Dean had thought that the longer he ignored the scratches on Castiel's face, the less he'd want to break Leviathan's fingers — which actually would have been counterproductive, but Dean had never been one for thinking things through. However, the scratches became more difficult to ignore every time he looked at Castiel, or really anyone who was wearing Castiel at the time, and just when the last of the gashes were healing up, Misha showed up with a freshly ripped open lip. Dean lost it.

"That's it. Come on, Mish."

"That's the worst nickname ever. How much time do you save dropping a single letter? Do I call you Ensen?"

"Stop talking." Dean grabbed for Misha's neck, wrapping his hand up in the god awful blue sweater he was wearing. He started dragging Misha back to his room, ignoring him as he blabbered on.

"I was just joking when I asked if you wanted a round two!"

"Please, you've been flirting with me all week."

"You're my co-worker!" Dean could tell Misha was struggling to figure out if Dean (Jensen) was goofing around or actually man-handling into his bedroom. "I have a wife!"

"Yeah, I've seen the sappy love letters." Dean kept a tight grip on Misha's sweater and used his other hand to open the door to room 333. Misha had apparently decided something weird was definitely going on and laughed nervously.

"You know, that whole book on threesomes really gives people the wrong idea, but you know the thing about threesomes is there needs to be three." Dean started to pull him inside and Misha latched on to the door frame. "I'm not cheating on my wife!"

"Misha, seriously, it's okay." Dean tugged on Misha's hands, trying to pry them off the door, but he hung on so tight his nails left scratches in the wood.

"This is like the start of a fanfic," Dean heard him mutter disbelievingly.

"I'm doing this for your own good!" Dean wrapped his arms around Misha's waist, yanking at him, but he barely moved an inch. For someone that looked so small he sure had a lot of strength in him.

"Oh God, this is like the start of a bad fanfic." Dean placed a foot on the wall for leverage and gave one last forceful tug and they both went flying to the ground. Dean was on his feet and by the door in seconds before Misha could scramble away from him. The door closed with a heavy slam and Dean patiently waited for the frozen Misha to grin that grin that had too many teeth and not enough joy.

"Leviathan," Dean greeted when he saw the man blink up at him.

"Dean." A saner person might have wondered why he was on the floor with Dean looming over him, but Leviathan was the craziest sonofabitch he'd ever met. Leviathan rose up to his knees, running hands down the blue sweater, picking at a loose string on the white design.

"We need to have a talk." Leviathan eyebrows shot up — talking was obviously the last thing on his mind. Leviathan's hands disappeared under his sweater, lifting it above his head and leaving him in a grey shirt. He folded the sleeves in, rose to his feet, and placed the sweater in the top drawer of the dresser. He turned back to Dean, leaning on one arm against the dresser, and looked at Dean expectantly. "This is usually where you quote some obscure grade eight literature class shit."

Leviathan gave a tiny smile, one that was a lot less deranged-serial-killer than normal. "We're getting along so well; I trust you so much for this one second that I'm going to let you yank on me."

"Uh, that's not really what I was expecting."

"Not everything I read is a literary classic, Dean." He pushed away from the dresser and motioned to the bed. "Sit."

"I'm not here to–"

"You wanted to talk," he interrupted, the bed creaking as he sat down and folded his legs beneath him, "so sit and we'll talk."

"You think you can manage to keep your hands to yourself for five minutes?"

Leviathan looked over at the clock nailed above his doorway. "Five minutes."

Dean sat down next to him Leviathan, sitting as far away as he could, his back against the wall. "Your face."

"It is rather nice, isn't it?" Leviathan teased. He raised his hand up, bringing an already chewed up thumb to his lips and biting down.

"Stop." Dean reached over and yanked Leviathan's hand away. His eyes flashed, something angry and dark, and Dean was glad there weren't any sharp objects around this time. "I don't like that."

"Well I guess it's a good thing I don't much care about what you think."

