A.N: And here's a very long chapter to make up for the teeny one last time! Also I realise champagne-marinated me forgot to do the acknowedgements on Saturday, so let's do that now. Right, thank you to cherrytops82, Rainbow Fruit Loop, Kitten of Doomage, cumberlovin and sonicblue99 for reviewing the last two chapters! Really appreciate it, and I'm sure Kevin does too. Speaking of Kevin...let's begin.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Chapter 14

Dean was yanked into consciousness as his door slammed open and shut in quick succession, starling him so much that he almost fell out of bed. Bleary-eyed, he checked the amount of light seeping through his home-made curtain and deduced that it must have been only just past eight.

Turning towards the intruder and preparing to chew them out thoroughly for interrupting his beauty rest, Dean instead blinked and stopped. The invader was not a patient, as he'd been expecting. It was Kevin. Wild-eyed, grey and sweaty, but most certainly Kevin nonetheless.

Momentarily speechless and wishing he slept with a shirt on, Dean just stared at his group doctor. Kevin stared back, chest still heaving from his evident sprint from the staff wing and hands shaking violently.

Dean broke the silence. "Kevin? What's wrong?"

Kevin stared at him still, tears gathering in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. Swallowing thickly, he tried again. "I believe you," he rasped.

Dean was confused for a split second before he remembered their topic of conversation the night before.

"You think we're right? About Balt's?" he asked, to make sure.

Kevin nodded, closing his eyes as if in pain.

Dean hesitated a moment longer before lurching out of bed. "Stay here," he ordered, before rushing past Kevin and out of the room.

He stopped outside Room 108 and knocked as an after-thought. He opened the door before waiting for a reply.

Castiel wasn't in his room, and Dean's heart seized in his throat before he realised the shower was running. Walking over to the door and knocking loudly, Dean hopped impatiently from foot to foot as he waited for Castiel to reply. The shower was turned off, and he heard the rustle of the shower curtain being pulled back.

"Cas, it's me!" Dean called, running a hand through his already messy hair. "We have a bit of an emergency."

More rustling, and then the door was pulled open, revealing a damp, shivering Castiel with a towel wrapped tightly around his body. "What is it?" he asked, no irritation at being interrupted present in his face. He regarded Dean with concern, unsubtly scanning his body for any injuries.

"Not me," Dean explained "Kevin. Something's happened."

Castiel looked blank for a second before alarm tightened his features and he strode to the fresh clothes that were folded on his bed, pulling them on. Dean averted his eyes awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his hands in agitation. It couldn't have taken more than a minute for Castiel to finish dressing, damp as he was, but for Dean it felt like an anxious eternity.

Finally he was finished, and they were rushing out of Castiel's room and into Dean's. Kevin was sitting on the rumpled bed, head in his hands and body trembling incessantly. He looked up in fright as they entered, relief palpable on his face as he recognised them.

Dean approached him carefully, sitting down next to him on the mattress. "What happened, Kevin?" he asked, forcing his voice to be calm.

Inhaling shakily, Kevin lifted his head, staring blankly at the wall behind Castiel. "I think I'm going mad," he admitted, voice cracked and broken.

"I've heard mental asylums do that," Dean said, perhaps more insensitively than he intended. Trying to rectify it, he added, "But you're probably the most sane person in this building, Kevin. Take it from me, you're about as far from crazy as they get."

Kevin turned to him, eyes desperate. "Then how do I explain what I've seen?" he moaned, as if pleading Dean to help him.

Shooting a glance at Castiel, who nodded at him despite the apprehension evident on his face, Dean pressed the point. "What did you see, Kevin?"

Kevin shut his eyes again, rubbing his temples. After a long pause, he opened his mouth and whispered, "Alfie."

Cold dread filled Dean's chest. "What do you mean?"

Kevin bit his lip, a painful sob convulsing his body. "He's dead," he choked.

A long, long silence. Dean was stiff as a statue and Castiel was frozen in place, panic in his eyes.

