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Thank you to Shining Sunny ( I can't contact you by MP, I don't know why…so )

WARNING : M

CHAPTER III : EACH OUR OWN HELL

Dean held his cold hand. Sam was late and his school bag was too heavy. He was tired due to a hard day at school and a lack of sleep the previous night. His dad John and his mom Karen fought till dawn. Then they loudly made peace at 4 am. Sam was only 7 so he snuggled up to his brother's protecting chest. Dean held him tight in his arms whispering comforting words.

Sam looked at his brother more and more worried as they approached hell. Dean exhaled and stopped to readjust his schoolbag. He turned to his brother and smiled, then he ruffled his hair.

"Ready Tiger?"

Sam nodded. When they entered the house they didn't hear a sound. The television was off which means John wasn't back from work yet. Or maybe he was still at Lilith's Bar considering the hour.

Dean helped Sam taking off his coat and then threw his own bag aside.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Same as you."

Dean saw his thumb and caught his hand. "You really need to stop that, you're a big boy now you know?"

Sam begged him with his eyes.

"You and your damn puppy look!" He laughed and his little brother did so while he took him to the kitchen. Dean winced. Sam just woke his sore shoulder up, memory of one more beating.

The kitchen was very messy, the dirty dishes were in the sink for days and empty bottles were lying on the ground and on the table. There even was a broken glass near the backdoor to remember yesterday's fight. The backdoor was leading to the backyard where John was tying Dean to the doghouse when he was full of rage. Dean shared the whole night with their dog Barjack when this happened. At least Barjack was full of warmth and tenderness in this hell. He wanted to protect the kids but was often sharing their beatings and their pain. They probably even shared their points of view about human beings.

Dean opened the fridge, it was almost empty. He found an opened milk bottle and smiled after he smelt it. He took a glass, washed it and filled it with milk for his brother who was sitting at the table trying to take the empty bottles off.

"Here." Dean offered.

"What about you?"

"I'll have some water, you know I can't digest milk very well." Dean lied. He looked at the calendar stuck on the fridge to check his mom's working hours. He prayed for her to come back before his dad. She was an alcoholic too but at least she always defended her children when John was blaming them. Problem was she often worked 3 or 4 nights a week and her absence then was worse than hell.

The front door opened, Dean tensed, Sam stood up and went to his brother to hide. When Dean heard the footsteps on the floor he already knew and he felt tears in his eyes and anger in his gut.

"Would you go to your room and begin your homework Sammy? I'll come in a minute to help you."

Sam shook his head begging his brother to not leave him, holding tight on his shirt. He was 7 but he knew why Dean was asking this. He sure would have to put his fingers in his ears to not hear the beating and the whimpering of his brother.

"Please Sammy, for me." He smiled and Sam stepped back a little but did obey.

Sam moved against the wall to avoid his father… too late. John caught his sweater's collar.

"You don't say hello?"

"Hi dad." He was scared and ready to lift his arms to avoid his fists.

"Where are you going Sam?" John asked coughing, his breath full of alcohol and cigarettes.

"Do my homework."

"Bullshit! You don't need that I already told you! You'll end up in a factory like your useless mother!"

"No I want to be a doctor." Sam proudly answered.

John gave him a weird smile.

"I'll heal mom and Dean."

John's smile froze and Sam already regretted what he said. He tried to run to the hallway but it was too late, John was frustrated and he would show it. Sam just gave him a great opportunity for that.

John lifted his hand and slapped his son right on his face, throwing him against the wall and opening his lip.

"You little BRAT!"

He started to cry. John stepped back and lifted his hand a second time but this time it ended up on Dean's forearm.

"Don't touch him!" Dean yelled giving him a death stare.

John looked at him right in the eyes for a long moment.

"Sammy go the hell upstairs" Dean suddenly said hearing him sniffing behind his back.

"No Dean I don't wanna go without you." He pleaded.

"Sam!" Dean urged.

The little brother finally obeyed, Dean heard him climbing the stairs crying. He closed his eyes and here was hell again.

His mom's voice woke him up. He actually collapsed on the floor after the violence of the beating. Each move was painful.

"Mom…" He started to cry.

"Oh my sweet little love…" She said caressing his hair. She helped him getting up. Dean knew she drank too because of the smell of her breath, but she wasn't completely drunk yet.

Climbing the stairs was torture. His mom was barely standing but at least she was here helping him. She made him sit on the bathtub and helped him take his shirt off. Dean noticed she was crying silently. Seeing his body full of scars and contusions she put her hand softly on his side but he winced.

"My poor baby…" She fell and cried with her head on her knees. Dean needed comfort but he had to comfort her instead. He put his hand on her head.