"You don't get much company in here, do you?" Dean leaned forward, though not enough that he had to worry about Leviathan scratching his eyes out. "What would you do if I just didn't show up anymore and left you all alone?"

"I'd break every bone in my hand," Leviathan snarled, flexing the fingers on his right hand. Dean paused. This really wasn't going the way he'd expected it to and he could tell Leviathan was getting agitated.

"Why do you do it?" his eyes swept over the healing wounds and the fresh bite mark on his lip. "Why do you hurt yourself?"

"I get off on it, I like the taste of blood, I'm a naughty boy that needs to be punished. What the fuck does it matter why I do it?"

"Hey, I'm not– I'm not judging you or anything. I'm just asking." Dean inched back on the bed, not realizing until that moment how close he'd gotten to Leviathan. The other man's lips twitched back into a sneer. He could tell Dean didn't want to be around him, but most people didn't feel that way until after he'd bitten a chunk out of them. "I thought we could, uh, make a deal or something."

The intensity on Leviathan's features dimmed, his eyes not softening, but loosing the sharp edge they had before. His head tilted to the side, eyeing Dean up and down, his shoulders relaxed enough that he no longer looked as threatening. "A deal?"

"Yes."

"What kind of deal?"

"I want you to stop doing…this," Dean motioned between Leviathan's face and bloody fingers. "You don't like being alone, I get that, but you need to stop."

"And what do I get out of this arrangement?"

"I, uh, what do you want? My brother owns a shitload of books, he can bring you some–" Dean sucked in a breath when he felt Leviathan's hands reach out and grip his thighs.

"Third base."

"What?"

"I'll do what you want." He leaned in, putting his weight on his knees, and ran his thumbs along the seam of Dean's jeans, "if you give me what I want."

"No," Dean said firmly, because hell, he'd let Leviathan cut his arms off with a rusty butter knife before he did that.

"Second base," Leviathan tried again.

"If you go an entire month," Dean pushed Leviathan's hands off him, "…first base."

Leviathan shook his head. "Second."

"First and I'll visit you." Leviathan seemed to mull over the conditions, bitting down on his lip in concentration, quickly letting go when he saw the sour look on Dean's face.

"You'll visit," Leviathan said slowly, "even though I'm not blowing you?"

"Yeah, is that hard to believe?"

"You're hard to believe." Leviathan leaned backed, resting all his weight on his hands. "What's the catch?"

"No catch, you just look shitty covered in blood."

Leviathan held out a hand to Dean. "Deal?"

"Deal," he confirmed and shook his hand. Dean felt Leviathan's hand squeeze his and that mischievous grin appeared again before he tugged Dean close. His other hand snaked up to grab the back of Dean's neck to keep him in place while Leviathan slammed their lips together.

"Hey, hey!" Dean said his voice muffled by Leviathan's mouth. "I said a month."

Leviathan pulled away, only long enough for him to bury his face against Dean's neck. "I have to seal the deal."

Before Dean could say anything he felt the other man's hot breath against his skin, a feeling that was suddenly replaced by pain as sharp teeth bit into him. "Shit!" he swore, shoving Leviathan off him and scrambling to his feet.

His hand shot up to his neck and came back bloody. He glared at Leviathan who looked genuinely confused, the faint hint of blood staining his white teeth. "What's wrong?"

"You bit me!" Dean cursed himself — he should have added a 'don't hurt me either' clause to their deal. He'd done what he came to do, though, and since he didn't see a need to stay any longer, he gave one last cold look to Leviathan before spinning on his heals and heading for the door.

"Wait!" Leviathan called after him, jumping off the bed and following. "Stay."

"Do I look stupid to you?" Dean asked over his shoulder, ripping the door open and leaving Leviathan behind.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

Dean stopped in the hall and looked over at Leviathan who hovered by the open door. His eyes were wide, the grin long gone from his face. Dean had a flash back of his little brother standing at his bedroom door, telling him that he was scared of the dark. "Are you sorry?"