Eventually, Kevin gathered himself enough to continue. "He...caught me putting the reports back on Raphael's desk," he told them. "He said that something was going on, something dangerous. I think all the Balts are in on it. I asked him what, but he wouldn't say, and then Raphael appeared."

Castiel bit his lip, hands tugging on his sleeves. His face was pale as carved marble.

"We fed him some bullshit story. He obviously wasn't fooled, but he let us go. He knows about it, Castiel. He knows you took them." He looked straight at Castiel, who looked ready to throw up. "We went back to our rooms, I went to sleep. But when I woke up, and knocked on his door –" He sobbed again, trying desperately to calm himself down. He breathed deeply for a moment, forcibly regaining his composure and finished, "There were scorch marks everywhere, all up the walls and the furniture – and then in the middle of it all..." Kevin gulped. "His...his eyes were burned away." he finished in a painful whisper, and there were tears rolling down his cheeks as his eyes saw a memory that was as fresh as if it were right before them.

Dean was speechless.

Would highly recommend removal.

They'd thought it would be bad, definitely, but this? Alfie was their brother, for Christ's sake, blood or not! If this was what they did to a wayward family member...

"We have to get you out of here," Dean said in a voice that sounded nothing like his own.

Kevin looked at him incredulously. "What?"

"You have to get out. Don't you see? This is a warning! They already suspected you of helping us out, and now they have concrete proof. Think about it: they already knew Alfie'd broken a few rules, but they barely did shit about it. All he did this time was tell you what you were already thinking, it hardly justifies murder! Or, if we're going from the cold-blooded perspective, fire damage to property."

Kevin just blinked at him, eyes red and puffy.

Hesitantly, Castiel dragged up the chair from Dean's desk and sat on it, eyes fixed on the floor. "Dean is right," he said quietly.

Kevin turned in shock at the sound of his voice, and Dean smiled at his friend in grateful relief. Kevin would listen to Castiel, because he knew Castiel would not talk unless it was of the utmost importance.

Clearing his throat, Castiel continued. "All things considered, this does sound like a final warning. You've been bending rules since you came, with the books and the laptop and the pens – though we are all very grateful for it," he added hurriedly, throwing Kevin a stiff smile. "But the Balts are everywhere, they must have noticed. They obviously didn't think it was important: we're a low-volatility group, and if any incidents did happen, all official blame would fall on you. But letting Dean out, helping patients obtain confidential information..."

Kevin frowned. "I never helped," he stated guardedly, "I was doing the opposite."

Castiel shook his head. "Not in their view. You were returning the reports to save us getting caught trying to do it ourselves. And apparently, it was one step too far, and you needed to be put in check."

Kevin gulped. "So what happened to Alfie was my fault." His voice was hollow.

Dean swore, rubbing his forehead violently. "Of course it wasn't!" he insisted. "They're insane: take that from an expert. None of this is on you, Kevin, nothing at all. All you have to do is get the fuck out while you still can – when does your training finish?"

Kevin scrubbed a hand over his face. "Only about a month now," he said. "But I already said I'd be willing to make the placement permanent, until I decided to find another job."

"Well, you can say you changed your mind. It's hardly unheard of!"

"They're unlikely to fight you," Castiel added. "As far as they're concerned, you're a liability."

"But I'm even more of a liability outside," Kevin reminded them. "At least in here I can't wander off and tell everything to the authorities!"

"Look, Dean reasoned, "the best you can do is try to get out, and the worst they can do is say no. Then we go to Plan B."

Castiel and Kevin looked at him. "What is Plan B?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged. "Think of a Plan C?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, and Kevin even cracked a weak smile. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he said, shaking his head. "Here I am, vulnerable as anything in a patient's room, confiding in certified inmates." He barked out a short, hysterical laugh.

Dean scoffed. "Well, don't go giving us any ideas, Kevin, us crazies could snap any minute," he warned sarcastically, shooting an exasperated look at Castiel.

Kevin shook his head. "That's the point."

"Well, if you want us to be able to help you, I'm afraid you're gonna have to be a little more trusting than that. We might be mad, but we're not traitors."

"No, I didn't mean that," Kevin told him.