"It's ok mommy."

He turned to the left and saw Sam in tears at the door. He quickly swiped the blood from his mouth and tried to hide the sadness in his eyes. Dean saw anger in his brother's eyes though… Sammy wouldn't hold his brother's hand from now, he would put it on his shoulder to support him.

Dean was working in St Gerry for almost a week now and he had to admit he liked his job. Cleaning rooms wasn't very rewarding but it wasn't worse than any other job he had. It was actually better since he had his own place and food for free. Mark was a great cook, he made nice meals with a few money. Dean was even sleeping better, he was able to sleep a few hours straight now even if he still woke up in sweat after a nightmare.

He considered this mansion as a safe place despite all the craziness within those walls.

He was getting along with Phil, another "cleaner" as he called himself, pretty well. He helped Dean learning the job because even it wasn't something hard to do, there were specificities. He had to sweep every day, wash the grounds once a week or more in case of emergency, check the toilet and empty the trashcan in each room. He also had to clean all the showers and check there was nothing missing.

He wasn't meeting a lot of patients because he often cleaned their rooms when they weren't in it. They were in the day room or the refectory most of the time doing some common activities organized by Missouri, the retired nurse, or by Leyla Fredges, the occupational therapist.

Dean got along with Missouri since the first day. She was from New-Orleans and had a strong south accent and a warm bossy voice. She was a widow so this place became her second home and the staff became her second family. Patients loved her very much and so did all of the staff members, especially Mary who was deeply admiring her. Her plump body and her bright face attracted everybody and her laughter was bringing life to the mansion.

Dean was lost in his thoughts holding his cold cup of coffee.

"Hey!"

He jumped and Phil took a sit in front of him.

"You mind if I sit here?" He asked putting his coffee and a plate with two croissants in it on the table.

"It's too late you're already here." Dean smiled.

"Yeah" Phil laughed.

"How you doing?" Dean asked.

"I'm ok"

"You're already done with your work?"

"Hell no! You can't imagine how lucky you are being in charge with West quarter… not much to clean but on the East quarter the pee and shit everywhere. A real delight!" explained Phil.

"Well switch with me I don't mind."

Phil raised an eyebrow and laughed "You have some strange ideas buddy! I wonder why you would clean all of the crazies' mess."

"I thought we weren't allowed to call them like that." Dean smiled and took a sip of his coffee. He winced but even cold coffee was good enough for him.

"Yeah on the West side they're not but on my quarter it's another story."

"Have you been… attacked?" Dean asked curious.

"Not really. Most of the time they're on medication or tied to their beds, and some rooms I can't even enter before the patient's out or…" He drew a line across his neck "Couic!... There are some pretty sick souls there."

Dean was listening attentively.

"One day a patient threatened me with his fork."

Dean laughed "Thank god he didn't point at you balls!" and he laughed harder seeing Phil's shocked face.

He was surprised to laugh like that as he hasn't for so long. It was like hearing someone else's echo, but it was actually his laugh resonating between the walls, like his soul was starting to free from its chains. He was suddenly scared and got up.

"I gotta go. See you tonight for dinner?"

Phil looked at him a bit confused. "Okay" he said smiling at him a bit worried.

Dean left the refectory, his shift was over but it was only 1:30 pm. He needed to take some fresh air. He needed to find his reality back so he searched for a number on his phone.

"Hey Gab! It's me." He said faking a cheerful tone.

He waved at the front desk secretary and went out. He opened the door of the Impala and felt this strange sensation in his neck again, like someone was watching. He turned around but saw nobody. He had no good eyes anyway, after years of beating it wasn't so much surprising. He shrugged and got in his car.

Missouri observed some change in Castiel's behavior. He was still standing at the window but he had a tiny reaction, his shoulders shivered a bit and he knocked his forehead against the window. She left the sheets she was changing in the bed and stepped toward him. He was staring at something in the yard. She raised an eyebrow and took her glasses off her pocket to look outside. There she saw him near his car. She smiled at Castiel's reflection.

"His name is Dean." He didn't react. "Look at me Castiel" she softly lifted his chin with her finger "Castiel… look at me."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" She violently took his chin in her hand searching for his look. He hadn't looked at her for months.

"You ungrateful creature! After all I did for you this is how you thank me? By hating me and disrespect me?"

He was sitting here with his knees on his chest. He was so thin you could see his rib bones. His backbone was showing too. Years of abuse, pain and lack of medical care weakened him so much he was just surviving. He was a soul locked in a flesh vessel. He had trouble breathing for a few days and his eyes were so hollowed they were almost lost inside his brain. He was like an angel waiting for the death Cerberus.