"No," he answered honestly, and when Dean took a step back to leave, Leviathan snarled and tried to follow. He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the door, like he'd slammed into a glass wall. Dean waited patiently for the blank look to disappear, because frankly he would be happy to talk to anyone but Leviathan at that point. "Oh. It's you."

"Yep," Dean nodded.

"I wish you wouldn't insist on aggravating it. I don't understand why you even come to visit that thing."

"Boredom, mostly," Dean shrugged.

"You are aware that he could consume you in a single bite." The supposed god's eyes zeroed in on Dean's neck. "It appears he has already tried."

Dean covered the bite mark with his hand and snorted. "As much as I'd like to stay here and discuss this with you, I'm freaking starving."

With that he headed for the stairway, not bothering to keep the door open for the man that followed him. With every step the smell of lunch grew stronger, the smell of red meat and the chance that Dean might have a meal that didn't taste like shit for once.

"I didn't say you could leave."

"You think its steak today? I haven't had steak in like a freaking year."

A hand grabbed the back of Dean's shirt, tugging him away from the door and slammed him back against the way.

"Do not ignore me," he growled in Dean's face, clenching his hands in Dean's shirt and pushing him hard against the wall.

"Hey, listen–"

"No, you will listen to me. I have been very patient with you, Dean, yet you continue to interfere with my business and speak to me like a child."

"So what, you gonna break my arm or some shit? I'd like to see that."

"No." He immediately let go of Dean, dropping his hands to his side, and stepped back. "No, I'm a good God, a loving God, merciful and fair. Better than…better than my Father."

"Uh, okay."

"I only punish disobedience." His eyes dropped to the floor, fingers clenching and unclenching. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then stopped himself, looking briefly angry before his face contorted in confusion then his eyes went glossy.

"Great, I was getting tired of you anyways."

"Dean?"

"Hey Jimmy," Dean grinned, mostly because he was getting better at distinguishing between the personalities. He clapped Jimmy on the back, ignoring it when the smaller man flinched. "Man, you guys are going to be the death of me."

"Oh." Jimmy looked flustered as he followed Dean out of the stairway. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, I'm digging my own grave here."

They pushed past the doors into the rec room and headed straight for the cafeteria. Missouri handed them both a plate full of meat and steamed vegetables and they sat down at one of the tables. Jimmy practically inhaled his food — it was kind of disgusting to watch the way he barely chewed before shoving another mouthful of beef into his mouth. "Hey, slow down, I'm worried you're going to choke."

A blush spread across Jimmy's cheek and he quickly swallowed, chasing the food with a gulp of water. "Sorry."

"It's cool, just take time to enjoy the taste." It wasn't often this place had juicy meat instead of the rubbery chicken that Dean hadn't quite gotten used to. "So is Gabriel coming today?"

"I think so." Jimmy took another bite of steamed broccoli, this time chewing slowly, savoring the buttery taste. "He usually calls on Thursdays, but I wasn't around that day."

"So are you two still brothers? I mean, him and Cas are, so what does that make you?"

"Well," Jimmy paused to think, swirling a piece of beef in gravy, "we're kind of like adopted brothers, I guess. I did consider his mom to be my mom when I was younger, and it took people a long time to realize that Castiel had split personalities, so he treated me like a brother. I think he liked me the most back then, 'cause Castiel can be kind of cold and Leviathan has crazy mood swings, so I think everyone found it easier when I was around. Your brother's coming too, right?"

"Yep," Dean smiled. "With some fresh apple pie."

Dean began to tell Jimmy about Sam, nothing too specific or personal, just the basics. Jimmy listened, nodding every now and then to show he was paying attention, though his eyes drifted every so often and eventually Dean realized what he was looking at. He tried to tug the collar of his shirt up higher only to feel the dry blood on the fabric. "It's nothing really, looks worse than it is."

"I did that." Jimmy looked away but Dean could still see guilty shine in his eyes.

"No, you didn't."

"I wish you would stop going in there."