Dean squinted at him, thoroughly confused. "Mean what?"

"That you could snap any minute. The point is, there's such a big deal here about how dangerous the patients are. All through my training it's been constant: don't let a patient catch you alone in a secluded area, don't go alone into a patient's room, don't trust the patients, don't speak to the patients unless necessary, don't let your authority slip, don't let them think you're weak, don't show them any pressure points, it's ridiculous! Because you know what? I know I have the least volatile patients of them all, but apart from Chuck's anxiety, Charlie's uncontrollable mouth and your select mutism," he nodded at Castiel, "I haven't seen anything that justifies you guys being put in a place like this, a place so secluded and separate. Dean, I haven't seen anything from you! You have a temper; so does everyone. That's it."

"Trust me, Kevin," Dean sighed, "I'm supposed to be here."

"You weren't saying that when you first came here," Castiel reminded him in a low voice. "You said you didn't feel insane. That you didn't feel like you belonged. What happened to change that?"

"You know very well what happened." Dean glowered into his friend's eyes and was given as good as he got.

Of course Castiel knew what had changed: Dean had discovered he couldn't trust himself anymore. He couldn't remember, and the things he could remember were completely, undeniably impossible. But there was always that niggling feeling, that certainty, that whatever he'd seen – no matter how impossible – must have been true. Because he remembered it. And this certainty, no matter how many nights Dean lay awake trying to reason with it, would not leave. Crazy people always believed what they told themselves. And so Dean must have been crazy. There was no other explanation.

Kevin sniffed a bit and drew himself upright, regaining his calm exterior. "Dean," he said. "I don't know for sure what happened, but I'm pretty certain it took place in that room after you were attacked by Gordon." Dean flinched at that, and Kevin noticed. He didn't say a thing. "But take it from someone who's been trained in this since school: you are not criminally insane. I've read your file, I know what happened, but –"

Dean sat up sharply. "You know?" he asked wildly before he could stop himself.

"Of course I know, how else would I be able to help?"

Kevin hadn't noticed, Dean realised. Kevin didn't see that he couldn't remember anything, that Castiel, of all people, knew more about his past than he did. Even without looking, Dean knew his friend was staring at him, wondering what he would say, how he would react. Dean surprised them both.

"Whatever," he said, feigning nonchalance. "But surely I know myself better than you. No offence intended towards your proficiency as a doctor or anything, but it's my mind."

"I understand," Kevin told him, even though he didn't at all. "I know that you feel unsure about whether you can trust your own self, and I know what that can do to people. But Dean: this isn't a matter of whether you're mentally ill or not. We both know you have some issues that need to be sorted out. It's not a matter of whether you should be in a hospital or not. It's a matter of whether you should be here. No one leaves this place once they've entered. It's not a rehabilitation centre; it's the end point, the last chapter, for people who have no hope of returning to normal society. And I don't think for one second that you, or Charlie, or Chuck, or even you, Castiel, are justified in being here. You can be rehabilitated, with the right treatment. But you're not getting the right treatment, and you're not being rehabilitated. I ignored it before; I'm only a trainee and the bosses always know best, right? Well, I don't believe that anymore. This place has something wrong with it, I can see that now. It just makes me furious that it took my friend's murder to realise!"

As he looked at the boy – because really, Dean thought, that was what Kevin was – he saw anger. Anger at himself, the staff, the whole establishment. What he didn't see was doubt. Kevin, no matter how insane the things he'd seen had been, was doubting himself for not one minute. And so, Dean thought, if he didn't know if he could trust himself, he knew he could at least trust Kevin.

Kevin and Castiel. The only two people in this godforsaken building that he was completely certain of.

When Kevin left Dean's room half an hour later, they'd worked out the beginnings of a plan. They would go around business as normal, no mention of Alfie; keeping themselves out of the spotlight was the main priority for now.

Kevin would inform Raphael in about a week that he wished to leave Balt's, perhaps to join a different hospital or to freelance. That part wasn't so important. Meanwhile, Castiel and Dean would take a break from stealing highly confidential documents. As Kevin had told them with minimal scruples, it was a fucking stupid thing to do, not to mention risky. Kevin would give them all the information he could, but he wasn't going to stick his neck under the guillotine for them. Dean could understand that.

