I love every single person who has reviewed this fanfiction. You guys bring me so much happiness and initiative. Keep reviewing, it's so great.
I do not own Supernatural.
.o0o.
Evan sat at his usual table, scanning the room. Everyone in this place was so interesting. His doctor always said how he was "stable enough to go home next week", but every week Evan planned and rehearsed a mental breakdown significant enough to make him stay without startling any orderlies. All he wanted was to live in a place with people like this.
But that John guy, he was different. Evan had watched so many people come through this place, he knew how they all acted. They were fidgety and very vocal about their problems, but John wasn't. He was quiet and reserved and obviously a little confused about his situation.
And when Reece began to act differently, that raised more than a few flags. Reece was the loudest, most obnoxious person Evan had ever met, and when he refused to voice his orders he knew something was wrong. Something was off.
Reece led John from the room. Reece loved to lead guys from the room, but John didn't seem like the type who would fall for him. John didn't seem that stupid.
Beth, a quiet, fidgety girl, left the room a little after they did. She would normally go back to her room during leisure time to hide from everybody else. If she could leave to go back to her room, why couldn't he leave to go check on John?
Evan reached the door just in time to hear the snap of the girl's neck and the clatter of keys jamming into the metal doors. He gasped, but not loud enough for the men outside to hear him. He watched silently as Reece ripped John out the door and the two fled down the steps and into the city streets.
"Evan?" an orderly asked, noticing his vacant expression. "Evan is everything alright?"
"They –" Evan started, unsure as to whether or not he should end the sentence. "They left."
The orderly's eyes grew substantially. She grasped at the radio on her waist and rushed out into the hallway.
Her deafening scream echoed through the hospital. People rushed to the hall to meet the same horror she had. Beth lay dead on the cold tile floor, the metal doors to the hospital still swaying with the wind.
.o0o.
Dr. Boyle sat in her office, twiddling her fingers unhappily. This wasn't the life she had imagined when she took this job. At first, it had been a dream. Talking to people about their problems and helping them live a happy existence; that had been what she had always wanted. But then the people got crueler and harder to deal with. The stories got more violent and harder to listen to. Her family didn't understand her sudden sadness and pushed her way. She was alone.
And when the phone rang, she just stared at it. She watched the red light blink on and off. Part of her wanted to ignore it, but she knew better.
"Hello, Dr. Boyle speaking," she mumbled mechanically.
The voice that met hers was elated, to say the least.
"Hello, this is the FBI. We have reason to believe one of your patients is a federal criminal."
Dr. Boyle barely changed her tone or posture.
"A lot of our patients come from a criminal background. My I ask who you are referring to, exactly?"
"Jimmy Novak. From the papers we have here, he is being held with severe amnesia and most likely would not know his name. Mr. Novak is a mass murderer. We're sending the local police to apprehend him immediately. We'd appreciate if you kept him contained until they arrive." The man on the other line spoke quickly and without breaks, as if he was afraid he wouldn't be able to speak in time to get his point across.
A beeping noise signified an incoming call. This one came from within the building.
"Hold on just one second, sir," she said to the man, "I have another call. In the mean time, I assure you that all of our patients are contained."
She pressed the button and sighed.
"Um, Dr. Boyle?" the shaky voice of a young orderly came onto the phone.
"Yes?"
"We have a, uh, situation."
Dr. Boyle closed her eyes, threw her head back, and leaned into her hair. Why was everything her problem?
"Uh, I think you better come down here and see for yourself," her voice was unnaturally terrified.
"What's wrong?" she said in her most caring voice, trying to channel her old self.
"Two, uh, two patients escaped. Another is –" the orderly choked down a sob. "Another was killed."
Dr. Boyle flinched. Nothing like this had ever happened under her control.
"Who was involved?" Her kind tone was gone.
"Uh, Beth Oliver was killed, and Reece Quinn and John Doe escaped."
Dr. Boyle's heart fell. She was going to have to ruin that poor man's day.
.o0o.
The two brothers sat together in the neon colored motel room just as they did after every hunt. One was disinfecting a thick cut on his forearm, received by the angry demon they had exorcised a few hours ago. The other downed a swig of whiskey and leaned back onto the headboard of his stiff, inexpensive bed.
"Turn on the TV, it's too depressing in here," he said, kicking off his shoes and taking another gulp.
"What do you want to watch? They only get six channels here and I don't think any of them are porn," the taller man laughed drearily.
"Common, Sammy. Maybe we can see some of that hot weather lady you like so much."
"You're sick, Dean," Sam said, turning on the TV anyways.
The two sat together, watching the news and various other random TV shows. Occasionally one of them would chuckle at a stupid joke, but other than that the room was unchanging.
"Breaking News," The face of a newscaster appeared on the screen, interrupting the cheesy daytime show that had previously plagued the screen.
"This is a public warning for all people residing in the Gottal County. A mass murderer known for his religion based killings is believed to be loose in the area."
"People are sick," Dean interjected.
"You know we're being hunted on similar charges," Sam reasoned. "You shouldn't judge."
"The killer, a Jimmy Novak of Illinois, was being held for quite some time until he escaped along with hostage Reece Quinn."
Two photos appeared on the screen. One of a good looking blonde man with daunting eyes and a deep frown and the other was of a man with scruffy brown hair and deep, vacant blue eyes.
"Cas," Dean gasped. His flask fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Sam jumped to his feet and turned to Dean.
"Man, Castiel was dead. We saw him walk into a river for heaven's sake!" Sam stated.
"No," Dean was enraged at no one in particular, but Sam was the only one there, "Cas was rotting away in some cell somewhere all alone while we sat around! If we had just looked for him more –"
Dean was sitting up and hastily putting his shoes back on. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.
"Dean, you can't think like that!" Sam bellowed. "If Cas was staying there without a fight, then how do we know he isn't Jimmy?"
"That doesn't matter," Dean stood and raced towards the door. "We're going to go find him."