Dean's first night at the institution had not gone as he'd initially planned, but if anything, he did have himself a good night's sleep. That was probably thanks to sedation from the day previous.

Solitary confinement was much the same in Lawrence State, as it was in another other facility Dean had been in. It was completely empty, save for the bed pushed up against the wall. The only real difference here was the padded walls.

Rebecca came to collect him, all of an hour later, after he'd woken up. The room was still pretty much in darkness, so Dean had come to the conclusion that it couldn't be much later than seven am.

Why they insisted on rising everyone at the crack of dawn really was beyond him. The people in here were edgy enough as it was without being up before the sun everyday.

He was allowed to take a shower, supervised of course by Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, the institution's double act code team. He wondered when he was just going to be left alone to his own devices – but that didn't seem likely anytime in his near future.

After his shower and he changed into a clean uniform, he was escorted to the nurses station in the rec room where a queue of inmates had already formed. They had all been summoned, like him, for their daily medication it seemed.

Before his nurse, Rebecca, was able to walk away, he caught her arm, stirring the attention of the code team again but he dropped her arm with a tisk a second later. "Calm down, boys. Just asking her a question – what's going on here?"

Rebecca looked a little started, eyes a little wider than normal, if that was possible, before he cleared his throat and gave him a curt nod. "It's medication time."

"Medication? What sort of medication?"

"Just standard medication. Nothing you need concern yourself with." She said, patting his arm before sauntering off to go and join her fellow nurses behind the safety of their glass window.

Dean watched her go. He wondered if she'd have touched his arm so patronizingly had they been outside the high walls of LSH. Had the hospitals too biggest hench men not been following him around like a bad smell.

"When're you two gonna stop stalking me, anyway?" He asked, hands slumped in his pockets, not bothering to look over his shoulder. They knew who he was addressing.

"When we know you're gonna start behaving yourself, Mr Winchester."

"I am behaving myself." He pursed his lips.

"You're not special, sunshine." Came the voice of a smaller man in front of him. Dean recognised him suddenly from the twang of his accent. "We've all had to deal with the watch dogs." He turned, hands pushed into the pockets of his house coat. "A word to the wise: The sooner you drop the haughty attitude, the sooner they leave you alone. Understand?"

Dean watched him with a bemused smile. "I'll keep that in mind, Fergus."

"Crowley." He corrected before he was called forth to collect his pills, lips twisted up into a smug little smirk. One that suited him so well, Dean thought.

Soon after, it was Dean's turn to down his meds and then he was set free for an hour in the rec room to 'do as he wished'. But doing as he wished seemed to consist of watching the TV, reading or playing one of those weird board games already set up.

He glanced around aimlessly, looking for something that might give him some sort of form of entertainment before he settled on just looking out the window. It seemed as though it was going to be a nice day for mid-fall. The sky, though still tainted with shades of purple, was free of clouds and other blemishes. When the sun finally did come out, the people beyond the wall were in for a treat.

Dean missed the simplicity, in times like this, of sitting on the roof top of his apartment building in centre of Manhattan, couple of beers between him and his brother, watching the city rush by on a quiet summer's day.

The more Dean thought about the laziness of his summers in city, the more he missed the old days; the days when his father was still alive and took care of everything to do with the family business. Dean could fuck off and do as he pleased for a few days without so much as an eyelash being batted.

He missed the freedom that came with being a boy with a powerful father.

Dean turned then, sick of dwelling on his own thoughts, and found another familiar face of one of the guys from group.

Castiel.

Now, that was a distraction he'd welcome with open arms.

Dean, being Dean, traipsed over, stopping right by Castiel's table, looking down at him with a tight smile, hands casually lain in his pockets. Maybe Dean took a lot of pleasure in being a tormentor of the highest degree. Maybe he just wanted to see how far he could push the guy until he snapped. "Not gonna indulge me in another staring contest?" He asked, sliding into the empty seat in front of him.

Castiel remained silent, narrowing his eyes at the board game laid out before them.

"You better be deaf, buddy." Dean murmured, tapping the board game firmly to get his attention, blue eyes blinking up slowly. "I'm talkin' to you."

Again, no answer.

Dean was probably going about this the wrong way because no sign of emotion or expression crossed the other man's face.