The main aim was to get Kevin out. If Kevin escaped, he could report Balt's to the authorities, stir up a media scandal – those always worked out well in their country. He would have proof, they'd ensure that. And then – if everything went according to plan – it would all be over.

Dean felt a huge sense of relief at the mere sight of an end point. It felt as if he'd been at Balt's for years, that aeons stretched between the Dean who had walked through the gates with a silent security guard and the Dean who sat brooding in his room with a silent inmate.

It was all going to be over, at some point.

And that was all the assurance Dean needed.

"Hey," Lisa greeted him, slipping her arms around his torso. "You weren't at breakfast. Did something happen?"

Dean forced a casual posture, enveloping her hands with his own. "Nah," he told her. "I overslept."

Lisa laughed quietly and playfully kissed the nape of his neck. "I thought as much. Meg was creating conspiracy theories all through her bacon, though."

Dean shook his head; he could believe it. "How was your visit yesterday?" he asked.

"Brilliant." Lisa's voice was light and full of love as she spoke. "He's grown again, of course, but it doesn't bother me so much anymore. He's more handsome than cute now." She released his waist and took him firmly by the hand, dragging him to the sofa. "Come on now, you asked," she sang. "You have to listen while I tell you everything."

Dean laughed at her glee as she sat him down and told him all the minute details of Ben's life. The kid did sound pretty awesome, he had to say, but then his source was a bit biased.

She was in the middle of telling him how Ben ("the brave little soldier!") had broken up a fight at the orphanage when she suddenly frowned, all motherly adoration wiped from her face.

"That reminds me," she said. "There was a fight at breakfast today."

Dean sat up, alert. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Pff!" Lisa scoffed at him. "Of course not, it was barely more than a pissing contest before the orderlies stepped in. Chet, the idiot, made a fuss because Benny took the last of the beans, and well...you know how Benny is." She shrugged. "They didn't even come to blows, though I think Chet was about to. But then an orderly sorted them both out; they're in isolation for the rest of the day, I think."

"Isolation, or...?" Dean shot her a meaningful look.

Lisa rolled her eyes at him. "Just isolation, Dean. They're not strict enough to send people there for a teeny stand-off. It was weird though..."

"What was weird?" Dean pushed gently.

Lisa bit her lip. "Alfie wasn't managing the queue this morning. That's never happened before. I hope he's not sick." She frowned in concern. Alfie was Lisa's group leader, Dean recalled, of course she'd be worried about him.

"I'm sure it's nothing," he lied. "Maybe he overslept too."

Lisa snorted and shoved him playfully. "Not everyone's as bone lazy as you," she teased.

They played cards (rummy) for a good few hours that morning, Meg deeming their company unworthy of her presence. Eventually, Dean tired of the consecutive losses and suggested they do something else.

"What did you have in mind?" Lisa asked with a slightly smug smile. She was unused to winning (having previously had Meg as her only opponent) and was enjoying it immensely.

Dean shrugged. "I dunno really, I was just kind of hoping that I wouldn't have to keep on getting my ass thrashed for foreseeable futures. That kind of stuff's no good for a man's ego."

Lisa's smile turned mischievous, and she leaned in, pressing her lips against his ear. Dean had to suppress a shiver at the warm air she sent curling across his jaw.

"We could always relocate," she murmured, smirk audible.

Dean raised an eyebrow, pulling away slightly to look her in the face. "What happened to taking it slow?" he asked, amused.

Lisa shrugged. "I got bored. And anyway, I expect you to keep your hands to yourself, for the most part. We've only known each other for a short time, after all."

"Seems pretty long to me," Dean said.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Men. Always so horny. But I do have a proper reason: I doubt you have a condom stash anywhere in your room."

Dean blinked. "Shit." He'd completely forgotten about the existence of protection. "Shit! I have to ask Kevin for that?!"

Lisa squared her shoulders. "Apologies, soldier, but I think you'll survive it. I refuse to even risk having to go to Naomi and ask for the morning after pill."