Dean laughed a little until he saw the kicked puppy look on Jimmy's face. "That's what the other guy said."

"Shouldn't that make it even more obvious that he's bad news? What could possibly be so important you'd go in there twice?"

Dean didn't mention that he'd actually met with Leviathan three times already — somehow he didn't think Jimmy would like that. "I told him to stop trying to chew off his fingertips."

Jimmy shoved his plate aside and let out an annoyed sigh. "He wasn't always like this, you know. It wasn't until…I mean, he was never good, but he didn't used to be so bad. Then Castiel created this whole God guy to keep Leviathan at bay, but he's not really all that much better."

"At least he doesn't bite," Dean grimaced.

"Yeah…" Jimmy ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking out at several different angles. "Let's go in the rec room, watch a movie or something."

#$^$&

Dean hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep on the couch until he felt someone nudging his shoulder.

"Mr. Winchester, may we discuss your file?"

Dean groaned, partly because he was too tired to play personality roulette, but mostly because Emmanuel had managed to steal his file again.

"Hell, as long as I don't need to get up, you can do whatever you want." Dean ignored the cat calls coming from Meg on the other side of the room and closed his eyes again. He heard Emmanuel sit on the coffee table beside him and flip through the papers that made up his file.

"I was going through some of your file with nurse Masters."

"Great, why don't we just make photocopies so everyone can read all about me," Dean snorted.

"I assure that your file is only shown to medical personal." Imaginary medical personal, Dean added mentally. "Some of your military records are in here, since it pertains to your diagnoses of PTSD."

"Naturally," he mumbled, feeling himself slowly sink back into the hold of sleep.

"Are you…" Emmanuel paused and flipped through the pages one more time. "Are you familiar with the character Crankcase?"

Dean sat up so fast a heavy case of vertigo hit him square in the temples and almost made him tumble back onto the couch. Emmanuel looked taken back by his sudden display and for a few minutes all they did was stare at each other. "No, never heard of him."

"He was a character in an old G.I. Joe cartoon."

"Sorry, I didn't watch much television as a kid."

"It's just…" Emmanuel looked over to the other side of the room where the female patients were doing each other's nails in a makeshift spa day. "Nurse Masters noticed a lot of you're listed information is very similar to his. You share the same birth place."

"A lot of people are born in Lawrence, Emmanuel."

"Dr. Novak, please," he corrected. "Also, his service number is 451-61-5102 and yours is 451-61-5120, like you just switched the last two numbers, and you both share the same specialties."

"You think I faked being a soldier?"

"No, of course not." He pulled out a photocopied letter out of the folder and held it out to Dean. "A superior officer wrote a letter to the judge asking for leniency in your assault case."

"Well, there you go, the Crankcase thing is just a coincidence."

"Well, nurse Masters noticed that your superior officer shared many things in common with the G.I. Joe character Cutter."

"Look, I don't know what you're trying to get at, but just drop it."

"Nurse Masters seems to think that this is an elaborate cover up."

"What the hell do you care what a damn nurse thinks? You're supposed to be a doctor."

"I'm a very good doctor," Emmanuel huffed.

"You're a shit doctor. Have you ever done anything? Seriously, name one person you've actually cured." Dean stopped himself from continuing, because that was just playing into the guys crazy fantasy. "Hell, you can't even fix yourself."

"You can't talk to me like that."

"I know you're a little slow, so I'll try to put this in words you can understand," He knocked the file out of Emmanuel's hands and stormed out the room. "Go fornicate with yourself."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Pam grinned from the other side of the room.

"He–"

"Save it." She placed a finger against his lips and winked. "I'm not your shrink, I'm just here to take you to your brother."

Dean nodded and they headed over to the elevator, Dean gladly leaving Emmanuel behind to pick up all the paper by himself. The visitor room was a floor above the main lobby, another obstacle in the path of someone trying to escape to sweet freedom, tucked away behind the offices and medical ward. There were a dozen tables surrounded by chairs. There was never enough room for all the patients to have visitors at once so there was a constant game of musical chairs going on, people getting up and down when their time ran out.