She stood up using her stick, a wood cane she never left. She was using it to walk and sometimes she was using it to hit. She looked old, her skin was black-spotted. She was just full of anger and she spited it on this poor soul who never rebelled but never really acknowledged either.

She crushed his feet with the extremity of her stick and broke one of his toes. His bones were so weak they could break easily, it was like the attic boy became the crystal boy. He had no strength to scream or cry. He was not a child anymore, he was not a teenager either, he was just a poor man.

She lifted his chin with her stick this time.

"I will die soon" she whispered smiling.

No reaction.

"You'll die here all alone, in this attic, nobody knows you even exist because you're NOBODY! LOOK AT ME!" she yelled. "You're the evil and nobody will want to save you."

She suddenly moved back shocked: he finally sank his cold eyes in hers.

"Don't you dare look at me like that you hear me? Look down!" she ordered between rage and anger. She had the feeling he was piercing her soul. She raised her stick to hit him, and in a slow but precise move he caught it. She was so upset, it's been years he hadn't such a reaction. Unfortunately he was way too weak and in a second she pushed him and stepped back. He closed his eyes waiting the punishment but he only heard the trapdoor closing.

When he was younger he rebelled more often so she drugged him and tied him on his bed, letting him in his own faeces for several days. The ultimate humiliation. She wanted to control the rebel creature.

The worst were rapes though. She was lying next to him to masturbate and he was painfully trying to stop his body to react. She was lying on him and he was feeling her warmth melting with his own. She said it was natural and he shouldn't be ashamed or scared because it was love and she loved him despite his evilness. But he knew deep down it was bad. He associated this to a new form of pain.

He was closing his eyes hard. He so wished he could put his fingers in his ears and stop listening to that high voice expressing the pleasure so loud. He hated his body and he hated the way it reacted to her touch. He hated the wave of pleasure crossing his gut and making him moan. He just hated himself, he was evil, dirty and he deserved all of this.

He broke inside and separated his flesh and his soul… his soul became a bird flying to avoid that strange woman talking about his prison and his death.

He ended up not reacting anymore. Ever. He finally learnt how to control his body even when she was trying to make it react under her fingers. It was like a personal revenge even if it was so little.

He survived this hell, human being can be stronger than you'd think.

But she would soon find something else to enslave him.

"Where is he right now?" Missouri asked herself.

"Castiel? Would you look at me please?"

He refused to turn to her. She wanted to force him gently but he just couldn't take his eyes off the car leaving the yard. She tried one more time… and it was too much. He knocked his head hard on the window and his forehead wounded.

He didn't hear him, nobody could hear his pain. He screamed internally and fell on his knees because of the violence of the shock.

Dean entered the building and climbed the stairs quickly till he reached the fourth floor. He hated elevators because he couldn't stand being locked in a so small space, he was suffocating.

He knocked on the door. "Come in, it's open!"

Gaby was on the phone talking business… bets, of course. He was smiling. He turned to Dean and nodded to him to show him the sofa. Dean first went to the kitchen and took a beer in the fridge then he sat on the couch. He knew this place well because he spent a few nights in the guest room. When the fights were too hard Gaby didn't want the guys to be alone so he was taking care of them here. The Cage couldn't wait, Dean knew it was for both interests.

He brought them to the local clinic only when the injuries were too critical. He was an ambulance driver when he was younger but he was no expert or doctor. Gaby was very honest and never cheated and that what Dean liked about him. He knew he wasn't only a fighter for him and Gaby knew Dean liked to fight. Screaming his pain through those fights was a good compromise for both of them, and Gaby liked Dean.

The bedroom door opened and a woman in a night-dress appeared. She greeted Dean with a large smile.

"Hey Bibi!"

"Hey Rage!"

She never called Gaby's fighters by their real names. Dean didn't know why but it was ok for him. He's known Gaby for years, and Bibi, a 28 years old mixed-raced woman, was his official lover. Of course she knew he had unofficial lovers sharing his bed too but she knew she was his favorite and it was enough for her. It was her Gaby was going out in public with.

"I heard you found a new job?" she asked on her way to the kitchen, kissing Gaby at the same time. "With loonies?"

"Yep. It won't change from here" he replied putting his empty beer on the coffee table.

"That's not very nice" she joked.

Gaby finally hung up. "Will you go get dressed? You see how late it is?"

"You kept me from sleeping too late babe."

She stroked his butt from one hand, holding her coffee with the other. She kissed him on is neck which made him shiver.

"Alright I let you deal with your business I go take a shower" she said on her way back to her bedroom.

Gaby looked at her as she was leaving the room, her night dress was so transparent he could see her butt. He stroked his beard and turned to Dean.

"Are you ok? You haven't answered my last calls."