Dean sighed. "Understood. Fair enough."

Lisa grinned at him. "Thanks for not pushing. Let's go!" She grabbed him by both of his hands and pulled him towards the door.

"Keep it quiet, you two!" Mr Fizzles called after them mockingly.

"Fucking Mr Fizzles," Dean muttered under his breath. Lisa snorted with mirth.

She led him to her room, Number 100, and opened the door with highly unnecessary dramatics.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she joked. "Very humble abode indeed."

It was almost exactly the same as Dean's own room, except the window was on the other side of the room. Dean commented on this, saying it was unfair that he had to get woken up by sunbeams on his face everyday, but Lisa shook her head.

"No way, I'm worse off," she insisted. "In summer, it doesn't get dark for ages and I'm sitting up half the night with a bloody setting sun burning my eyes out."

Dean winced at the metaphor and Lisa gave him an odd look. She said nothing.

"Do you have any other family?" Dean asked to fill the silence.

"Technically." Lisa shrugged, seemingly unbothered. "They all disowned me after I got pregnant with Ben, bigoted dicks. Then I broke up with my boyfriend and ended up here."

"How do you mean?" Dean didn't even bother to try and hide his confusion. "Why did you get sent here?" Realising even as the words left his mouth that it was hardly a tactful question, he quickly backtracked. "Actually, never mind! Forget I asked."

"Nah, it's okay," Lisa told him. "I stopped being sensitive about it long ago. Simply put, my so-called boyfriend was an abusive dickhead and one day I got the hell in with him and smashed his head in. I didn't mean to do quite as much damage as I did, but I got my point across."

"Uh, how much damage did you do, exactly?" Dean asked carefully.

"I didn't kill him, if that's what you're asking. He just went to hospital for quite a long time. They never told me if there was any lasting damage. I just hope it convinced him to treat women a bit better from then on."

"I'm sure it did." Dean didn't know why he was surprised: Lisa was in a mental asylum, it was a given that she'd have some kind of backstory. But still, he could not reconcile the Lisa he'd got to know with the Lisa she was telling him about. He supposed that was the nature of insanity.

"But less talk about that arrogant douche, I'm sure it would bore you, you being one yourself," Lisa teased, poking him in the side where she knew he was most ticklish after one particularly unfortunate afternoon. Dean flinched away from her hand.

"Hey," he warned. "I thought we established that tickling was off the agenda."

"Did we?" Lisa's eyes were wide and innocent. "Whenever could we have done that?"

Wary, Dean backed away. Lisa advanced upon him. Inevitably, his back hit the wall, and he searched desperately for a way of escape as she continued to stalk forward.

Halfway through a step, Lisa lunged. Dean was ready. He grabbed her hands safely in his and pulled her towards him. Her balance failed her and she tumbled, allowing Dean to easily twist them around so she was caught between the wall and him.

"You'll never take me alive," he whispered dramatically before he pressed their lips together.

Lisa resisted only for appearances, melting in his arms as soon as he pressed a little more firmly against her mouth. She parted her lips readily for him, but he didn't take advantage of her permission, choosing instead to drag his lips across her jaw and down the smooth line of her neck, pressing kisses against her erratically pulsing jugular. Lisa was having none of it, and grabbed a fistful of his hair, dragging him back up and shoving her tongue into his mouth. Dean reciprocated with fervour.

He ran his hand through her hair, enjoying the feeling of almost never-ending silk. He buried his fingers in it as she bit his lower lip and pushed against his chest, trying to escape from her temporary prison. He stepped back and guided them to the bed. They sank down in unison, missing the bed and ending up on the floor rather than the mattress, but despite the rather uncomfortably hard floorboards, Dean found he didn't mind a bit.

"Oi, Lisa!" They jumped out of their skins. "Quit shagging your boyfriend, it's lunch already!"

It was Meg, who had already disappeared by the time Lisa threw open the door to murder her.

Still seething, she turned to face Dean. "I suppose we'd better go down," she said. "Sorry about that, by the way."

