Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

Conjugal Glue (Part 2: The Janitor) by frostygossamer

The FBI eventually recaptured their fugitive, as he tried to jump a train a half mile outside the nearest train station. Back at the hospital, Alastair's various victims were treated and patched up. One Fed and one security guy had been shot dead, and two or three hospital staff had been nicked by stray bullets. One poor guy had been knee-capped.

And Dean?

Dr. Winchester's face had been reduced to a bloody pulp, he had broken ribs, broken wrist and smashed fingers plus... Some traumas are just too much to report to the authorities. Some traumas you have to get over alone...

Besides, it's pretty hard to explain exactly what you've been through if you're not prepared to speak. When stringing words into sentences doesn't seem to signify anymore. When being mute just seems to be so much more easy.

Dean spent a few weeks admitted to the hospital having his injuries treated and then, when his body seemed to be on the mend, he was transferred to the Psychiatric ward. There he sat day after day just staring out the window, acknowledging no one.

~0~

Lisa came to see Dean soon after the incident. She brought his pal Ash along. Lisa would have liked to give Dean a hug and tell him that she was glad that he was OK, that he had survived his ordeal, that, damn it, she did still care about him. And she would have if he hadn't just stared past her like she wasn't there.

"Oh Dean," she said. "At least you're still alive, thank God. That guy was a psycho! I coulda been wearing black at your funeral right now. You should be grateful that you're still breathing. He KILLED two guys!"

"Yeah," Ash agreed, busy eating the candy Lisa had brought for Dean. "Got your life, man. Coulda been laying on a slab in the morgue right now."

None of this made Dean feel any better. That last bit actually sounded pretty good. Even Lisa could never understand what Dean was feeling, how he was hurting. No one could ever know what that monster had done to him, how he had made him feel, how he was STILL making him feel.

Lisa got to her feet and pecked her ex on the forehead sadly.

"Well, Dean, now you get to stay in your beloved hospital 24/7," she sobbed. "I just hope that makes you happy, honey."

"Yeah, man," Ash agreed.

As they left, Lisa wondered why she had even bothered to come.

~0~

Bleak day followed bleak day in Welby Memorial Hospital Psychiatric ward. Dean spent every day in the patients' lounge, silent and unresponsive. He let the nurses guide him back and forth between his bed and the day room, and feed him bland hospital food. He ignored the girls' professionally cheerful prattle. Even Nurse Carmen, who came to thank him for her life, couldn't persuade him to raise a smile.

After an obligatory period of time had passed, Meg realized that it behooved her to pay her subordinate an official visit. She had to try and find out if he was going to be fit to return to work, or if she should be initiating the recruitment of a new member for her team. Meg hated visiting the sick. She had better things to do with her time.

Meg was waiting for the elevator when Castiel wandered by with his janitor's cart. She was struggling with an armful of paperwork, her coat and her fashionably huge purse.

"Would you like me to carry some of that for you, Ms. Masters?" Castiel offered helpfully.

"Sure," Meg answered, dumping the lot into his hands.

Right then the elevator bell rang and its doors opened. Meg and Castiel trooped in and rode up to Psychiatrics together.

Meg went straight on into the patients' lounge, with Castiel trailing forgotten behind her.

"So here you are, Winchester," she began, as soon as she noticed Dean sitting alone by the window staring out at the rain.

She pulled up a chair then sat down and crossed her legs impatiently. Castiel stood awkwardly behind her chair.

"Don't bother to say hello," she continued sarcastically. "I hear your snarky little tongue has taken a vacation lately. Can't say I'm not thrilled about that. I'm just here so I can tick a little box on a form, Dean. This isn't social."

Dean went right on ignoring his visitor.

"Well," Meg sighed, getting straight up again and smoothing her designer suit. "Just so you know. You have until the end of the month and then I have to start the process of requesting a new member for my team. That is unless you feel like rejoining the real world?"

When Dean didn't reply Meg shrugged. "I won't be holding my breath, Dean," she said.

Meg wandered off to talk to a psychiatric nurse about Dean's case, but Castiel remained standing beside Dean. He stared at the sad young guy for a moment in silence.

Castiel, although he appeared simple to most people, was actually a very intuitive person. He could tell the difference between someone who had been physically hurt, and was angry at the world, and someone who had been emotionally scarred, and was angry at himself.

Castiel smiled gently at the confused young guy in whom he had taken a special interest, ever since he had first come to work in Welby Memorial Hospital, a young man with whom Castiel had always felt a profound bond.

"I know," he whispered gently. "I know what happened, Dean. I know what he did. I know how you feel. And I will find you someone to make it better. I promise."

Dean didn't make any show of hearing that promise, but Castiel knew he had heard. When Meg returned, she and Castiel both went back to their regular jobs.

Castiel now realized he had a mission to rescue Dean Winchester from the Hell in which he had found himself and make things right by him.

~0~

Castiel was famous throughout the hospital as that quiet guy who could get stuff and find things out. He was part of a network of gossipmongers. What most people didn't know was that his grapevine extended further than the hospital, and to levels unguessed at by anyone.

He set his grapevine in motion, and soon found himself with the info on just the right person to solve his priority problem.

Sam Singer was a reformed character. For the past two years, he had been practising as a self-help therapist in Chicago. He dealt chiefly with young ex-offenders and petty criminals who needed support to leave behind a life of crime and make something of their lives.

Sam was an expert because he was an ex-con himself who after more than a decade involved in crime had seen the light, turned over a new leaf and decided to dedicate himself to saving others from ending up the way he had. He had turned his back even on his own family to pursue a life of criminality, something he now bitterly regretted.

After another AA-style meeting of ex-offenders, Sam had finally closed his office door and settled down in a chair, with a much needed mug of coffee, when the phone rang.

"Hello. Is that Samuel Singer?" a voice asked.

"That's me. What can I do for you?" Sam responded.

"Oh hello, Sam, this is Castiel," the voice replied. "Remember me?"

Sam searched his memory. "Oh yeah! Castiel Seraphos? Dude, how are you doing?" he asked, happy to hear a voice from his past.

"I am doing well, Sam," Castiel replied. "And I think I have a task for you that you would be interested in."

Sam was intrigued. Castiel went on to tell him about Dean and his condition, and suggested that Sam's skills as a therapist and more could be just what were needed.

"I'm just a therapist, Cas," Sam objected. "Not a doctor."

"Yes, I am aware," Castiel insisted. "But the help Dean needs isn't just medical, Sam. You see, Dean is like me, and what he needs most is someone like you, I believe. Because, well, he doesn't know. And he needs to know. He needs the right person to show him."

"Really?" Sam replied. "He doesn't know? How come?"

"He was raised by his Mom and Dad," Castiel explained. "They died."

"Ah," Sam responded, understanding. "And you think I might be this 'right' person?"

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "I do. And I also believe the Syndicate would appreciate your efforts."

Sam inhaled sharply. "The Syndicate knows about this case?" he asked.

"Of course," Castiel replied. "The Syndicate cares, Sam."

Sam considered. "OK. Give me the details. I'll fly out in a couple days. Don't want the Syndicate to think I don't give a damn. Can't hurt to see the guy, I guess."

"Good!" Castiel answered enthusiastically. "You will be glad you agreed, Sam," and he hung up.

Sam sat thinking for a moment. Since when had the Syndicate remembered about his sorry ass? Well, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the teeth. Any chance to get back in with the family was worth the shoe leather. This might turn out to be one huge waste of time, but as least he would have looked willing. They couldn't ask for more than that.

He called and booked himself a plane ticket, round-trip.

TBC

A/N: But just wait till he meets his Dean. More tomorrow.