Au contraire. I'm just not ashamed of it."
I was speechless. He grinned.
"So, have you had your first Chuck yet?"
"Who's that?"
"Bearded guy with a little pecker and a crazy wife. Your therapist, angel."
I shook my head, uneasy with the nickname.
"Unless, uh, unless they're giving you shocks. Or God forbid letting you out. Then you get to see the great, wonderful Doctor Dyke."
"She means Doctor Moseley." Meg said.
"I've been in his office, but I haven't met him yet."
"He's a she. Dr. Moseley's a girl." Benny sang.
"That's right, Benny, Moseley's a chick. Hence the nickname." Dean said, shrugging.
"Dean!" A nurse screamed from the hallway.
"Hey, Jo. When the fuck is my checkup?"
"Now. It's now, Dean. You said, you'd be in your room."
"Can't let you sit too long without popping the hood, huh?" He laughed, getting up from the chair and dancing towards the young nurse.
So, he wasn't angry at me anymore, I thought. His whole no-drugs speech had caught me by surprise. I wouldn't put him in the prudish category, so I had no idea where that had come from.
"Castiel, you have Chuck in half an hour. I'll take you there." Meg said, interrupting my wondering.
On his desk was a sign reading "Chuck Shurley, M.D." and a picture of him and his family in front of some church. Faintly in the back a clock was ticking. Chuck was sitting behind his desk, I was in a chair in front of it, smoking.
"Why are you using the past tense?" He asked me.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he was only drafted today, so chances are he's not dead yet. He probably has several months before he even reports."
"He was just a nice guy, and that's all and it made me feel bad."
He leaned back on his chair. "You've been feeling bad in general, right? You've been feeling depressed."
"I haven't exactly been a ball of joy, Chuck." I replied, defensively.
"I understand you tried to kill yourself last week. Anything you want to tell me about that?"
I took a deep breath, angry with the repetitive question. "I had a headache."
"So I assume you took the recommended aspirin dosage for a headache."
"I didn't try to kill myself." I insisted.
"What were you trying to do?"
"I was trying to make the shit stop."
"The, the time jumps, the depression, the, uh, aches, the thing with your hand." He said, reading my file.
"All of the above."
"I see."
I looked out the window and saw a naked man running around crying out "Ash's dead". Meanwhile Chuck was taking some notes.
"Castiel? Are you puzzled about something?"
"Yeah, I guess I am Chuck. I guess I'm puzzled as to why it is I have to be in a mental institution."
"You put yourself here." He stated.
"My parents put me here."
"No, they didn't." He replied, calmly.
"Everyone here is fucking crazy." I blurted out.
"You wanna go home?"
"Same problem."
Hello, Everyone. First of all, I'd really like to thank you for the amazing reviews. They mean a lot to me, and being as lazy as I am, receiving them keeps me motivated to write. I came here to answer a couple of questions that you guys made.
I will mostly follow the plot of the movie, but there will be huge creative licenses taken. Sam will be introduced further in the story, so I can explain what happened to him and why the Winchesters ended up in a mental institution in the first place. The Cas/Dean relationship will eventually turn into a romantic one, but the buildup will be slow. The fic is rated M for a reason, and it is not rude language.
I love this movie, and I love Dean and Cas, so I will try to make this as awesome as I can. I want to thank you again and leave a question for you to answer:
Do you think Dean is really crazy or not?
Lots of Love,
Clara