"Don't mention it. Please."

They walked into the canteen together, both blushing an embarrassing shade of red when Mr Fizzles wolf-whistled at them from across the room.

Ellen served them both a bowlful of soup and a bit of bread. Dean was about to follow Lisa and go to sit with Meg (whose smug smile was almost painful to look at) when he noticed Castiel, alone and pale in the corner.

Suddenly it all came back to him, all that he'd somehow managed to forget with Lisa. Alfie, Kevin, Castiel. Dean felt a roiling in the pit of his stomach that felt almost like guilt. How could he have let himself cavort around when Alfie was dead, when Kevin was in danger, when Castiel was scared? He felt despicable.

"Hey," he said to Lisa, suddenly subdued. "Do you mind if I don't sit with you guys today? I haven't eaten with Cas in a while."

"Sure," Lisa told him, looking concerned. "Are you okay? You looked stressed all of a sudden."

"I keep on feeling like Gordon's staring at me," Dean bullshitted.

Lisa glanced behind him, where the man was sat. "He's not. He's looking outside."

Stiffly, Dean nodded. He walked to sit opposite Castiel, leaving Lisa behind. He put his bowl down without a word.

Castiel greeted him with a look, in the way that only he could do. Dean could see the strain of everything in the lines around his eyes, the dark purple bruises rimming them.

"How're you coping?" he asked, even though it was pointless.

"Badly," Castiel answered.

"You think talking would help a bit?" Dean prompted gently, though he wasn't at all eager to think about all the danger that lay before...around them. He wanted Castiel's body to stop looking so brittle, like he could crumble at any moment.

Castiel sighed. "Possibly. I can't seem to reconcile myself with Alfie's..." he trailed off, glancing around as he remembered where they were. "Well, I keep expecting to see him at the staff table, laughing with Kevin. And I am worried about Kevin, too. Look at him."

Dean looked at where Kevin sat, with the rest of the staff, and promptly wished he hadn't. Kevin looked dead, and the thought made Dean's stomach twist. He pushed his soup away.

"But I am concerned about you especially," Castiel admitted to his own bowl, which sat cooling in front of him.

Dean frowned. "Why especially? If anything, Kevin's the one..."

"No, Dean," Castiel said. "You are putting yourself at great risk."

"What do you mean?"

Castiel inhaled shakily. "You'll be angry with me."

"Of course I won't, Cas. Just spit it out!"

Castiel raised his head and looked Dean steadily in the eye. "You need to separate yourself from Lisa Braeden." His voice was low, steady, determined.

Dean didn't understand. "What? Why?"

"She can and will be used against you. You're not even hiding it, Dean, what do you think you're doing? You're putting her in mortal danger for no reason at all! If something happens to her, you will be hurt, and they know that. So you need to back off."

"You have got to be shitting me."

Dean glowered at Castiel, who glared straight back. Neither of their gazes wavered.

"I am dead serious."

Dean was enraged, and he knew why. Because Castiel was right.

"You know what?! You don't understand shit!"

"Do elaborate."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, coming out with all that crap? You have no idea! I need it, I need her."

"Why? And how does your "need" justify –?"

"Shut up! I need to get out, okay? I need to escape this fucking hell hole!" Dean spat out the words viciously. "And the way things are going, that's not going to happen any time soon, if ever. So I need Lisa to forget. I need to forget everything, just for a few minutes. I need to forget Alfie, Kevin, Naomi, I need to forget you! So don't you dare tell me I have no reason when you'll never understand that!"

"I can understand if you –"

"No you can't! You'll never understand anything like that! Look at you! You get nauseated doing anything that involves more contact than hand-holding! Who would want to be with you?"

Castiel's stony mask suddenly shattered and his face underneath was far, far too vulnerable. Dean knew he'd gone too far. He stood up and stalked away anyway.

A/N: Godsake, Dean, why do you have to be such a moron!? He just keeps on repeating his same mistakes, doesn't he? What an asshole. (casually getting annoyed at own character)

Hope you enjoyed (at least sort of) this chapter! Please review etc and win my undying love for the rest of eternity.