Sam stood when he saw Dean, and Jessica smiled, holding out a Tupperware container full of apple goodness. Dean ignored both of them to go straight to his pie.

"Nice to see you too," Sam bitchfaced as Dean shoved a piece of (not so) hot pie into his mouth. Dean just grinned up at him with bits of crust crumbs falling from his lips and onto the table. "Is it going well? It's nice here?"

"Oh yeah, barrel of monkeys."

"Are you making any friends?"

"What is this, a parent-teacher conference?" Jessica snatched the pie away and held it away from Dean who whined, "Jeeeeeess!"

"I didn't come here to watch you stuff your face." Jessica held the container out to Dean then quickly pulled it away when he reached for it.

"Okay, okay, I'll play nice," Dean grumbled and was rewarded with the return of his snack. "A lot of the people here are assholes, but as long as you don't mess with them they're tolerable."

"How are your sessions going?" Dean snorted, took one last bite of his pie and filled his brother in on the pointless therapy he'd been getting. The one-on-one sessions made him want to blow his brains out and the group sessions were full of TMI. Sam started chastising him for not taking the situation seriously, telling him that the doctors were only trying to help. Jessica kept butting in and elbowing Sam, telling her husband to chill and assuring Dean they were being completely supportive.

"We just want you to get better."

"Gee, lost count of how many times I've said that." A body plopped down next to Dean, sticking his finger in his pie and licking the goo off.

"Gabriel," Dean growled, pushing the now ruined pie away.

"Hey kiddo. Just visiting Cassie and thought we'd come say hi." Dean looked over his shoulder at Castiel, who'd ditched Emmanuel's white coat but he hadn't put on his trench yet.

"You know Dean?" Cas asked his brother as he walked up to join the group.

"Well not as well you know him," he grinned, winking at Dean, and it took every ounce of Dean's strength not to slap the grin right off of his face.

"Hey, I'm Sam," Sam greeted and then put an arm around Jess. "This is my wife Jessica."

"Whoa, look at you," Gabriel whistled, looking Sam up and down. "What are you, like 8'11"?"

"6'4"." Sam corrected. "Are you a patient here?"

"Oh no. See, my brother here," he yanked Castiel down into one of the chairs and pulled him into a hug, "he's the crazy one."

"I am not insane." Castiel struggled to break the hold his brother had on him. "This is all a delusion, I am here to help your brother."

"That's very nice of you Cassie," Jessica smiled — an actual smile, unlike everyone else's 'there's a good chance you'll stab a fork in my eye unless I smile and act like everything's okay'.

"It's Castiel, Miss. Gabriel calls me Cassie because he knows it aggravates me."

"You know," Gabriel turned to Dean and whispered, "this is actually going pretty well. He hasn't even accused anyone of being the Anti-Christ or doused your brother with holy water."

"Well aren't I lucky," Dean said dryly, scooting his chair farther from Gabriel.

"You making good use of my gift, Dean-o?" Gabriel asked, his voice no longer a whisper, and the other three looked over at the pair.

"Gabriel brought you something?" Castiel asked curiously.

"No! No, he didn't give me anything, I mean, if anything he got it for you."

"Oh, what did you bring me Gabriel?" Gabriel leaned back in his chair and grinned at his brother, but looked over at Sam before he started to answer.

"Mr. Winchester, we gotta make room for other guests, so you'll have to say goodbye to your brother," Pam said, motioning to a patient's parents waiting by the door.

"Yeah, it's okay," Dean said, jumping to his feet and avoiding eye contact with either Castiel or Gabriel. He held a hand out for Jessica, whose stomach had gotten large enough that she needed help getting up. The three of them walked to the door without another word to the Novak brothers.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked as they waited at the elevator. "You seem kind of jumpy."

"Well, let's just say if I wasn't crazy when I got here, I sure as hell am now."