It'd make a dead man shiver – the way those eyes spoke a thousand more words than Castiel would ever need too.

Dean leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "You stop staring at me, understand? Or do you want it in Spanish?"

No answer. Dean really wasn't surprised at this point.

"You're a contrary little fucker, aren't you?"

Not even a twitch passed Castiel's features.

"Don't worry, darlin', I'll get a couple of pretty words out of those luscious lips sooner or later." He winked, licking his own lips slowly before he banged down hard on the table suddenly with his fist, in the hopes of making the guy jump ten feet out of his skin.

Sure, it startled a few of the other inmates. Made one yelp, and cover his ears with a whimper. But the one he wanted to strike fear in only stared back, eyebrow slightly raised now.

That was something at least.

"You-"

It seemed then that Dr. Milton had appeared, clip board in hand, staring between the two of them.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Dean snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against his chair again, watching Castiel through narrowed eyes.

"Nothing."

"Alright, well, either you're oblivious or I am." Dean countered, eyes still attached to Castiel's.

"There's nothing wrong with Castiel." Dr. Milton said again, looking at Dean now, though he refused to break eye contact with his component.

Dr. Milton let it continue all of ten seconds more before she cleared her throat and leaned on the table, forcing Dean to look at her as she peered between their line of vision. "I'd like a word with you."

"Talk then."

"Privately."

Dean breathed through his nose, looking around her to Castiel again. "Don't you worry, I ain't done with you yet." He winked, pushing himself up out of his chair as he went to follow the doctor, red hair swooshing elegantly behind her.

She brought him to a small enclave just a few doors down from her office, gentle calming aura she usually emanated, evaporating up into the ceiling.

"Dean, I want you to leave Castiel alone. Stop trying to rile him up." Dr. Milton said with a firmness to her voice Dean had no idea she'd had.

"Didn't do anything."

"You did. You're trying to get on his nerves." She said, eyes wide and serious. Dean breathed through his nose – why did this feel like high school all over again? "He's been having a good spell."

"A good spell?"

"Yes. He's been improving. I don't want for that to change. For his own sake."

"Don't tell me he's a secret Hulk?" Dean snorted in amusement before his brow furrowed when he saw that his Doctor was far past the joking around stage. If they'd even had that stage.

"Castiel is prone to violent outbursts." Doctor Milton informed him simply. "For your safety, as well as his own, I'd ask you to stop. Or we're going to have to transfer you again. And I'm certain you don't want that."

"I've gotta be honest, Miss Milton, I'm sensing an awful lot of one-sidedness here." Dean commented, reaching out a finger to flick her hair out of the way to look at her shiny badge displaying her name. "Why am I getting shit on for something he started?"

"Castiel has been here a very long time. You're new. He's entitled to look. He's entitled to have an opinion on someone entering the confines of his home. He would have stopped had you paid him no attention." Said Dr. Milton, seeming un-irked by the way Dean's eyes searched her face.

"Still don't see how that's fair. He was making me uncomfortable." Dean knew all too well how the system worked by now, a smile even found his lips as his words passed them.

"If it's really making you that uncomfortable, Dean, you shouldn't have gone looking for trouble this morning." She reminded him with a raise of her sleek eyebrow. "Now, I'm telling you. Stop it. Leave him be. I don't care who you were or who you are now. You're in my institution. And you're going to do what I tell you." She threatened.

"Yes, ma'am." Dean smirked boyishly, looking down at her with intent to intimidate, but it seemed as though Dr. Milton wasn't in the mood for furthering the conversation. She stepped off back down the hall, leaving Dean in a whirlwind of her perfume and the loud sound her heels made as they hit the floor.

All in all, as cocky as Dean Winchester was, what she had said had left him with a thought.

Who was this Castiel?

He didn't seem like the violent type. Dean was a violent type.

Then again, what people saw with Dean was what they got. He was boisterous and loud and sickeningly over confident sometimes. The very type of person someone would expect to go around picking fights.

Castiel on the other hand was silent. And now that Dean thought about it, that was much more dangerous.

Castiel was unpredictable.

Dean had no idea what the guy had done to wound himself up in here, but he very much intended on finding out, whether Dr. Milton would allow it or not.