The Institute

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone from Supernatural nor do I profit in any way. I just write for the love of writing about the boys and hurting them on the odd occasion.

Warnings:

Rated for language, violence and torture.

NO Wincest or Slash involved in this or any of my stories.

CHAPTER 11 What did you do?

Dean opened his eyes and stared around the unfamiliar room with wide confused eyes. The last thing he could remember was trying to get Sam and Grace out of the Institute and then ... with a held breath the realisation hit him, glancing down he looked for any sign of the bullet hole. 'Okay get a grip Dean, Grace healed ya that's all.' He muttered as he glanced around the room again. Carefully manoeuvring himself to the edge of the bed Dean sat up and waited for the last wave of dizziness to pass it was then he realised that he only wore his boxers.

'Clothes, where're my clothes?' he mumbled. With each passing second, he felt worse, as though he had been on a mother of all benders and had the hangover to match. Only he hadn't had a drop of alcohol since Sammy disappeared.

'Nice to see you awake Honey.' A soft feminine voice startled Dean out of his reverie, rolling his eyes up he gazed into the eyes of a very cute woman. 'I thought that they must have knocked you out for the duration.'

'Sandy?' Dean whispered, 'what's going on?'

'Hmm let me think ... I gave you a wonderful picnic lunch and you passed out on me, it took me ages to drag you in here and get you into the bed. You ah ... threw up on yourself so I had to undress you and wash your clothes.'

'Slow down a little,' Dean started to let his anger override his confusion, 'I was at the Institute ... they shot me.'

'Honey I don't know what you were dreaming but you've been here with me.' Sandy said 'you were so exhausted with trying to find your brother I brought you a nice picnic lunch and we had it in the living room on the floor. I couldn't wake you Dean I was so scared.' Sandy cooed sitting down next to him she took his hand in hers and brushed her fingers over his knuckles before lifting his hand to her mouth. 'I have missed you Dean.'

'What the fuck is going on and where is my brother?' Dean demanded yanking his hand away from Sandy, 'start talking lady.'

'The doctor said that you might be disorientated when you came too but I didn't think it would be as bad as this.' Sandy cried her lower lip trembling, 'all I want to do is help you get better.'

'Where's Sam?'

'I don't know Dean, you were so upset when you couldn't find him, and the dreams ... you kept screaming in your sleep but I could never wake you.'

'Sandy I don't understand any of this,' Dean started trying to curb his anger long enough to get some answers out of the young woman. 'I remember getting a job at the institute, finding Sam ... they were doing horrible things to him, I managed to help him and another one escape but then we got ambushed and I was shot ...'

'Dean honey, you've been here for a week, the doctor was talking about having you hospitalised but I refused, I said that I could look after you.' Sandy explained cupping his face in her hands she made Dean look directly at her, 'you have been searching non-stop for your brother Sam, and you were exhausted physically and mentally ... the doctor said that you just shut down.'

'No, no I was working at the institute and, and they are holding Sam there I have to go and get them.' Dean pushed himself away from Sandy and tried to stand, his stiff legs giving way under his body weight buckled and he collapsed face down. 'I have to find Sammy, they're killing him.'

'Dean ... listen to me Sam is not at the institute the police raided it after you first reported Sam's disappearance. There's nothing there.'

'I don't believe you ... you're working for them.'

'Dean please you're scaring me.' Sandy cried big fat tears ran down her cheeks as she silently implored him with her eyes.

'Don't ... don't look at me like that.' He cried out, 'not with that look.' Not with his Sammy's puppy dog look.

'Dean if you don't calm down I'm going to have to call Doctor Sloane and have you put in the hospital for your own sake. You're scaring me.' Sandy said her voice shaking and thick with emotions. 'I have done nothing but look after you.'

'No, no I don't believe you ...' Dean screwed his eyes closed and curled in on himself muttering the words as a mantra, forgetting Sandy's presence.

He blinked owlishly up at her when he felt her hands on his shoulders, 'Dean I need you to get back in bed, the doctor is on his way.' Sandy said speaking in a low clear voice.

'I don't need a doctor.'

'Please for me.' Sandy countered; successfully managing to get Dean up on his feet, she wrapped his arm around her neck and guided him back to the bed. Distraught Dean allowed himself to be lowered back onto the bed, he had to think, to get things clear in his mind. With a sigh, he rolled over to face the wall and closed his eyes feigning sleep.

Sandy sat watching him for a few minutes before getting up and taking the time to cover him with a blanket; she bent down brushed a kiss on his cheek and then strode out of the room. This was going to be more difficult that what Sloane said it would be – she was going to have to get more serum for him.

He was stronger than anyone had anticipated.

After hearing the door close, softly Dean opened his eyes and rolled over onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling as he tried to piece together what happened after they tried to escape.

Another factor that started to disturb Dean was that he couldn't really remember what Grace looked like; she seemed to be more like Sandy than anyone else. 'They're fucking with my mind.' Dean screamed, his voice filled with long buried anguish. 'Get outta my head.'

About an hour later, Sandy knocked on the door and came in without waiting for Dean's invitation behind her a distinguished looking man, with dark brown hair streaked with silver strands and sparkling soft grey eyes. 'Nice to see you awake young man.' He spoke with a clear clipped accent.

'Who are you?' Dean demanded pushing himself up on the bed, 'whatever you're selling I don't want it.'

'My name is Sloane, Doctor Sloane; Sandy called me when you became ill.'

'Sloane, why is that name familiar?' Dean mused and then with a shake of his head he realised that he spoke aloud.

'I am going to give you a mild sedative to help you sleep,' the doctor rummaged through his bag and brought out a small syringe. 'I will leave a prescription for Sandy to fill, just some low dosage tablets, but for now I think you'll benefit from the injection.

'What is that?' Dean started to feel panic rise in him, his chest hurting from sudden hyperventilation. 'I don't need that; I just want to know what happened to Sammy.'

'It's just a little something to calm you down son, if not then I may have to have you hospitalise you for your own safety.'

'Where's Sam?' Dean demanded, why wasn't anyone listening to him?

'Please Dean do this, for Sam's sake you can't find him if you're sick.' Sandy begged Dean. Rolling his head to the side Dean stared up at the young woman standing just behind the doctor.

Sloane, taking advantage of Dean's momentary distraction pushed the needle into his upper arm, hissing with anger Dean swiped at the man's hand but it was too late he could already start to feel the dulling effects of the drugs.

As his eyes drooped and started to close, Dean fought to stay aware but whatever was in that needle was stronger than a simple sedative. Dean felt himself floating, his awareness forcibly pulled from him. Gasping for air, he turned hate-filled eyes to Sandy and the so-called doctor as he lost the fight to stay conscious. His last thoughts were of Sam, where was he and was he alright?

TBC