"I warned you I have to behave now or it's jail. I'm kinda tired of it."

"I see… so you want to be back in the cage?"

"Yes. The job is great but it's poorly paid."

Gaby sat in front of him on the coffee table.

"There is a fight this weekend if you want." He proposed.

Dean looked at him smiling with an empty look on his face.

"You sure you're ok? I can still count on you right?" Gaby worried.

"I haven't called to dump you Gaby you know me."

Gaby stood up.

"When are you free?"

"Saturday and Sunday." Dean replied.

"I planned a fight with Jet on saturday night but he's still healing from his last fight with The Hill so… you could do it?"

"He won't like it." Dean said standing up.

"Don't worry he'll fight next weekend. He's in such bad shape he would lose anyway."

"You already know my opponent?"

Gaby went to his desk, took a key from his pocket and opened the first drawer.

"No, I'll call you to let you know where we'll meet and who he is as soon as I'll know. Shark is organizing the fight this time and you know he likes surprises."

He searched a few seconds in the drawer and turned to give Dean a wad of bills.

"1500$, it's for your last fight. You forgot to come and take it."

Dean took the money and put it in his jacket pocket without checking.

"That's because I was in jail in case you forgot."

"I know. Some random disappointed gambler tricked us. He won't do it again." Gaby smiled.

Dean frowned.

"Don't make that face he's not dead."

"Ok I'm going." Dean replied nodding.

"So soon?" Gaby asked surprised. "You've been here for 5 minutes you could at least talk to me about your new job or this Deveraux guy…"

"Gaby we're not best friends."

"I thought we were more than business partners at least."

"We are but it doesn't mean we're friends." He replied waving at him "I'll wait for your call."

He closed the door to stop Gaby from replying.

On his way back he stopped to buy a six pack and a magazine. He smiled looking at all the bills in his pocket. He sat in his car and looked at the magazine closely. When he was ready he turned the car on and went to the trouble spot of the city.

Of course he paid for prostitutes, he never knew how to love a woman. He had no attention for his partners. He made them suffer most of the time and he decided they didn't deserve this, he wasn't worth it anyway. At least here they knew how it was and there was nothing to build. Sex was just a physical need for him whether he did it alone or with someone like today.

Most of the girls here knew him. Some of them didn't even want to see him again and some of them just accepted him as he was, after all he was good looking and paid well. They knew what his life was when they saw all of his scars and how he was fighting in the Cage. In a bed he was wild too.

He stopped at Monica's. He entered and waited for the girls to come over him. For this afternoon it was Chacha, a Porto Rican girl as obsessed as Dean was about violence. He smiled at her.

They went upstairs in a room with soft light. Dean knew that room very well. She started right after they entered, she knew waiting was not his thing. She took off her bra while he took his shirt off. She couldn't help but was a little sad when she saw his scars everywhere on his body. Those would never disappear.

Dean cupped his breast without waiting more. She sank her hand in his pants and he groaned at her touch. He laid her on the bed and took her panties off while she was taking his boxer down, then she opened a condom with her teeth and smiled.

If you needed to compare their action, it was closer to rape than making love. Chacha stared at the ceiling her eyes half closed and her hands scratching at his back. She loved it, this kind of violence was ok for them both.

It was quick but good as usual, Chacha was satisfied. Dean didn't care that much, he only needed this to relieve his body, he wasn't searching for pleasure. Affection, tenderness or love was nothing he knew anyway. He lost that part after Sam's death.

He left 100$ on the table, put his clothes back on and left without a word. Chacha smiled… he paid well.

When he parked the Impala in the yard the night was falling. He went out of the car, took his six pack and went back to his place.

"You come to eat Castiel?"

He didn't react. He was looking at Dean going away.

"Castiel?" Garth repeated. He saw him turning over. He had a bandage on his forehead where the skin was injured because of the previous hit on the window. He came to Garth and sat down and didn't move. Garth knew he would need to feed him tonight.

Castiel was staring at the wall in front of him while eating. Garth talked to him about his day but he didn't hope for an answer, Castiel was mute. He didn't even hope for any reaction actually, he knew Missouri was the only lucky one deserving this favor from him. He just needed to talk about his life, his problems and his happiness and Castiel was the perfect guest: always listening, never interrupting.

Dean didn't stay long in the dinner room that night. He ate his burger fast and left soon after. Phil had no opportunity to even talk to him a little. At another table across the room Missouri was talking to Mary. Dean thought it should've been a very serious conversation considering the face of the manager and the begging look in the nurse's eyes.

End of chapter III

I never ask after review but for this fic I do it

Because for me, it's not just a fic but also a way to share the distress of the victims…

Thank you